We Believe In Shouting For

I Laugh Shakily. ‘you’re A Little Scary, Four.’ ‘do Me A Favor,’ He Says, ‘and Don’t Call Me That.’ ‘what Should I Call You, Then?’ ‘nothing.’ He Takes His Hand From My Face. ‘yet.

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.

When I Look At Him, I Don't See The Cowardly Young Man Who Sold Me Out To Jeanine Matthews, And I Don't Hear The Excuses He Gave Afterward. When I Look At Him, I See The Boy Who Held My Hand In The Hospital When Our Mother Broke Her Wrist And Told Me It Would Be All Right. I See The Brother Who Told Me To Make My Own Choices, The Night Before The Choosing Ceremony. I Think Of All The Remarkable Things He Is--smart And Enthusiastic And Observant, Quiet And Earnest And Kind.

Without Thinking, I Grab Al's Arm And Squeeze It As Tightly As I Can. I Just Need Something To Hold On To. Blood Runs Down The Side Of Christina's Face And Splatters On The Ground Next To Her Cheek. This Is The First Time I Have Ever Prayed For Someone To Fall Unconscious.... Al Frees His Hand And Pulls Me Tight To His Side. I Clench My Teeth To Keep From Crying Out.

I Traded Cowardice For Cruelty; I Traded Weakness For Ferocity.