Chapter 3: The Price of Freedom

Maddie was my classmate from junior high. She worked in a factory because she dropped out—her grades weren’t good enough.

I used to see her on the bus, her uniform stained with grease. She’d wave at me sometimes. Her eyes always tired, but kind. I wondered if she’d chosen that life or just accepted it.

But I was different. I was in my last year of high school, always one of the top students in practice tests—like the SATs.

My teachers called me a model student. The one with a future. I clung to that hope like a lifeline, certain I could claw my way out.

My mother had always hoped I’d study hard, get into a good college, and make something of myself.

Her dream was my dream. I kept her old note in my wallet. “You’re meant for more, Emily. Never forget that.” It was the push I needed on nights when I wanted to give up.

That was what kept me going.

Every late night, every extra assignment, I did for her. I wanted to make her proud, wherever she was.

I knew Leonard only cared about money, so I tried to play his game:

"My homeroom teacher says my grades are good enough for college. If I work hard, I can even get a scholarship. Once I’m in college, I’ll get a job and send you money. After I graduate, I’ll be able to earn even more…"

I held my breath. Sometimes, talking to Leonard was like tiptoeing through a minefield.

Leonard made me write it down—swear I’d send him money every month.

He made me scrawl out a note, right there at the kitchen table. Folded it up, tucked it in his wallet, and grinned.

Satisfied, he passed out on the couch. Still clutching the note.

I watched him snore, the promise crumpled in his fist. I wanted to rip it up. But I couldn’t move.

That night, I thought over and over—if I wanted to get away from Leonard, college was my only ticket out.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, plotting my escape. College wasn’t just a dream. It was survival. I needed distance, a fresh start, a place where Leonard couldn’t reach me.

So I pushed myself even harder and got into a state university with a teaching program in another city, just as I’d hoped, with a scholarship.

The acceptance letter felt like a golden ticket. I cried when I opened it. For the first time, I felt hope.

To make sure I could finish school and to keep Leonard off my back, I worked as a tutor and sent him money every month.

Every paycheck, I’d set aside cash for Leonard, mailing it in battered envelopes. It was never enough. But it kept him off my back. I told myself it was only temporary.

I got a teaching job.

My hands shook, but my heart soared. I could finally imagine a life that was mine, not just a reaction to his demands.

I thought I could finally break free. I stopped sending Leonard money.

I bought a cheap couch, painted the walls yellow, and danced around the living room. For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. The silence was sweet. Not heavy.

But the minute I stopped, Leonard showed up.

He banged on my door at midnight. Waved that crumpled note in my face. My heart pounded as he pushed past me, eyes wild with anger and desperation.

He snarled at me:

"I owe gambling debts and need money to get back on my feet. If you don’t pay up, I’ll send debt collectors after you! I have your promise!"

His words were sharp, like broken glass. I felt trapped all over again, the walls closing in. He didn’t care about my job, my life. Just the money.

I wanted to resist, but I gave in.

My hands shook as I wrote another check. Old habits die hard, especially when they’re carved into you by fear. I told myself it was the last time. But I didn’t believe it.