Chapter 2

The talk happened a week later, not a discussion, more like a verdict.

Mark sat stiffly on my worn couch, Victoria beside him, her hand possessively on his arm.

"Sarah," Mark began, avoiding my eyes, "Victoria found this place, Tranquil Pathways. It's a short program, really good. For your anger issues."

He gestured vaguely. "And Lily... well, she needs some help adjusting. It' s for the best."

"Adjusting to what, Mark?" I asked, my voice tight. "To her father abandoning her for a new family? To being bullied?"

Victoria chimed in, her voice syrupy sweet, "Oh, Sarah, no one is abandoning anyone. We just want what' s best for Lily. And for you. Think of it as a retreat, a way to heal."

Heal. As if I were the sickness.

"I don't have anger issues, Mark," I said, trying to keep calm. "And Lily is a child who was assaulted."

Mark sighed, looking exasperated. "See? This is what I mean. You're always so defensive, so aggressive. The people at the fair saw it. Victoria was embarrassed. I was embarrassed."

His image. Always his image.

"It's already arranged," Mark said, standing up. "A car will pick you and Lily up tomorrow morning. It's for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. They specialize in mother-daughter bonding too."

"You can't be serious," I whispered, looking at Lily, who was trying to hide behind my legs.

"I am serious, Sarah," Mark' s voice was firm. "It' s either this, or I' ll have to discuss custody. And with your recent... outburst... I don' t think that would go well for you."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Victoria smiled faintly, a small, triumphant curve of her lips.

The next morning, a black car with tinted windows arrived.

Two large, silent men helped us with our bags.

Lily clutched my hand, her small face pale.

"Mommy, I don't want to go," she whispered.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," I lied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's like a special camp."

The drive was long, hours into the remote countryside.

No signs, no towns, just trees and empty roads.

Finally, we reached a high gate, a stark sign: "Tranquil Pathways Youth Academy."

It looked more like a prison than an academy.

A tall, imposing man met us at the entrance.

Mr. Peterson. His eyes were cold, his smile thin.

"Welcome, Ms. Miller, Lily," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "We've been expecting you."

The first rule: no phones.

A stern-faced woman took mine and Lily's small kid-friendly tablet.

"For focus," she said, her expression blank. "No outside distractions."

The place was eerily quiet, isolated.

The air felt heavy.

Mr. Peterson led us down a long, sterile corridor.

"You will have separate initial orientations," he announced. "Lily will go with Ms. Davis. Sarah, you'll come with me."

They pulled Lily away gently but firmly.

She looked back at me, her eyes wide with fear.

"Mommy!"

"I'll see you soon, Lily-bug," I called out, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

Peterson watched me, his face unreadable. "Cooperation is key to progress here, Ms. Miller."

My descent had begun.