Brian’s Arrival

I stood in the hall with Lorna and waited for Brian. The door went up and a hooded boy in restraints entered. He was not taking it very well and tried to twist and turn whenever the escorts relaxed for a moment. When he was placed on a bench in the lacing room, I talked to one of the guard from the escort division. As usual they had entered his bedroom at about 3 a.m. in the morning, but he had been in town and was not at sleep. So he had tried to run towards the window. Luckily the escort division had tasers and they were able to stop Brian before he got the chance to jump out of the window.

Still both with isolation hood and cuffs at arms and legs he resisted them whenever he had the chance. Both Lorna and I understood that we had to break him in, before he even could enter level one.

The head master was out in town this day, so it was our task to tell him where he was and what we expected from him as a student. Normally the speech would be made before he is escorted to the lacing room, but he was too aggressive that we simply did not dare start the introduction before he was safely tied up to the lacing bar.

With a little help from the guard we got him secured. Luckily he only slept in pants, so we did not have to remove too much clothes. We hoisted him off the ground. He was protesting all he could but of course we could not understand what he said due to the hood.

Lorna took a step ladder and climbed up and removed his hood. First he was disorientated and blinked his eye in order to focus. Then he saw me. Debbie?”

“Hey Brian. Welcome to Meditation Inlet your new boarding school.”

“What? Please, let me out of here. What is this?”

“I hate to repeat myself, so listen very carefully. I will say this only once. (I saw this phrase used in a TV-series. It seems to work). Your parents have chosen to send you to this boarding school in order to solve your problems with alcohol as well as other kind of disobedience. Here you will a second chance to redeem yourself with your parents.”

“But I don’t need a fix. I am a normal kid. You know me!”

“I knew you as a polite and well-mannered boy but obvious you have changed. This conversation is over. Now for your school uniform. Lorna started to wrap it on to Brian.

“No. Stop it is woman clothes.”

“Here it is mandatory for students regardless of sexes. Lorna stepped down from the ladder and she started to lace the corset together with a guard. Brian continued to yell and curse at us, but we knew that our actions were for his best, so we did not stop. I have been through it myself. A part of me felt the odd feeling of your lounges being compressed and the feeling of lost of control over your body. It is almost a witty development to pass through. Soon his vocal pitch died out and all he could muster was a grunt when Lorna and the guard tugged.

“21 inches! In a month he will be down to 19 inches. We lowered him to the floor but before he released him, we saw to that he had an isolation hood on. He was still rebellious and tried to put his feet against anything he got close to. It took us four people to get him into O.P. and placed in the toilet chair.

We left him and I had the task to feet him and clean him, so I returned every three hour. He ate but did not speak to me. I tried to get his attention, so I at least could tell him why he was sent here, but he just looked at me with an angry and unforgiving look when he removed the blindfold part on the hood.

He did not pee nor pooh either. I consulted Lorna because it could be dangerous if he withheld motions. She suggested laxative in a strong soup so he couldn’t taste it. After his last meal it did not take long before he moved his bowels. When I cleaned him I heard that he was sobbing. Had I managed to break him?

That evening, when I turned him in, I could see his despair, but when I asked him if he wanted to talk, he just turned his head away. I went to the dinner hall where I saw Paula sitting with a plateful of soup. Paula’s story

I was hungry and also took some soup and went over to Paula. Brian’s torments had brought back memories from my own start on the campus. We had been sitting sipping for a while, when Paula asked me if I had a question.

“Paula. I know why I was sent here. Brian’s story is also well known to me. If you don’t mind, I would like to hear your story. A rumour is going around that you are not from the states and therefore I find it odd, that you are here. After all I have heard that it is only American Parents that are sending their children into such places.”

“Yes that it correct. I am a Dane. I am here voluntarily.”

Voluntarily!? I could not believe my ears.

Paula noticed my jaw dropping to the ground. Yes. I am here voluntary. It is a part of my work to improve my grades back in Denmark and also something I do to get experience when I start my work at the rehabilitation and Research Centre for torture victims back in Copenhagen. As a part of my study I have been put inhere with a somewhat false story.”

“Somewhat false?”

“Yes, in my records it is stated that I am sexual active and that I also use alcohol. Because I am only 19 it is a problem over here, but in Denmark it is within the laws to drink alcohol at an age of 19 and sex is also allowed when you become 15.”

“You are kidding!”

“No.”

“I still don’t understand it. Why go through this when you can avoid it?”

“We do have some problems with younger people doing those things and of course we also have a drug problem in the Danish society. We are dealing with them but I wanted to see what other countries are doing. Before I came here, I was in a place in Tennessee which turned out to be run by bondage fetishes’. The counsellors had their bizarre interest published on their private myspace pages, so I knew what I was getting into in advance.”

“But I found it extremely challenging here.”

“Of course it is challenging but due to research my in Denmark, I took a course done by some of our elite soldiers so I was prepared for my journey. Those kinds of courses are common and in fact mandatory when Danish diplomats or businessmen visit risk zones around the world. You will be surprised to learn how very little dissimilarity there are between torture in war zone and what is going on in the so-called Therapeutic Boarding School like this place.”

“How could it be torture when it is for our own good?”

“You think that it is for your own good, but just a few years. It will come back to you and hunt you in your sleep.”

“And I saw you as a program girl. Why were you so harsh against me, when I was selected for the show?”

“There were two reasons. First of all I play along so I can graduate and do a report of my findings when I return home. Second and not last: You needed it. Running around and feeling sorry for your self won’t do you any good in the future. I don’t know what kind of parents that did bring you up but hiding the reality of life for you has not been good. You are so naïve!”

“What? My parents have just tried to do what they found best for me.”

“Yes - that misunderstanding and was come from it is a destiny that you share with many of your fellow countrymen. I find it sick that a 20 year old serviceman can loose this life in Iraq with being able to enjoy a single beer legally just once in his life. But for the time being stick to your opinion. It will make you able to graduate from the program.”

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