Birthday at the Cabin

My Family Had a Tradition We Weren’t Allowed to Talk About I didn’t realize

it was illegal until I was older. Every year, on my birthday, my parents took

me out of school early and drove me to a cabin we owned in the woods. No phones.

No photos. No neighbors. They called it “keeping the family safe.” That’s what they

always said. ⸻ Inside the cabin was a locked room. My dad held the

key. My mom never went inside. When I turned thirteen, my dad told me it

was my turn to help. Inside the room was a man tied to a chair. He wasn’t screaming.

He looked relieved, like he’d been waiting. My dad said the same thing his father told him: