Out of the Woods

October 13, 2022

(CW: Deadnames, slurs, references to suicide and attempted suicide, references to drug use)

Leigh

“Beth, I came to talk.” I softly knocked on the door. As cross as I felt with Bethany, I felt better after my conversation with Jace, and I knew full well that I couldn’t blow up at her without knowing more about why. Unlike the doors downstairs, these were easy to hear through, so I was able to hear the deliberations and judge for myself how she was acting.

“Steph… could you… get the door?” Bethany asked quietly. I sighed. Of course she’d originally refuse to make the first move. “She’s in here, Leigh! She’ll be at the door in a second!” Heh. Thanks, Steph.

“Acknowledged!” I called out.

“You’ll feel better once you talk to her,” I heard Steph say to Bethany. I waited for a few seconds to let the other girl slowly file outside. I wanted to make a judgement on her once I was able to see how she looked.

“I know… I know…”

The door opened to me. Beth’s eyes were bloodshot. Her hair was tousled, presumably from cuddles in bed with Steph running her hands through the follicles. Nothing I haven’t seen before. The two were inseparable. Aunt Béa had found them together before inspections pretty much every time, and that was even before they were allowed to move into the same room together.

“Permission to come in, Steph?” I asked. I looked back at Steph, who gave me a thumbs up. “Alright, let me in, Beth.”

“This is my room, Steph!” Bethany whined, ceremoniously trying to impede my progress without any luck. “My room, my rules!”

“While I’m in here, it’s our room, Beth,” Steph replied, pulling all of the covers they had shared.

“Then why is it your room when I’m in there?”

“Who wears the pants in our relationship?”

I snorted at that, and saw Beth look angrily at her for a half second. Instead of acting on that comment, she just crossed her arms and pouted.

“Fucking Communist.”

“That’s the Beth I know,” I said. “Now I need to know… why the fuck did you go after Jace like that? He’s not in the best place right now. I’m having to make sure he’s not going to be a risk to himself, and I’m not sure if what you did will make my job harder.”

Beth sighed. “I thought I could try to be the tough sponsor by pulling some tough love on him, but… I know I went too far.” She seemed genuine. She paused for a moment, and I saw the scared kid who wasn’t yet Bethany flash before my eyes return to the surface for the briefest moment. “I wanted to be like Maria.”

“Beth, you aren’t Maria. I swear to God, I don't think you could properly be like Maria if you tried every day of your life for years,” I replied. “You’re Bethany Erin Hunt. If you keep dating Steph, you’re gonna be Bethany Erin Riley.”

“Hey! Maybe Steph will take my last name!” Beth replied, looking back at Stephanie to garner a response.

“Nope. You’ll be a Riley. I’ve already decided,” Steph replied, sitting up and revealing an even fluffier head of hair. “It makes everything easier, anyways. I’ve told you all about Petra, and you’ll get to meet her pretty soon.”

“Back to the point… Bethany. You can easily fix this, but judging by the fact that nobody’s seen either of you since mid-day, I assume you took it very badly.” I sighed. Of course, she’s been a mess since my message this morning. “It doesn’t really excuse that you fucked up, but…”

Beth’s stomach rumbled in acknowledgement. “Yeah… Steph and I have been in here for a while….” I realised how disoriented she seemed. Probably dehydrated. Definitely very hungry. “I… I’m sorry, Leigh.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” I shifted my weight to one side, put a hand on my hip, and gave her a firm glare. “I’m glad that you seem deeply apologetic over this. It shows that your heart is, and was even then, in the right place. We’re both new sponsors. I get it.”

“I’m not a new sponsor y-,” Beth started to protest, but I put a finger to her lips.

“You’re attached to Steph’s hip when she goes to see intakes. Even if you hadn’t just been assigned the last boy who’s getting thrown in here this year, you’d probably be a pseudo-sponsor helping out Stephanie’s charge,” I explained. “You’re down in the basement as much as the rest of us, and you’re going to be following me into this soon. You tried to take charge in a chaotic moment because you wanted to better know the kid you helped save. For that, I am grateful, and I would believe that they are, too.”

“They?” Beth asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is Jace already actualized to the point of using non-binary pronouns?”

“No, they still use masculine pronouns, but I… I don’t feel comfortable using masculine ones personally, given everything I’ve seen in their file,” I replied. “But I’m pretty sure they’re like me and Steph. A lot of what I’ve seen tells me that they are truly, deeply closeted… except to their sister, it seemed.”

