Chapter 1 Twenty years after my mother’s death, I heard a missing person announcement on the campus radio. “Natalie Hayes, female, missing for twenty-one years.” “Nineteen years old at the time of disappearance. Literature major at South City State University…” My blood ran cold. Natalie Hayes. Wasn’t that my mother’s name? It turned out my mother had been kidnapped and sold to our family. Our entire town was a ring of human traffickers. I remembered the day she tried to run away. I hugged her legs tightly and screamed, “Mom, please don’t leave me!” Then my father locked her in the woodshed. By the time anyone went back in, she was no longer breathing. The night I learned the truth, I stood on the roof of a building, feeling like I had no right to go on living. If it hadn’t been for my scream, she might have made it over the mountain behind the town and back to the city. She might have gone back to South City, finished college, gotten married, and had a child who wasn’t me. I closed my eyes and stepped off the ledge. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my childhood home. I was six years old. In the corner of the room, a woman so thin she was practically skin and bone was crouching. She stuffed half of a cold, stale cornbread into the inner pocket of her jacket, then carefully tied the cuffs of her pants tight against her ankles. Her right ankle was severely swollen, trembling slightly when she walked. Her back was turned to me. But I knew it was my mother. Natalie Hayes. In my past life, it was today. She took advantage of my father going to the town hall for a roll call and the majority of the town heading to the farmer’s market, and climbed out the back window. She took the path by the old oak tree. But when I woke up and found her gone, I ran outside crying and screaming for her. Hearing me, my father grabbed his carrying pole and chased her up the mountain. The townspeople followed, blocking the roads. She was caught quickly. Three days later, a muffled thud echoed from the woodshed. And from then on, there was no more Natalie Hayes. I bolted upright in bed. The wooden frame creaked. She immediately whipped her head around to look at me. Seeing I was awake, the color instantly drained from her face. It was a conditioned reflex of pure terror. She rushed over and clamped her hand over my mouth, tears instantly spilling from her eyes. “Don’t scream.” Her voice was shaking violently. “Liam, please. Don’t yell for anyone, okay?” My tears started falling too. A six-year-old’s body was too small, my throat too tight. I nodded frantically. Thinking I was lying, she covered my mouth even tighter. The sound of brass gongs outside was getting closer. The crowd heading to the market was about to leave town. We were running out of time. I grabbed her wrist. When my fingers brushed against the crescent-shaped birthmark, my entire body started shaking. I forced the words out of my mouth: “You are Natalie Hayes.” She froze. I continued: “Literature major at South City State University.” “Your dad’s name is Robert Hayes. Your mom’s name is Martha Hayes.” “They’re still in South City waiting for you. Aren’t they?” She stood there, paralyzed, as if she had been struck by lightning. The hand covering my mouth slowly loosened. She stared at me, her eyes slowly turning red. “How… how do you know that?” I was crying so hard I couldn’t form a full sentence. I just grabbed her sleeve. “Mom.” “Don’t take the path by the old oak tree.” “There will be people blocking you there.” “This time, I’m taking you with me.” Chapter 2 2. She didn’t believe me right away. Which was completely normal. Even though I was only six, to her, I was a product of this town. She took a half-step back, her eyes defensive and on the verge of a breakdown. “Who taught you to say that?” “Was it Arthur Evans?” “What is he trying to do now?” Arthur Evans. My father. The head of Oakhaven. The man everyone called an “honest guy.” He always had a goofy smile on his face, handing out cigarettes to everyone he met. But I was the only one who knew that the year he bought my mother, he spent six thousand dollars. The ledger was locked in a metal box inside his cabinet. I saw it when I was digging for money in my past life. That page clearly stated: South City woman, Hayes, $6,000. Plus $500 for the middleman. I climbed out of bed, my bare feet hitting the freezing dirt floor. “No one taught me.” “Mom, just trust me this once, please.” “There’s really something hidden under the stove. Dad hid it there.” I ran over to the stove. In my past life, this was where I dug up the bookmark. Using my tiny hands, I dug frantically through the ash, the dirt turning the skin under my fingernails black. Natalie stood behind me, her breathing growing heavier. Finally, I pried a brick loose. I pulled it out and shook it. A bent, silver bookmark fell to the ground. Along with half of a torn student ID photo. The girl in the photo was even