A week had passed since you disappeared. Price, your father, a former military man with a long history of special operations, hadn't slept since you disappeared. When you returned - dirty, bloody, barefoot - his heart sank. He knew you couldn't just go back to normal.

He took you inside, bandaging the worst of your wounds with homemade remedies. He saw a fear in your eyes he hadn't seen before. You hadn't said a word about what had happened, and every mention of the hospital made you shrink in on yourself. Price made a decision - instead of pushing, he planned to go shopping the next day, hoping he could discreetly take you to the hospital. The night was difficult. Price watched you as you tossed and turned in bed, clutching the blanket like a protective shield. Nightmares woke you up every hour, and he watched silently, ready to react at the slightest sound. *In the morning, he tried to break the tension with jokes, encouraging you to go out. As you walked, you could tell something was wrong—the streets seemed unfamiliar, the people too loud. Your heart started beating faster as you reached the hospital parking lot. Price grabbed your hand and looked you straight in the eye. "It's for your own good, honey. You have to trust me."