“How do you propose to sponsor your charge, then?” Beth raised an eyebrow. “He… they, sorry, seem, at least on the surface, like the safest intake since Stephanie. Maybe it’ll be a walk in the park, and you’ll have someone who actualizes faster than any of us did.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple,” I replied, scratching my chin. “I’m going to take it slow with this one. I don’t think negative reinforcement will work too well, but I’m not just going to disregard the ‘toxic masculinity’ speech or try to get them exempted from the feminism lectures. They may be more like a Melissa or a Holly, but… I don’t want them to suffer from loneliness within their intake like those two did.”

“I hope you succeed,” I heard Steph say and looked back to her solemn smile. Beth visibly winced, and I suddenly felt anxious about dropping her big sister’s name. “Melissa still talks about it. She still carries a lot of that baggage.”

“And I wouldn’t be surprised if Holly did, too,” Beth replied. “She actualized really late. I was half-scared that they were going to wash her out. Hell, I still have my anxieties about what I’ve done. I actualized in fucking December. Set enough of a record that we have to talk a girl out of trying to repeat what happened to me, and I feel like I carry my own baggage sometimes. I don’t think Dorley recognizes what it actually does to some of its women.”

“I honestly think you’re right,” I said. “A lot of the girls who come out of here need a therapist, but none actually go given how… tied up their trauma is with this place. Hell, I wish we had someone on call for a lot of this.”

“Well, Patty’s thought about it. It just seems insane to be like, ‘hey, I’m gonna be the one who subjects myself to everyone else’s trauma’, and decide to do it. I’m not sure who would even be up to that. I don’t think Patty is, and I know none of us would be.”

I smirked. Beth having a point; that’s something I’m not used to. “I mean, you’re right, but I think some of the girls really do need it once they actualize, when they stop being violent. Some of them honestly need it from the start. Maybe you would have actualized more quickly if you had someone talking to you through your brainworms. Well, you did, we all do, but…”

“God, you sound terminally online, Leigh,” Beth said. “Go touch grass more often, or something. You can now. You’re not locked in the basement like those boys… and Jace, I guess. The sponsors are supposed to be the ones who talk them through their bullshit, anyways. We’re like mini-therapists, but like… who does therapy for the therapists?”

“I do touch grass! I just… I still have an insatiable need to go off on some idiot online sometimes,” I said, looking away. “You can take the girl out of the debate, but you can’t take the debate out of the girl.”

“Nerd.”

“Hush.”

“Be serious, guys,” Steph suddenly commanded, cutting through our banter. “You need to go see Jace, Beth.”

“Can I clean up first?” Beth asked.

“No. We're going.”

---

Jace

“Shut the fuck up, songbird!” I heard shouts come from the room next to me, 04, whoever that was, as I finished up an attempted rendition of Hozier’s “Someone New”.

“Maybe when you invest in good taste, dumbass!” I shouted back to no response. I got a bit of a high from it, the sort one gets when you scratch an itch, the one that blowing up at others. I felt stupid now, not realizing that this would do the same thing for me.

I let the music play from the speakers in my room, from a restricted but surprisingly expansive catalog of music that this place had. I had found solace in singing until my throat began to ache, until my body began to writhe. I only chose songs I knew, which were widely dispersed in the ocean of pirated mp4s, but in tens of thousands of tracks, knowing a few hundred by their lyrics well enough to follow the singer was sufficient to occupy my time. The movement of oxygen in and out of me, in mid-sentence gasps and in grand gulps before final choruses, became a grounding sensation, a sense of peace. I rationed the water I had in order to cleanse my throat in moments that the feeling became unbearable.

The song I was on was something that had just come out in the past few years. I’m surprised that a Brandi Carlile album was on here, if only the one. Perhaps “The Joke” had captivated someone… but it wasn’t too important why it was in here. I’d take any ounce of familiarity in here I could get.

It was hard to hide that his heart had scars

He would stay up late talking to the stars

People tried to blame him for making bad choices

When he was only listening to the voices

And searching for some kind of deeper truth

Between the lines and the Bible and living proof

There's no point now to judge him in vain

If you haven't been there, you don't know the pain

In the brief moments of pause for the singer between the end of the first verse and the chorus, I took a couple of ragged breaths. I felt the soreness in my throat rise from the work I threw my body into as I continued on, speaking to the parts of the song that I felt deeply in my soul.

He was a liar, but not a fraud

Livin’ proof that there was no God

Just the Devil, stiff as a rod,

A slave to a Sugartooth

I floated through the second verse, trying in vain to echo the timbre and the pitch of the lesbian Americana superstar, my voice far too deep to hold onto it sustainably. I held myself together well through this section, as always, but my voice started to fail me, right at the end of it, my voice giving in with the last couplet.

