Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Max's foot drums a steady rhythm against the creaky wooden floorboards of my room as he sits on my bed, biting his nails into tiny little stubs. Earlier, I tried to get him to stop, but quickly realized it was fruitless. We've been trapped in my bedroom since this morning when my father came to take Mitchie away to the Shepherds. He's locked us in here for now, promising to think of a proper punishment later because the Shepherds to come down and supervise the meeting with Mitchie since he apparently knows her the best. Bullshit. No one here knows a damn thing about Mitchie save for me and Max, and I'm not even sure how much he knows. But now I'm curious.

"Hey, Maxie?"

He takes his fingers away from his mouth to answer. "What?"

I take a deep breath, wondering how comfortable he is with me and how much he'll be willing to say. "The other day... when I found you by the cellar, after you had talked to Mitchie, what did you talk about?"

"With you?" Clearly my sentence structure has him confused.

"No. With Mitchie. You don't have to tell me, I just wondered-"

"How much I know?" He processes my taken aback look with a smile. "I'm more observant than you give me credit for. And as for how much I know? All of it, I think. She told me a little bit, implied a little more, and I inferred the rest." I wait for him to go on as he twiddles his thumbs, feeling weird about whatever he's about to say next. "She was raped, huh?" I nod slowly, sensing he has something else to say as he draws his knees in close to himself. "You and I barely even know what that means... and it happened to her. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

I shrug. "I've never really thought about it that way before. But now that you mention it, I suppose it does."

"I've realized that I don't think about things the way most people do, I don't react the way they expect me to," he explains. "We talked about that, too, about how different you and I are from everyone else."

I snort at that. "No duh. We're the only ones who want to get out of this fucking hellhole."

He laughs nervously, shakes his head. "That's not what I mean. I think... even in the outside world, we wouldn't be normal. Mitchie thinks so, too. According to her, the way we respond to things is not an average reaction based on what she's seen around here."

"But everyone here is so screwed up- how the hell can they have a normal reaction?" I ask.

"It's not so much what people are reacting to, but how they do it. Take the differences between you and Justin, for example. There were lots of kids like Justin in the beginning- I'm younger than you, so it's easier for me to remember those kids. There are always kids who will ask questions. I don't think there's a single kid in this place who hasn't seen the Enforcers at least once. It's just what kids do." He pauses to take a breath, for some reason slightly shaken. I go to sit next to him on the bed, though not to touch him. It's too early for that.

"Sad fact is, most of those kids will end up like Justin," he continues.

"That's not true," I immediately blurt out, simply because I want to believe in an underlying hope that doesn't exist within in the walls of this compound.

He smiles because he knows he's winning, but why he's winning turns it into such a bittersweet moment. "Oh, yeah? What about Lucas, who used to try and steal paper and crayons with you until you guys got caught? Or that girl Joanna who kissed Justin on the cheek once and then suddenly lost all interest in him? And Andrew, the boy who climbed trees with me, lied about it once, and never spoke to me again? Tom, who thought girls should be equal to boys? Jake, who wanted to be like the Mother instead of the Father? Ariel, who used to run around with her clothes off? Tess, who tried to steal pants? Ian? Adam? Megan? Hannah? George? Face it, Alex: when faced with what you deal with, most people break. But for some reason it has made you more determined. You don't react like the rest of the world. I guess that's a good thing, because otherwise you'd be just like the rest of them. I mean, yeah, I wouldn't know that you had the ability to be like this, but I'd missing be something. I'd be totally alone. So would Mitchie."

"I guess I'd rather be beaten and take everyone else's shit than not really alive," I mumble grumpily, vaguely upset that I'm not really much of an actual person but instead some sort of weirdo who doesn't react well.

Max seems to sense this because he scoots closer so that our legs are touching. "Maybe it makes your life harder, to be like that. To be different. But I think it's a lot less empty, when you really step back and look at it. I mean, everyone else? Their life is filled with people, and yours is filled with dreams- not only dreams, but goals. I think that in the end, your life will be so much more satisfying."

