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into the backyard to relieve himself. It was impossible to know when he would— it depended on how much rum he had drunk, or how soon he got sleepy.
    I moved to the edge of the house and stood in the shadow of the porch. The moon had risen over the oak trees and threw eerie light across the fields and yard. It did not seem possible I was standing outside my own house holding an ax, but there I was.
    Mr. Griffin must have drunk more rum than usual that evening, forsoon I heard steps in the house. The back door creaked open and there were steps across the porch. Sometimes Mr. Griffin pissed from the edge of the porch, but in good weather he usually stepped out into the yard. I was relieved to see him walk down the steps into the moonlight. He moved almost to the woodpile before he stopped. I heard the hiss and tinkle of piss on the chips and saw the flash of his arc.
    Quietly as I could I stepped up behind him and raised the ax. I brought the ax down hard as I could but must have missed his head and hit his neck or shoulder, for he called out and spun around. I raised the ax again and hit him in the face as he turned toward me. He moaned as I hit him on the head, and the skull popped like a terrapin shell he had stomped. As he sank to his knees I thought of him pushing me down in the muck of the hogpen and tearing my dress, and I hit him again.
    When Mr. Griffin lay still in the moonlight, I listened to see if Mama had heard the commotion and come to the door. The house was still. I walked on tiptoes up the steps to the back door. I hoped Mama had not gone to bed but was still sewing in the parlor.
    The only light was in the parlor and I slipped down the hall to their bedroom. Feeling my way into the room I opened the door of the wardrobe where Mr. Griffin kept his clothes. Quick as I could in the dark I ripped off my dress and put on one of Mr. Griffin’s shirts and a pair of his pants. If I could look like a man or boy I might be able to survive while traveling in the hills. I got Mr. Griffin’s winter coat and slipped it on, and I took his spare Sunday hat.
    I knew Mama kept her coins tied in a handkerchief in the top bureau drawer. I fished around in the drawer until I found the handkerchief and slipped it into a coat pocket.
    My plan was to hurry back into the night without Mama seeing me. I needed to get far away from the house by daylight. But as I tiptoed down the hall I hit a coat tree and knocked it over. The crash seemed to shake the house.
    â€œIs that you, Charlie?” Mama said. She turned and saw me in thelamplight in the parlor door. Because I was wearing Mr. Griffin’s clothes she started screaming. I stepped toward the light to quiet her and saw the blood on my fingers. Mr. Griffin’s blood had splashed on my hands and wrists and on my face. Mama screamed again when she saw the blood, and I ran out of the house and into the night, taking care to avoid Mr. Griffin’s body by the woodpile.
    I T WAS COMPLETELY dark in the woods, and I plunged into the pines and ducked and pushed limbs aside until I found the trail. The hat kept getting knocked off. Where are you going? I said to myself. Do you know what you’re doing?
    When I found the river trail I walked faster. The trail was wide enough for a horse and rider, and there were puddles and boggy places along it. I stepped in mud holes and hurried. I didn’t want to be seen by anybody I knew. I didn’t know where I was going, but I wanted to get there as fast as I could.
    The trail ran down to the Catawba River and along the river. There was a ferry there and a low ford where you could drive a wagon across. But I wanted to cross the river secretly in the dark. There was wilder country west of the river and nobody knew me there. I ran along the trail and jumped over rocks.
    It was so dark I couldn’t tell exactly where the ford was. I found a wide place where the river was shallow and the bottom was rocky. I took off my