Before moving to the farm, Mamma, Bailey, and I lived in the suburbs of a city. Our house was one of the most expensive in the neighborhood. With me being the only child, it felt too big. My room was almost the size of a football field. The morning when I learned we were moving again was the day when I tried to ask Bailey for help with a math problem. Math was not my strong suit. I had to work extremely hard each year to pass my class, but it’s even harder when you’re homeschooled, and your parents have no time to help you. That day, I hoped that for the first time in a week, Mamma and Bailey were off their phones.
I was a twelve-year-old girl with long, honey-blond hair and cyan-blue eyes. For never having time to go outside and play, my skin was pale, and sunlight blinded me. In fact, it was so blinding that I usually closed my curtains.
With my math notebook and Pre-Algebra textbook tucked under my arm, I sauntered to my enormous mirror in the corner of my room and brushed my hair. I wore a short pink dress with a white collar and a blue ribbon tied at the end, and brown boots. I also had a hat, but I rarely wore it. I mean, what’s the point of a hat when your protective stepfather never lets you out of the house? That’s who Bailey was. Sure, Daddy was protective of me, too, but he was nowhere near like Bailey. Bailey hired a maid to walk with me everywhere I go. I could not have breakfast or slip into the bathroom without Big Bertha hovering over me like a vulture.
For the first two years of Mamma and Bailey’s marriage, they did not hire a maid. However, by the time I reached double digits, Bailey went crazy. Can you guess what my big birthday present was? You got it—a maid. Bailey literally pushed a maid through my door and put a bow on her head.
Then, pointing at her, he announced, “Happy Birthday, Serena!”
The first thing Big Bertha asked me was, “Where’s your laundry?” I called her “Big Bertha” because she was seven feet tall and weighed at least 270 lbs. She beat a pro wrestler in arm wrestling three rounds straight, so that should say something.
While I stared at the new member of the household, Bailey went right back to talking on his phone.
That morning, I hoped I could make it downstairs without Big Bertha catching me. Therefore, I stayed as quiet as a little mouse scurrying across a neatly polished wooden floor and gently opened my bedroom door. I searched the hallway. Okay. No one there and no one there. I hoped that Big Bertha was still sleeping. I could not ask her for help with my math homework because her math skills were even worse than mine. I had to ask my parents. Heck, they ran a business for Pete’s Sake!
One last time, I searched the hallway, and then I slipped out of the room.
Unfortunately, the first thing I heard was, “Serena!” and Big Bertha appeared from the shadows of a corner. She was a middle-aged woman who wore a black dress with a white apron, and she always carried her mop and bucket. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked as she approached me.
I groaned and answered, “Just to breakfast.”
Big Bertha shook her head—“Not alone, you aren’t”—and defensively held her mop to my chest. “I’m coming with you.”
“Big Bertha, please,” I begged. “What can hurt me in this house? Bailey literally has cameras and traps set up everywhere.” Which he did. As part of his "protecting me" technique, he set up cameras in every room of the mansion and traps. You cannot imagine how many times I accidentally stepped into one of those traps.
Even worse, whenever a trap went off, the mansion exploded into a Code Red, and a robotic voice yelled, “Intruder! Intruder! Serena is in trouble!” when I was just trying to fall asleep in my bed. I guess you can say I suffered from extreme insomnia. My point is, there was nothing in the house that could hurt me, so there was no point in covering the whole darn thing with cameras and traps.
To my annoyance, Big Bertha escorted me downstairs and into the kitchen. The whole journey there, she continued to hold her mop against my chest, rapidly searching the area like a soldier who had just stumbled into enemy territory. The second we entered the kitchen, Big Bertha removed her mop and announced, “Serena is up and about!”
I rolled my eyes and hid behind my hands.
I dropped them when I heard, “Serena!” My mother. She stepped out from behind the kitchen’s bar, on her phone, and approached me.
Bailey was there, too, and he was also on his phone. Well, so much for my dream.
Mamma gave me a quick kiss and a wimpy hug, as did Bailey, and pointed at the bar. “Eat up! We made your favorite breakfast! You need your energy for the fun-filled day ahead of you!”
I wondered what she meant by that.
Big Bertha stepped aside and stood like a statue as she waited for her next orders.
My feet took me to the plate of eggs, grits, and bacon, and sat me down in a chair behind the bar. Before eating, though, I pushed the plate aside and set my math supplies down before me. “Bailey,” I started, “before I eat, could you help me with something?”
He totally misunderstood my question—“Sure”—and rubbed his free fingers on his bald head. “What do you want, sweetie? A new phone?”
I kept on trekking forward—“Not exactly”—and pushed my textbook toward him. “You see, there is a problem in the textbook that I’m stuck on.”
This was Bailey’s first response: “You want a new book? Got it. We’ll send a servant to the store to pick it up.”
