The Red Barn

It happened again. Why was I so naive to think that even though he was 90 days sober, that his fucking rage wouldn't come out in full force. My mom, bless her heart, cared more about her vanity than her daughter.

I knew if I stayed that I'd drill a hole in his thick skull at night, that I'd wear gloves and leave the drill in my mom's hand. Her sleeping pills would make it easy to have her unknowingly "concede" to my plan.

But...what if? What if somehow it fell back on me? Someone noticed me smiling at their funeral, or dancing on their graves? No, I couldn't give those bastards the satisfaction. I had just gotten a scholarship to a 4 year university OUT OF STATE. My ticket out of this literal hell hole. Their deaths weren't going to ruin my life like their living had.

So, I got in my car and drove. I drove fast...I was mad and my screams proved it. I was shaking, I had to pull over or I'd wreck.

I got out of the car, yelled again and tried to shake it off.

Then I saw it, a small red barn with a light glow inside. Maybe they had a bathroom, I had to piss and was terrified of what could be lurking in the dark.

As I approached I heard laughter and singing. Seemed harmless. If I could handle that mother fucker at home, I could handle whatever “could be” in the barn.

I knocked, I was curious as a young girl who was in ragged clothing opened the door with a smile.

"Hello, I'm Abigail how can we help you?"

I glanced behind her and saw a man with his arm lovingly around a woman; watching, smiling.

"I was wondering if you might have a bathroom I could borrow?" I said, somehow not being able to shake the feeling of de ja vu.

"Oh course child, my name is Johanna, come on in. While you're at it I think there is an extra set of clothes somewhere in here." The woman gently took my hands and quickly glanced at the blood still on my clothes.

No shame came with the comment, it was something different...empathy.

Johanna could tell I was curious. "If you don't mind me asking why don't you use these clothes to make a new outfit for yourself or Abigail?" It looked like their outfits hadn't been washed in weeks.

"Hush child, these were meant for you. I know our clothes are worn but there's good reason. See, we get new clothes once a year. We worked for a man who thought he owned us. He trapped us, in a sense. We made him money at any cost." As Johanna finished speaking she looked sad.

My 4 year college earning scholarship whit told me two things: 1. This is why I felt empathy, they understood and 2. Being kidnapped or trafficked was no fucking joke! Why hadn't they gone to the cops? Why were they in a red barn in the middle of a field in this God-forsaken southern state?

As I was about to ask Johanna cut me off, "Honey, I don't know exactly what's happened but I see the pain, not just in the blood, the bruising or those beautiful raccoon eyes you've got; but in your spirit. Hatred will tear you up as quickly as a venomous snake bite will kill you. Revenge is temporary Sugar but hope, fighting and believing in a better tomorrow is the best healing power there ever was."

By now my racoon eyes were leaking what some would consider tears, or a tidal wave of emotion. I didn't like this, people I didn't know seeing me in such a vulnerable place.

As I looked up, the man, I'm assuming was her husband, was standing there with a cloth sack full of basic food items. How did they know? "Young Lady" the man started, "I'm sure this seems hard and I don't doubt it will continue to be hard. All I can say, as a good father, is that you need to fight for your future; a good future. Revenge seems fulfilling and it brings the thought of satisfaction but sugar seek justice and freedom will come". He handed me the bag and opened the door.

In a daze, I said "Thank you" and walked to the car. What the hell had just happened? I hadn't spoke but two sentences and I felt like they did more for me than any therapist could. Justice...I would drive to the police station, evidence still on my face.

As I turned around to take one more look at the red barn, there was still a light shining. However, the light wasn't coming from inside, it was coming from a small light over a plague on the front door.

Plaque-

Historical Site

This barn has been recognized as being a stop on the underground railroad. A farmer and his wife were murdered by Confederate soldiers when they were caught "transporting" a young couple and their daughter. Records show that the family had two daughters, one of which was beat to death by her owner at the age of 17. She did not make the treck with them. Those soldiers reported back to their captain only to find out that abolition of slavery had been proclaimed. Those Confederate soldiers were tried and hung.

Justice always prevails. Hatred always kills.