News of what I did spreads incredibly fast. I discover that the whole island knows when a young girl bursts into the hospital, spewing some nonsense about how I'm Hitler and I'm going to enslave them all by using the animals as my soldiers. When she notices I'm sitting on the other side of Claire's hospital bed, she shrieks and trips twice on her way back out the door.

Charlie, who actually witnessed what really happened with Ben, starts to laugh.

"I don't see what's so funny," I huff. "That was a complete and utter exaggeration."

"She exaggerated, yes, but not really all that much." Charlie shrugs. "I mean, you did set your little dog friends on your own leader."

"Wolves," I correct. "And I'm going to apologize later, okay? It's not like I wanted to use force. And you should be thanking me! I had to do it so I could bring you here!"

Charlie looks down at Robert, who sits rigidly next to me. "How do you get them to behave?"

My hand wanders down to pet Robert's ears, and he licks my fingers. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Shoot."

"I can talk to animals." Charlie slowly raises an eyebrow and I shrug. "It's true. I'm like that really unfortunate looking girl in The Wild Thornberrys."

Charlie straightens in his seat. "Oooo, I love American cartoons! You guys have TVs here?"

"We do," Ethan answers, "but we don't have cable. Hope you guys like Disney VHS's."

"I'm sorry, but you can do what?" Claire asks.

"Crazy, right?" I tell her. "One day I can't have a regular conversation with another human being, and then suddenly I can talk to every living thing on this stupid island."

"I'm so confused," Claire moans and brings a hand up to her forehead.

"I think you two should leave," says Ethan. "You're upsetting her."

"No, I'll leave," I offer. "Robert, stay here with Charlie. He's not allowed to leave this hospital without me. I'll be back later."

Robert bumps the top of his head onto my outstretched hand. "Yes, lady Cora."

I reach down and give Robert a good scratch behind the ears, and then I lock eyes with Charlie. What an odd mess I've made. Ethan's supposed to be dead sometime soon, and now the person responsible for his death is sitting a few feet away from him without any reason to kill him. "Can I trust you not to do anything stupid?"

Charlie gives a short burst of laughter. "And get on your bad side? No, no, no. I'll be a saint!" He takes a finger and crosses over his heart.

I run into Juliet on the way out.

"How is she?" Juliet asks. "I was about to check up on her."

"Looks fine to me." I take off towards the rec room, but stop short. "Hey, Juliet? Can I ask you something?" She nods. "What's in the serum you keep injecting Claire with? Did you find a cure for . . . whatever it is that's killing pregnant women?"

I catch the hints of a pathetically fake smile, but it's not the arrogant smirk I'm used to receiving. This one is full of legitimate pain. "It was something I've been developing this past year. Test results have led me to believe radiation poisoning is what's causing the autoimmune disorders in the early stages of pregnancy. The serum cannot combat the disorder within the first few trimesters, but luckily Claire was far enough along to survive with what I created."

Juliet looks like she hasn't slept in God only knows how long. She's taller than me, and bustier than me, and her cheekbones are definitely more defined than mine, but in some parallel universe I guess I can see why people think we're related. I mean, if nothing else, we're both blonde.

Then it hits me. Is this what I used to look like? Walking around like a zombie, short tempered when forced to converse with others?

I feel like crap. Looking back and comparing us both, I've only been here a few weeks and I already feel mental, while Juliet has been here for three years and she still seems relatively sane. Three years away from her old life—from her family. Oh, no. I had forgotten about her sister. And her new nephew!

Come to think of it, she hasn't even done anything to me, and I've consistently been rude to her. And over what? Her personal life choices? Okay, so she had an affair with a married man. So what? That may piss me off, but at the end of the day it's none of my business.

She turns towards the hospital to check on Claire and I say, "Thank you . . . for Claire. For taking care of her."

Juliet's eyebrows scrunch, as if my thank you comes as a shock. "Of course."

Has anyone ever properly thanked her for being here? For sacrificing her future so that we can live? "And thank you for being here," I tell her. "For helping. Your work means a lot to us."

