things packed, but just days before my seventeenth birthday, Rosalyn sent me away.
Every phone call from home had gone ignored, and her letters remained unopened. When Thomas and Rosalyn showed up for Christmas, I refused to see them, and they hadn’t forced me. Up until a month ago, Rosalyn never gave up trying to get through to me, and in return, I mourned the daughter she deserved. A tear slipped from my eye as I wondered what the other three would have been like.
Obedient
Beautiful.
Kind.
Fate had dealt Rosalyn a cruel hand when it chose me.
I had a hell of a time dragging myself out of bed the next morning. Becca, suffering her first hangover, was even worse off. We were making our way to the computer lab to print off the materials we needed for class since we weren’t allowed personal laptops or cell phones. Even our social media and email accounts were suspended, not that I ever had one. We were completely cut off from the world as part of our ‘rehabilitation.’
“Miss Archer.” I turned to see Ms. Wendell, the head attending, quickly approaching until her thin frame towered over us. “Come,” she ordered, her German accent thick. I held in my groan. Because of her fire-red hair that she always wore in a French bun and her ferocious disposition, everyone called her the dragon.
“Why?”
Thin lips pinched together at my violation, and Becca attempted and failed to hold in her giggle. Rule One: We are never to question or argue with an attending. The attending was an all-female staff who made up the teachers, the counselors, the cooks, and the nurses at Natasha Madison’s School of Ladies.
“Mind your manners,” she hissed. She then shifted her focus to Becca. “I suggest you move along, Miss Wilson, or that’s five demerits.”
Becca squeaked, fearing her pristine record would be smudged, and skirted off without a word. I wordlessly followed behind the attending. My palms became sweaty when I saw where we were headed—Madame Madison’s office. No one ever saw the Madame unless they were in serious trouble.
“Wait here,” Ms. Wendell ordered before disappearing into Madame Madison’s office. Surprisingly, I had yet to see the inside of her office, but I imagined the walls were covered in blood, the floor with the skulls of her former students who couldn’t be reformed, and if you listened hard enough, you would still hear the screams of her victims. “She will see you now.”
I wondered if Madame Madison could smell fear.
The first thing I noticed when I trudged into her office was the floral wallpaper. A pristine white area rug covered most of the wooden floor. Music played softly from a speaker I couldn’t see, and along one wall was a board filled with pictures of countless girls in the burgundy and gray uniform.
“Good morning, Miss Archer.”
I looked at the woman behind the desk for the first time. The Madame had short blonde hair, warm blue eyes, and—I swallowed my laugh—a frilly pink shirt. She didn’t look at all like a woman in the business of stealing souls. “Morning.”
She stood from her desk, and I took in the black pencil skirt and high high heels. I imagined holding a wheelie for ten miles would be easier than walking ten feet in those things.
“I apologize for the disruption in your day, but I have news from home.”
My amusement fled. If Thomas and Rosalyn were reaching out through Madame Madison, then it couldn’t have been good news.
“Did something happen?” I braced myself for the news that Rosalyn had ran off yet another beau. Just when I began to think Thomas was different after all…
“No, dear. Your mother and father are fine.” I started to tell her that Thomas wasn’t my father when she dropped the bomb. “You’re going home.”
I straightened at the news. “I’m what?”
“It appears that your parents are no longer in need of my services and have made arrangements for your return.”
“When?” I choked out.
“Tomorrow.” She leaned against her desk and linked her fingers together. “It was strongly recommended that you stay with us as none of your direct supervisors believe that you have been reformed.” She assessed me with kind eyes. “Do you feel you are truly ready to return home, Miss Archer?”
My eyebrow arched. “Does it matter what I think?”
“I’m sure if your parents knew you weren’t ready to return, they would reconsider. I could petition for you to stay, but I need to know you want to change.”
I bit my lip before giving a