"Or so much shittier if I don't get those goals," I reply with a grumble. "My life sounds like too much of a fucking balancing act, the way you put it."

"Oh, I didn't come up with this all by myself. Mitchie helped," he says seriously. "It's true: your happiness is riskier than most people, but you are a risk taker, so I have no doubt you'll get there. To happiness, I mean."

I can't help but smile at the conviction in his voice. "You're really smart for a twelve-year-old, you know?"

"All I do is read and talk to two incredible girls: one of them who's been beaten within inches of passing out and the other who's been raped. And they both are still so strong. How could I not be smart?" He's come out into a full-on grin by now, wickedly smiling at me about his "clever" use of language. I can't help but scooping him into my arms, almost in a headlock position.

"What a great brother you are." It isn't until I finish this sentence that I realize we're both crying. God. So much fucking crying. I've done so much fucking crying this past week that I just want it to stop forever. If I never have to shed another tear, well, I'll probably be dead when that happens. Because life is kind of shit. And my life is kind of more shit than most people's. Or at least, I would suspect so.

"Alex?" he whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Are we really getting out of here?" He's changed from the smart, mature boy he was a moment ago into the age appropriate immature boy he really should be. He's too young to act this old.

"I hope so, Maxie, I hope so. We're planning it- I swear. Some day soon, I promise." I kiss him on top of the end. We sit like that for a bit, having the most profound brother-sister moment you could possibly have in total silence. I think as of now, our relationship is completely rebuilt. Everything we missed out on in each other's childhoods doesn't matter anymore, because we've found a more grown-up bond that means even more.

A soft knock sounds on the door and I know by its volume that it can't be anyone other than Mitchie. "Come in." I'm excited to see her again, but I'm afraid of what she will look like when I do.

She doesn't look nearly as frightened or hurt or broken as I thought she would, which is most definitely good news. "Thank God you two are OK."

"Us? We were more worried about you," I tell her, jumping up to give her a hug. I hold her tightly, almost afraid that if I let go she'll be sucked back into the High Chapel and locked away forever. "Are you OK?"

She nods into my shoulder, clutching at my back tightly. "I'll tell you- once you let me have enough room to talk." She's giggling again, and it's absolutely adorable and I don't want to let go, but I do anyway. We head back to the bed, sitting on either side of Max. She puts an arm around his shoulder and gives him a quick squeeze before releasing him. "It wasn't that bad. They just asked me lots of questions about what I heard when I was silent."

"What do you mean, 'what you heard?'" Max wonders.

"They thought I was silent because I was talking to God- remember Todd's speech?" He nods, recalling that awful sermon. "Well, now that I can talk, they I'll tell them about whatever God said. Only... I didn't. Because God didn't say anything to me." Judging by the tears pooling in her eyes, much of her silence was spent dwelling on the asshole-who-shall-not-be-named. "And it went on and on like that- plus they asked me all these questions about Genesis and the Apocalypse and all other sorts of predictions and complicated questions about the Bible. I just guessed on most of them, based on what I... what I l-learned. But they were, well, they didn't really enjoy it. Rosslyn got really angry, thought we might need to whip it out of me."

"They what?" Anger coursed through me like a boat on a wild sea, like a simmering flame being brought to a rapid boil. "That conniving bitch! I swear I'll fucking kill her, I swear-"

Mitchie puts her hand on my arm, silencing me. "It's OK. They didn't do... not today. T-Todd said that I was too holy, too precious for that. If God had intended that to happen, then I would have been begging for the torture. Which I wasn't."

"Do any of the Shepherds here know what R-Rodney did?" Max pipes up, stuttering a little. I think he's still very uncomfortable with the whole concept.

She contemplates this for a moment before answering. "I don't think so. Rosslyn might, but Todd seemed really convinced I was holy. She's said some things before- hinting that she knows. But I think she's the only one."

"How did she manage that?" I wonder, my frustration building back up.

"She probably knows him," Max interjects. "The Shepherds most likely have contact with each other, to talk about, like, community problems or whatever."