younger than the one on the missing person poster. Her eyes were clear and bright. On the back, written in charcoal ash, were a few lines: My name is Natalie Hayes. If I die, please tell my parents I did not stay here willingly. Natalie slammed her hands over her mouth. She crouched down and clutched that torn piece of photo to her chest, trembling uncontrollably. I watched her cry, but I didn’t dare go over and hug her. I didn’t deserve to. I just whispered: “Mom, we have to get the ledger, too.” She looked up. “What ledger?” “In Arthur Evans’s cabinet.” I didn’t want to call him Dad. In this life, from the moment I knew the truth, he stopped being my father. He was a buyer. He was a murderer. Natalie’s face changed. “His cabinet is locked.” “He keeps the keys on his belt. It’s too hard to get them.” I shook my head. “He had to go to the town hall today to use the PA system, so he changed his pants.” “He hid the keys inside his pillowcase.” I knew this house too well. And I knew that man’s habits too well. I dragged a stool over and climbed onto the bed in the back room. The pillowcase was dirty and stiff. I reached inside and felt a cold ring of keys. Natalie watched me, a flicker of hesitation finally appearing in her eyes. We unlocked the bottom drawer of the wooden cabinet. Inside was a metal box. Besides cash, there were two small ledger books. I flipped through them quickly, found the page, ripped it out, and stuffed it into my shirt. Natalie took one look at it, and her face went completely white. “Hayes, $6,000.” She read the words, her voice sounding crushed. She had always known she was bought. But seeing it written out in black and white—that kind of humiliation was enough to drive someone insane. I grabbed her hand. “Mom, let’s go!” “If we wait any longer, Arthur will be back.” She wrapped the torn ID, the bookmark, and the ledger page in a piece of cloth and tucked them securely against her body. We didn’t leave through the front door. The front door faced the town square. Everyone would see us. The back window was tiny. In my past life, this was how she climbed out. This time, she lifted me onto the windowsill first. I looked back at her. She was so dangerously thin. Her arms were covered in old bruises from beatings. Her ankle was swollen, and her face turned pale with pain as she hoisted herself out the window. I reached out, wanting to pull her up. A six-year-old’s hands didn’t have much strength. But gritting her teeth, she managed to climb out. Behind the house was a cornfield, the stalks growing waist-high. When the wind blew, the leaves rustled loudly. Voices drifted up from the dirt road in the distance. “Headed to the market!” “They’re selling piglets in town today!” Natalie instinctively started to run east. Toward the old oak tree. I immediately grabbed her. “No.” “The east side will be blocked by the townspeople!” She looked down at me, breathing heavily. “Then which way?” I pointed toward the pig-weed hill behind the house. “We’ll crawl through the irrigation ditch.” “Then head up into the old logging camp.” “Halfway up the mountain, there’s an abandoned fire road. It circles all the way to the winding highway.” She was stunned. “How do you know that?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell her. In my past life, after finding out the truth, I ran wild through these mountains countless times. Like an act of penance, I walked every single path she never got the chance to take. Chapter 3 3. As we crawled into the cornfield, a dog barked near the town entrance. Natalie’s body instantly went rigid. She knew that sound too well. In Oakhaven, a woman running away was never just one person’s problem. The dogs would bark, the gongs would sound, the men would come out, the elders would block the roads, and the other women would try to talk her into surrendering. It was a well-oiled machine, practiced more efficiently than weddings or funerals. I pulled her down to a crouch, holding my breath. The barking stopped. It probably just caught a random scent. I exhaled and kept crawling down the slope. The abandoned irrigation ditch was right behind the pig-weed hill. The town had built it years ago, but after a landslide blocked it with mud and rocks, it was abandoned. Kids thought it was too dirty to play in. Adults never used it. But it cut through two terraced fields and completely bypassed the east side of town. The ditch was slick with moss and rotting leaves. It was dangerously slippery. When Natalie carried me down into it, her bad ankle gave out, and she nearly fell. I quickly steadied her. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t make a sound. Watching her like this felt like needles piercing my heart. In my past life, I never knew she had so many injuries. I only ever listened to the townspeople: “Your mom is weak. She fakes being sick just to avoid doing chores.” “Your mom’s heart is too wild. A few good beatings will straighten her out.” “Your mom doesn’t love you. She only cares about the wild men out there.” How could I have believed them? How could I have ever believed them?! At the end of the ditch, a section of the wall had collapsed. If we climbed up through the collapse, we would reach the trail leading up the back mountain. But halfway up the climb, the PA system from the town hall suddenly screeched to life. The broken speaker let out a piercing squeal that echoed through the entire valley. “Testing—Testing—” My entire body froze. Arthur Evans was back. His voice exploded from the speaker: “Listen up, everyone!” “That crazy woman in my house is having another episode!” “And she took the kid with her!” “If anyone sees her, stop her immediately!” “Do not let her leave this town!” Natalie’s face went chalk white. Her fingers dug so hard into the dirt wall of the ditch that her nails broke off. I knew exactly what she was afraid of. With just a few casual words, he turned her desperate fight for survival into the ramblings of a lunatic. Immediately after, the sound of a heavy metal gate locking echoed from the direction of the general store. Clang! That was the iron gate blocking the county road. Brenda Ross was on the move. She was the head of the town’s Women’s Committee, and also the town’s “doctor.” In my past life, she used to hold me in her arms and give me candy. She would say, “Liam, your mom has no conscience. When a woman marries, she has to accept her fate.” She would say, “Your dad has it rough. You have to take his side.” She would say, “That crazy woman will freeze to death if she runs into the woods. Bringing her back is saving her life.” I believed her for years. It wasn’t until much later that I realized: whenever a woman was beaten so badly she couldn’t get out of bed, Brenda was the one who gave her the injections. When a woman’s body was covered in bruises from a beating, Brenda would write up a fake medical report. When women cried and begged Brenda to let them go, she would just smile and say: “Once you enter these mountains, you belong to the mountains. There’s no getting out.” In the distance, someone started banging a gong. Over and over. The dogs started going crazy, their barking filling the valley. Natalie’s breathing became erratic. “We’re out of time. I’ll distract them.” “Liam, hide yourself.” “They only want me. They won’t hurt you.” I shook my head violently. “No.” “They won’t let me go, either.” By helping her escape, I had betrayed Oakhaven. Arthur Evans would never forgive me. But more importantly, I could never let her go alone again. In my past life, she went alone. She had half a piece of cornbread in her pocket, a crippled ankle, and the malice of an entire town hunting her down. And I was the one who hugged her leg, crying and begging her to stay. Thinking about it made me sick to my stomach. I gripped her hand tight. “Mom, listen to me.” “They’re going to block the east entrance and the south slope first.” “No one will go toward the logging camp on the west side, because that’s where the beehives are. The wild bees attack people.” “Let’s go around behind the beehives!” Natalie looked at me, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “Liam.” Her voice was so quiet. “Why are you helping me?” The question felt like a knife. I opened my mouth, my throat incredibly tight. “Because I’m the one who hurt you.” She froze. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I just pulled her hand and kept crawling forward. “This time is different.” “I’m going to make sure you get home.” Outside the ditch, footsteps ran past us overhead. “Check over by the old oak tree!” “She’s got a bad leg, she can’t have gone far!” “Arthur said to tie her up as soon as we catch her, and wait for Brenda to give her a sedative!” Natalie pressed me against the wall of the ditch, too terrified to even breathe loudly. Muddy water dripped down her pant legs. I saw the veins bulging on the back of her hand. She was enduring it. She had endured it for so many years. Once the footsteps faded, I led her up through the collapsed section of the wall. The grass on the west slope was tall and sharp, cutting into my calves. Natalie’s ankle was getting worse. She had to stop every dozen steps. I wanted to carry her on my back. But I was only six years old. I couldn’t even control my own panting. She tried to push me forward instead. “Leave me.” “You go first.” I was getting angry. “If you say that again, I’m never calling you Mom again!” She paused, and somehow, in the middle of all this, she smiled. She said, “Okay. I won’t say it.” We circled around toward the beehives. This was Old Man Miller’s territory. He kept over a dozen hives of wild bees and usually cursed at anyone who got too close. He was probably down the mountain for the market today. But just as we rounded a dirt mound, I heard a woman’s voice. “Liam. What are you running for?”
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