"Does it?" she says quietly. "You're welcome, I guess."

I officially don't know how to handle this situation. There's something I could say to try and make it a little less awkward, to make Juliet a little less sad, but I can't think of what it is. So, like the socially inept weirdo I am, I just leave without even saying goodbye.

"Cora?" Juliet calls.

I turn around, thankful that the conversation won't end on such a weird note. "Yes?"

"I've heard about what happened earlier." She takes a quick glance around and moves in closer. "With the wolves."

My face immediately starts to warm. "Yeah, about that. You probably didn't get the real story."

She waves away my words with a dismissive hand. "I'm not here to judge your actions. But what you did . . . according to our laws, you should have been executed for it."

"WHAT?"

"Shhh!" she warns, placing a finger on her lips. "I'm just letting you know. It's a criminal offence to attack a community member like that. Especially Ben, since it's treason to attack our leader. Don't look so afraid. There isn't a chance in the world the council will approve your execution. I'm just letting you know—" she takes another quick glance around to make sure we're alone, "I just wanted to let you know the kind of power you have. You're not even the official leader yet and you have arguably more power than Ben himself."

"Okay," I say. "Thanks?"

"I just . . . wanted to ask . . . once you're the new leader," her eyes—misty with what looks to be sorrow—lock with mine, "will you let me leave this place? Will you let me go home?"

So that's what this is about. "Yes," I tell her. "Of course."

"Really?" she blurts out.

"Sure. If you want to go home, you should be able to go home. I guess we can always find someone else to help us with your research."

Juliet sighs, blinking back tears, and she brings a hand up to clutch at her chest.

It's weird seeing her so . . . human. She's been so robotically stale since the moment I met her. It's nice to see she's not completely void. "And I owe you an apology," I tell her. "I haven't been treating you with much respect, and I'm very sorry about that."

"Thank you." She seems surprised. "I . . . I appreciate that."

All I can think about is what I will feel like three years from now. What will it feel like to have been separated from my family for that long? From my mother? My siblings? The thought makes me sick. "Why can't you leave today?" I ask.

"Ben says I can't leave until I find a cure. I've tried, Cora, but I . . ." her voice wavers, "I've hit a roadblock. I just . . . I just want to go home."

Think . . .

When Jack was captured, Ben promised he would let Jack and Juliet go home if they conducted surgery on his spine.

"Spine!" I gasp. "Has Ben asked you for an x-ray yet?"

"He had it done after securing your friends in the rec room. I'm about to check on it. Why?"

Think, Cora, think . . .

After they conducted the surgery, Ben agreed to let them both go home—go in a submarine and sail off towards the Mainland.

Why didn't they get to leave?

Oh no.

John Locke was why.

And now he's here. He's in the perfect position to do exactly what he did in the show. I can't let that happen. I can't watch the look on Juliet's face when her only hope of leaving this island is blown to bits by a bald man with a backpack full of C-4. But when will he strike? The timeline is different now! It could be at any time!

Juliet can't afford to wait for me to become the leader. She needs to leave now.

"I'll go talk to Ben," I say. "I might be able to get you out of here sooner."

Juliet gives me a look full of exhaustion. "I've been trying to convince him to let me leave for the past three years."

"No offence," I say, smiling, "but you're not me."

I give three impatient knocks and wait for someone to answer. A few seconds later the door swings open to reveal Ben, his circular reading glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose.

"Good," he says. "I was just about to look for you. I'd like a word, please."

He steps aside and I walk past him into the living room. The lamp on his desk is on. It shines down and illuminates all the masses of paperwork he has stacked into neat little piles. I hear the door close, so I turn around to accept whatever verbal bashing he has planned.

For a second I think he's going to yell at me, but then he exhales and takes a seat at his desk in the corner of the living room. "Do you have any idea what I've been doing for the past few hours?" he asks.

Oh, here we go. "No, I don't."

