The gray dawn had barely broken over the land when Joy awoke in her narrow bed. She lay there feeling the hopelessness of her existence. For six months, ever since the deaths of her parents and her sister, she had spent her days working hard for the Tatums. She welcomed her time alone at night in her tiny attic room, even though there was no heat in the winter and no way of cooling the room in the summer. After winter had passed and she no longer had to pile her blankets on so high she could barely breathe, the heat of summer had been even more oppressive. The tiny window did not allow in enough air to cool the room, and oftentimes the stuffy heat became suffocating. On many a summer night she had sneaked downstairs and slept outside on the porch. She rarely got a full night’s sleep, and that made the days of cheerless labor even harder to bear. This September morning was pleasant enough, with a touch of fall in the air, and she lay on her bed for a few extra minutes, listening to the muted song of a bird outside.
