Charlotte was the only one here to talk to and Miss Emily had her terrified of doing so. I might as well be in some jail, I thought. I couldn't have a warden more cruel than Miss Emily and why? Because I had fallen in love too quickly and had been too trusting. My sin was believing in someone, I thought. Well, I would defy her; I would write my letter to Trisha and get it mailed even if I had to mail it myself.
I rose from my bed with new determination, hid the baby's rattle again and went back down to the kitchen where I sat and rewrote my letter to Trisha. Only this time, I told her all the ugly details. My tears splattered on the page as I wrote as quickly as I could.
Dear Trisha,
I've been trying to get in touch with you for months, but Grandmother Cutler's horrible sister Emily has kept me from doing so. There is no phone here so I cannot call and letters have to be taken miles to a place called Upland Station. Emily has also forbidden having my things sent here. She took my clothing the day I arrived and put it through some purification process that involved boiling and burying it and I haven't seen it or my purse since. I'm forced to wear an ugly sack gown and nothing else, not even underwear! At night I sleep with a hot water bottle to keep warm in a cold, dark, windowless room. I have a kerosene lamp for light, but I'm only given a small bit of kerosene that must last a whole week so I don't burn it as much as I'd like to for fear I'll be left in the dark for days and days.
All I do is work in the house, cleaning and polishing and dusting. I don't even have time to read, and if I did, I would be too exhausted anyway. I've grown bigger and bigger and my back has been bothering me more and more, but Miss Emily doesn't care. I think she enjoys seeing me in pain; she thinks the more I suffer, the more I will be remorseful.
I couldn't give you this exact address when I left New York because I didn't know it. I need you to do me a favor. I am enclosing Daddy Longchamp's address. He's the only person I can turn to now since Jimmy is still in Europe, I think, and anyway, has no idea where I am. Please contact Daddy Longchamp and tell him how desperate I am. I must get out of here. Miss Emily is a religious fanatic and her sister is mentally simple and helpless like me.
You don't know how much I miss you and our wonderful talks. I realize now more than ever how much of a friend you were to me and how much I love you. I miss the school, too, and most of all, I miss singing and music. There is no music in this house, except church music. According to Miss Emily, everything else is the devil's work. She sees him everywhere except where she should see him—in the mirror.
At this point I would even gladly choose to be living with Agnes again. No matter how weird she behaved at times, she was at least human.
Once again, I miss you.
Love,
Dawn
I stuck the letter into one of the envelopes I had found in the library one day. After I addressed it, I went back upstairs quietly and folded my one blanket as tightly as I could to conceal it under my dress. It would serve as my coat, since my coat was one of the articles of clothing boiled and buried. Then I started out, practically tiptoeing down the stairs. Miss Emily was still immersed in her work in the library. I saw the dim illumination from her kerosene lamp spilling out the doorway. Even so, I paused, waited to be sure she hadn't heard me, and then I walked rapidly to the front door. It squeaked terribly when I started to open it, so I opened it as slowly as I could, an inch at a time. As soon as there was a wide enough space, I slipped out and unfolded the blanket quickly and wrapped it around my body.
The late February air was still quite cold, especially with the sun buried behind the sea of soiled thick clouds spreading from one horizon to another. It was already late in the day as well. When I looked down the long driveway and off in the direction of the dirt road, I felt a deep pang of discouragement. The world looked so unfriendly. Trees were still bare; the grass and brush was still brown and yellow. I saw only black birds sitting as still as stuffed trophies on the bare branches and staring down at me with a distrusting air.
I had so far to go just to mail a letter, I thought. But I was determined to do it.
I clutched the blanket to my bosom and started away. Snow began to fall just as I reached the end of the long driveway. The flakes came down in tiny particles at first and gradually grew larger and larger. Parts of the roadway were soft and parts were so frozen hard and rocky my feet slipped and slid in the shoe boots I wore without socks. The cold air easily found openings in my blanket and rushed up and through my simple dress. I shuddered and tried walking faster and harder to keep warm.
If only someone would come along, I thought. I began to pray for it even though I knew this was a road built mainly to serve The Meadows. The sky grew darker and darker, but the snowflakes became whiter and larger. Caught up in a rough wind, the flakes were soon whirling about me, slapping me in the face and falling so hard and fast I had to walk with my eyes closed most of the time.
