A/N: I've not put much of an epic cliffhanger at the end of this one because on Sunday I'm leaving for band camp and I don't want to leave you hanging for five days. I might have another chapter out by Sunday, but I'm not sure.

I slowly disentangle myself from her and step back, so utterly confused. "Did you just... say something?"

Mitchie looks almost as shocked as I do, but I guess that's not horribly surprising. Maybe she had just been thinking it and it had slipped out, or she hadn't even realized that words were coming out. But it occurs to me now that I can just ask her. "Do you know why you just, you know, spoke?"

She scans the room quickly, as though to make sure that I'm talking to her. "I... don't know. One second, it was in my- head. And then- out of here." She touches just the very corners of her mouth. I wonder what it would be like to forget the sound of your own voice, because I'm pretty sure she's just getting around to remembering what her's sounds like. In my opinion, it suits her. Very well.

"How long have you been... mute?" There's so much going through my mind that I find it hard to pick which questions to ask first, which ones to put on the back-burner, and even sometimes where one thought beginnings and ends.

She shrugs. "I don't... think about it. I just sort of, um, accepted it. Otherwise, I would think too much. And that would destroy me." I can't believe she's not crying. I'm close to crying, and I don't know that I've ever cried from anything that's not physical. "But if I had to guess, a little more than a year."

All my sadness disappears in an instant and turns into hot flashes of anger. What the hell happened to her that could make her absolutely silent for an entire year? Full of a new, alien kind of passion, I stand up and put my arms around her waist, drawing her closer. "One day, you'll feel comfortable enough to tell me what happened to you and who did it. I can wait for that day. But the day after that I am going to Washington to kick that guy's ass all the way back to Havenwood. OK?"

There is a sadness in her smile, one that I know all too well. She leans in and kisses me on the forehead as a show of affection, something to convey our bond but not to convey the more sexual aspect of it. I smile; it's the best kiss she's given me so far. "One day, Alexandra-"

"Can you call me Alex? It's what I prefer," I mumble.

"One day, Alex, you'll know. And then we can go wherever you want to go," she tells me.

"Sounds like a happy day. The one where we go wherever we want, I mean."

Someone knocks on our door, interrupting our last moments before the torture. Mitchie whispers, "Wait."

"Just a minute," I call out to the door.

It's Max's voice that answers. "OK. I was just sent up to tell you that it's time to go." Listening carefully, I wait until his footsteps are gone before asking Mitchie, "What's the problem?"

"Let's... not let them know that I can talk, alright?" she says, almost begging and pleading with me. "I don't want to talk to God... I can't! I've never spoken to Him before, I don't have any answers, I don't-"

"Shh," is the only sound that comes out of my mouth. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. You can trust me."

She giggles at my conviction. "I know." Mitchie kisses me on the cheek shyly like she's not sure it's alright.

"Mitchie, it's fine to kiss me. In fact, it's preferred," I tell her. There's nothing more to say as I offer her my arm and we walk out into the hallway, scared as shit about the entire dance. I'm more scared of Rosslyn, to be honest. Nate I can handle. But she could easily give me enough lashes to kill me. And for the first time in my life, I feel as though I would be disappointed if I were to drop dead on the spot.

Downstairs in the living room, I see my entire family and Nate beaming up at us like we're two goddesses descending upon the mere mortals, though Max's smile holds a certain bit of irony and Justin's is focused simply on Mitchie. In fact, the one time his gaze moves to me his smile falters just a bit. But I can see it. I send him back one hard stare for retribution, and I know that he sees it. Justin's never been one for calling me out, though, so he won't give some over-dramatic rendition of my sneer to Mom and Dad.

My mother claps her hands together in adoration as we reach them, tears in her eyes. "Mitchie, you look absolutely stunning!" she squeals. That's probably the first thing we've agreed upon in years. "And Alexandra..." She probably thinks that my dress is too form-fitting and, you know, actually good looking. I did tailor it a little to make it hug my body a little more. But not for Nate. Definitely not for Nate. "You certainly look... feminine." She seems torn by this: on one hand, thank God that I look feminine, but on the other, well, I could look a hell of a lot more presentable. I am, after all, going with Nate Grey, whose mother could very easily secure my father his dream job on the Council of Shepherds or at least pave the way for Justin. Both myself and my brother have people to impress tonight.

"God is smiling on the Russo family tonight," Dad says proudly. Yes, what a great God. One who made the girl next to me so traumatized that she couldn't speak and when she finally does, she can't, because of what will happen if she says the wrong thing. Thank God, indeed. "Justin, Alexandra, you two are clearly on the way to becoming upstanding adults. And what blessings your escorts are! I don't think they could have picked better people if they tried."

