Chapter 2

My family had set up a feast for New Year's Eve. Mom handed Ethan and me one gift envelope each. As usual, mine was thicker. It felt almost scorching in my hands.

Dad smiled and asked, "Eva, we'll take you out back to set off fireworks later. We bought a whole bunch of your favorites this year. Set off as many as you want."

Mom put an arm around my shoulders, the warmth of her palm seeping through my clothes until it almost burned.

Ethan quietly slipped the money from his own envelope into mine, moving so gently as if he were afraid of startling me.

Dad sat across from us with a smile on his face. From his expression, it was obvious that he was very pleased.

Our family looked so loving, happy, and harmonious.

But they were the ones who had sent me to that place called a correctional boot camp on the very night of that day when I'd simply said "goodbye" to a male classmate. That place was a living hell. My family was the one who had pushed me into the abyss.

In a daze, Ethan's hand accidentally brushed against the back of mine. The warmth of his touch made my heart jolt with fright.

The alarm in my head went off instantly. Like a puppet being controlled by invisible strings, my body suddenly went limp. With a loud thud, I dropped to my knees on the cold floor, clutching my head and curling into myself as I babbled incoherently.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I shouldn't let a man touch me. I'm sorry..."

The coldness from the floor tiles seeped through my thin pants, making my knees ache, but I couldn't care less. All I knew was that I had to keep apologizing. That was the only way to avoid being beaten and berated by the instructors.

Mom, Dad, and Ethan were all startled by my unexpected reaction. They stood frozen, their eyes filled with shock.

I could feel Ethan about to come over and help me. The moment he moved, I flinched like a frightened rabbit. I dropped onto all fours and desperately crawled away from them, all the way to a corner of the living room.

Then, I faced the empty wall and began banging my head against the floor again and again.

Each impact made a dull thud. My vision blurred with pain, but I didn't dare stop. The instructor had said that whenever we'd made a mistake, we had to prostrate ourselves and admit our wrongdoing until they were satisfied.

"Eva! What are you doing?" Mom shrieked.

She was the first to react. Instantly, she rushed over, wrapped her arms around my waist, and helped me up from the floor.

Her voice was choked with sobs as she asked, "What's wrong, Eva? Don't scare me. Are you unwell?"

Her embrace was warm, but I felt suffocated. I struggled desperately in her arms.

It wasn't until her voice finally reached me that I snapped awake from the nightmare.

This wasn't the boot camp. I was home. There were no instructors, no belts, no endless physical punishment and humiliation.

I dug my nails into my palms hard enough to break the skin. The pain nearly brought tears to my eyes, but I shook my head, unable to say a word.

I couldn't tell them. I would never dare do such a thing again.

Back at the boot camp, I'd once secretly called home while the instructor wasn't looking. I cried as I told my family the people there were abusing me, that the instructor beat me, cursed at me, and humiliated me. I begged them to come get me.

Dad had screamed at me over the phone, accusing me of lying just to escape and calling me ungrateful.

Mom had remained silent for a long time. In the end, she only said, "We're doing this for your own good."

And Ethan had simply hung up without offering even a single word of comfort.

The instructor had overheard the call. That night, my punishment was harsher than ever. They trampled over my dignity underfoot until there was nothing left.

From that moment on, I knew that revealing the secrets of that place would only bring even more brutal punishment. All the boot camp had left behind was trauma and intense fear of telling the truth.