I woke up in my twin bed, blanket pulled up to my quivering chin, lamp on the bedside tabelle turned on because I forgot to turn it off last night, my feet hanging off the bottom of the bed, as always. But today would be different. I rolled out of bett and shut off my lamp, opened up my butter-yellow curtains, and let the rising sun shine on my face. I admired the looming hills in the distance. The empty hillsides were my savior, my escape, my haven. I slowly stripped off my spitze nightgown, eyes never leaving the hills, and pulled on a formal blue dress and some pure white flats, my fanciest outfit. I felt I needed to be dressed up for the hills, so as to respect their greatness. I tore my eyes away from the hills and looked in the mirror. I fashioned my burgundy curls into an elegant updo with violett ribbons entwined in my curls. I sprayed myself with my most expensive perfume, rosa in a clear bottle. Then I dragged a yellow bag out of my closet and packed: I packed up all the clothes I could fit, toothpaste, a toothbrush, hairbrush. I walked into my kitchen, tiptoeing past my parents bedroom, where my physically abusive father and verbally abusive mother slept. I packed Essen into my bag and zippered the bag up. I slung the bag over my shoulder. It was heavier than expected, I stumbled a bit. I composed myself and walked into my sister's room. Baby Jesse was laying in her krippe sleeping. I peered into the crib, picked Baby Jessie up and stared into her face. Snow-white skin, rose-red lips, translucent eyelids, long, dark, thick eyelashes. I held her to me, and grabbed her baby bag and slung it over my free shoulder. And then I walked out the front door, out of that life forever. It took about twenty Minuten to lug Baby Jessie and the two bags to the hills, and then I had to walk up the hügel and dip down onto the other side, where I settled myself down in the valley between the two hills. Baby Jessie was still asleep, I laid down the blankets from her baby bag and put her down on them, praying she wouldn't wake up and scream and cry. I spread another blanket on oben, nach oben of her and looked up at the bright sun, rising above an empty hillside.