What in the hell are you gonna do

When the world has made its mind up about you?

I sat out the second chorus, taking breaths before settling, sadly, by the bridge to the final chorus to sing in my “natural voice”, a breathy and insufficiently trained high tenor, something that was both mine and not, unfamiliar yet painless to use. Tears came from me, but whether from the content or my straining, I wasn’t quite sure.

And I heard they put what was left in a box

And took it to a place called Jesus Rock

And scattered him all over the jagged mound

As a symbol to all that the piece had been found

But not for a son who is left behind

With a hand stuck reaching back in time

To a place in which you can never unwind

I hope he found something so sweet…

As the song dissolved into the last chorus, I stumbled back over to the bed and took heavy breaths, trying to compose myself in the moment, letting the song close out before the next track took hold of me.

However, before the next song, The Killers’ “A Dustland Fairytale”, came on, I heard the door start to open, and three familiar women flooded through. As they did, I rushed towards the computer to turn off the music. I saw one or two of them put their hands towards their holsters for a brief moment, and I flinched as I realized exactly why.

“S-sorry,” I sheepishly chirped out through uncomfortable vocal chords, before wiping my eyes.

“Just think about your actions, okay, Jace?” Leigh replied, her eyes seeming to stare further than just skin deep. “We have to make decisions based on what we see. If you give us a reason to feel unsafe, we’ll act accordingly.”

“Alright.” I moved towards the bed, in the back left corner of the room, giving them some space. I hunkered into myself, letting them take up space. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Jace, I’m sorry,” Bethany said. I got a good look at her. Her eyes were thoroughly bloodshot. The glow on her cheeks made it clear she had been crying. An image of my crying sister flashed in front of my face for a brief second. “I was out of line.”

"Remember, you’re so handsome when you smile.” “Autumn, you don’t have a reason to cry.” “Jason, you need to tell us what’s wrong.” I forced the pit in my stomach down for a moment. It didn’t matter now. I forced myself to relax.

“Don’t worry too much, Bethany,” I replied with the voice I used whenever my older sister was reduced to tears. The emotions were suddenly unimportant. Making sure Beth was okay became my priority. “You shouldn’t apologize for being right.”

“I wasn’t right to say that. I’ve felt terrible that I said that to you,” Bethany said.

Honestly, I felt a bit annoyed that she continued to prostrate herself in front of me. Didn’t I tell her she was right?

“Don’t think you’re going to change how I feel about the situation. My life continues because you ladies were watching over me. As simple as that. If your apology to me makes you feel better, then by all means,” I said, with every intent to hold myself together. As if by design from some unfriendly God, however, I sniffled after my comment. “Just don’t think you need to. I’m okay.”

“You’ve been crying, Jace,” Leigh interjected. “I don’t think you’re actually okay.”

“I was just… singing a song. I like to sing a lot,” I said back, and I saw a brightness shine in Leigh’s eyes as I revealed this information. She seemed to have a eureka moment. Perhaps it was part of whatever ‘program’ I had found myself in.

“What song is it?” Leigh asked. “You sounded quite good, for what it’s worth.”

“How long have you been listening?” I asked rather loudly before feeling the strain and coughing for a few seconds. It wasn’t just my audience of one asshole, whose tortured outcry felt almost euphoric-inducing in the moment as some substitute for the release that I had so craved. It was also an audience of sympathetic-looking women who weren’t interested in letting my body get the reactions it so sought. “S-sorry, I sometimes sing myself a bit ragged.” I took a large sip of my water bottle to lubricate my throat.

“We came to do the door around the time you started the song,” Steph said, a nervous smile. “We didn’t stand there long.”

I sighed. I let the pause linger a moment, looking at all of the girls before adding, “It’s called ‘Sugartooth’ by Brandi Carlile. She’s one of my favorite artists. I went looking through your little music system, typing in the names of musicians I liked, and you had something I liked to sing along to.”

“What does the song mean to you?” Bethany asked. It seemed like the three were on a similar wavelength. I was annoyed, but too backed into a corner to do anything, and my voice was too ragged to try to yell.

“I… what’s it to you? Are you trying to get into my business?” I asked quietly. “Not every song I know how to sing has to be important to me.”

“It seems important to you,” Leigh said simply. Her face showed nothing. Beth’s statement was right. “You shed tears. I would say that shows some level of importance.”

