Stolen

by Elizabeth Gilpin

  “I’m home,” Shelby said, only half joking, as a serene look came across her face.

  Though a collection of old sedans filled the tiny parking lot, there were zero signs of life outside the building. I glanced at the clock. We weren’t late. Everyone else must have been early.

  “Holy shit.” Levi opened the door and hopped out. “Can you believe we’re actually going to church?”

  “Language,” Shelby said.

  This building was much smaller than the one back home. In fact, the whole thing probably could have fit inside the entryway of First Presbyterian. My old church had extremely high ceilings and a balcony like an opera house. The floors were red velvet, and there were rows and rows of pews, with huge stained-glass windows on either side. There were three sections of pipe organs and a huge choir that always looked perfectly put together.

  This church was small and homey, a neighborhood congregation where everyone knew each other and had for years. It seemed like the type of place where not showing up one week meant getting half a dozen phone calls to make sure you were okay.

  The biggest difference of all? People actually seemed happy to be there.

  “I want you to hug your neighbor,” the pastor said. “Shake hands if you’ve never met. And when you’re done, well, hug your other neighbor!”

  The congregation laughed. We stuck out like sore thumbs, but no one seemed to mind.

  “I see we have new folks here today,” he said. “Welcome. We hope you enjoy the service today and that y’all become part of our church family.”

  He was talking about us, of course, but it took a moment to realize that. It had been so long since an authority figure was actually nice, and the members were all so welcoming. They smiled and shook our hands. They didn’t treat us like freaks or lab rats. They must have known who we were, of course. Everyone was aware of Carlbrook’s reputation. Regardless of how crazy they’d heard we were, they welcomed us with open arms.

  “It’s a beautiful Sunday to be in the house of God!”

  You know what? It really is.

  “It’s a beautiful day to give thanks to the Lord,” the pastor said. “That is why we’re here, after all.”

  He could have said anything at all and it would have been the best damn sermon I’d ever heard. I was so used to Alan preaching about shiny marbles and pendulums before whipping around and calling us all sluts that this was a breath of fresh air. On top of that, his pants weren’t tight and he didn’t offer anyone a massage.

  “Do we get wine?” Levi asked.

  “It’s called communion,” Shelby said. “And it’s only a sip. Haven’t you ever been to church?”

  “I’m Jewish.”

  Shelby took the church part of things seriously and I had to respect that. But for the rest of us, it was all about freedom. We sang all the hymns with the choir, and after the service they shared homemade cookies and Rice Krispies treats.

  Thank you, God. And thank you, Charlotte.

  That week was a normal mix of school and group and bullshit appointments. It was so much easier to get through it knowing that when the weekend came there would be an escape. I laughed, thinking what my mother would say to see me this excited about church, and I even told her about it during our next scheduled phone call. It was a relief to have something I could actually talk to them about once we’d gotten past the weather and how my soccer team was doing without me.

  When Sunday arrived, we were greeted like family.

  “Welcome back. We’re so happy to see you!”

  It was like we belonged there. They’d even saved us the same pew we took last time.

  “Hallelujah,” the pastor said. “Everybody say Hallelujah!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  I yelled it loudly along with everyone else.

  “You know it’s my favorite time of the week when I get y’all here in God’s house. This congregation is my family, and I can thank God for that. So thank you all for being my family.”

  When Alan talked about family it sounded like bullshit, and he must have realized that we had found a better version of what he was preaching somewhere else. Because after only a few weeks, something went horribly wrong.

  The list wasn’t posted. Because the church trip was canceled.

  “Maybe in the future,” they said. “There just aren’t enough hands right now.”

  Chapter 33

  A LITTLE MORE than a year after the night I was stolen from my bed, it finally came time for me to go home for a three-day visit. I had only one workshop left, and my peer group and I were supposed to be reacclimating ourselves to the real world.

  Unfortunately, my home as I knew it didn’t actually exist anymore. My parents had moved to a brand-new house in a brand-new city, about an hour away from my old town. Of course it wasn’t personal—my dad had gotten a new job—but for some reason it still stung.

  Maybe it’s easier this way. Now they don’t have to think of the daughter they sent away every time they see the last bedroom door on the right.

  A few days before I was scheduled to leave, Monica called me in for an appointment.

  “I just want to touch base with you before you go home. How are you feeling about it?”

  “Good,” I said. “Excited.”

  “And what about the move? You’re touring your new high school, I hear.”

  “What?” This was news to me. “No, I’m not. I can’t go to a third high school. Especially for one semester.”

  “I understand how you feel, Elizabeth.”

  “Then why do I have to go? I’m only one credit short, anyway. Can’t I just get that here and graduate high school early?”

  “I’ve spoken to your parents about this. You’ve just turned seventeen. That’s too young to be out of school. Especially considering you’ll be making a huge adjustment to life outside of Carlbrook.”

  “Well, then can’t I just go back to my old school?”

  “You can bring it up with your parents when you get home.”

