If This Barn Could Talk

The smell of faeces, rotting food, and damp hay permeated the air, but Marlie's nose had become immune to the smell, and it no longer caused her to gag. This was the only home she had, and she didn't care if other's might find the smell offensive. Complaining would only fall on deaf ears.

Looking around the old barn, she reminded herself it could have been much worse. At least here in the barn, there was hay to keep her warm, and a tap to drink from. Even though the winter winds battered at the wooden beams, it kept most of the cold out. He made sure of this because he needed the animals for breeding and selling. Without them, he would lose the farm and everything he owned. He didn't own much but it was more than she had.

It hadn't been like this when her mother was still alive. Back then, she lived in the house with her own room and bathroom. She had clothes hanging in her wardrobe, books to read, and a television to watch. There were always three meals a day, and even if the food wasn't great, it was at least edible.

Trevor had met her mother at the local tavern, and six weeks later they were married in the local registry office. Her mother had moved them both into the house on the night of the wedding. She had been shown her room and left to entertain herself, while the newly married couple grabbed a six-pack of beer and headed to the marital bedroom, loudly continuing with their celebrations.

Marlie quickly learnt to be quiet in the mornings. When his head hurt more than usual, Trevor didn't hesitate to curse at her, and he'd been known to throw empty bottles in her direction. Her mother would suggest she grab some food and go outside. Marlie would grab whatever she could find, and head out to the barn, a book tucked under her arm. The barn became her safe place. Until one day, it became her prison.

At 16, everything changed overnight. Her mother had choked in her sleep on her own vomit. Trevor, in his own intoxicated stupor, had heard and felt nothing. Marlie wished it had been Trevor who had choked, instead of her mother. Her mother had not been perfect, but she had loved Marlie, made sure she had food in her stomach, a roof over her head, and a warm bed to sleep in. With her mother gone, there was no one to protect her, and Trevor resented having to provide for a child that wasn't his.

After the ambulance had taken her mother's body away, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the yard to the barn. Screaming and crying, she had begged for him to stop, but her pleas were ignored. He didn't flinch. He didn't even look at her. He used his shoulder to push the barn door aside and pulled her in behind him. Holding her strongly by the arm, she writhed in pain. He may have been an alcoholic, but he had spent twenty years working a farm, and his muscles reflected this. Pulling against him was like a feather being batted against a brick wall. No damage could be done.

"Scream all you want. Our nearest neighbours are miles away, so no one's gonna hear you!", he growled without looking in her direction.

Marlie pulled harder, but he did not loosen his grip. She sobbed loudly, tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision and making it impossible to see. It was dim inside the barn and the noises they were making were muffled by the sounds of animals snorting and calling to each other, alarmed by the sudden intrusion of sounds that they did not recognise.

Without warning, he swung her around and shoved her towards the corner stall. Still holding her, he dragged her to the far wall and grabbed something that clinked loudly, but she couldn't see what he held. Suddenly, he pushed her to the ground and knelt on her, using his weight to keep her down. Roughly grabbing her leg, he twisted something cold and metallic around her ankle. When she heard the lock click into place she realised what he'd done. Marlie began to scream in fear, trying to tear her leg from his grasp.

He stood, dropping her leg, and stepped back. On a leather cord in front of him, dangled a key. As she watched, he placed this over his head and tucked it inside his shirt.

Marlie grabbed the chain wrapped around her ankle and tore at it with her free hands. Her nails ripped at her skin, gouging the flesh, and drawing blood. In her horror and disbelief, she didn't even notice.

"You want to spend all your time out here reading? Now you can live here, too!", he spat at her. Then he was gone.

Marlie crawled into the corner of the stall, her back against the wall, crying and screaming. No one came. No one heard her. There was only darkness, the snuffling of nearby animals, and the sounds of her hysterical sobbing. In her exhaustion, Marlie fell asleep on the pile of hay strewn across the corner of the stall.

The sound of animals snorting and rustling dragged her from her sleep. Her throat was dry and hoarse, and breathing was a little painful. Her leg was throbbed nearly as much as her head. She gave herself time for her eyes to adjust, then slowly scrambled to a standing position. Slowly scanning the stall, she saw a plain single metal bed with a thin mattress against one wall, and a tap and sink in the other corner, with a large bucket pushed underneath the sink. There was nothing else.

Marlie shuffled towards the bed. Looking down, she could see it had an old doona and pillow thrown on top. She turned her head, then began to walk slowly towards the doorway. The chain clinked and rattled behind her. Marlie had no idea how far she could go with the chain, so she stepped slowly, and carefully. Holding her hand against the wall, she began to walk towards the barn doors which loomed far at the other end. About 10 feet from the doors she nearly toppled forward when the chain pulled tight. Only her slow shuffling steps and quick reflexes kept her upright. She could not reach the barn doors. He had made sure of that.

