Losing Control: 5

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"Why are we stopping here?" I asked, glancing toward Caden

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"Why are we stopping here?" I asked, glancing toward Caden.

"This is it," he answered, pulling the keys out of the ignition.

We were sitting in front of a two-story home in the middle of the suburbs, complete with a garden and a front porch swing.

"This can't be it," I said, with a slight laugh. "This is someone's house."

"That's right," Caden said, shoving open his car door. "Yours."

I don't understand. "You've officially lost me."

He ignored me, and I just followed him to the front door, my eyes sweeping the surroundings.

There were kids riding bikes outside, chalk drawings in the driveway of the home next door, and even a banana tree growing in the front yard.

As we reached the porch, a middle-aged woman stepped outside. "Caden?"

He nodded. "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Wiley."

"Yes, yes, do come in." She smiled at me. "And you must be Joel?"

"Uh, yeah."

Was Caden planning on sending me to live with another family?

The inside of the home looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1980's. There was floral furniture in the living room, complete with a black-and-white TV.

"Let me give you the grand tour," she said, with a smile. "I'm Wilma Wiley, unfortunate name, I know."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, as did Caden.

"This is the Parlor," she said, gesturing toward the floral couch and small TV. "We don't really use this room too much, it's mostly for family visits."

Family visits. So this was a type of rehab center.

When Caden said alternative, he really meant it.

"This is the dining room," she said, gesturing off to the left.

There was a large, wooden table with a variety of chairs surrounding it. Each chair was a different color.

"Meal times are posted," she said, nodding toward the wall. "Three meals a day and two snacks. Mealtime isn't optional, everyone is required to sit."

That was typical for a rehab facility.

"Through the kitchen here," she said, beckoning for us to follow.

It was a state-of-the-art kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

Everything looked to be the latest and greatest as far as technology goes, even the stove looked futuristic.

"Our patients take turns making dinnertime meals," Ms. Wiley explained. "Three people work together every night, those nights will be pre-assigned."

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