“It’s… a story about a kid who got addicted to drugs trying to numb the pain he felt inside, and ultimately he takes his life, feeling not understood by the rest of the world. It’s not… too relatable, but the song’s beautiful. I’ve listened to it many times. I know most of the lyrics by heart.”

“Would you mind sharing any that come to mind?” Leigh was definitely pushing me. I was still drained of energy to bite back. She was a persistent woman, but I presumed that too much hostility would lead to punishment. I let out a breath, relented, and took a sip of water from the bottle by my bed.

“So… I think the one that really gets to me the most is a set of two lyrics.” I fought myself a bit to continue, but once I got the words flowing, momentum made it impossible to stop. “‘What in the hell are you going to do / when the world has made its mind up about you?’ It’s… simple, but it’s relatable.”

“Why does it make you feel that way?” Beth’s apology had definitely faded into the background, but she took the initiative by beating Leigh to the punch. I noticed my… sponsor start to raise her hand, to open her mouth to speak, but she backed down after Beth pressed me further.

“I… don’t know. I guess I’ve just felt apart from everyone my whole life, but they never really gave me hell for it. They just kinda ignored me. Everyone kinda did, except the ones making me into someone I never wanted to be.” I didn’t know why I was bearing my soul to these women, but they… they weren’t my family. They weren’t people who knew much about who I was before. That made them almost feel… safe. “Felt like the world really just kinda… made up its mind about me, you know?”

Leigh started to speak, but Beth put her arm in front of the tall woman. “So, you feel helpless because of the people who made you behave a certain way. Well, down here, you’re the only one doing that to yourself. You can be whomever you want down here.” Her face looked determined. “Remember that.”

“Eventually I’m going to have to go back up there and face the people I left behind, Bethany,” I replied, trying to be respectful. “All of you, thank you for watching over me down here so far. Bethany, if you… if you feel like you need to do this to make up to me, you don’t. I’m not someone you need to help. There’s probably some misguided soul out there that needs your dose of whatever that kid out there was saying.”

“Oh, don’t start with that shit, Jace,” Leigh said from behind Bethany as she broke from the group to move close to me. For once, the stony face broke. I got to see the full range of emotions from her in just a few hours, from consoling to cantankerous, mixed together in a glare set at my soul. “You think you’re going to regress to whomever you were before you were brought here once you leave? If we thought that was the case, you wouldn’t be here.”

I sighed. There it was. They have some hope for me. “So you think I’m going to redeem myself down here? In whatever program you have me in here? So far, all I’ve done is sit around here and do the sorts of things I’d do when I’m alone. I saw the other boys down here. I have no fucking clue what this place is.”

Leigh looked to the other two girls who both nodded. “Remember when I asked you about toxic masculinity earlier, Jace?”

I nodded. Useful information. “Yes. I do.”

Leigh looked towards the wall, lowered her voice. “You have to promise me that you don’t tell anyone about what I’m about to say. If you do, you will be punished. Severely. Say you understand and agree.”

My eyes went wide at the notion of punishment. “I… guess… I understand and agree.”

“Normally, this is an institution meant to reform young men of their toxic masculinity. This toxic masculinity can… manifest in various ways. Some men lash out against others. Others lash out against themselves. Sometimes, it’s both. We generally get all three types here. You, Jace Rogers, are an example of the third type. You were looked at as someone who could benefit greatly from some time away from the world around you to learn about dealing with your issues. Originally, we thought we could divert you for long enough to get you back to the United States a better person. But then you, well… did what you did, and you were brought in here as a safety measure.”

“You know how you said you can’t fully trust me, Beth? Leigh?” I asked. My stomach knotted about the sorts of people that I could be in here with, but something felt… disingenuous about the explanation. She seemed… uncertain. Maybe there was more. I wouldn’t ask; it didn’t feel like my place. I’ll probably learn later. “I’m… sure you have some good reason for this, but not everything you’ve said lines up. I don’t think I can trust you guys yet, either. Don't push me, and I won't push you. Forgive me if that seems like a slight, but… it’s all a bit much for right now.”

“Fair compromise. We don’t trust you, you don’t trust us,” Bethany said, shrugging, holding her taser in one hand. She looked at it and smiled. “Just to let you know so you don't try anything funny, these babies are thumbprint-locked. Only we can use them.”

“Beth,” Leigh said. “I want him to trust me.”

“I will qualify it with this. For now, I will go along with the program. I will trust the program, and I will continue to see your goodwill as a reason to work with you,” I explained my stance. It seemed fair, given the information I got, not to relay everything. “I trust in your capabilities as a sponsor, Leigh. Steph, you’ve given me no reason to distrust you. Bethany, or Beth, you’ve not said a false word to me so far.”

