Chapter 3

My "re-education" started immediately.

The room was small, bare, a bed, a chair, a tiny window high up.

Isolation. For hours.

Then came the group "confessionals."

Ten women, all looking broken, sat in a circle.

A staff member, Ms. Albright, with a hard face, led it.

"Sarah, tell us why you are here. Tell us about your anger."

"I'm here because my ex-husband was manipulated," I said.

Ms. Albright' s smile was cold. "Denial is the first barrier, Sarah. We must break it."

They shamed me. Picked apart my words, my life.

"You failed as a wife."

"You are failing as a mother."

Sleep was scarce. Loud noises at odd hours. Bright lights flashed into my room.

Food was bland, barely enough.

They told me Lily was in her own program, "adjusting."

"Your resistance, Sarah, will only make things harder for Lily," Peterson told me during one of his "evaluations."

His office was large, opulent, a stark contrast to my cell.

"She needs to see her mother setting a good example of compliance."

Compliance. That was the word they loved.

We were allowed brief, supervised meetings, Lily and I.

Once a week, for thirty minutes.

Lily looked thinner, her eyes haunted.

She' d hug me tight, whispering, "I miss you, Mommy."

The staff watched, taking notes. Our words were stilted, our emotions choked.

The "calming medication" started in the second month.

Small white pills. "To help with your anxiety," the nurse said.

They made me groggy, disoriented. My thoughts became muddy.

Especially before Peterson's evaluations.

His questions became more personal, his gaze more lingering.

He' d talk about the "benefactors" of Tranquil Pathways.

"Wealthy, influential men," he' d say, a strange glint in his eye. "They appreciate discipline, order. They sometimes take an interest in our most... receptive graduates."

Receptive. The word made my skin crawl.

I tried to refuse the medication once.

The next day, Lily' s weekly visit was cancelled. "Behavioral setback," they said. Lily's.

I took the pills after that.

I had to. For Lily.

The days blurred into a nightmarish routine.

Confess. Comply. Take the pills.

Pretend.

My headstrong nature was being systematically dismantled.

Or so they thought.

Deep inside, a tiny, cold spark of defiance remained.

For Lily. I had to survive this, for her.

But the drugs made it harder. The world swam.

Peterson' s face would loom, his voice too close.

"You're making progress, Sarah. Slow, but progress."

His hand brushed mine once during an "evaluation."

It felt like a snake.

I pulled away.

His eyes narrowed. "Patience, Sarah. Everyone learns patience here."