  I tried not to let what Monica said get to me. I got a rush of nervous energy when I started packing, though I don’t know why I even bothered. I wasn’t going to wear my J.Crew bullshit if I didn’t have to. I planned on spending my entire home visit in too-tight jeans and sweatpants, going to bed whenever I felt like it. Technically, we were supposed to follow the Carlbrook rules on home visits, but there was just no way that was going to happen.

  On the morning of my flight, I was too excited to eat breakfast. I just stared at my food until the vans arrived to take us to the airport. It was strange to look across the room at my classmates and wonder if I’d see all of them again in three days. Maybe someone would pull a Luke and disappear.

  Are any of us brave enough to run away?

  The problem with running away wasn’t just that you were likely to be tracked down and sent back to the woods while the powers that be decided how best to deal with you. They also told us that all of our credits would be withheld. While I hated Carlbrook more than anything in the world, I didn’t know if I could stomach being a high school dropout. I honestly wasn’t sure which fate was worse, but part of me felt like I needed to find out.

  I and my vanful of kids said our good-byes at the airport and went our separate ways. I went through security and found my gate, and then I just stood there. It was the first time in a year that no one knew exactly where I was and exactly what I was doing. I didn’t even know how to comprehend that kind of freedom. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to trust it.

  I thought about making a run for it. Maybe I could convince the gate agent to let me sneak onto another flight. I spotted a pay phone and walked toward it instinctually. But I froze midstep before I even got there. Who would I even call? I was still in Virginia. I was still so close to Carlbrook, and I could feel the school looming over me.

  How could I know for sure that no one had followed me? They probably had spies stationed throughout the airport. At the very least t
here could be a Pony lurking around the corner, ready to report on my every move. I knew I was being totally paranoid. But at the same time, I was convinced my fears were completely reasonable. Carlbrook had worked its black magic inside my head.

  When it was time to board, I practically ran onto the plane. Maybe I just needed to get out of Virginia, to put some miles between myself and that school. If I could just clear my head of all the Carlbrook static, I’d understand what I needed to do next.

  The plane pulled away from the gate and soon tilted skyward. As soon as we reached cruising altitude, I exhaled all the air from my lungs. I could breathe for the first time in a year, a big breath. I was free, free for the next two hours or however long it took to get home.

  I had a layover in Charlotte—maybe I could just run away there. That would buy me some time; it would take a minute for my family or the school to get there. The devil won again, though, and I boarded the next flight as well.

  I’ll run away on the way back. I’m just getting myself ready.

  The new house was actually quite beautiful, with marble floors and classic architecture. There was a hallway long enough that my dad could have target practice with his bow and arrow. There wasn’t one thing about that house I could complain about, and under different circumstances I probably would have loved it.

  However, my current circumstances made it hard to be anything but pissed off. I found my new bedroom, and it was like a Bizarro World version of the last one. The color scheme was similar but not exactly the same; the curtains were just a little bit off. While my bed was my actual bed—the one I’d hidden weed under, the place where I’d been lying when I said fuck it to life—it didn’t feel like it still belonged to me at all.

  I felt like I was borrowing a room from a ghost. It certainly wasn’t a bedroom with any life to it at all. There was absolutely nothing on the walls. No posters, no trophies. No hopes or dreams. Even though my bed was still comfortable, it was even harder to get to sleep than usual.

  Instead of snoozing, my mind went straight to building a case for myself. I played out the argument from all angles, looking for the words that would convince my parents to keep me in South Carolina. Never mind that this had never worked before—that every previous attempt to have this conversation had ended in disaster. It was like a weird form of amnesia took over every time I was in a position to speak to my parents. As long as I still had the capacity for hope, I would use it to try to save myself from Carlbrook.

  Mom, Dad. I love you and I am so sorry. Please don’t make me go back there. I promise you I’ve changed. Please just let me finish high school back home. I’ll do anything you ask of me, literally anything. Just tell me what I need to do and I promise I’ll be perfect.

  I think I really meant it too. I knew how high the stakes were now. I could keep my mouth shut and my anger in check as long as it meant I’d never have to go back to Carlbrook.

  “Good morning,” I said, walking into the kitchen. “Hey, Emily.”

  I opened on a cheerful note. It was my first family breakfast. My mom had made my beloved chocolate chip pancakes for me and my sister. I smiled at her broadly.

  “Hey, Mom?” I said. “There’s something I want to ask you about.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well. I want to stay. At home.”

  “Elizabeth…”

  “No, I mean I want to stay because I think it’s the best thing for everyone. Can’t you see how much I’ve changed?”

  “Honey.” My mom sighed. “I can’t have this conversation again. You know you have to go back.”

  Suddenly, the conversation was at a ten.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” I said. “That place is fucking hell. Seriously, it’s the worst place in the entire world. I’d rather die than go back there. You’d never send Emily to a school like that.”

  “Elizabeth, come on.”

  “Why won’t you listen to me? I said I fucking hate it there. What’s wrong with you that you don’t even care if your own daughter is in HELL?”

