Chapter 2

Esther entered my room, a bright, innocent smile on her face. She was holding the small wooden locket in her hand.

"Sarah," she said, her voice sweet. "I have something for you. To celebrate you being home for a whole year."

She held it out. The same locket. The same dark, carved wood.

My breath caught in my throat. I remembered the saw. The blood. The darkness of the silo.

I took a step back.

"No."

Her smile faltered. "No? What do you mean, no? It' s a gift. For you."

"I don't want it, Esther."

Her face fell, a mask of hurt sliding perfectly into place.

"But why? It's a family heirloom. I wanted you to have it. Don't you want to be part of the family again?"

The words were a calculated blow. She knew how much I wanted to belong, how much I ached for their forgiveness after all my years away in the "English" world.

"Of course I do," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I just... I don't wear jewelry."

"It's not just jewelry, Sarah. It's our history." She pressed forward, trying to put it in my hand.

I pulled my hand back sharply. "I said no, Esther!"

She looked genuinely wounded now, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to do something nice."

She turned and left the room, leaving the locket on my dresser. I stared at it, my heart pounding. I wouldn't touch it. I wouldn't go near it.

A few hours later, I was in the kitchen, helping my mother knead dough for the afternoon bread. I was wearing one of her simple aprons.

Jakob came in from the fields, his face flushed from the sun. He smiled at me, a wide, genuine smile.

"Smells good in here, little sister."

Then his eyes dropped to my apron. His smile vanished.

His face twisted into a mask of pure rage.

He was looking at the apron pocket.

I looked down. The wooden locket was sticking out of the pocket. She must have slipped it in when I wasn't looking.

"You defiler," Jakob hissed, his voice a low growl.

He lunged at me.