Page 1 of Unspoken Promises

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My first actof rebellion started with a library card.

It was like finding a spoon after years in prison. I used it wisely. I dug and dug with that dull, blunt end until I finally found light on the other side. I could almost laugh at Father’s oversight. So simple.

Fourteen years of captivity shattered by a piece of plastic.

Sitting in my college library, the one place I’m ever allowed to be alone, it occurs to me how insane that sounds. I thought I would have needed something much bigger to escape Father’s clutches.

My mouse moves more slowly as those words play over in my mind.

Fourteen years.

Has it really been that long since my mom left me at some strange place in Oregon, telling me Father would take care of me? Have fourteen years really passed since eleven-year-old me played hopscotch with Maddy Granger and fed fish sticks to my stray cat Fuzzy?

Maybe it’s a trauma response to blank out the past. Mom’s abandonment and leaving me without a trace with a man who she told me is my father, who I never saw before and have never seen since, isn’t something I like to think about. Over the years, when questions arose in my mind about why I was inside the walls of his compound, it made me so sick I’d lose sleep. It took a whole two years to stop thinking this father of mine would ever show his face. Never once in all those years did he appear. It took even longer to let go of the hope Mom might actually return for me. She never did.

I thought a lot of things would never happen, including me ever seeing the outside world, but here I am.

Father wrote me a letter to tell me college was my reward. After completing a number of special tasks for Father’s cybersecurity team, he wrote me to say I was ready to leave. I was ready to experience more of what the world has to offer. And he congratulated me for being accepted into a master’s program I didn’t even know I applied for.

As the computer screen shuts down and goes black in front of me, the irony doesn’t escape me that I’ll leave here before taking my reward. I won’t be staying to get my college degree. It’s laughable really. Father seemed to be offering me freedom, but he sent me here being watched just as much and by the same person who has always kept me.

Anton.

He’s been watching my every move since I was left at Father’s. Anton never told me if he was one of Father’s men, like the ones who walked around with large guns, stalking the walled perimeter. He never told me anything about his past, but one thing is for sure, he’s enjoyed this short time in Southern California as much as I have.

Thinking about him standing out there in the hallway, waiting for me patiently, an ache travels through my gut. Once I leave, I’ll probably never see him again. To cover my tracks, I can’t leave a single crumb.

I’ll never forget the day this man sat beside me on a bench at Father’s compound.

He seemed so old then. But now that I realize he’s probably only in his early forties, it makes me sad to think that this man who represents the only family I’ve had for over a decade, lost many of his years to Father’s clutches, too.

It’s dangerous to think of Anton as my friend, but he is the closest thing I ever had to one. Saying it hurts, but in those dark moments of the night where I can’t sleep, I know in many ways, I’m closer to Anton as a family member than I ever was to my mother.

Even though him coming with me to college meant I still wouldn’t have my freedom, I still wanted him here. In those days where my mind swirled with what was to come, I considered that maybe this was the first time in fourteen years that Anton would taste freedom, too. His life is as stunted and small as my own, even smaller maybe.

Unlike me, who had teachers with PhDs and computers, every book imaginable, and plenty to keep my mind occupied at all times, Anton only had, well, me. Because there was nothing but watching me twenty-four seven in Anton’s life, I suppose it’s why he took an interest.

When I’d hack a system my teachers set for me and they never expected me to, the corner of his mouth would twitch with pride. In fact, in all those years of work and play, he was the only person who ever rewarded me with genuine, heartfelt praise.

He would place his hands on my shoulders, turn me to him and say, “Are you proud?”

I’d never been able to say yes.

He’d tousle my hair, and there was no mistaking the paternal glint in his eye. “You should be.”

Anton obeyed Father as diligently as I did, but over time, it didn’t feel like Anton kept me prisoner. In fact, I never would have smiled during those years in Oregon without him. Not that he was funny. Quite the opposite, he is a very serious man, always on high alert. I laughed around him anyway because he was the butt of my jokes and took them on the chin allowing humor to come alive in our sober lives. It was impossible not to care about him after all these years of doing everything from dawn to dusk together.

I do care about him, even though I always wonder if he knows what Father is using me for. It kills thinking he might actually know and has never told me. But now, at twenty-five, I know whatever my utility to Father and these teachers, it can’t be good. Good men don’t keep girls locked up. Even if I did have everything I ever needed, I traded poverty for freedom.

Not that I had a say in Mom leaving me there.

The only good thing to come of my captivity has been Anton. He talks to me and spends more time with me than my mom ever did. Sometimes, though he’s never said it, I think he even loves me. That’s why now that I’m ready to escape Father, the feeling isn’t anything like betrayal. Butwith Anton? I’ll never stop wishing I could bring him with me. I want to see him live his life, too. Get that Bernese Mountain Dog he always wanted. Or get married. If he had a baby, it would be like I had a sister.

I always wanted a sibling.

What will happen to Anton when Father realizes I’m gone?

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