"Thank you, Mr. Russo. It's such an honor to be escorting Alexandra," Nate says with a false smile. "Also, I have something to present to her." He reaches into his pocket and produces a lovely, extravagant corsage, clearly made by a master florist. "Will you accept this corsage as a symbol of my respect for you?" He's saying the lines word-for-word, strictly by the book. Seriously. There's a whole list of appropriate corsage giving and acceptance lines. It's ridiculously.

But I do the same, feeding him a practiced line. "Only if you shall accept my hand." And then you're supposed to cheesily give your hand to the boy and he'll put the corsage on it and kiss it and hold on to it. Disgusting. But I let him do so anyway, because of his mother. Justin repeats the same boring ritual with Mitchie, although I can't help but notice that my handmade corsage is still on her wrist behind Justin's professional looking one. I feel so inferior to my brother with this, even though it's clear that Mitchie is much more interested in me.

Nate spots my corsage as well on the way down to the dining hall, which is "decked out" with a bunch of lame light strings over the top of it and banner that looks like it was made in the eighties, what with his yellowing age. "So, Mitchie, where'd you get that other corsage?"

Since she can't answer, I quickly jump in with, "It's the corsage that her father gave to her mother in Cascadia. She got it as a present when she moved." So what if they don't have this tradition there? I doubt that Nate or my brother knows that.

"Wow. How'd you learn that from a girl who can't talk?" Nate asks. Rudely, I might add. That's not entirely his fault, though; I mean, look at his mother. Mitchie flinches slightly at the statement, though that might also be because Justin moves his arm from its loop around hers into a position to hold her hand, which he does. I try to send her a smile, but this is slightly complicated by the fact that I'm supposed to be engaged in conversation with Nate.

"Um, you know. She wrote it down, during class one time," I reply smoothly. There goes me breaking another Cardinal Atrocity. But I wonder- why is it so horrible to lie if you're trying to protect someone? Because really, that's all I want to do. I want to keep Mitchie safe. How is that wrong?

Nate nods, not breaking his unemotional expression. I highly doubt he will do that tonight at all. But that's OK, because I planning on staying as far away from him as possible while being with him enough to keep Rosslyn at bay. It's a tricky balance, but I'll find it.

We enter the ball, which has already started. Couples dance very far apart from each other and in a very fancy manner. And with a pang I note that every couple- even those who were not paired up with their partner- is boy/girl. It just makes me feel all the more isolated from life in this compound, because of what Mitchie and I have. Which isn't something I should be ashamed of, by any means. But something about watching everyone else- I dunno. It makes things seem harder than they are. We'll make it through, though. That I have no doubt in.

A speedy foxtrot comes on and Nate smiles; this is one of only three dances we both know. "May I have this dance?"

I nod in acceptance, as I spot Rosslyn hovering out of the corner of my eye. Nate leads us onto the floor only because I let him and he leads the dance only because I let him do that as well. Plus, with him leading, that leaves me with much more room to stare off into space- or, more accurately, at Mitchie. She looks radiant, dancing with my brother, and for a split second I allow myself to believe that it's me twirling with her and not Justin, but I quickly stop that because it makes me horribly upset and nearly violent.

After an hour of dancing, both Nate and I agree that we need to break for drinks. I also consider an hour an appropriate amount of time to be seen with Nate before abandoning him without managing to give Rosslyn a conniption. I scamper off from the table with a bunch of younger kids serving water and other refreshing beverages before Nate ever has the chance to ask me what I'd like to drink. The ball is just so, so boring, even more so than I expected it to be. Nobody's really doing much except dancing and this kind of dancing isn't even fun. When I was fifteen, I did this one dance at some community bonding function where I just totally let loose and allowed every part of my body to sway or spin or gyrate along with the music. Then one of the Shepherds told me that that was "inappropriate" and that I needed to stick the "approved dances." Whatever. I've never felt the same about foxtrots and waltzes since.

"Ah, Alexandra! I thought I lost you," Nate chortles as he comes over with two glasses of water. In this overly gentleman way, he "presents" me with a cup.

"Yeah, well, you know. So many people. It's easy to get lost," I reply idly, taking a sip. "Thanks for the cup, by the way."

He stares at me as though I just told him to go and have hardcore oral sex with Satan. Like, really. That's what his face looks like. "What!"

"Um, thank you? For the water?" I'm very confused now. No idea what's going on.

