As soon as we turned down Henry Street it was as if we’d crossed over into another country or maybe even another time period. The oak trees with their Spanish moss had been replaced by asphalt. An eight-foot-tall fence surrounded the perimeter with razor wire adorning the top. When we parked and walked up to the guardhouse I could hear a faint hum as we approached.
I’d heard the stories but nothing prepared me for the beauty of the S.A.F.E campus. It was a sprawling 7,000 acre green with several elegant buildings of various sizes and connecting walkways decorated with trees and shrubs. The design of the central building felt modern and European in contrast with the rest of the historic southern architecture of Savannah. It had amazing panoramic windows that looked inviting and I was amazed despite the fact that I know what went on behind those glistening walls.
“Don’t touch the fence,” my guardian warned unnecessarily.
The security at the entrance waved us through the gate and my guardian, who I referred to as simply bastard grabbed me by the sleeve of my sundress. “No fucking around in here today, okay?”
I had been in the program for only a year and hadn’t yet learned the value of “doing my duty.”
I shook my head. “I never asked for any of this.”
His grip tightened on my arm. “We rescued you, remember? You would have died if not for our intervention.”
“You have no way of knowing that.”
Bastard’s hand went back like he meant to strike me and I instinctively jerked away, he’d hit me so many times it was now an ingrained reflexive response.
He’d had never heard the phrase, “you get more flies with honey than vinegar,” because his approach was always vinegar.
Logans Lab 