Unfamiliar with the road, I stumbled and fell over a large bump. I screamed and threw out my hands to break my fall. I landed on some gravel and skinned my palms badly. The impact shook me something terribly too and for a moment I thought I would be unable to get myself up. I felt a terrible pain shoot through my lower abdomen.
Oh, no, I thought, the baby. I struggled to my hands and knees and caught my breath. With the blanket open and mostly off, I was fully exposed to the wind and the snow. The icy flakes were falling down the back of my neck. I realized I had dropped my letter to Trisha, and had to search for it. After I found it, I stood up and took deep breaths as I clutched the blanket to my body. The pain in my abdomen subsided, but now my palms stung like there were needles jabbed in them.
I started to sob. I had only made things worse for myself, I thought. As I took renewed steps forward, I felt a pain in my lower back. It grew sharper and wider with every moment. I had to pause to catch my breath, but even then, the pain did not diminish. The pain began to spread around my sides toward my stomach. It felt like I was in the grip of fingers of steel, squeezing. I panicked and started to run. The snow was so heavy I could barely see in front of me anymore. I fell again, and again I scraped my hands.
This time when I stood up, I spun around in confusion.
It had grown so dark so quickly, I thought. Was I heading in the right direction? Should I have turned left or right? My panic grew. I started in one direction and then stopped and started in another. Then, terrified that I was lost and would die in the cold, I broke into a trot, my stomach bouncing so hard, I had to keep my hands under it and consequently lost my blanket off my shoulders. But I didn't stop to retrieve it. I kept running and running and running. My foot got stuck in a soft part of the road and when I pulled up, it came right out of my shoe. It seemed as if the very earth were trying to swallow me up. I was so panicked I didn't even notice I was running with a bare right foot. I ran on and on until I was gasping for breath and had to stop. Then, clutching my stomach, the pain excruciating everywhere on my body, I fell to my knees and sobbed and sobbed.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of an engine and looked up. I screamed just as Luther's truck came to a stop directly in front of me, the bumper of the truck nearly touching my face. He got out and helped me to my feet, but I was mostly in a daze, my hands and feet numb with cold. He lifted me up and carried me around to put me into the truck. My head fell back against the window. My teeth were chattering so hard I thought they would break. He threw the old brown blanket over me and backed the truck down the road a few hundred yards and turned back into the driveway. Apparently, I hadn
't gotten very far; I had been running in circles.
Luther drove up to the rear of the plantation house and carried me through the back door. Miss Emily, with Charlotte at her side, her face aghast, stood like a sentinel, her arms crossed under her small bosom.
"You little fool," she said. "You foolish little fool. Just lucky for you, Luther happened to gaze down the road and see you running about like a chicken with its head chopped off. You should have yours chopped off for this."
She nodded at Luther and he took me into the pantry and lowered me to the tub. Then he left and Miss Emily stepped up to pull off my wet and soiled dress. I couldn't stop shivering; my teeth continued to clatter. Luther brought in pail after pail of warm water. As the level built and more of my body was covered, I began to feel a deep fatigue in my lower limbs. No longer concerned about my nudity, I lay back and let Luther pour the warm water over my shoulders and breasts. Finally, Miss Emily declared it had been enough.
"Get out," she commanded and held up a towel. I rose slowly and, with Charlotte's help, stepped out of the tub. Miss Emily wrapped the towel around me quickly.
"You've lost a shoe, I see," she said. "You'll have to do without it and go barefoot now. I don't bear fools and sinners easily. March up to your room," she commanded.
My legs barely carried me along. The cold floor under my bare feet made it feel as if I were walking over a frozen pond. Charlotte held my arm as I started through the kitchen, but Miss Emily gave me no assistance. I struggled to climb the stairs, getting so dizzy at one point, I thought I would faint and roll down the steps. I reached out frantically and grabbed the banister.
"Just move on," Miss Emily said, her words like a whip striking my naked shoulders. I took a deep breath and continued. When I reached my horrid room, I remembered I no longer had a blanket. As soon as Miss Emily lit the kerosene lamp, she saw that immediately.