Part 1: The Morning My Son Begged Me Not to Go

him sat an older woman I didn’t recognize. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun. She wore no staff badge.

Her expression was hard.

She picked up Johnny’s spoon and pushed it toward his mouth, pressing it against his lips. He turned his head away, silent tears streaming down his face.

“You’re not leaving until that plate is empty,” she said sharply.continue reading …