“Alright.” I noticed that Leigh looked downcast after she spoke.

“Remember: I have known you all for like… 4 or 5 hours of my waking life at this point. I have not really been… paying attention to the time down here.” I looked into Leigh’s eyes. My face started to feel flush. “Maybe you know all about me. I don’t know the full extent. Right now, I don’t think I want to fucking know. I am… very overwhelmed, and would like if you would just leave me the fuck alone for a bit.” I felt my tone growling, the bile escaping my lips. “This is nothing about you. I just… I’m exhausted. I’m ready to blow up. I need to process, okay? Could you bring me some… water, enough to last me the day? If I need to use the restroom… how would I message you?”

“The computer has Consensus on it, and you have a direct line to me. When you get released to the rest of your group, you’ll also be given a phone that also has that on it, alright?” Leigh explained to me. Seemed reasonable enough. “There’s also a girl looking up and listening for dialogue. Just ask her, and someone will be brought to take you, okay? You can also message me starting now. If you need anything big, just text me. I won’t always be able to respond, but I’ll do my best.”

“Alright,” I said, making myself relax a bit. I stayed in the corner of my room, keeping my distance despite the physical relaxation. “...Thanks. Look, Beth, thanks for the apology, even if it feels unnecessary. Leigh, thanks for coming to check on me. Steph, thanks… I feel like I should thank you for something?”

“If you need something, just… let me know, okay?” Leigh asked. The group of girls backed towards the door slowly. Steph put her finger to the scanner to let them out. “I’ll be asleep for a bit, but I’ll be awake again this afternoon. Try to have a good day, okay?”

“I will.” And the door shut.

---

Leigh

“Come in, Leigh,” Aunt Béa’s unwavering voice echoed out of the room. I hesitated for a brief moment before I exhaled and opened the door. The orange light from behind her flooded the doorway as the door crept open. I felt the weight of a solo meeting with the head of this whole place weigh me down, making each trudging step like it was through knee-deep snow. I also had the conversations with Beth and Jace in mind. I felt infinitely better after those (and a bit of a nap), but this still weighed heavily on my mind.

“Good morning, Aunt Béa,” I replied, doing an awkward curtsy while gripping the sides of my sweatpants.

“You needn’t do that anymore, Leigh,” she replied, giving me a soft smile. “You know I would have graduated you if you wanted.”

“I know,” I said, quickly getting to a seat on the other side of the thick oak table from her. “I just want to make sure I am ready for the real world. If I can be a proper woman in society, in my own way.”

“Leigh, you could have graduated in two years,” Aunt Béa said, stirring her spoon in her tea without making a single sound. My cup sat in front of me, still steaming. I squirmed in my seat as her attention was fully on me. “You’ve instead decided to stick around with Olivia and finish some extra formative training. Perhaps you aren’t what you consider some ideal of a Dorley girl, but I am not so strict to not let an athletic girl such as yourself express herself properly.”

“Thank you, Aunt Béa.” What else could I say? I was here at her sufferance, as we all were.

“I deeply appreciate your continued presence at this hall,” she replied, relaxing over her arms, supported by her slim elbows atop the wood. “But, we are here to discuss another today. Jace, was it? I saw you had changed his nickname in the files to that before you went to bed, but I would like to know for sure.”

“Aunt Béa, I think… their given name functions to them like a deadname, even if they don’t describe it like that yet,” I replied, gripping the cup of tea by the handle shakily in my left pointer finger and supporting it more fully with both my hands. I felt the warmth emanate towards my palms, covering the tasteful design that my girlfriend was likely responsible for stocking on the shelves. “I used it as a lever exactly one time, and stopped once I saw the discomfort it left them in.”

“I understand,” Aunt Béa replied. “At this point, so early in the intake, discomfort is often something we want to instil in the boys. However, I think the discretion that you exercise here is understandable. This boy is not a normal intake, and that sort of discomfort is not what we want.”

“It wasn’t so much a discomfort as it was… I hope I am not speaking out of turn as to call it outright dysphoric-seeming,” I said. I took a sip of tea, felt myself relax when I felt the warm, somewhat sweet liquid course down my throat. No noises, just a consistent stream, just as I had practised. “It looked like how I felt when someone called me by mine when it started to feel as if I had a say in the name I went by.”

