She went to her room and punched her pillow. Then she felt a wave of artificial serenity wash over her, and she sat down to fold laundry, crying silently while her hands moved in neat, efficient squares.
The room went quiet. Mia looked up from her phone. “Mom, no. You’re not actually going to do that weird thing.”
Mia crossed her arms. “It removes the choice.” The hypnotherapist, a bland woman named Dr. Valli, arrived the following Tuesday. She set up a small metronome and a recording device. “The Family Foundations plan,” she explained, “is our most popular. Three sessions. Basic anchors: homework completion, sibling cooperation, screen time limits. No personality erasure. We’re not monsters.”