The glowing orange Caribbean sun surrendered to the moon, descending in the darkening sky. Traces of the night could be seen as the stars began to emerge in the blanket of darkness. Soon, in many homes flickering light appeared, indicating candles had been lit for the evening hours. The lively activity of the streets had diminished as daylight became scarce, and most of the town had retreated to their homes for the night, with the exception of the drunks, strumpets, and beggars. In the bedroom of a particular estate, a young woman, Sarah Bradley, lay on her bed, deeply engrossed in contributing to her daily journal writings. Sarah always wrote in the hour or more before she slept as a way to relax and sort out her thoughts for the day.
Sarah hadn't had the easiest life. Although her family was fairly well off, she was grateful for what she did have and knew not to take anything for granted. A harsh lesson was learned when her elder brother Jonathan had passed away in a storm at sea. He was her only sibling, and the loss was devastating to the Bradley family. Taking the death especially hard was Sarah's father, Nathaniel Bradley. Soon after Jonathan's unexpected death, he was constantly gone from their home, rarely partaking in any family events, and rarely coming home sober.
It was at these moments when Sarah witnessed the worst side of her father; the horror of what he had become after the prolonged drinking. Her mother was then victim to his intoxicated aggression. Then, when Sarah was twelve years old, Nathaniel Bradley left. It had happened without a warning. One morning Sarah and her mother had awoken to find the house quiet and Nathaniel Bradley nowhere to be found. At first, the three of them believed he had simply left to run an errand, but after noticing almost all of his possessions had vanished, they knew otherwise, and were resigned to the truth: He had abandoned his own family.
She found herself, much to her disgust, wondering where he was now and how he spent his days. Feelings of hurt, anger, hatred, and sadness often swirled about in her mind when the subject of her father arose. Nathaniel Bradley, in Sarah's mind, had no right to be called her father any longer.
That was the past, however, and she did not let herself dwell on it, most of the time anyway. Although she occasionally found herself straying to thoughts of her father, she was quick to force them out. Drifting back to present thoughts, Sarah continued writing in her journal, until she felt her eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each word she wrote. Suppressing a yawn, she placed her journal onto her nightstand, rose from her bed, and one by one blew out each candle lighting her room. She climbed into her soft bed and waited for sleep to take her.
Rain was falling and claps of thunder rolled across the ominous skies as Sarah rose from a decent night of rest. She ran a hand through her long, dark brown hair and was in the midst of a long, groggy yawn when she suddenly froze. There was a sound drifting into her bedroom. She hastily climbed out of bed and hurried to the source of the sound. Placing her ear against the closed door, she heard voices, and the distinct crying of what sounded like her mother. One by one, she glided down the stairs, heartbeat quickening with each step. When she finally approached the source of the problem, she gently pushed the door open just enough to peek in and see what the commotion was all about. Her eyes landed on her mother, who was sitting on the sofa, sobbing into her hands. Standing in silence a few feet from her was a tall man clad in a long coat. Pressing her ear tightly against the wood of the door, Sarah listened.