I think it was when we met the counselors we were assigned to that I realized things were taking a turn for the worse.

  Ours had a plain name. Something forgettable.. I think it was Jeff.

  There was something about the way he looked at us that made my skin crawl. Not curiosity. Not concern. He looked at us like prey, like we were already cataloged. It rattled me to my core.

  He stopped in front of Renna and gently placed his hands beneath hers, unlocking her restraints. You’d think there would be relief—her rubbing her wrists, maybe a quiet thank you.

  Instead, she went still.

  All that bravado vanished the second she came face-to-face with our so-called chaperone. Her wrists were an angry red, bits of dried blood clinging where she’d struggled, tried to slip free.

  Jeff smiled.

  “See, honey? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. Look at those wrists. You’re going to need ointment.”

  He brushed his fingers over the raw skin, slow, deliberate. Watching her flinch. Enjoying it.

  “I’ll let the director know,” he continued lightly, “and she’ll have it delivered after you change into your uniform.”

  Then he wandered off toward the other adults, a balding wolf circling fresh meat.

  I grabbed Renna’s hand and held it tight. Not words—just I’m here.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “You okay?”

  She squeezed back like she was holding onto the last solid thing in the room. For a second, we weren’t tough girls or broken misfits. Just two scared kids.

  “Yeah,” she said finally. “I’m okay. Dude’s just a creep.” A pause. “Might have to sleep in shifts.”

  Jeff came back with schedules and uniforms. He handed each of us a tan folder and a folded dress with the camp logo stitched onto the breast pocket.

  The thing looked like it belonged in the 1800s. Ankle-length. Apron included. Grey leggings. Heavy work boots.

  Lifeless. Joyless. Stripped of anything human.

  Okay. This is weird.

  They paired us up immediately. I got lucky—Renna and I were assigned together. At least nights would be easier that way.

  Deep breaths. One friend. That’s all I need to focus on.

  Still, uncertainty tightened around my chest. None of this felt right. We were cattle being led to slaughter.

  Renna glanced back at me. For half a second, her usual fire flared—then dimmed. Not gone. Just banked. Like someone stole her spark the moment we stepped off the bus.

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  “Guess you’re stuck with me,” she muttered.

  “I’ve had worse,” I said.

  They herded us into a locker room that smelled like bleach and flowers trying too hard. No stalls. No doors. Just open space.

  A woman stood off to the side, arms crossed. “Change.”

  We stared at her.

  Renna raised her hand, all fake innocence. “Uh, I think you gave us the wrong clothes. This feels… excessive. Was there a mistake?”

  The woman’s lips thinned. “This is your uniform.”

  “In July?” Renna whispered.

  “For modesty and consistency,” the woman said brightly. “You’ll learn to appreciate it.”

  I ran my fingers over the fabric. Thick. Scratchy.

  This wasn’t about comfort. Or safety. Or modesty.

  It was punishment.

  We changed in silence. When I pulled the dress over my head, it swallowed me whole—hips, curves, everything flattened into nothing. I barely recognized myself in the mirror. The apron didn’t help.

  Renna looked worse.

  She tugged at the hem like it had personally offended her. “If I die of heatstroke,” she muttered, “I’m haunting you, gothy.”

  I snorted and tied her apron for her. “Not if I haunt you first, degenerate.”

  Outside, the counselors waited with the same patient smiles, like they hadn’t just stripped us down and redressed us in compliance.

  Orientation hadn’t even started yet.

  And already, I knew—

  This place wasn’t here to fix us.

  It was here to make us quieter.

  All we could do was swallow our pride and survive. That, I could do.

  I wasn’t so sure about the others. Some looked barely ten. Some still had that wide-eyed look, like the world hadn’t swallowed them whole yet.

  Jeff reappeared, wiping sweat from his combover.

  “Hey there, camper. Glad I caught you,” he said pleasantly. “The medication was approved by the director for your use.”

  He held the ointment out like bait.

  Renna glanced at me, fear flashing in her eyes. She huffed, straightened her posture, and smirked—either pretending to be confident or just being herself. She reached for it fast.

  He was faster.

  He caught her wrist, popped the lid, and applied it himself.

  “There you go, honey. All better,” he murmured. “Use it sparingly. She won’t hand out another unless you’re showing signs of infection.”

  His smile crawled under my skin. Even without looking at me, I could feel his breath on my cheek. The sickly-sweet smell of decay hit my nose.

  My heart raced. I didn’t think—I acted.

  I slid my hand between theirs and gently pulled Renna free, flashing him a smile so sweet it almost scared me.

  “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take very good care of her,” I said, my voice sweet, dripping like honey. “But I’ll let you know if we need anything else. You’re so kind for thinking of her.”

  He blinked—remembering I existed.

  Then he smiled back and nodded. “Thank you for looking after her. Let’s head to orientation. Our presence will be missed.”

  We were led to yet another building, the heat beating down on us, sweat soaking through the dresses. When the doors opened, cold air flooded my senses.

  I looked around at the other kids who’d been transported with us. There had to be hundreds.

  What made my stomach drop—

  Even the boys were wearing the dresses.

  What.

  The.

  Hell.