I slipped the powder into my husband’s dinner.

When his mother caught me, she just scoffed, "That little bit ain't gonna do squat."

Later that night, she took a knife and cut off her own son's manhood herself.

1.

I was five months pregnant, and this felt like judgment day.

Mama Mae said if I couldn’t give her a grandson this time, she’d pass me around to every man in this hollow. Said maybe once I'd earned back the money they paid for me, they'd sell me off to someone else.

The creaky examination table in the clinic felt like the judge's bench.

"Well, Billy? Is it a boy?" Mama Mae craned her neck, squinting at the ultrasound screen Dr. Evans was holding.

But the way Dr. Evans' brow furrowed and his face fell made my heart sink.

Sure enough, the next second, Mama Mae’s fist slammed into my chest.

"You good-for-nothing tramp! Cost my boy ten thousand dollars, and you can't even pop out a boy!" As she pulled her hand back, she slapped me hard across the face, making my head spin.

God, that hurt, you old hag. I lowered my head, clutching it, and rolled my eyes so hard they nearly stuck. If I’m a tramp, what does that make you, practically crawling into bed with your own son every night, you dried-up old prune?

"It is a boy!" Dr. Evans stepped in quickly, seeing the raw patch where she’d yanked my hair earlier. He even took a shove from Mama Mae meant for me.

"It’s a boy, see? This little bump right here, that’s the little fella," Dr. Evans explained, pointing carefully on the screen, even circling the spot with a pen so she’d understand.

"It’s a buck! A buck!" Mama Mae, nearly seventy, flushed red and practically jumped for joy. But just as quickly, she calmed down, shot me a look full of hate, like she’d just remembered something unpleasant.

I ignored her glare, scrambling off the table to see for myself. Relief washed over me.

Only then did I dare sneak a glance at the old woman standing by the table, one hand on her hip, the other patting her own flat stomach.

Sixty-something years old, hasn't had a period in God knows how long, and still dreaming of having her own son! I scoffed silently.

"Abby, your scalp is bleeding pretty bad. Let me give you something for it," Dr. Evans said. He sat on a worn wooden stool in his white coat, his long fingers and the pen gleaming in the sunlight.

After writing something down, he pulled a small paper packet from a cabinet and pressed it into my hand.

Two packets, I thought, feeling the rough paper. I tried to subtly slide one up my sleeve.

But Mama Mae snatched the packet right out of my hand and tried to shove it back at Dr. Evans. While doing it, she poked me hard, her fingernails caked with dirt digging right into my injured scalp. It felt like she wouldn't stop until she drew blood again.

"Don't need it, don't need it! She’s tough as nails, a little scratch like this? Ain't worth using medicine on! It'll heal on its own!"

I'll kill you someday, you miserable old witch! I kept my head down, wincing but not daring to make a sound, pretending to be meek and agreeing. My mind, though, was racing with ways to get rid of her.

Luckily, Mama Mae was too busy arguing with Dr. Evans to notice my expression. They went back and forth all the way to the clinic door.

Until Dr. Evans finally said, "It’s on the house."

"Well, thank you kindly then, Billy," Mama Mae instantly stopped arguing, a folksy smile spreading across her face as she let Dr. Evans put the packet back in her hand.

It was mortifying.

As we left, we thanked Dr. Evans again and again, bowing and scraping like he just handed her the winning lottery ticket.

By the time we walked from the clinic back to our cabin, word had spread like wildfire through Hollow Creek. Everyone knew Cletus, the man whose wife couldn't seem to produce an heir, was finally getting a son. Big news! Cause for celebration, maybe crack open some moonshine.

2

Walking home, I stuck out my belly, which wasn't even showing much yet, and put on a big, happy smile.

After that day, my life in Cletus’s house got a little easier. They didn’t keep me locked up inside as much, the beatings lessened, and sometimes I could even wander around the hollow a bit. People started getting used to seeing me out and about.

"That's just how it is for women! Marry a man, he puts food on the table and clothes on your back. Gotta make the best of it," one neighbor told me.

"A man hitting his wife ain't the worst thing. Long as he provides, just gotta learn to humor him," another chimed in.