He folds his hands together and lays them out in front of him on the desk. "I've been trying to save your life," he says calmly. "I am currently swimming in legal paperwork, if you didn't notice."

Holy crap. Juliet wasn't kidding. "I came here to apologize."

"You came to . . . to apologize?" He gives a humorless laugh and stares at me as if I'm insane. "You really don't understand, do you?" he accuses. "What the hell did you think you were doing? I know this may come as a shock, but we have rules here. Rules we must all follow, or very bad things will happen."

"I'm sorry, but I still don't see why this is such a big deal. Can't you just vouch for me? Don't you have final say on these things?"

Ben sighs and rubs his thumbs in circles over his temples. "Cora, I'm just one person. These people may call me their leader, but the reality is that there is nothing keeping them from kicking down my front door and doing away with me and you and all of the animals under our care. I can't keep making excuses for your behavior. You're scaring people. You have to start following our laws, or you're going to get us both killed."

"I thought all good monarchs struck fear into their followers?" Isn't that how he operates?

"Fear is cheap. It will only get you so far. You don't need them to fear you, you need them to respect you."

"What do I do?" I ask helplessly.

"You can start by informing yourself of our laws, and start following them. Better yet, you need to start enforcing them. Nobody is going to respect you if you can't even practice what you preach."

"Can you help me?" I hope I don't sound as pathetic as I feel.

"Of course." Ben's calm demeanor has returned. "After I'm done with this mess, I'll go over them with you."

Crisis averted. For now, at least. Wait . . . what was I even here for to begin with? Oh, right. "Can I ask a favor?"

"I don't know," he retorts sarcastically, returning his attention back to the paperwork. "Can you?"

"I want you to let Juliet go home on the next available submarine."

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.

Ben looks up and pulls off his glasses. "And why, may I ask, would I do that?"

"Because she wants to go home," I answer. "Isn't that a good enough reason?"

"Nobody forced Juliet to come here. She came willingly."

"That's bull, and you know it! You force fed her a bunch of crap about being located in Portland so she wouldn't be intimidated."

"Richard told her we weren't located in Portland," Ben argues, pushing his paperwork aside and turning to look up at me. "He told her right before she was scheduled to leave on the submarine, and she still came. She still chose to be here."

"Well, she doesn't choose to be here anymore. And frankly, I agree. Three years and all she has are theories that fail and leave one more woman dead. Can't you even comprehend what that's doing to her sanity?"

"Once you come here, you cannot leave this island."

"That's a lie!" I yell. "You leave all the time! You even have fake identities so people can't trace you!"

"How do you know—?" he starts, but I cut him off.

I lean in close, pointing a finger at his face. "You are going to let that woman go home, right now."

"Or what?" he questions dryly. "You're going to wag your finger at me? Give me a good chastising?" Ben slowly pushes up out of his seat, so I'm forced to look up at him. "You could always command your wolves to do your work for you. You've gotten good at that."

I retract my finger, and my face warms with shame. "I'm sorry that happened, but you weren't listening to me."

He moves in closer. "You tell me not to treat you like a child, and yet you turn around and treat me the exact same way."

"I said I'm sorry."

"I have only ever done what you asked me to," he continues, his voice growing louder, "and you react as if I'm your enemy. I'm only trying to protect you."

"I'm sorry," I breathe. My back bumps into something, and my fingers run over the weathered spines of old books. I forgot to ask his favorite genre. "But I don't need you to take care of me."

"We're supposed to take care of each other!" he yells. How did he get so close without me realizing it? I can feel his breath on my face. The air around him smells of expensive cologne. "I just . . . I . . ."

I never allow anyone to get this close to me, especially not men. I'm hardwired to react negatively to the close proximity of males. My training tries to kick in, tries to make me flee the scene, tries to convince me that men are dangerous in the short term and the long term. Isn't my father proof enough of that? I'm better off alone. Men are liars. People are liars. They will say whatever they need too to try and win your trust, and then they will betray you in the worst of ways and leave you wishing you were dead.

But despite this dark thought, something in the back of my mind reminds me of Ben's actions earlier today.

He stepped in front of a loaded gun to protect me. He shielded me with his own body.

My mother always said actions speak louder than words. And his actions now are speaking more than words ever could.

I look into his endless blue eyes and read the hunger there. Then something happens that hasn't happened to me in many, many years—my body grows warm with desire.

I've always been attracted to men, sure, but for the longest time I've been . . . well, for lack of a better word, unstimulated. I could appreciate men, but there was never a lustful spark inside me. Never any kind of sexual urge. Now my heart actually hurts from the ferocity of its beats.

Good God, maybe I was depressed, and now I'm unleashing years of pent up hormones.

A horrible heat pulses through my core. I'm so aroused I start to panic. This is dangerous territory because I've never experienced it before, so I don't know how to handle it. It was easy to keep my distance from men when I had no physical desires, but now I'm consumed with so much lust I can't even think straight. Can he tell?

A fat drop of nervous perspiration tickles its way from the top of my neck down between my shoulder blades. My fight or flight reflex seems to be broken. By now I should be halfway to China, but for some reason I can't move. What's worse is that a rather large part of me is actually fighting to stay exactly where I am—pinned between his body and a bookcase.

We both flinch when the phone rings with a loud shrillness. It takes a second for the paralysis to wear off, but then Ben is hurrying to his desk. He pulls the phone off the hook mid-ring. "Hello?" he answers. "Yes. Yes?" At this he turns to look at me. "Alright. Yes, I'll tell her. Thank you, Juliet. Goodbye." He places the phone back on the receiver. "Juliet just examined my x-rays."

"Oh?" I'm so lightheaded I feel like I might pass out.

"There isn't anything there that doesn't belong."

"No tumor?" I question stupidly.

"No tumor. May I ask why you thought there was one?"

"Just one more thing I've been wrong about," I answer. "I'm glad to be certain, though."

This seems to please him. "I appreciate your concern."

I'm still backed up against his bookshelf, even though he's a good ten feet away. My hand brushes up against a particularly weathered spine, so I turn to see what it is. It's a copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion. I can honestly say I did not expect to find that on his shelf. Lined up in a neat row are all of Austen's works. I wonder if they're Alex's.

Now that Ben is not so close, I remember, once again, why I came here. "What will it take for you to let Juliet go?"

"Cora," he sighs, "please don't start that again."

"If it's a reprimand issue, I'll take full responsibility."

"She can't leave," he says, "because she hasn't discovered a cure yet."

"And what if she never does? How is that fair to her? She deserves to return to her family."

I can tell Ben is getting frustrated all over again. "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

His expression gives him away. He's said too much.

My stomach plummets at a horrible thought. "Ben . . . please tell me you didn't bring her here because I told you to. Please tell me this isn't my fault." He won't look at me, and it's making me sick. "Ben, answer me."

"Don't you want children someday?"

"I don't know! Maybe? But I'll gladly never have children if it means she gets to go home." This isn't making any sense. "If you won't do it for her sake, will you do it for mine? It would make me happy. Please?"

Ben doesn't even get the opportunity to answer because Alex practically breaks the front door down.

"Dad?" She looks around the room wildly, storming over to his desk when she sees him. "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"Alex, please. I'm in the middle of a conversation."

She ignores him and turns to me. "Do you know what he did? He sent Todd to spy on me and my boyfriend!"

I quickly cover my mouth to try and stifle the snort of laughter that bursts force. For once it's not nervous laughter—I actually find the situation kind of funny.

Alex frowns. "It's not funny, Cora. This is such a violation of my privacy!"

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Todd's snout peek in through the open door. I abandon poor Ben and slip out before Alex starts throwing things.

Todd shakes his head violently and paws at an ear. "What an obnoxious child."

"I can see where she's coming from, though," I say. "You were invading her privacy with . . . what's his name? Karl?"

"I call him dog breath."

I lean up against a nearby house to support myself as I laugh. "Why?"

"He's one of the people in charge of distributing the dog food to the carnivorous animals. Not all of us can be herbivores, my dear." Subtly sniffing me, Todd chuckles lowly. "My apologies for interrupting."

"Interrupting what?"

"Whatever it was you were doing with Ben."

I frown. "We were just talking."

"Must have been a very intimate conversation," Todd says. "You reek of lust."

I follow Todd as he weaves his way through the community. I slowly realize I'm receiving apprehensive looks from people, and the second I glance up at them, their whispered conversations abruptly end. One woman wraps an arm around a young boy and quickly leads him away from me, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I'm not following. "Todd?" I whisper. "Can we please go back to the clearing? I don't feel comfortable here."

Once I've settled down in the grass, far away from the homes in the Barracks, I finally begin to relax. "My friends from the beach—how did they get past the fence?" I ask, looking out across the expanse of the grassy field that leads to the sonar fence.

"From what I've heard, they propped a tree up against one of the pylons, and then shimmied up and over." He flicks a butterfly away with his tail. "What were you and Ben discussing before little miss drama queen interrupted?"

"Submarine travel."

"Interesting," Todd muses. "And how, exactly, is submarine travel an aphrodisiac? Is it some sort of human mating ritual I've yet to discover?"

"What are you talking about?"

Todd gives my pants a sniff. "You still smell of pheromones."

"Juliet asked me to let her go home. On the submarine."

"Ah," Todd says. "Poor woman. Although I am eternally grateful she's here."

"Because?" I prod.

"How do you think new animals are born? The serum she created works on us, but not on you. That, unfortunately, is something I fear I will never comprehend."

"Wait, so animals can give birth of the island, but not humans?"

"Precisely. The majority of humans you see walking around weren't born here. Their parents were recruited . . . or forced to come here, however you'd like to look at it."

"But then why is Ben keeping Juliet here?" I ask. "If he constantly brings new members to live on the island, he doesn't have to worry about the population dying off. Can't he just bring in a new fertility specialist? One without family attachments?"

"The woman impregnated a male mouse, Cora. She has a gift—some internal intuition that cannot be learned. That is why she stays. Ben cannot afford to let her go."

"Yes, he can," I argue. "You just said he recruits people all the time, so there will always be people here on the island. Why can't they just . . . I don't know . . . let Juliet continue her research back home? She has all the samples she needs. Why does she need to be here?"

"Ben keeps her here as a safety precaution, of course. In case someone important was to ever get pregnant on the island." Todd wraps his tail around his feet. "It would be best to have Juliet only a few minutes away."

I try and think of important female characters whose death would greatly impact the Others, but the only person I can think of is Juliet herself. "Someone important? Like who?"

"Hm," Todd pretends to ponder. "I just don't know. You perhaps?"

"Me?" I laugh uncomfortably. "I can assure you that I am in absolutely no danger of becoming pregnant."

"And you're certain you are not already?"

"Ever heard of the Virgin Mary? I'm pretty sure I'm not her incarnate, so that's anatomically impossible."

"Hm," Todd says. "I learn more about you everyday."

This isn't funny anymore. "Why would Ben be worried about me getting pregnant?"

Todd cocks his head and stares me down. "I assume it's because he's going to marry you, silly girl."

When people want to over-exaggerate, they say they were so shocked their jaw hit the floor. I think this moment is as close to that actually happening to me.

"Close your mouth, dear. That's a great way to catch flies." I continue to silently stare at Todd, my mouth slack. "Oh, you can't honestly say you didn't see it coming," Todd accuses. "It's only obvious that he's smitten with you. In fact, the funny thing is you seem to have sealed your own fate."

"How?"

"The council doesn't trust you," he explains. "They fear you are a very dangerous traitor mascaraing as the legend you once were. Ben threw out their initial ruling of execution, but they will not allow him to throw out a sentencing altogether. Their second decision was for you to prove your loyalty. They decided simply marking you would not suffice, and instead decided to marry you off to the current leader, whom you attacked in the first place." Todd flicks his tail with a flourish. "It was Ben's idea."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" I rake my fingers through my hair. "How does that solve anything?"