"My goodness, Alexandra! I've been trying to have a conversation with you all night!" he roars, but in a quiet sort of voice so as not to attract the attention of others. "But you completely refuse to speak to me! What is your problem!"

I shrug, more preoccupied in scouting for Rosslyn than in his worthless teenage boy troubles. "Maybe I'm just not that interested in you."

"'Not that interested!' I gave you a corsage. And you accepted!" He's fuming by now, practically foaming at the mouth.

"It's more of a formality than any-"

He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. "What else can I do to get it through that worthless little head of yours that I am the best you'll get! Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, though, since you spend all your time with some brain-dead loser who can't talk-"

Nate crashes to the ground, courtesy of my fist slamming into his face. He lands awkwardly, which makes sense considering he literally has no idea what just hit him. But once he does, he's on his feet in an instant and swinging right back at me. Luckily, his anger at being punched by a girl eclipses my anger at his comments about Mitchie so that I'm in control of the fight. Most of his wild, desperate punches miss me and I manage to block a few as well as land a couple on him. Fighting isn't usually my style, but how he acted toward Mitchie stirred a certain protective feeling inside of me that I've never experienced before; it's like how I feel about keeping Max safe from the horrors of this compound, only in a much more intense and intimate way. If that makes sense.

Soon enough, Rosslyn breaks up the fight and I start to get scared. Dog-shit scared. She's going to kill me; she's going to motherfucking kill me. Nate's her baby, her youngest son. He means the world to her. "Alexandra- I see we've broken Cardinal Atrocity number 5 once again. You know the punishment?"

I nod with fake enthusiasm. "23 lashes. Bring it on."

"Now, now. That kind of attitude simply won't do," Rosslyn says. She looks around at the crowd that has gathered to watch Alexandra Russo get punished once again. "But... I think I may have an alternative."

The next thing I know I'm being forcibly dragged to the Enforcers barracks with Mitchie in tow. They don't say anything, but I'm fairly certain they're going to make her watch again. And for her sake, I'll have to keep myself from showing any pain. I can't let her know what they're doing to me, or it might break her. I have to protect her.

Rosslyn shoves me into the wall and calls Damien from inside, but doesn't direct him toward me. Instead, she turns the Enforcer to Mitchie, who's cowering in a corner. "Damien, I want, eh, ten lashes on this girl. It is first time, after all. And we need to be gentle." This is said with a wink, and I can't even begin to imagine what Rosslyn's referring to until I see the look of stark white terror on Mitchie's face; not terror at the whip, but terror at whatever Rosslyn just implied. Terror at the trauma.

"No! She didn't do a fucking thing! Punish me! It's my fault! You can't do this!" I shout desperately, fighting to get closer to Mitchie, but Rosslyn slams me against the wall and pins both of my arms there. With no other way to fight back, I spit directly into her face. Stupid goddamned fucking whore. Rosslyn barely even flinches.

She inches in until she is barely centimeters from my face. "I can do whatever I want, Ms. Russo. And one day you will learn to obey. But until that day comes, we will keep teaching you a lesson. There's always a value in the lesson."

"Not Mitchie!" I'm bawling by now, sobbing at the sight of my best and only friend about to get whipped because of me. But even though I'm crying, I will not look away. I will watch, because that's what good friends do. The first CRACK is the hardest to get over because Mitchie, unlike me, reacts to it. She lets the tears fall freely from her eyes as her whole body shakes with the reverberations of the whip attack. I'm scared that she won't be able to handle the ten, but eventually it's over and Rosslyn turns to me.

"There, dear. Did that teach you a lesson?" Her smile is so crooked that I feel as though no one will ever make it straight again.

"Only that you're a sadistic bitch," I reply with a snap, not thinking about potential consequences.

"At least you learned something."

Humiliated and disgusted with myself, I rush out into the cold night air the second I can. Rosslyn doesn't attempt to follow me, but I don't think Mitchie does either. I make it to the edge of the forest before I throw myself on the ground and collapse in a heap of horrible, horrible feelings that make it damn near impossible to think about anything but the negatives. I can't believe how foolish and reckless I've been; ridiculous that I would let things escalate that far. I do need to learn to hold my place, if only to keep Mitchie safe. Because I can't lose her, and the world can't lose her. She is much too special.

Speaking of her, I feel her come and lie down next to my side and cover me with her body like an innocent, lovely blanket. One that refuses to lie on its back. That action, that wince, serves as a reminder of just what I've put her through.

"Alex? You know you're still the most important person in my life, and the only person I would die without. It's OK to mess up; you were just trying to help. You're always just trying to help."