I lean back in my seat, fingers scraping my beard as I stare out through the windshield at the dull-gray building ahead.
There’s no name on the front. No Welcome sign. Just tall iron gates and discreet cameras and a long stretch of driveway leading up to the facility like a secret someone is trying to bury.
Literally.
I exhale slowly, jaw tense as my thumb presses hard against the steering wheel. It’s been a while since I was here last—three months to be exact. Before then, I used to make sure to visit once a month, even while I was in London.
And now, here I am again, in a place that reminds me the most of the darkest time in my life.
The call I received this morning wasn’t unusual, it was just one of the nurses calling to check in. But for some reason, I felt the need to come here.