  I stormed out of the kitchen, leaving my pancakes untouched. I went straight to my room that didn’t feel like my room and slammed the door. It had been so long since I’d had a door to slam that I went ahead and did it again. I didn’t care that I was only making things more tense. My family would be rid of me soon enough.

  When it came time to tour the new high school, I trailed behind my parents without saying a single word. I spent the rest of the day shut away inside my Bizarro bedroom, ignoring everyone. When I finally got hungry enough to venture out for snacks, I made sure the hallway was empty. Just like in our old house, the walls were covered with photos. Most of them were familiar, old childhood pictures, but there were a few I’d never seen before. It was strange to see my brother and sister on the wall, continuing on with their lives as though I didn’t exist, and I couldn’t help but resent them both.

  I grabbed the phone as I headed back to my room. Suddenly, I wanted to break as many Carlbrook rules as I could. Since my dad was at work and my mom was trying to keep some semblance of peace in the house, it seemed unlikely that either of them would report me. I locked the door and stared at the phone in my hand. There was only one number I even thought to dial.

  The phone rang twice.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Nick.”

  “…Elizabeth?”

  “Yep. It’s me.”

  Nick nearly had a heart attack. He hadn’t heard my voice in a year. One day I was there and the next day I simply vanished.

  “I don’t even know what to say. Where are you? Where have you been?”

  “I’m home. Well, not home exactly. My family moved, but I’m here for a few days.”

  “Where have you been?” he repeated.

  I explained the whole thing to Nick. The woods, the escorts, Carlbrook.

  “That’s crazy,” he repeated.

  “Where did everyone think I’d gone this whole time?”

  “I don’t know. Some people thought you got pregnant and moved away to have the baby. People asked if it was mine. At some point I heard you were in Europe with your grandparents.”

  Nick stayed on the phone with me for hours. It was great just to hear his voice, and it reminded me why I liked him so much. Eventually, he had to get off the phone and my heart sank.

  “I honestly didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again,” he said.

  I didn’t run away during my home visit, but I did land one success. After multiple heated conversations, I managed to convince my parents to at least consider letting me return to my old school. My idea was that I could live with Jenna. I hadn’t actually consulted her about this plan, much less run it by her parents, but I leaned into wishful thinking. My own parents didn’t reject the idea outright, which gave me hope that Monica wouldn’t either.

  The closer I got to the end of my trip, the more dread I felt collecting in my stomach. Despite everything, I was still holding out for a last-minute death row pardon. Unfortunately, when my time was up, my mom was there waiting to drive me to the airport. Once again, I had a quick layover in Charlotte. It was hardly enough time to get from one gate to the other and I knew I had to hurry. But the moment I got off the plane, every cell in my body screamed out for me to run the other way.

  I knew it wasn’t rational. But the thought of going back to Carlbrook was just too horrible to bear. I made a split-second decision that I wasn’t going to return to Halifax. Not then, not ever.

  Not for another five minutes.

  I really did intend to run away. But there was nowhere for me to go. No matter what I did, I was certain I’d be caught in a matter of hours. Then it would be back to the woods for me. Another two months of hiking, then an extra six months tacked on to my Carlbrook sentence. It wasn’t worth the risk and I knew it.

  I made it to my gate just in time and then it was back to Carlbrook for the old spin, squat, and cough. Just like I had never left.

  Chapt
er 34

  GRADUATION WAS GETTING closer, and it was almost like the school was trying to cover its bases before sending us out into the world. One day there was a new list hanging outside the med bay. It was a drug-and-alcohol program for upper-school students. A last-ditch attempt to pretend that they’d been offering specialized treatment all along.

  When the list for the group went up, I looked at it more out of curiosity than anything. It wasn’t like I had any reason to expect that I’d be called in for this group. There were eight names in total. I read through the first six without noticing anything unusual.

  Charlotte

  Brittany

  Levi

  Bryan

  Conrad

  Lina

  The seventh name on the list was my own. Everyone else had experience with serious drugs, but I was the kid who’d smoked pot a few times and drank on weekends. Maybe Carlbrook had progressed beyond simply reading my mind, though, and could actually see into my future.

  The truth was, I found the drug-related disclosures to be sort of glamorous. It was always a welcome moment when the circle reached one of the druggy kids. A big part of that was simply knowing it meant a break from confessions involving pets and peanut butter, but I also found something exciting about those stories.

  “So I was at a club on the Lower East Side doing coke with my cousin’s friends…”

  “That night I was on so much Molly I couldn’t feel my face…”

  “Yeah, I’ve done heroin. Dealt it too.”

  “And that’s how I got kicked out of my second boarding school…”

  In some ways I wasn’t all that different from them. If I’d been from a big city and not my conservative Southern town, I have no doubt that my teenage experimentation would have taken a different form. After all, hadn’t I gravitated directly toward those city kids? Everyone on that list was my close friend, and most of them made no attempt to conceal the fact that they were excited to return to their old lives. They felt the call of those sparkling nights and glamorous powders, and I was beginning to feel it too.