Not finding anything to disagree with there, I hurriedly turn the focus back on Mitchie, anxious to know if there's anyone else I need to kill. Well, I was already hunting for Rosslyn's head, but this definitely makes me more enthusiastic about it. "So what then?"

"Well..." She hesitates and my mind instantaneously jumps to the worst possible scenario.

"What did they do, Mitchie? Tell me what they did, and I'll-"

"Shh." Mitchie puts her finger to my lips and giggles. "You're cute when you're protective." I smile for a split-second before I realize that could be incredibly telling to Max. Incredibly telling. As to the nature of our relationship. Shit. That's bad. This is-

"It's OK, Alex," he says quietly. "Remember how I said I inferred the rest? That's the rest."

I'm totally flabbergasted right now; how did my little brother get so smart? "You know? And you're not having a mental spasm?"

He shrugs awkwardly. "I'll admit... I didn't think I was right at first, because it was weird. But then- you're my sister, and you are weird." When he calls myself and Mitchie weird, it almost breaks my heart. "Then, though, you guys are happy. Happier than I've ever seen you, Alex. And I thought, well, what's wrong with that? If you think about it, it kind of makes more sense for girls to like girls and boys to like boys."

Mitchie cocks her head as though it's never occurred to her. To be honest, it hasn't occurred to me either. "How so?" she breathes.

"Well, boys know what boys like and what they need, and vice versa." He's on the verge of laughter now. Thank God. "Maybe you're just smarter than the rest of us, because that way makes so much more sense. But then again, Alex is that way, so-"

"Max!" But I'm laughing, too, in relief. If I did believe in God, I'd be thanking him for this moment. I don't, though, so I'll just have to take it for what it really is: me, my hands on Max's stomach as I tickle him mercilessly; Max, giggling like I've never seen him do before as he leans into Mitchie for protection; Mitchie, drawing Max in closer and halfheartedly swatting at me to get my hands off of him. I have never been anywhere, in any moment, with more smiles, with more radiance.

The moment ends all too soon, though. Mitchie manages to sneakily pull me off with a kiss, which momentarily leaves me powerless. She takes Max into her body and holds him like a mother would hold a child. I throw my hands up in defeat, trying to prolong the laughter as it dies on my lips. We all get our breathing back to normal and my unanswered question hangs ominously in the air. Mitchie glances between me and Max, trying to decide if it would be worth revealing to save whatever tiny grasps of innocence we still cling to.

"It's- the Shepherds, they were going to let me go. Because they decided God had told me not to reveal anything until they are worthy. So they were- going to talk about how to make themselves worthy. And then, and then your father... he said he wished his real daughter made him this proud." She takes a fast glance at me and then returns her eyes to her lap. I don't show any expression, though: for today, I am numb to my father's insults. Tomorrow, though, is another story. "And then the Shepherds decided that- that- oh, Alex..." She's practically in tears now; I think I can see them peeking out of the corners of her eyes and sliding down her dry cheeks.

In an unspoken sibling connection, Max and I get up to switch seats so that I can wrap her in my arms to offer what little comfort I can. "Just tell me, Mitchie... it's not your fault, whatever it is. You have no control over them or what they do or how they think-"

"They think they can get God's Word out of me by turning you into a perfect believer!" she blurts out and then goes back to crying. "Oh, Alex, I'm sorry. I'm s-so, so sorry. T-Tomorrow. They're going to ask the whole commune about it, about you. About what to d-do." For the briefest flash of a second, I entertain the thought that maybe without her this would be prevented. But then I remember I wouldn't really have much of a reason to care without her, either, and the thought vanishes as quickly as it came.

"What happens if they take you away tomorrow, Alex?" she sniffles. "Me... Max... we'd be nowhere." Max and I lock eyes as she finishes this sentence, and we know that for Mitchie's sake, we need to get on with this escape thing. There's no time to plan anymore, no time for silly games and stocking up on supplies. All the shit is coming to a head here, and when it all flies to hell, we can't be here to see it. I have a feeling that none of us would make it.