“I think you’ll shape up to be a fine sponsor,” Aunt Béa replied. “I normally do not let girls who haven’t formally graduated take charge like this. However, I think you’re a special case. You’ve shown yourself to have great promise, and I’ve offered to let you graduate before. You and Mary are both among the youngest women we’ve taken in during our history as a modern institution, and the two of you have become part of what I see as a ‘golden cohort’ of girls, set to make a mark on these halls and on greater Britain as a whole.”

“I got a good grade in womanhood. Hooray,” I chimed in with a bit of sarcasm.

“You jest, but I would say that, even when womanhood is something that varies greatly from person to person, you express yours with admirable courage.” Aunt Béa placed her spoon down on a cloth napkin, letting any residual tea soak it underneath. “I think you’re going to be a vital part of young Jace’s development.”

“Are you not angry with me for putting them down there?” I asked. My body tensed up; it had expected punishment, chastisement for my rogue actions. “I did something unprecedented. I chose someone who was not European, here on exchange, and put them down there. Does that not put the institution at risk, Aunt Béa?”

“Perhaps, in time, it will.” I couldn’t help but notice that the normally security-cautious woman was not showing any signs of frustration. It seemed out of place. I half-expected her to throw me into a cell, especially after the nightmare that the Maia situation caused a couple of years back. “I am certainly concerned about the headache that this situation could come back to cause. A part of me does think that you could have chosen a safer option, and I recognize that we may need to implement new programs to help them come along. But I would be a poor mentor if I didn’t give the discretion to my girls to make their own judgement calls. You, Bethany, Stephanie, Mary, and Tabby decided to save a life. Perhaps, you could have taken them to the local hospital. But, do you think that choice would have saved their life?”

I sighed, thinking back on my conversations to date with Jace. “No. They said as much,” I replied. “They would have tried again.”

“I also believe that you sponsors would have continued to be on edge if you had to continue to worry about Jace. It would have affected the current crop of intakes if he continued to be an unpredictable variable. It could have led to a fatal mistake.” Aunt Béa wrung her hands, her stonewall face crumbling into one of ever so slight worry. “Even if they are an exchange student, do you think your worries would’ve ended if they made it to the end of the semester and returned home? I think it would have infected the remainder of your development, and it may have just been a delay to an even later intake. And judging by how you’ve acted this entire meeting so far…” She trained her eyes on my shaky hands. “I don’t think you would have been able to let Jace go back. As much as it pains me to think that we now have another one of you, another Steph, down in our rehabilitation programme, I acknowledge that these deficits are outweighed by the hope that you and the other girls express in their… no, rehabilitation is not the right word. I think blossoming is more correct here.”

“You think she- I mean they are another one like me?” I raised an eyebrow. I mean, she was right, but…

“Certainly, you think I’m not serious,” Aunt Béa replied, her face brightening. “But I’ve meticulously studied the files that you girls have brought to me about your intakes. Jace’s file is still very fresh in my mind. I think you and your year would call her a… ‘free range transgender girl’?”

I giggled. “Yes, Aunt Béa.”

“I’m not against learning new terms for these things, Leigh,” Aunt Bea shot back, before taking another sip of her tea. Unlike my uncertain, uneven arms, hers rested firmly, unmoving. “I’m also not against learning new limits. Diana has surprised my every expectation, and I think that she has shown me the value of giving greater leniency. I’m not sure I will ever consider her a full graduate, but I think she has done enough to go out on her own on some basis.”

My congenial attitude died the moment Diana was brought up. Even with everything she did before, Diana had become an integral part of our year’s community. “I want to respect your time, Aunt Béa, but do not think that my year has forgotten what happened to her.”

“Understood,” Aunt Béa said. “We’ll drop that subject.” It was obvious to me that Béa recognized when her authority was slipping. She sipped her tea, but now she was the one off her game.

“What else did you want to discuss, Aunt Béa?”

“Well, I wanted to see what your tactics were to be with young Jace,” she replied, her normally unflappable calm quickly returning. My gaze narrowed. “I’ve heard that Bethany was too harsh with him. I want to talk with you, as well, about what you think is a proper punishment for the girl.”

“I want your thoughts about something that Jace told me before I left them be,” I said, looking down for a moment. The words caught in my throat. “They asked me to ask for clemency for Beth..”

“Oh?” Aunt Béa raised an eyebrow. She honestly looked bemused. “Bold choice from the young one. Did he elaborate as to why?”

“They said she was right,” I choked out, as much as I felt their weighing of the actions may have been informed by self-loathing. “They seemed to believe that Beth was wholly justified in saying such things to them.”

