Chapter 4
Rachel's POV
At three in the morning, my bedroom door crashed open.
Two men built like grizzly bears in black tactical vests stormed in. They were transporters—the muscle hired by boot camps for "forced escorts."
In America's troubled teen industry, they called this a "midnight transport."
I didn't fight back.
When they zip-tied my wrists and pulled a black hood over my head, I just let them. Like a rag doll.
Robert and Katherine stood in the hallway watching.
Through a gap in the hood, I saw Katherine covering her nose, like I smelled like death itself.
"Keep an eye on this one." Robert's voice was cold. "She's slippery. And she steals."
Sending away his own daughter, and he didn't feel a damn thing. Just relief.
"Don't worry, sir." One of the men let out a rough laugh. "Once Coach Vance gets done with her, even the tough ones break. They all do."
He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and headed for the door.
Hannah's voice drifted down from upstairs. "Dad, she's really leaving?"
"Yes, sweetheart." Robert's voice went soft—a tone he never used with me. "From now on, you're our only daughter. Our perfect girl."
"Oh, thank God." Hannah didn't even try to hide it. "I'm so sick of sharing everything with her."
Katherine laughed. "Well, you won't have to anymore, baby. Everything in this house? It's all yours now."
"Can I take her room then?" Hannah asked, excited now. "I want to make it into a walk-in closet."
"Absolutely, sweetheart. Whatever you want."
Their laughter echoed down the hallway. Happy. Light. Free.
The van door slammed shut.
Ten hours later, they dumped me in the Utah wilderness.
Red desert stretched in every direction. No fences—didn't need them. Hundreds of miles of nothing but sand, rock, and heat. The sun beat down like a hammer. Ground temperature well over a hundred degrees.
Breathing felt like inhaling sandpaper.
This was Stone Hope Ranch.
Coach Vance stood over me—buzz cut, scarred face, built like a tank. He held a black baton, tapping it against his palm.
"Welcome to hell, bitch." He used the baton to lift my chin. "Your parents gave us full control over you. Here? You got no rights. No phone calls. No letters. No saying no."
He leaned closer.
"You don't even get a name anymore. You're Number 73. Just another piece of trash. We clear?"
I stared at him. Said nothing.
My somatic depression went into overdrive. Heart hammering. Stomach twisting. Limbs going numb.
"Oh, so we got a tough one?" Vance grinned. It wasn't friendly. "Your parents warned me about you. Said you like to play hard to break."
His boot slammed into my stomach.
The world exploded into white-hot pain.
I doubled over, retching up bile mixed with blood.
"EVERYBODY UP!" Vance's whistle shrieked. "Twenty-mile march! Full packs! Number 73, get that forty-pound pack on and MOVE IT! Anyone falls behind gets no water tonight!"
Other kids—all wearing the same dead-eyed stares—hauled me to my feet.
Someone shoved a military pack onto my back.
My knees buckled. I hit the ground hard, gravel burning through my clothes.
"I said GET UP!" The baton cracked across my shoulders. "Don't play sick with me, 73!"
I forced myself up. Barely.
The sun scorched my skin. Sweat evaporated before it could even form. My lips cracked and bled. Swallowing felt like razor blades.
One step.
Two.
A hundred.
The world started tilting. Spinning.
Vultures circled overhead. Heat waves made everything shimmer and twist.
My mind started breaking.
I saw Robert ripping up my acceptance letter. Hannah's smug little smile. Katherine's disgusted eyes.
Better if I'd never existed.
The thought got louder. Clearer.
If I died, they wouldn't have to waste money on me anymore.
If I died, Hannah could have everything she ever wanted.
If I died, I wouldn't be hungry. Wouldn't hurt. Wouldn't feel so goddamn worthless.
Around mile five, my vision went black.
I didn't scream. Didn't try to catch myself.
I just fell.
The burning sand rushed up to meet me.
Vance's voice sounded far away. "Playing dead? GET YOUR ASS UP, 73! NOW!"
Someone was shaking me. Hard. But I couldn't feel it anymore.
Everything felt light. Distant. Quiet.
I don't care what happens next.
I'm done.
Finally.
