Page 116 of Redeemed

“Oh.” Still flustered, she turns back to the laptop and taps on the arrow. “Privacy preferences? Security settings?”

“Here, lemme see.” Turning the laptop so I can see better, I read through each of the settings and do my best to explain them to Haven. She still seems a little lost, so I check the boxes for the settings I’d allow if this was my computer and un-check some of the boxes for the settings I think are too invasive. “How does that look?”

“Um…” She bites her lip, her eyes darting all over the screen. “Sure?”

“All right. Hit next.”

We go through the entire setup process like that. The further into it we go, the more I realize Haven has only learned the bare minimum about tech to get by. She has no idea how to do anything except what she needs—mainly, check her email, write papers, and search for things online.

Once we’ve finished, I make a mental note to take some time to go over the basics with her. Maybe from there, I can teach her a bit more. I don’t think she realizes how powerful the thing sitting in her lap is.

“Check your email and see if your class info has been sent over yet.”

She gets to her email pretty easily, although I think it’s because I imported her bookmarks for her. If I asked her to get in without it bookmarked, I’m not sure she’d be able to.

“This looks like something,” she mutters to herself as she opens the most recent email.

I doubt it’s normally this fast to switch over, but when Colton asks for something, there are no rules. You just do it as quickly as you can.

I read it over her shoulder. The email contains a username—her student email—and a temporary password.

“So I just… click this link?” she asks, her cursor hovering over it.

“Yep. That’ll take you to the portal’s login page.”

“Portal,” she mumbles to herself.

Once the page has loaded, Haven stares at it for a second before seeming to remember what to do. She enters in her email in the username box and then copies the temporary password into the box below it. Once she’s signed in, she scans her dashboard and frowns.

“This is a lot.”

“Looks like you don’t have classes in real time, so you can watch them whenever it’s convenient.”

“So I can create my own schedule?”

“Youwon’t be creating it, no.”

She turns to look at me. “Why not?”

“Because your time isn’t yours. It’s ours.”

Haven’s shoulders slump, and guilt pricks at my skin. This is what she agreed to—not that she had much of a choice in the matter—but maybe we’re being too controlling. She once told me that one of the worst parts of the cult was how trapped she felt.

To some degree, I understood. My entire childhood, I felt caged—by my father’s anger, by my need to protect Rora from his abuse, by poverty. Our situations were entirely different, but the feeling is the same.

I don’t want to make her feel the way she did back then. I guess neither does Xander, considering his decision to not have her do any housework. Colt, though… he’s his own brand of unhinged.

“You’d better make me a schedule, then.” Haven’s words are razor-sharp. “And if you try to sabotage my grades by not giving me enough time—”

“We won’t do that,” I snap.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she mutters.

God.The emotional whiplash with her is enough to drive anyone insane. One second, I’m ready to go soft on her, and the next, all I can think about is wringing her neck.

“What classes would you have today if you were still in-person?”

“Forensic Interviewing and Social Work with Children.”

---