The next few days were spent secretly packing what little belongings I planned on taking with me and seeking for ways to get out of the country. It was proving to be a much more difficult task than I had originally anticipated it to be. Only a small number of people were allowed in and out of the country, and though I had heard of an underground group that would usher people out of Italy, I didn't have a clue on where to even begin looking for that group. 

For the time being, though, I had to find where my aunt and uncle lived. I waited until I knew my father and sisters had retired for the night, grabbed my reading candle I kept by my bedside, and silently crept down the hallway to Mama's room. My father had put all of Mama's belongings in the closet when she passed and hadn't touched them since. I knew that would be my best bet to find any old letters her sister had sent to her from America. All I needed was one envelope with a return address. 

I rifled through old boxes and drawers, being careful of the flame in my hand and to avoid dripping candle wax on anything. I was able to locate an old cigar box in the bottom of the closet that contained aging papers and what looked to be letters underneath. I carefully sifted through them, pulling a yellowing envelope out of the box. It was addressed to Mama in curling script, and in the upper corner, was a return address. The name on the return address was my Auntie Romelda's name. I lit up, setting the candle down on the shelf and grabbing my sketchbook from under my arm and my pencil from where it was tucked behind my ear. I quickly copied down the address, careful to put the letter and other papers back the way that I had found them, just in case anyone decided to look through Mama's things. I took the candle and shut the door to the closet, carefully making my way back to my room. 

Once I had sat in bed for a moment to ensure no one was stirring, I dared to open my sketchbook again and stare at the address, as if it alone had the answers to my future plans. Even though I knew that was entirely false, I still felt a surge of hope that maybe this was my ticket out. My saving grace from a life of miserable servitude and forced motherhood. 

Of course, there was still the matter of finding and securing safe passage out of Italy. I had caught whisperings of a cargo ship that would take on those who wished to leave the country and smuggle them out. For a price, of course. Again, I didn't have any money myself, but I did have several pieces of expensive jewelry that I knew I could more than likely barter with. The hard part would be to find the cargo ship itself. I was also unsure of whether or not they would agree to take me on, considering I was a woman. 

Maybe, considering their supposed opposing ideology, they would take me regardless. One could only hope. So that's what I did. I allowed myself to hope and plan: to figure out a way to find this ship, board it, and make it to America. 

I got such a chance late one afternoon in the summer of that same year. We were running dangerously low on groceries in the cupboards, so I went to my father and asked him for the proper amount of money to go out and buy them. Without a second thought, he drew the money from his pocket and handed it to me, the little stack of paper making my heart rate lurch. 

I knew that this, combined with the jewelry I had packed to take along with me, would be sufficient enough for whoever I would barter with to accept me. Thanking him, I put the money in my skirt pocket and went outside, finding Chiara and Rosetta standing in the garden solemnly. 

I looked at them individually. 

"This is your last chance to come with me. Please, I know it may be scary, but I promise we can have a life. A better life. One where we are not simply property, but individuals. Please, sisters, come with me," I pleaded, grasping one of each of their hands in both of my own. 

Rosetta considered me scathingly, as Chiara looked on tearfully. The former was the first to break the heavy silence. 

"I am glad to serve my country, and would not think of behaving in such a treasonous way." Her words were cold, her countenance callous. It cut deep, and I blinked back the stinging tears trying to fall. "The only pity I will take on you for betraying our country is to refrain from telling father."

She wrenched her hand from mine, turned, and strode away. Chiara and I watched her until we could no longer see her skirts briskly swishing in the breeze. I swallowed thickly, taking a steadying breath. I had a feeling my younger sister might react this way, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. After all, she was my family. Chiara turned to me, tears brimming and spilling over the threshold of her hazel eyes as she firmly grasped both my hands in hers. 

"(Y/N), I beg you, reconsider. You have a life here already. Father, Rosetta, and I, we need..." She paused, seeming to correct herself. "...I need you." 

I gave her a small smile. "Then come with me. I know it seems impossible, but I promise I have a plan. We can face the unknown together." 