“And it’s so out of character for her,” Aunt Béa said. I heard her tut repeatedly, shaking her head in the way that I associated with an old schoolmarm… as much as calling Aunt Béa one of those was likely grounds for time in a cell. “She’s usually such a sweet girl.”

“Honestly, yeah, that had bothered me a bit,” I replied. “I knew she had a mean streak in her, but I never expected her to throw it into someone who was hurting like that. She usually has more tact than that. She said she was trying to be Maria, and she thought it didn’t work.”

“Have you checked in on your boy?” Aunt Béa asked.

“Yeah. Seems like they like to sing. A lot,” I said, thinking of them listening in. “They were singing along to an artist named Brandi Carlile. I checked into the system and apparently Siobhan uploaded a bit of her music back in 2018. It was… a dark song. But they sang beautifully. It was as if they had already started training their voice.”

“Oh?” Aunt Béa raised an eyebrow. I could tell she was very interested in this. “What makes you think that?”

“They were intentionally trying to… hit the pitch of the singer for most of the song. They seemed to actually exhaust their voice a bit trying to do it, and then they dropped into a completely different sounding voice at the end.” My explanation felt hackneyed. I didn’t know music theory. It’s not really a requirement for most of us in trying to learn it; while there are tutorials, many of us are rather touch-and-go with it. It was a process that even I felt like I hadn’t mastered. “I thought they were doing a decent job for a first year. Honestly, they might not even need to do anything to their voice if they wanted to, but they seemed dedicated to doing it right.”

“Dorley girls should always practise their voice while they’re here,” Aunt Béa said. “Still, does he know that you heard him sing?”

“Yeah. I had brought Bethany in to apologise. That… could’ve gone better. They outright refused the apology,” I said, thinking of how despondent the boy looked. “When they looked into Beth’s eyes, it was as if something changed inside of them. Their voice changed. They stared into space for a moment, and then actually tried to console Beth.”

“I suggest that you push on that further. The information on his file suggests that there might have been tension with his family, but there could be no end of reasons that might cause such a response. That might be, to use a term that your dear sponsor adopted here, a very useful lever in building trust.”

“I don’t think I can disagree, Aunt Béa,” I replied. “I just want it to happen naturally. Not because I’m forcing them to actualize, but because they trust me enough to come clean about the difficulties that they face in life.”

“You do need to remember that they are in the basement. Even if they are at a low risk of violence, and even if you have a reasonable, and commendable sympathy for Jace, these are youth who need to unlearn the toxic upbringings that distorted them into the shape of the men that they are. And once they’re released from that shell that traps who they are at their core, that holds them in…” Aunt Béa mimed holding a spherical shape, before pinching her middle finger and thumb together. “You find what remains: A formless, malleable core of attributes and character traits and neuroses. You take this, and you help shape the people who are made up by these cores into stable, strong young women who can thrive in the world that so damaged them before. Now, Leigh, I will ask you… what parts of Jace do you feel like are important to the immediate term in helping him rehabilitate? What levers do you think will be useful to press?”

“Ah, yes,” I started. I stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and collected my thoughts. I thought about what I knew about Jace so far. Their tactics to push others away; their instability, but also their kindness, their file details, and their docility. “I think Jace is currently the lowest risk intake for violence.”

“I think I can agree on that,” Aunt Béa added, her own eyes depicting a journey in thought. “They are a relatively young intake, but not the youngest in their group. They're certainly the smallest by a decent margin, though. I think most of you could subdue him without a taser even now. They may even be close to Abby’s height by the end of their programme.”

“But I think they’re the highest risk intake, at the moment, for self-injury… outside of maybe Christian and Jacob,” I replied. “Olivia messaged me on Consensus today about them. She was a bit unnerved by how they acted, and from what I told you, I believe that they need to be monitored for a bit for signs of further attempts down the line.”

“You have been rather thorough. Any levers that… you are willing to press?” Aunt Béa asked, placing particular emphasis on my willingness. “Please don’t ignore the question that I posed to you.”

“Perhaps… I think I know what I could use. I think Jace is going to need a lot of support, a lot of help. I feel like I have seen a few like this one before. I’ve looked in the files, and I think that, while this person reminds me a lot of myself now, their intake will need the support levels of a Melissa; a Holly, or a Faye.” I could have listed more names, but I watched Aunt Béa nod in what I presumed was understanding. I didn’t want to speak on levers.

“Yes, I am aware of all of them. Certainly thorough work, Leigh. Although…” Aunt Béa flashed a smile. “I’ll call your bluff on the levers. I think you’ve already proven that music is a good place to start.”

