“You won’t be going home for some time, Katarina, unless you’ve changed your mind about Ivan.”
I shook my head vehemently. “Never.”
Father Vargas’s jaw ticked with annoyance for a second, a crack in his serene mask.
“Very well, you leave us with no choice. You see, Katarina, you arespecial.Having our families be joined is important to me. You’ll be here until you see that.”
“Special how?” I echoed, completely confused. “I’m as run-of-the-mill as they come.”
Vargas just shrugged. “As far as you are aware, child, yes you are... and we will treat you like we would any other young lost soul who needs help curbing the desires of the flesh. Pavol, I think now would be a good time to start.”
I tensed. Pavol got up and crossed to the door behind me. Fear rushed through me at the thought of being locked in alone with these men. Terrible, crushing panic... but there was nowhere to go and no one to help.
The lock engaged with a loud snap.
PART III
It was Sunday. I knew it was Sunday because my mother had started visiting on Sundays. I was slumped in my seat and could barely keep my eyes open. Whatever they gave me on Sundays was strong. They didn’t want someone acting out during visiting hours.
When all the people came to see the freak show.
The voice in my head had become my closest friend, my confidante, my only companion through the dark times.
My mother clutched at my hand, never thinking to pull my damn sleeve up and see the track marks on my skin. They’d started to shoot the Sunday sedatives intravenously since I’d gained a reputation as a biter.
“Ivan visits me once a week. He can’t wait for you to get better,” my mother cried, real tears tracing down her cheeks.
I looked away. I couldn’t stand the sight.
How long had I been here? I’d lost track. Between the weekly sedative and whatever else they gave me on a daily basis, I was growing more and more confused. Only my therapy sessions stayed etched in my mind forever.
Those I’d never forget. And one day, when I escaped here, they’d all answer for this.
“He says that if you get better soon, you could have a summer wedding. Isn’t that lovely?”
Summer?At least six months, then, that I’d been rotting in here. I felt sick.
“Aren’t you going to speak to me?” my mother asked.
I opened my mouth, but only drool came out. The sedative made my salivary glands work overtime. It was disgusting, but I was past feeling embarrassed about it.
None of this was my fault. I had to hold on to that fact above all else.
“Take me... home, please,” I murmured past my rubbery lips.
My mother stared at me.
“Thisss-is a b-b-bad place.”
Exhausted by the effort of speaking through a regimen of drugs that could probably fell an elephant, I slumped back.
My mother shook her head, more tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t. You’re not better yet. If you leave before you’re better, then all of this will have been for nothing.”
She was so close to getting it, but she could never seem to cross that final barrier to full understanding.
Ithadall been for nothing. She’d believed the advice of strangers over her own daughter. The only person I’d trusted in the world willingly kept me here and ignored my pleas.
My only family.