A/n: Well sorry for the wait, I really don't have a good excuse so I won't give one. I will however make the chapters longer from now on; give you guys more to go on between the chapters and all.

D: I do not own any Giver copyrights.

I blinked in shock at the Director of Birthings words, so blunt that they would almost certainly be taken as rude. Wasn't he aware of his mistake? Why was it taking him so long to apologize, wasn't it clear that I was uncomfortable?

His toothy smile didn't waver as he seemed to register my misgivings, giving out his standard apology without so much as a blink. I gave my reply almost automatically of course, though it was not without noticing how unnerving the crinkling of his dark eyes was when matched with that persistent smile.

Would it be considered acceptable to be frightened of this man?

"Inger, in accordance to your training you will be assigned a senior Birthmother to aid you in learning the basics." The sound of his voice was almost that of an electric current, startling me into reality the moment the words left his lips. I had to remind myself not to be afraid again; I was already being rude enough just by having my thoughts laced with the fear itself. "This is a practice used with many of the other professions as well," He smiled, I shuddered. "Though you'll get a personal nurse too, two mentors. "He laughed this time, I sank back into my seat, "You sure are lucky Inger."

What was wrong with me? I have never felt so edgy. He was only talking about my profession, he was even laughing with me. Maybe it was how his eyes bore into me, like they were sizing me up, staring straight through me and seeing something else entirely. At the thought another uncontrollable shiver tore through me. The Director hadn't spoken again since the 'lucky' comment, instead he waited calmly with that same insufferable smile plastered to his face; obviously if anyone was to break the silence, it would be me.

"Why is the apprenticeship four years long?" The question sounded foreign to my ears even though it was one I had already planned to ask. The words sounded too sure and steady to come from my frantic thoughts; though that could just be me subconsciously being polite.

The Director cocked his head in what was clearly meant to be a questioning manner, to me it seemed rather like he was mocking me. Was I truly just imagining all this blatant rudeness?

"Why do you ask?" He asked with light confusion, "It is a shorter apprenticeship than most professions. I thought that would please you."

He was right of course but there was something else too, in my science class the process of birth had only taken nine months and was a mild process until the labor itself. Why then would I need four years before I could even start the process? "Being a birthmother is simple," I let out finally, seeing that he wouldn't answer my question unless I elaborated "The profession of a Birthmother entitles three births only, why is the apprenticeship so long?"

"Simple," He replied with another one of his smiles, "The process of giving birth is taxing for the body of a young girl. A twelve would not be able to handle the strain. We also wait until another birth is necessary before we integrate a new birthmother into the system."

I blinked, confused. "Necessary?"

He nodded and let out a low chuckle. "Of course, there is a quota of births too be filled for each year. We carefully regulate which birthmothers are used and when so as to upkeep that quota every year."

It all seemed so complicated to me so I only nodded, understanding the gist of his words at least. "What will my apprenticeship require?"

"You to arrive year every day at the time designated in your rules," He answered both simply and curtly, "Both the senior birthmother and the nurse will help you learn the basics of your new profession. You will live at your family dwelling until your first Birthmaking session." His smile changed at the mention of the Birthmaking session, I would call it sinister if I wasn't positive that to do so would be rude. "After that you will live here until you become a laborer."

He stood and brushed dust from his tunic, moving to leave before I could even process all that was just told to me.

"Wait!" I called as I stood up as well, almost forgetting to keep my tone polite in my initial haste. "What is a Birthmaking session? It was in the rules but I've never heard of it before."

He laughed softly but didn't turn to face me; his hand was still positioned on the half-opened door. "You wouldn't of have," He replied bluntly, "Don't worry though, you'll find out eventually Inger." With another smile he slipped out of the room and disappeared.

I was left contemplating his words in shocked silence until the birthing nurse from earlier, or Frieda as she soon introduced herself to be, came in to fetch me.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"How was it Ina? Your first day, I mean." Jessie inquired over our evening meal, stopping mid bite to regard me with curiosity. Judging by the looks that graced the faces of both of our parents, everyone that shared this table were curious about my new profession; Jessie just happened to be the one to breach the topic first.

Sighing, I put down my eating utensil quietly, taking my time to chew and swallow before giving my answer. I relished in the pause as I tried to gather my thoughts into a suitable response, all the events of today already beginning to swim back through my mind. How was I supposed to tell them about all that had happened, the fear, the rudeness, the activity?

'You may lie about all work related topics.'

Only present for the briefest of moments, the reminder of this rule burned my mind with a horrible guilt. No, it may be in my rules but I would never follow it. I will never become someone who lies to her fellow citizens, that is a crime worthy of to be Released.

"It was interesting," I finally allowed, holding up my half-finished plate for my father to collect on his way to leave the extras in front of our dwelling. It didn't matter, I suddenly found myself not much hungrier anyway. "It was busy too; there were a lot of people in the Birthing Center."

My mother nodded and made understanding noises. "It's already time for Feelings Inger. Would you like to go first? You could tell us how being at the Birthing Center made you feel."

I gave my own nod at her polite question. This was normal, it was only reasonable that the first day of my profession would warrant emotion. Of course I should be able to tell them what I felt.

But how would I describe the fear, how would I be able to put into words the humiliation of being treated as if you were a lower being?

"Today I felt anticipation to approach the Birthing Center." I started calmly, keeping my inner vow of truth silently with every word. "I felt scared that I wouldn't be accepted by the other birthmothers." Again true. "And I felt. . ." Terrified, humiliated. I stopped, unable to say what I knew they would never understand. When they analyzed my feelings they would write those words off as too strong to describe my emotions; for some reason the very thought made my stomach turn. "relieved that it was easier than I expected."

Your lying.

The words struck like the trains that were stationed outside of the community, or at least like how I imagined one would feel if I was struck by one. The matter itself was small, I realized suddenly; nothing at all worthy of a lie, if anything was worthy of a lie at all. I felt dirty, worse than I can ever remember feeling. How stupid was I to lie only minutes after I made a vow not too? It was like being allowed to lie has somehow opened up a temptation to do so.

I couldn't let it happen again, I decided firmly. Lying about small things would turn into something bigger. I would turn into someone worse, or as I had thought earlier, someone worthy to be released.

There was a shiver of inner disgust as my body responded to such a horrible thought. Thankfully though it went unnoticed by the rest of my family. They were still talking calmly about the solutions and causes of my feelings by the time I tuned back in. I tried to listen as they finished and moved on to Jessie, my mother, and then my father, but soon found it to be pointless. The input I gave to the conversation dwindled until I wasn't talking at all. Still my family noticed nothing.

I excused myself the moment Feelings finished, fleeing to my room and flinging myself on the bed. I was still dressed and had not yet completed my nightly hygiene but for some reason I didn't quite care. For the first time in my life I disregarded the rituals I had performed every night just to sit and sulk. Even though I was facedown, the image of the folder nestled neatly between my rulebooks not too far away popped into my mind.

Were the rules contained in such a small folder really changing me that much?