"It's politics, Cora. Through marriage you become an official member of their society. Or, at least that's how the majority of people will look at it. It was the only way to pacify the masses. You've done an excellent job of terrifying them."

"It was one time!" I choke out. "I wasn't thinking. Oh, God, I wasn't thinking."

"Thinking is usually the best option," Todd quips.

No, no, no. There has to be another solution. "Can't they just exile me or something?"

"Do you know who chooses new leaders?" Todd asks. "I've heard quite a few people say they believe the island does, but I'm not entirely convinced of that. I believe it is dear old Jacob himself who chooses. I must say, in this instance I'm not sure if he's simply screwing around with you, or if he truly believes you are best suited for the job. Either way," Todd continues lightheartedly, "it is most amusing for me to observe."

"You said there's a council? What council? What do they say?"

"They fear it won't be long before you rally yourself some troops and completely disregard their carefully appointed hierarchy."

"But I wouldn't do that!" I argue. "Half these animals don't even like me."

"People tend to jump to the worst case scenario." Todd sits up next to my seat in the grass. "I must admit you've piqued my interest. Tell me, why would marriage to Ben be such a bad thing?"

It's not marriage to Ben I have a problem with.

It's not even marriage to anyone in particular.

It's marriage itself.

"Cora?" Todd shakes my leg with a paw. "Stop it. You're frightening me."

I didn't notice I was holding my breath. "I won't do it," I say sternly. To hell with this place. To hell with Jacob and Ben and the survivors and the animals. Nobody is going to force me into a contract I can't escape from. Nobody in my family has ever gotten a divorce, and I always promised I would keep that chain unbroken by never getting married. It is the simplest solution.

The memory is resurfacing. The memory that I've pretended didn't exist for so long. For the first time since it happened, it assaults my mind full force, and it's like I'm experiencing it for the first time all over again. I need to tell someone. I need to release it out into the world or I'm going to go insane.

"Todd? I'm going to tell you a secret."

His ears perk up. "And why will you bestow such an honor upon me?"

"Because you can't speak English to anyone but me, so I don't have to worry about other humans finding out."

"Ah," he says, his ears flattening. "I cannot fault you for that."

So I begin.

It's 2am, and I still haven't heard back from my mother. I have no idea where she went, or when she plans on returning.

If she plans on returning at all.

I leap up from my seat on the living room sofa when I hear the front door open. What I see makes me paralyzed with fear and confusion.

My father is supporting the full weight of my mother, who is covered head to toe in blood. Long gashes slash up and down her jeans and shirt, shredding the fabric and staining it with clotted blood. Almost the entirety of her forehead is missing. Just gone. Blood is everywhere. I can smell it from here.

I fall to my mother's side where my father has left her slumped against the wall. "What did you do to her?" I snarl defensively, my whole body racking with adrenaline.

"I didn't do anything," my father answers calmly. "I was on my way to the bar and found her like this."

"Where's my purse?" she mumbles. "Where the hell is my purse? He's going to steal it!"

"Mom? Mom, look at me." I try to take her bloodied face in my hands, but she lashes out and smacks me hard on the nose with the palm of her hand.

Her sour breath reeks of spirits. "I have to pee," she giggles.

She's drunk.

My mother—whom I have never seen drink so much as a sip of after dinner wine—is completely wasted.

I hold her close and cradle her in my arms like a child. "Is she . . . drunk?"

My father looks down at the both of us and snorts. "I just said I found her at a bar, Cora. Use your brain. Of course she's drunk."

My sweet, loving, gentle mother has been soiled with alcohol, and it's turned her into a monster. A horrible, truthful monster.

The next time she cranes her heavy head up to look at me, there's a faint glimmer of familiarity. "I know you," she slurs, but she's not smiling. A drop of blood trails down from her forehead and over one of her eyes, and she doesn't even bother to blink it away. "You're that bitch that took my drink away."