Oh goodness. I shook my head. “Not exactly. I mean, this problem involves fractions and decimals, and they are not my strong suit.” I pointed at the problem I needed help with and stared desperately into his dark eyes.
Bailey only glanced at it, and then he asked, “Do you want a book about domino magic tricks?”
“No!” I frustratingly announced, shoving the book in his face. “I need help with Number 3! It involves fractions and decimals!”
“Oh, honey,” Bailey said, backing away from me, “your mother and I really need to take this call.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Once you figure out what you want, let us know.” Then just like that, he joined Mamma, and they went into their offices. They left me all alone in the kitchen.
Sighing, I closed my book and pushed everything aside.
As I sheepishly ate my breakfast, Big Bertha hovered over me and constantly asked, “Are you finished yet, Mistress Serena?” You can imagine that got on my nerves.
Eventually, I chucked my fork down on my plate and yelled, “Yes! Happy?”
“Then come on,” Big Bertha continued, helping me down from the counter. “Let’s return to your room. Cooper should be back from his walk soon.”
I didn’t argue. I just wanted to be alone. Luckily, Big Bertha always left me alone when I went to my room. Bailey believed my room was the safest place in the entire house. How surprising. The second we reached it, I broke free from Big Bertha and slammed the door shut behind me. Cooper had his own dog door, so whenever he returned, he would crawl through it. At least the dog had a walk every day, and he’s a dog. So why could I not go outside? It made no sense.
Until he returned, I tossed my school supplies on my bed and flopped down on my back. I hugged my favorite stuffed animal to my chest. Do not laugh! She was a little bird whom I called “Flappy,” and I am not ashamed to admit that I still loved stuffed animals at age twelve. Besides, the bird is my favorite animal species, but I am so jealous of them. There I was, trapped in my own house, while they soared through the winter air and bounced on clouds. I wished I could pop wings and join them.
As I lay in bed, cuddling Flappy, I heard shuffling.
Cooper slipped through his dog door just as I predicted. Before long, the Golden Retriever put his front paws on my bed and licked my face. His tail wagged like crazy, and I smelled his breath. His breath never smelled like dog breath. Big Bertha, every morning before he went for his walk, brushed his teeth and fur. Cooper was a beautiful dog. He had deep brown eyes, light golden fur, a fuzzy tail, and a medium body build. He always brightened up my day. I always kept a bowl of water in the corner of my room, and he usually drank from it the second he returned from his walk, so both drool and the water he drank soaked my face.
“Cooper!” I shouted, pushing him off, “Aw, man! Look what you did to my dress!” Landing on the floor, I rubbed myself down and glanced at him. Cooper seemed to laugh, and, cracking a small smile, I sprayed some of the water in his face. As soon as I did, I fell to my knees and cuddled with him. I scratched him behind the ears, and we bopped foreheads. “How was your walk, boy?” I questioned. “Did you make any new friends?” Another thing that didn’t make sense was that Cooper was technically my dog, so why was I not allowed to walk him? Why did a servant have to do it? Whatever. I think I’ve ranted about my life long enough.
“Do you want to play fetch?” I asked Cooper. I picked up one of his tennis balls that he always snuck under my bed.
Instantly, he grew excited and bent down in his fetching position. He pointed his backside toward the ceiling.
“Is this what you want, boy?” I asked, waving the ball in his face.
Cooper nodded rapidly and spun in circles.
“Then go get it!” I announced, chucking the ball out on my balcony.
Cooper immediately chased after it and disappeared outside. The balcony was my only way of connecting with the rest of the world.
Chuckling, I hurried after Cooper and found myself looking at the city skyline and a park where young children played on the playground. Lucky kids. I approached Cooper, who dropped the tennis ball, and we played for a good while. That was until a robin landed on the balcony railing.
At the sight of the bird, I gave Cooper the signal to halt, and he did. However, he still held the tennis ball in his mouth.
The robin chirped and turned to face me. The two of us met eyes, and we stared at each other. I offered my finger to the bird, and it glanced at it. Then, flapping its wings, it lifted off the railing and landed on it. It was incredible. The bird didn't hesitate to land on my finger.
With Claude at my heels, I lifted my free hand and stroked the bird's feathery head.
It chirped.
Leaning in close, I bumped heads with the animal and told it in a small voice, "Go, little bird. Enjoy your freedom, but make sure you don't approach any cats."
As if it understood me, the bird bobbed its head.
I gave it a weak smile and let it go.
Flapping its wings, the bird lifted off my finger and soared into the atmosphere, away from my prison and to the outside world. The only thing Claude and I could do was stare.
As I watched the bird fly away, I asked myself, “Am I ever going to find freedom like that bird, or am I going to be a victim of neglect the rest of my life?”
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and then Add to home screen.