"Men are just like big kids, really. Spoil 'em a little, and they'll eat right out of your hand."

When the woman next door, Jenny, tried to run off again and got dragged back, I stood in the crowd watching.

"That’s your neighbor, ain't it?" A woman nudged me with her elbow, nodding towards the scene.

"Ma'am, careful! I'm carrying a boy, you know," I muttered, rolling my eyes inwardly and stepping away from her clumsy nudge. "Sure is," I finally answered. "Honestly, marryin' one man's same as marryin' another, right? Jed’s family, they’re better off than most around here. What's she got to complain about? Just doesn't appreciate what she has."

Standing there, watching Jenny tied up and beaten nearly senseless, a sick kind of superiority washed over me.

But the trail of blood dripping on the dirt path unnerved me. I clutched my belly and carefully backed out of the crowd. No, I gotta protect my son. Can't let anything happen to him.

The thought sent a chill down my spine, like someone was watching me. I looked around, left and right, but saw no one staring. Still, I felt like the other women were jealous. I hurried away from the crowd and ran back towards the cabin.

"Soon as that bitch pops out the boy, we sell her off quick to those idiot brothers down the holler. Then Ma’ll buy you a new wife, son." I hadn't even stepped inside when Mama Mae's venomous words froze me in my tracks. I thought having a son would make things better. Clutching the bag of groceries, I ducked behind the corner of the house to listen.

"Aw, Ma! Where we gonna get the money for that? Let her pop out a couple more boys first, then we'll talk," Cletus mumbled back.

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Freezing cold. He was agreeing with her – sell me again, squeeze more money out of me.

In that instant, I saw my future clearer than ever, and it was worse than Jenny's. At least Jenny was still alive. If they sold me off again, especially to those two... I wouldn't last long.

"Mark my words, son. Once she has that baby, you will sell her." Mama Mae’s cryptic comment jolted me. I remembered something she’d vaguely asked me to help her with earlier, and my teeth clenched with hatred.

Those brothers she mentioned were born slow, dirt poor, strong as oxen, and meaner than snakes when they got riled. If I got sold to them, forced to take care of both... would I even survive?

"Ma! There's some commotion goin' on outside!" I called out, deliberately standing further away before walking into the yard with the groceries, head down. No way I'm letting that old hag sell me to those two. I can't die here. I have to find a way out. I made a silent promise to myself.

3

That day, some church folks came by dropping off donation boxes, and Cletus brought home a bag of rice.

Mama Mae pulled out a piece of pork, deciding to splurge, and sent Cletus out to fetch some liquor.

While tending the stove, I found the packet of powder Dr. Evans had given me. Looking at the amount, I clicked my tongue. "Still seems like not enough."

My hands were shaking as I emptied the powder into a bowl. Just as I was about to reach for a spoon, I looked up and saw Mama Mae standing right there, frowning at me. A cold sweat broke out all over my body.

Did she see?

Before I could even finish the thought, a stinging pain exploded on my cheek.

"Useless thing!" Mama Mae snatched the packet from me, dumped the rest of its contents into the bowl, and stirred vigorously with a spoon until the white powder disappeared. Still not satisfied, she added two huge spoonfuls of sugar before finally stopping. "That little bit ain't gonna do squat! Don't you even care about your man?"

Muttering curses, she carried the bowl out. Before leaving, she deliberately kicked the empty packet into the firebox under the stove, watching it burn.

Only after she left did I finally let out a breath. I unclenched my fist. The bit of powder I'd managed to palm was damp with sweat, but still usable. I mixed it into the thick gravy simmering on the stove. The gravy was dark and strongly flavored; the powder wouldn't be noticeable.

That evening, Mama Mae and Cletus ate and drank with gusto. The combination of the drug and the alcohol knocked them both out cold.

Quietly, I opened the cabin door, planning to use this rare chance to escape.

Everything went smoothly at first. In the distance, the rickety wooden bridge connected Hollow Creek to the outside world. It felt like a lifeline. Cross that bridge, and I’d be free! Head down, I hurried towards it, almost breaking into a run.

Almost there, almost there, almost free!

But then, maybe a hundred yards from freedom, I stopped. I gave up. I turned around and went back.