Turning, Marlie began walking back towards her stall, but stopped and checked each stall on the way. Those on the opposite side to her stall held the animals - sheep, goats, pigs and cows. And a horse that was used on the farm. The other stalls were empty or piled with hay bales. There was nothing else. No tools, no rope, no chairs, no buckets, nothing. Trevor had been thorough in removing anything that might assist in escaping.

With a very heavy heart, and feeling exhausted and defeated, Marlie made her way back to the end stall and her bed. She lay down, pulling the doona over her body before her mind once again slipped into unconsciousness.

It was the grating sound of the barn doors sliding open that pulled her from her sleep. He was returning. Pushing herself up, she scrambled back against the wall. She could hear him stomping towards her stall, each step getting closer and closer. Suddenly, his shape loomed in the doorway. He was carrying something that he placed on the ground.

"You don't get to live here for free. I ain't paying to look after some woman's whore child just because she went and died on me. You will earn your keep by caring for the animals", he said through clenched teeth. With that, he turned and left, slamming the barn doors shut. This was followed by the bang of the crossbar falling into place. Then silence. And darkness. Evening had arrived.

Marlie's curiosity got the better of her. Standing, she hobbled towards the bowl. Looking down, she couldn't see what the bowl contained. Slowly, she leant over, grasped the bowl and raised it off the ground. As it got closer to her nose, she could smell the food. Her stomach growled, complaining loudly. Using her hands, she established that it held a cold piece of pie and stale bread. Her brain protested, but her stomach won. She was hungry, and something in her stomach was better than nothing at all.

After eating, exhaustion slowly crept back. With heavy eyes and an aching body, Marlie rolled back onto the mattress and fell asleep, the sounds of animals rustling in the hay, keeping her company.

Trevor stumbled into the barn the next morning, bleary-eyed and still hung-over. He roughly pushed a wheelbarrow in front of him, and Marlie could see that it held a pitchfork and shovel.

"Time for you to work. If you refuse or try any funny business, I will shoot you, and call it an accident", he said without a flicker of emotion. "Don't forget fresh hay and water. I will come back for the wheelbarrow later. Make sure you are finished before I return."

He turned, walking to the opposite stall, and began releasing the animals. With their newfound freedom, they followed Trevor from the barn and out to the pasture.

Marlie contemplated refusing but instinctively knew Trevor would do exactly what he had threatened. With aching muscles, she pushed the wheelbarrow to the opposite stall and began mucking out the dirty hay. She worked quickly, for fear he would return early. Once done, she left the wheelbarrow and tools near the barn doors and returned to her stall.

For nearly six months, the routine had remained the same. The wheelbarrow would arrive, she would muck out the stalls, he would return for the wheelbarrow, and to barn the animals at night. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

But today was different. He arrived late, struggling to steer the wheelbarrow, his eyes heavily bloodshot, and a pale grey pallor to his skin. Marlie realised he was suffering from a major night of drinking. Marlie watched carefully. His movements were slow and clumsy, and he swayed heavily while struggling to unlatch the horse's stall door.

Trevor swore as the door swung open. In his impatience for food, the horse had knocked his feed container to the ground. Trevor bent to grab the container, but lost his balance and began to topple forward. Cursing loudly, he tried to stop his fall, but he banged his shoulder loudly against the wall, startling the horse. In reaction, the horse kicked out in panic. The hoof connected with Trevor's skull, making a sickening, crunching sound. The horse, now in full panic mode, kicked a second time, smashing Trevor's nose. It was all over in a split second. Trevor tumbled to the ground, his face hidden in the dirty hay. A slow pool of blood began to spreading outwards. He lay motionless.

Marlie surveyed the scene before her as hysterical laughter rose from her throat. What if Trevor wasn't dead, but only injured and regained consciousness? That thought was enough to make her move. She walked over to his body and kicked it with her foot. He didn't respond. Grasping the cord around his neck, she yanked her hand back, causing it to snap. The key dangled in front of her. With shaking hands Marlie shoved the key into the lock and turned. There was a click. The lock clattered to the floor, and the chain fell from her ankle. Sobbing, not sure if it was from fear or joy, she stumbled out of the stall.

Marlie didn't look back. She grabbed the shovel and walked towards the barn doors.

It was time to dig a long overdue grave. But she would have to hurry as she now had a farm to run.

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