The next night, Julian's father found the train ticket to Houston.
"You aren't going anywhere," the old man yelled. He stood in the study doorway, blocking the exit. "You'll do as you're told."
Julian sat behind the desk, looking at the wall.
Later, when the house was asleep, I went to the kitchen. I packed a small canvas bag with a loaf of bread and some cheese. I took the twenty dollars I'd saved from the mill and put it inside.
I walked into the dark study. I set the bag on the desk.
"Go," I said. "The back door is unlocked."
Julian looked at the bag, then at me. "They'll blame you."
"I know," I said. "But you're good at this, Julian. You belong there. And I... I'd rather be alone than be the reason you failed."
He took the bag. He didn't kiss me. He walked out into the rain, and the back door clicked shut.
I sat in his chair and watched the clock tick toward morning. I knew I'd be on the floor tomorrow when his father found out. But for the first time, I didn't feel like a victim. I felt like a window had been opened in a stuffy room.