One of the appeals of Trent—other than it being the only graduate institution that allowed Mona to make a degree transfer—was its beautiful campus. The Otonabee River ran right through the university, dividing it into the east and west campuses. In the fall, the woods that surrounded both sides were all pale oranges, reds, and yellows, an Emily Carr painting come to life. In all the photos online, she could imagine herself reading poetry in the woods that lingered close by or on the edge of the river—even though she wasn’t going to be studying poetry anymore. So much of her life had been devoid of beauty for so long, even if her nightmares persisted in a new place, she’d hoped the landscape itself would help her out of it.
It didn’t. Instead, Mona felt like she was being swallowed whole.
