“There’s still time. You will do so tomorrow,” he said, then reached for his water.
“No,” I shouted before I could stop myself. I needed to handle this in a calmer manner, but he was shutting me down. I hadn’t expected him not to at least discuss it. I had held on to the hope that a full-ride scholarship would get me out of here. I had achieved it, and still he wasn’t even going to let me argue my side. I wouldn’t accept a no. I couldn’t. Not for me or my siblings’ future. It was up to me to set the precedent. It was up to me to make sure we all had freedom to decide. I was sure one or two of them would want this life. They’d be happy working here and taking over the family business, but I wouldn’t be. Neither would Teresa. What we faced because of tragedy that wasn’t our fault had to stop. My parents couldn’t keep us all in their own little bubble of safety forever. We had to be allowed to live and stretch our wings. I was the oldest now, and it was on my shoulders to fix all that was wrong with my parents’ smothering ways.
“Leave the table, Ezmita. Go mop the store. Restock the shelves and do inventory in the back,” my father said with no emotion in his voice.
“Papa—” I began.
I was cut off with my father’s roar of “NOW!”
My face heated. My heart raced. I was angry at being treated like a child. They were unfair. They were so backward and suffocating. Is this why I’m now the oldest child? I almost asked that aloud, but I bit my tongue to keep from saying something so cruel, hurtful, yet true.
I pushed back from the table with more force than necessary and shot up out of my seat. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the room. I was on the verge of tears, and they would not see me cry. I would show no weakness. My father hated tears anyway. It did nothing to win his favor.
Walking through the kitchen entrance, I continued until I reached the back door to the store and went inside. I didn’t make my way to the mop bucket or to the shelves. I kept walking. I glanced at them as I passed, though. The habit of being a good daughter making me question what I was about to do. I forced myself to look away. I wasn’t a puppet for my father to command. I had done everything they’d ever asked of me. I had been the best daughter they could ask for. Not now, though. Not if they wouldn’t listen to me.
I walked until I was at the front door to the store. Reaching up, I held the bell to keep it from chiming as I opened the door and went outside. I locked it behind me with the key in my pocket. Staring at the storefront, I didn’t see home or family. I saw my prison cell.
I couldn’t stay here, but I had nowhere I could go. I needed my parents’ approval to accept the scholarship. So, I walked. Down the path to the parking lot, then through the parking lot, until I reached the street. Glancing left and then right, I chose right. It not only led out of town, but it led north. Closer to the state line. It was dark outside. This wasn’t safe, but my life had been one big safety net. I knew of nothing outside my family and that store.
I walked. I walked until the town lights faded and the street was almost empty. I didn’t panic when cars passed. The fear of being abducted should have been there in my head, making me think through this stupid idea, but all I could care about was escaping.
The more I thought about being forced to stay here and attend the local university that I could drive to daily, the faster I walked. At some point, I began running. I was running from my life, my jail sentence, my family, from it all.
I ran in the dark until the light from the bridge that led toward the state line lit things up. Slowing, I realized there were headlights on a truck also lighting up the darkness, but the truck wasn’t driving. It was parked. I came to a stop, my lungs burning, my side hurting, and my mouth dry. I’d never run for exercise, and my body was freaking out. It took me a moment to get my breath under control. I wasn’t sure if I should turn around or face the unknown ahead of me. It only took me a moment to make up my mind.
Walking hesitantly toward the truck, I wondered if they had broken down or if I was about to get abducted and taken from this life I hated in a way I didn’t want. I didn’t want to be sold into a sex trade or killed and my body found in the woods. I knew this wasn’t safe. I still walked onward.