He's one of the last friends I have," she says, her voice breaking. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at you the same way again.

I'll have to keep looking for more of them, more brief moments of freedom in a world that refuses to allow it.

He is strong, and lithe, and certain. And he is mine.

No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens.

The shouts of triumph become infectious, and I lift my voice to join in, running toward my teammates. Christina holds the flag up high, and everyone clusters around her, grabbing her arm to lift the flag even higher. I can't reach her, so I stand off to the side, grinning. A hand touches my shoulder. "Well done," Four says quietly.

Maybe there's more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time.

Yesterday he told me he thought I would have to pretend to be weak, but he was wrong. I am weak already. I brace myself against the wall and press my forehead to my hands. It’s difficult to take deep breaths, so I take short, shallow ones. I can’t let this happen. They attacked me to make me feel weak. I can pretend they succeeded to protect myself, but I can’t let it become true.