My Mother Sent Me to a Love Addiction Correctional Academy Chapter 1

My own mother sent me to a correctional academy, telling me it was to cure me of "love addiction," just like you'd cure someone of internet addiction.

But how could she have known that place was hell on earth, tormenting me until I was practically dead?

Finally, Thanksgiving break arrived, and I could go home.

Yet, my mother pushed me into the path of a car, almost killing me.

And my mother, she sobbed inconsolably by my bedside…

The night I left the correctional academy, my mom came to pick me up.

Thanksgiving was coming, and I was finally being released from that living hell.

She pulled up in her car, waving at me from beneath the shade of the trees.

To escape that nightmare, even though I was terrified of my mother—the very person who’d sent me there—I gritted my teeth, enduring the agonizing throbs from the steel needles still embedded deep within my body, and got into the car.

Soon, we were home. My stepfather was already waiting at the door.

“Willow’s back! Come on, sweetheart, dinner’s ready. You must’ve had a tough time in there, you look so thin.” His hand reached out to take mine, but I flinched back.

I was terrified of touching men. I couldn’t even look at my stepfather, who had always been so good to me, the man I once depended on.

Because,

In the academy, any unauthorized contact with a male was a grave sin.

I only remembered that one time, I just glanced at the delivery guy at the gate. The staff dragged me into a special punishment room.

They shocked my body repeatedly with an electric device, asking, "Will you still dare to peek at men?" until I was so shocked I lost control of my bladder. Only then did they let me go. From then on, I learned to walk with my head down.

My mom took the groceries out of the car and looked at me.

“What did you learn in that bootcamp for months? You’re so slow now. What, blaming me for stopping your early romance? I’m doing this for your own good, understand? Come on, get inside, quickly.”

She rattled on, juggling bags of groceries.

I didn’t dare say a word. The ‘training camp’ my mother believed was preventing early romance and boosting my studies had only taught me obedience.

In that hell, disobedience meant immense suffering.

How could my sweet mother have known that my timidness, my fear, was forged through needle jabs, iron brands, knife cuts, and club beatings?

I kept my head down, trying to avoid my stepfather, and slipped into the house.

In my bedroom, I changed into dark clothes. Bright colors made me feel disoriented; in the academy, we were only allowed to wear black uniforms—yes, we called them prison uniforms. We were prisoners.

My mom called me for dinner. The table was laden with food, including my favorite pot roast. The old me would have dug in with gusto.

But now…

I couldn’t eat. I took a few tiny bites, and my stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over me.

My mother, who had been smiling just moments before, watched her expression slowly darken.

“What’s wrong? Is my cooking that bad? Or are you still thinking about Alex, blaming me for breaking you two up? If you don’t want to eat, then don’t.” She snatched my bowl away, fuming.

“Day in, day out, you can’t focus on your studies, always chasing after boys. If it weren’t for that early romance, would your grades be such a mess?

Now you’re back, and you’re throwing a fit at the dinner table.

Looks like that training camp didn’t teach you enough. **After the holiday, you're going straight back there and staying until you’ve learned your lesson.**”

Back? That word hit a raw nerve! I'd rather eat until I puked than go back to that hell!

It was a hundred, a thousand times worse than eating and throwing up! No, I couldn’t go back. I had to eat!

“I’ll eat, I’ll eat! Mom’s cooking is delicious! I don’t want to go back!”

I snatched the bowl back from my mom and shoved rice into my mouth. Less than two seconds later, I vomited all over the table.

I’d forgotten. My stomach had already been largely removed. The staff at the academy punished me by force-feeding me sewage; my stomach was already in ruins, and they secretly operated on me so my parents wouldn't find out!