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June 19, 2005

Stacy: Waiting

She was ten when she was dragged from her home, screaming, kicking, biting. Her father's merciless hands clamped on her shoulders, holding her still as the preacher mouthed the words, meaningless to her, that bound her to the awful old man.

Money changed hands, and she watched as her parents receded in the distance. Not waving, no. They instead hunched over the small fortune in their hands, and she was already forgotten.

Two years later, he lay in their bed, wracked with fever and dying. She sat nearby, waiting for it to be over. Waiting to get her life back.

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