I held my breath, praying she would change her mind. My heart sunk when she looked back up at me, shaking her head slowly. "I can't. I must stay here." A moment of silence passed between us before my sister spoke again. "I do hope you make it." 

I smiled at her, a tear sliding down my cheek. She smiled back through her own tears. "Thank you, Chiara. I hope you are able to find the happiness you so deserve." 

She pulled me into her, kissing my cheek and wrapping me in a tight hug. I held her tightly, knowing in the back of my mind that this would be the last time I would ever hug my sister. The smell of the flowers interspersed in her hair would be something that would stick in my mind for years and years in the future. I pulled back from her, wiping her cheek as tears continued to trail down her face. 

"I love you, Chiara." 

"I love you too, (Y/N)." 

With one final squeeze of my hands, she let go. I grabbed my satchel and slung it over my shoulder, taking one final look back before turning and taking the foot path down to the small town a little ways from our property. I tried to slow my racing heart and calm my trembling hands. 

It wasn't as if I had never been out in town before. I frequently went on outings to make purchases for my family, in fact. But this was different. I was attempting to do something very illegal, and I didn't even know whether or not I would be successful. In all my preparations, I hadn't even stopped to consider what I would do should I be turned away. I didn't want to consider it. 

I shook myself out of my self-sabotaging line of thought, knowing if I even played with the idea of turning around and giving up, I might cave and never leave. I couldn't give up before I had even attempted to make a better future for myself. I resolutely continued on the path, the packed clay and earth beneath my feet turning to cobbled stone and brick. People walked up and down the street around me, all in their own little worlds. And even though it might have been a bit self-centered of me, the thought crossed my mind that no one I passed had any idea of what I was planning on doing. 

I did my best to avoid people who were acquaintances of my family who might recognize me, and made it through the main thoroughfare without a problem. I came to the docks, warily looking around me at the sailors and a couple of soldiers milling around, giving me scant glances before going back to loitering and lazy conversation. I walked to the end of the dock, glancing around me at the different boats and ships. I finally spotted an unassuming boat that had been described before as the underground's cargo ship. 

I walked up the ramp and knocked on the door above deck. A young man with brown curls opened the door, looking me up and down suspiciously. I swallowed nervously. 

"I'm here for a job opportunity," I said, the odd phrase being what I had learned was the phrase used for those wishing to leave through the resistance. 

The man, looking around my own age, arched an eyebrow at me curiously. "You want the job?" 

I ignored the condescending way he spoke to me and nodded, rifling in my bag and removing the money my father had given me along with a pair of diamond earrings. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as I held out my offering to him. 

"Here. I don't want to waste your time. I just need to get to America." 

He took the money and the jewelry from me, nodding slowly as he stepped to the side. "Alright, come on. We've got some clothes you're going to need to put on."

My brow furrowed in confusion as I walked into the cabin, looking around me. The man stuffed my money and earrings into his pocket before reaching into a drawer and pulling out a full outfit. It was a typical outfit for working class men: breeches, a white shirt, suspenders, shoes I could already tell were going to be a bit too big, socks, and a cap. I cocked my head in confusion as he handed me the bundle. 

"Why do I need to put these on?" 

He looked up at me. "If you don't want to catch the suspicion of the military, you'll need to blend in with the rest of the crew." He nodded to the cap. "Tuck your hair up into that and try not to talk a lot." 

I nodded nervously. This was more involved than I had thought. 

"My quarters are right down this passage; you're more than welcome to change in there." 

"Okay, thank you," I said, making my way to where he pointed me toward. I shut the door, making quick work of removing my dress and shrugging on the unfamiliar men's clothing. I had never felt pants before, but I had a newfound love for them after pulling them on for the first time. Glancing at the little mirror hanging on the wall, I tucked my hair up into the cap the blonde man had given me. 

I stood at my full height, examining my reflection. If you squinted and didn't look too closely, I thought I looked fairly convincing. I tucked my folded dress under my arm and opened the door, shutting the door on my past, and, though it hurt, my family.