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Back The Breeders Save as PDF
Chapters (32)
  1. Copyright
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Acknowledgements
  32. About the Author

Betsy nods. “The day she disappeared, I was in the lounge, watching my shows, and the alarm sounded for a lock down. When we were escorted into our rooms, I saw the guards running to the emergency stairs like they were after someone. The next day she was gone. Normally, if someone escapes, they drag them back and put them …” She pauses and looks up at me. “Put them on restriction.” There’s something she’s not telling me, but she moves on without missing a beat. “But that woman, she never came back.” I try to process this, but Betsy keeps talking. “Either she ran away, or she’s dead.”

Betsy’s giving me a steely glare I never would have thought her capable of when she says the word dead. She’s trying to hurt me. And it works. The thought of those guards shooting my mother in the back cuts me deep. Betsy can see it on my face because she smiles and pushes up on me. I stagger back, bang through the bathroom door and stumble into the stainless steel sink. She heaves herself off the toilet, walks over and casually washes her hands. When she turns to run her hands under the electric drier, she glares at me. “Next time, just ask. If you threaten me again, I’ll find a way to make restriction look like a dang tea party.” Then Betsy flops out of the bathroom, pushes open the door and hollers back to me. “Come on in there. Quit pooping around.”

I follow her out the door and back to my room. My eyes count each step back because now that I know my mother’s gone, I have one job. Escape.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

The next week is one of the most frustrating of my life.

I spend all day strapped to my bed. The skin on my wrists burns and chafes from pulling on my restraints for hours on end. The only activity I’m allowed is the horrible TV in the corner. Betsy says it’s to give me something to do, but I know it’s their way of driving me crazy. They play constant loops of black-and-white shows with titles of I Love Lucy, Lassie and Leave it to Beaver. These shows are so sickeningly sweet. These folk’s biggest problems are getting a bad mark in school, or two friends wear the same dress to a party. It’s maddening, slow torture watching people long dead live out their life while I can’t do a damn thing to live my own. If I could move my arms, I’d throw something at the TV.