"No, mom, it's me." I'm in shock from hearing her curse. She was always such a strong advocate against it. "It's Cora."

"Hey," she perks up. "Did I ever tell you I have a daughter named Cora?"

"I know," I tell her. "That's me."

But she's not listening. She's rambling on without stopping for breath. "I've got a whole mess of kids. You like kids? I like kids. They all hate me, though. Your kids hate you?"

She's so drunk she doesn't even know who I am. Which just makes everything she says that much worse because she honestly doesn't know I can hear her. My throat closes up. "I don't hate you, mom."

"They all resent me. Ungrateful little bastards. Everything I do around here, and all they do is feel sorry for themselves. But what about me?" She jabs a thumb at her chest, and I notice a whole new set of injuries. The gashes on her chest are full of dirt and fabric and tiny little rocks.

"Mom, you're hurt." I can barely speak. The sight of my mother so torn up and discarded is too much for me to mentally process.

I spend the next hour cleaning each and every wound on her body while trying to dodge her slaps. She seems to think I'm some woman she met at the bar. Cassandra woke up from all the yelling, but I order her to go back to bed. I don't want her to see mom like this.

"I have this daughter, see?" she complains loudly, swinging her arms around. "She would be so beautiful if she'd try, but all she does is mope and hide in her room, getting fatter every single day. And it worries me, you know? It's like sometimes I just want to scream at her, 'Get off your ass! Don't you know you're killing yourself?' But I can't do that because her father gives her enough grief already for being who she is."

I cannot physically move. I'm trapped in my own body, frozen in the position of wiping my mother's cuts clean.

The only person whose opinion I actually care about just told me that I'm a fat, lazy, ugly slob.

"Cora?" My mother squints up at me. "Aw, no. Don't look at me like this, sweetheart. I'm not wearing makeup."

I've started to cry, but I still cannot move. I cannot run away.

"Cora, you're my smart girl," she says lovingly. "Don't you ever get married. It's a damn joke. Don't you ever sign your life away. Don't become me." She digs her fingernails into my skin, pulling me close, her bloodshot eyes wide and crazy. "Promise."

I've broken into panicked sobs. "Let go, you're hurting me!"

Her eyes suddenly flicker, and she flops unconscious on the floor.

"Mom?" I ask, shaking her shoulders. "Mom? Mom? Dad! DAD, HELP ME!"

My father helps hoist her up onto the sofa, and she wakes back up. "I'm sorry about the car," she mumbles to my dad. "I'll fix it."

"Where's the phone?" I yell. I don't know why it's just dawning on me. "We have to call an ambulance."

"We can't," my father answers. He's staring at my mother with what looks like . . . sadness? But that can't be right. My father is never any emotion other than pissed off.

"Why not?" I counter, confused. "Dad, look at her. She needs an ambulance."

"Because I didn't find her at a bar," he admits. "I found her sprawled out on the side of the road. She drove into a tree. You call an ambulance, they'll want to know why she's all busted up. Tell them the truth, and they'll throw her in jail."

"Tell them you drove," I beg.

"I don't know what level my blood alcohol is right now," he chokes out, sucking up mucus. "Oh, Marguerite, what have you done?"

I can hear my mother's snores over the dead silence. I heard what my father said, but I can't comprehend it.

My mother drove drunk?

My mother?

It doesn't make any sense! How could she do something so stupid, so selfish? She's not that kind of person!

Unless she drove into the tree on purpose.

"Do we have any Band-Aids?" my father suggests.

"Band-Aids?" I lash out. "Her cuts are so deep, what the hell is a Band-Aid going to do?"

"I'm sorry," he cries and pulls me up into a constricting hug. His whole being reeks of alcohol. He's probably drunk too. "I never wanted this to happen. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't let her go to jail."

I stay stock still, like a frightened rabbit, as my father dampens my shoulder with his grown man tears. His embrace lasts a lifetime and no time at all.

