David didn't like Adrian right away. He didn't know the exact reason himself. The man hadn't done anything rude or threatening, and he had never even raised his voice. Quite the opposite—Adrian spoke with an almost perfect calm, as if nothing in the world could ever make him lose control. Yet when Adrian stood at the front of the room and looked at the participants one by one, David felt as though he were being examined. Not watched, but read. The man's gaze didn't stop at their faces or clothes. It seemed to penetrate deeper, searching for something hidden behind all the lies people normally used to protect themselves. David didn't like that feeling. For years, he had been accustomed to reading other people. As a manager, he knew when his subordinates were lying, when a client was hiding something, even when someone smiled only because they needed something from him. But that night, for the first time in a long while, David felt as though he were on the other side of the table.
"Tomorrow morning," Adrian said, "we'll begin the first process."
No one asked what process.
David studied the faces around him. Some looked calm. Others kept their heads down. Lena, the woman who had spoken to him earlier, was merely fidgeting with the end of her sleeve. An older man beside her closed his eyes as though he already knew what Adrian was going to say. David frowned. There was something strange about the way they all listened. Not like patients listening to a therapist. More like students listening to a teacher they deeply respected.
"Here," Adrian continued, "we don't use the word patients."
He smiled.
"You're participants."
Adrian walked slowly between the two tables. "You also won't find the term diagnosis here. We won't label your sadness. We won't call you depressed, broken, failed, or traumatized. Labels only help people feel as though they understand something. But sometimes a label becomes a cage."
David leaned back in his chair.
"Then what do you do?" he asked.
Every head turned toward him.
Adrian stopped.
For several seconds, he only looked at David.
"We help you let go."
The answer sounded simple.
"But let go of what?"
Adrian smiled.
"That's what you'll discover for yourself."
There was no further explanation.
Dinner ended soon afterward. Before the participants left the room, Mara handed each of them a small book. Its cover was gray and blank. David opened to the first page and found a sentence printed in the middle.
WHAT DID YOU BRING HERE?
Several blank lines appeared beneath it.
"That book needs to be filled out by tomorrow morning," Mara said. "Write everything. Don't censor anything."
David flipped through several pages. The questions grew more personal.
Who do you hate most?
What do you regret most?
What can you never forgive?
And on the last page:
If all your pain could be taken away, what would you be willing to give in return?
David stopped reading.
He stared at the sentence for a long time.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
Mara, standing near the door, turned toward him.
"Just answer it."
"But there aren't any answer choices."
"There don't need to be."
Mara gave him a small smile and left.
David took the book to his room. All the way back, the last question kept circling through his mind. What would he be willing to give in return?
He had already lost his wife.
What else was left?
In his room, David sat on the edge of the bed and opened the book. He picked up the pen provided on the desk. For several minutes, he only stared at the first page. His hand didn't move.
Finally, he wrote.
I brought my guilt.
He stopped.
Then he added:
I wish I could get rid of it.
After that, he closed the book.
He didn't want to write anything else.
It was late at night when David tried to sleep. But his mind kept working. He thought about Adrian. About the way the man spoke. About the symbol on the door. About the envelope he'd found in his room. About the strange man in the hallway who had warned him not to enter the forbidden room.
And about the one thing that bothered him most.
How had Adrian known his name before Mara introduced him?
David tried to convince himself it didn't matter. The participants' names had to be recorded in the administrative files. There was no reason to find anything strange about Adrian knowing his name.
He closed his eyes.
Five minutes later, he opened them again.
The room was too quiet.
David took his phone from the drawer. There was no signal. He turned on the screen and looked at the time.
11:47 p.m.
He was about to put it back when he heard something outside.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Someone was walking down the hallway.
David sat upright.
The footsteps stopped right outside his room.
There was no knock.
No sound.
David waited.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Then the footsteps began again.
Moving away.
David got out of bed and approached the door. He pressed his ear against it.
Silence.
He opened the door a crack.
The hallway was empty.
The yellow lights glowed dimly. There was no one there.
But on the floor, just a few inches from his threshold, lay something.
A small black object.
David bent down and picked it up.
A ring.
A wedding ring.
David's heart seemed to stop.
He recognized it.
Not because of its shape.
Not because of its color.
But because of the tiny engraving on the inside.
D & E.
David had seen that ring thousands of times.
His wife's ring.
His hands began to tremble.
"No way..."
He turned the ring over and over, as though hoping it would change into something else. But the engraving remained.
D & E.
David felt his breathing grow shorter.
The ring should have been somewhere else.
Buried with his wife's belongings.
He was the one who had put it away after the funeral.
There was no way the ring could be here.
Unless someone had taken it.
Or...
A voice came from the end of the hallway.
"David?"
He froze.
Mara stood there.
She was wearing simple sleepwear, but her face showed no surprise at all at seeing David standing outside his room in the middle of the night.
Her eyes were fixed on David's hand instead.
On the ring.
"Where did you get that?"
David stared at her.
"It belongs to my wife."
Mara didn't answer.
"Where did you get it?" David's voice rose. "Who put this in my room?"
Mara walked closer.
"Go back into your room."
"Answer my question."
"You'll understand everything tomorrow."
"Did you know my wife?"
For the first time, Mara's expression changed.
Very slightly.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But David saw it.
Fear.
Then her face returned to its calm state.
"Go to sleep, David."
Mara turned away.
David tightened his grip on the ring.
"Mara."
She stopped.
"If you didn't know my wife," David said slowly, "why do you have this ring?"
Mara didn't turn around.
"Because not everyone comes to Sanctuary for the first time."
Then she walked away.
David stood frozen in the middle of the hallway.
He didn't understand what the sentence meant.
But for the first time since arriving at Sanctuary, he no longer wanted to heal.
He wanted to leave.