The Life She Was Given

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

Daddy had told her about the outside world and she had read about it in books, but she had no idea how grass felt between her toes, or how tree bark felt in her hand. She knew what flowers smelled like because Daddy brought her a bouquet every spring, but she wanted to walk through a field of dandelions and daisies, to feel dirt and dew on her bare feet. She wanted to hear birds singing and the sound of the wind.

But besides Abby and the mice she saw running along the baseboard in the winter, she’d never seen a real animal up close.

When Lilly asked why anyone would be afraid of her, Momma said it was because she was a monster, an abomination. Lilly didn’t know what an abomination was, but it sounded bad.

It seemed, for a while, like Daddy would give her everything—until she read Snow White and asked for a mirror.

When she asked Daddy what was wrong with her, he said she was beautiful to him and that was all that mattered.

Momma brought food and necessities, not presents. She came into Lilly’s room every morning—except for the times she forgot—with

She stood by the door every night with a ring of keys in her hands and waited for Lilly to kneel by her bed to ask the Lord to forgive her sins, and to thank Him for giving her a mother who took such good care of her.

Momma said Lilly couldn’t eat with her and Daddy because seeing her across the dinner table would make them lose their appetites.

the last time anyone had touched her was when she was a little girl, unable to wash and dress herself. Daddy never held her hand or hugged and kissed her,

Monday man, who stole clothes from clotheslines in nearly every town.

she knew what it was like to care about someone who misused you. Even after everything Momma and Daddy had done to her, the fact that they never returned her love still broke her heart.

Terrible secrets, like poison, eat away at you from the inside.