I left.

The whip couldn't have been more than a pound in weight, but it felt like a great stone was hanging from my fingertips. I am sure that Mrs. Nesbeth was begging and pleading for me to begin, but all I could hear was the beating of my own heart. I looked at her and swallowed. Her skin was raw and red, I found myself holding my breath, for fear of exacerbating her.

I could not do it.

I remember the whip slipping through my hand and my feet moving me towards the door. I remember them screaming for me to return, but I kept walking out into the world.

But that is all I remember of that night. My next Memory is of waking in my Bed, with Howard standing watch over me. According to him, Mrs. Nesbeth's husbands spent all night looking for me after I had wandered off. It was well past dawn when they discovered me sleeping, huddled under a tree, covered in muck and detritus, deep within logging territory.

As I fill in these pages, I am also composing a Letter of Apology and Gratitude to the Nesbeth Farm, for all they've done for me. And, I pray, that it would only be by post, that I correspond with them from now on.