After my father wanders off to God knows where, I stay up the rest of the night and most of the morning watching my mother sleep to make sure she doesn't stop breathing. I'm overloaded on emotion, and now I no longer know how I feel. But I stay awake and look after her because she's my mother, and I don't know what else to do.

"That was the last time I allowed a human to hold me. To touch me."

Todd stares at the ground, surprisingly silent. When he looks back up, his voice is soft. "How old were you?"

I will never forget that day for as long as I live. It was my birthday. "Thirteen."

"What happened after that?"

"When she woke up in the morning," my voice cracks, so I clear my throat, "she didn't remember anything she said or did. My father told her some lie about the car and the cuts she got. I never told her what really happened. I couldn't." I didn't even notice I've been crying. The silent tears slipped out without any warning. "It was my fault."

Todd's ears flatten, and he lowers his head. "No, Cora."

"But it was," I insist. "I was so angry at her that day. My father . . . he treated us all like dirt, and she just . . . she never did anything about it! Your parents are supposed to protect you, and she never did anything! I said things to her that morning. Horrible, horrible things that I never should have said no matter how pissed off I was. She left, and I didn't know where she was going. I didn't know— "

Todd hops into my lap and places his front paws up on my chest. "Now you listen to me," he says sternly. "The actions of your parents or siblings or friends or anyone else you know have never been your fault. Ever. Do you hear me? You are not responsible for what someone else does or does not choose to do." I shake my head but he continues despite my reluctance to listen. "What happened to your mother was a terrible thing, but you weren't even there when it happened. You didn't force drinks down her throat. You didn't convince her to get into her car drunk. You're parents have both made irresponsible decisions, and you are not to blame."

It's what I've needed to hear for seven painstakingly long years.

"Oh, my melancholy friend," Todd says and licks my cheek. Then he leans his head forward to rest on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him to pull him into a hug. He lets me cry on him all afternoon.

I feel lucky to have a friend that can understand me but is physically incapable of divulging my secrets. It may be selfish, but it is what it is.

"Cora?"

I open my itchy eyes to discover the day is almost done, and there's a woman standing over me. Flanked on either side of her are people with guns drawn. Although the barrels are not pointed at me, the message is still clear. "What's going on?" I ask nervously.

The woman tosses a pair of open handcuffs at my feet. "I'm going to have to ask you to put those on."

"What do you want me to do?" Todd asks. "Should I retrieve Eddard?"

"No," I tell him. The last thing I want right now is a full on war. "It's okay. You should leave though."

Todd leaps out of my lap and scurries off into the trees. I'm sad to see him go.

"What were you just discussing?" the woman asks, eying me suspiciously.

There's no point in Todd being here. There isn't anything he can do. "I told Todd to leave, that's all. This doesn't have anything to do with him."

The woman looks familiar, but I can't remember what her name is. She was one of those characters that only showed up once or twice in the span of the entire show. She has short blonde hair, thin pinched lips, and really scary eyebrows. When she speaks, her voice is low and scratchy, like my chain-smoking aunt Claudine. "My name is Isabel. I'm the sheriff, of sorts. Do you know why I'm here?"

"I think I get the gist of it, yes." Never in my life did I imagine myself being incarcerated. I always thought I was too boring to do something jail-worthy. Go figure. "I'll cooperate." The sooner I get this over with, the better.

I start to panic after my hands are restrained behind my back and someone tries to gag me with a handkerchief.

"We cannot have you talking to any humans or animals until after the trial," Isabel explains. "It's just a safety precaution. Nothing to worry yourself about."

What have I done? What if they're lying to me, and they're actually leading me somewhere secluded so they can shoot me in the back of the head and dump me in a hole without Ben knowing? What if this is the group Ben was talking about? The one he was so afraid would form from fear of me? Does Ben even know where I am right now?

"Stop struggling," Isabel warns.

"I don't want the handkerchief!" I yell, twisting my head away from it.

"Have it your way," she says.

I open my mouth to call Todd back when somebody whacks the butt of their gun against the back of my head. My vision tunnels, and I fall into a heavy, silent darkness.