After the Storys had driven through the sleepy little town, they turned onto an old logging road that snaked through the mountains. Along the roadside were stone walls marking the boundaries of abandoned apple orchards. The fields were still dotted with twisted black trees. The school was located on a run-down estate. A fence rimmed the property. It was hidden in the pines, but when you looked carefully you could see it, a crisscross of barbed wire. Claire spied it right away; it made her think of a sharp spiderweb. She imagined thousands of spiders, and her skin crawled. She was having a panic attack. She didn’t understand why it hurt every time she took a breath. They drove through an automatic gate that clicked closed behind them. It was still raining, a cold rain for October. They had to navigate through pools of mud. No wonder they all hated New Hampshire.

Elv had been very stoned the night before. She was hung-over, exhausted, more compliant than usual, quite surprised by the notion that their father, usually so disinterested, would be with them. She had no idea that the counselors were ready for her, two large men who didn’t look the way Annie had assumed school counselors would look. They seemed like prizefighters or bouncers in a nightclub. They wore black rain jackets and work boots. They were standing in the rain, waiting. If Annie could have felt anything, she might have been flooded with second thoughts. She might have made Alan turn the car around. But she was paralyzed. They all were. Meg and Claire gazed out the window. The place looked like a prison. The car stopped, and Alan opened the door and got out. Annie turned to her younger daughters. Meg thought she could smell her mother’s fear. No one had told her to think of chocolate.

“Stay in the car,” she told them.

When Annie got out, she was immediately drenched. The rain was coming down so hard it was deafening. While Alan went to talk to the counselors, Annie opened the back door and leaned in.

“Elv.” She sounded like a betrayer, even to herself. “Get up.”

Elv yawned and stretched. Rain was splattering on her legs.

“Al je meara,” Elv said. Leave me alone.

Annie reached in and shook her by the shoulder. “We’re here.”

No destination had been mentioned before. It was a ride in the country. Just an autumn picnic. The chance to spend some time with their dad. She’d agreed to go. She’d let down her guard. Suddenly there was a here. Elv didn’t like the sound of that. She rose from the backseat and looked out, eyeing her father and the two men talking to him. The building behind them seemed like a prison to her, too. She didn’t need to see any more. She could tell it was a trap. She pushed past her mother. Annie was no match for her; she toppled backward as Elv leaped out of the car.

Elv wasn’t as stupid as they thought. She didn’t give a damn about the mud all around, splashing up as she ran. Her hair was like a waterfall as she raced through the rain. She focused on the woods in front of her. The red leaves, the black bark. She thought she was far out in front, flying, but then she heard their heavy breathing. They sounded like horses, close behind her. They took her down so hard three of her ribs were fractured. She could hear the bones crack. The breath was knocked out of her in a searing flash. In the mud, she tried to wrestle out of their hold. The robin’s-bones necklace fell to pieces. It shone like opals as it scattered. She reached for the broken pieces but they slipped out of her grasp. The ground was cold and slimy. The mud could choke you if you were screaming and struggling and they had you facedown on the ground. They were hurting her, but she didn’t stop trying to get away. She had practiced escaping from ropes so no one could ever do this to her again. She had cut herself to strengthen herself and inure herself to pain. She wished she could find the door that led to the otherworld, but she was too far away. She felt herself being overtaken, so she bit the hand of the man who’d grabbed hold of her. He shook her and spat out some curses, then held on more tightly. Elv saw stars, but she didn’t care. She’d drawn blood. She would never again let herself be tied in knots, shackled in iron handcuffs, gagged.

The director’s assistant had come to usher Alan and Annie inside, holding a black umbrella above their heads. There were some things no parents should see. After a quick half-hour orientation, they would be asked to leave. No phone calls or visits were allowed during the first three months, no packages from home. Students needed to be out of their element, away from the triggers that had driven them to drugs and out-of-control behavior. Annie was shivering. Alan was drenched. Pools collected on the tile floor under their feet. The school smelled like Lysol and that morning’s breakfast, bacon and overdone toast. They sat at a conference table and signed the papers registering their daughter while the counselors dragged Elv to the door of the residence hall. It was a concrete building, painted pale green. Claire and Meg watched through the car window. Claire’s throat was closing up.

“Nom gig!” Elv screamed. “Reuna malin.” Rescue me.

One of the big men picked her up; he had his hands all over her. He touched her in places he shouldn’t have just because he could. He hoisted her off the ground as though she were nothing more than a sack of skin and bones.

Claire and Meg couldn’t move.

“Come and help me!” Elv screamed to them.

One of the men opened the door into the dormitory. The other one had Elv. Claire lowered the window to see more clearly. They were hurting her. The rain came inside. It was cold.

“Don’t listen,” Meg told Claire. She closed the window. They couldn’t take back what they’d done. The rain was coming down harder all the time. There were so many leaves on the windshield the girls couldn’t see through the glass anymore. They crouched on the floor of the car, arms around each other. Claire was thinking of the blackflies circling on the corner with the stop sign and of the sinking feeling she’d had and how paralyzed she’d been on the bad day.