The In-Between: Chapter 2

She came to heal. But first, she had to let go of control.

The drive up to Malibu on Pacific Coast Highway was beautiful and peaceful: a perfect contradiction to the volcano of emotions brewing within me. Outside the windows of Arcadia’s staff car, a sleek black Escalade, scenic mountains dotted the landscape to my right while ocean waves whispered to the shore on my left. Randy, the staff driver, must have sensed my nerves. Early into the drive, he shared his own story of addiction and depression, how he’d found peace through 12-step programs and eventually found his way to Arcadia.

He told me this was one of the most courageous decisions I’d ever make and to be proud of myself. Hearing his words helped a bit. It made it clear the staff weren’t above us. They were us.

When we arrived at the Bluffs, the residential property with patient rooms, a communal kitchen, living room, and small staff office, I felt more at ease. The houses were modern and homey, and a big green lawn spilled out toward the cliffside, overlooking El Matador Beach. I dropped my bag and wandered straight to the edge of the backyard to take in the view I’d only seen in online photos. The sun beamed down on my cheeks, warm and hopeful. This could be good. I was going to be good.

Just as my breath started to steady, Randy called out,

"Miss Dani, they need you in the office."

And just like that, the nerves came rushing back.

I turned and walked up the lawn toward the small office building. Inside, I was greeted by an unsettling scene: my suitcase wide open, the contents of my life splayed across a large table.

“What the fuck.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but a girl with red hair, no older than me, raised an eyebrow and said, “Nice to meet you too. I’m Twyla. I have to search your bag.”