I sighed. “Forgive me, Aunt Béa. I’ve been focused on keeping the kid alive and talking since last night.”

“Did you talk to him about the song?” Aunt Béa was really pushing.

“Bethany did,” I admitted. “She asked him what the song meant to him. He revealed a specific couplet that he focused on.” I took a breath, shifted my pitch, trying to sing it as I remembered. “I pushed him on it more.”

“Fine job, Leigh. As for the couplet…” Béa took a sip, closing her eyes and taking a delicate swallow. “What was its significance to him?”

“They talked about how they felt like the world had made up its mind about them. Beth said to them that, down here, they could be whomever they wanted. I tried to speak, but she stopped me.” I looked down. “If you want, you can assign Beth to them instead. She seemed to connect with them very well.”

“I think he needs a lot more of a delicate touch than what Beth can provide,” Aunt Béa replied. “I heard about how you and Mary talked the boy down when he was breaking down. Beth can certainly get answers out of him, but have you wondered how the boy feels about it?”

“They actually said that they’ll go along with the program for now. They don’t particularly… trust us at this point. But they don’t distrust us fully, either. They are aware that we are keeping secrets from them, but I don’t think they’ll keep our secrets if we spoiled it early. We don’t have another Stephanie on our hands.” I sighed, before laughing. “It’s funny, you know? How someone like Stephanie really hurried a lot of us along. I really feel like she was the difference-maker for me, like I wouldn’t be here talking to you now if she wasn’t there to help us along. Maybe I would’ve been next to join Diana wherever she went. Maybe I would've limped back here with Valérie, staying up top with the rest of you.” I paused. “Maybe I would’ve never returned."

“I wouldn’t have let you wash out. Especially not after you told us what you had harboured in your heart for so long.”

“I think I thoroughly botched it, Aunt Béa. I still… left them with the hope that they’re still alive, to the rest of the world. They told me about their older sister last night,” I replied. “They’re deeply interested in seeing them again. I told them they won’t be the same person when they leave. I never told them explicitly that they’d likely never see her again, but…” I sniffled a bit. My younger brother came back to my mind.

“Are you alright, Leigh?” Aunt Béa asked, pulling a tissue from a nearby box. “If you need to cry, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Please forgive me, Aunt Béa. I just… I miss my younger brother. I wish I had never hit him. But then I don’t think I would have met my sisters, or Tabby, or… even Jace.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling remorse, or for missing your family,” Aunt Béa said. “I don’t think you’ve ever talked about your brother with me, Leigh. Is seeing Jace bringing him back to you?”

“Yeah.” I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “I… I think so. If it would be possible, I would love to see him again at some point. Even if just to apologise.”

“It may or may not be possible. We can definitely do some digging into it, if you’d like. However, I believe that we would have to do it very slowly.” Aunt Béa smiled. “If you’d wait a week or two, I could get some confirmation about him, if you’d like to know more. Maybe after my birthday.”

It was a maybe. I cracked a half-smile, laughing as much as I started to cry harder. “Maybe I’ll be able to find peace with that. Aunt Béa, can I hug you?”

“Sure, Leigh.” She sat up, straightened the legs in her pantsuit, and walked around the table. I got up in kind, and she gripped me in a tight hug around my waist.

“You’ve certainly impressed me with everything else, Leigh,” the older woman started, holding me tightly, as a woman would do to a young niece in consoling her. “You’re a junior sponsor. I’m willing to give you more time to find the right levers to pull. I don’t think it’ll take too much more effort to get it out of him, especially if he’s as compliant as first impressions have shown him to be. Keep your guard up, but be mindful to take care of yourself as well. The early weeks can be particularly draining on first-timers.” She moved away from me, placing her hands on my shoulders, and looked directly into my eyes, as if peering into my soul. I couldn’t speak. She was obviously going to add more. “I’m going to enforce extra sleep on you, especially in a trying time like this. On top of eight hours, you need to nap for an hour each day, and,” she paused to give me a wink. “I will be asking you about it in your evaluations going forward.”

I sighed. The levity made me feel a bit calmer. I tried to clean my face off of the tears; thankfully, nothing would smear, and I was about to go to bed, anyways.

“You asked for another formative year, Ms. Wolf. And I am happy to let you enjoy it to the best of your ability.”

“Fine,” I replied. “I can do it.”

“That’s all I ask from you, Leigh,” Aunt Béa said. “You should get some rest. Starting tonight, eight hours, and a nap. And plenty of water.”

“Thank you, Aunt Béa.” I grabbed my tea mug and I quickly scampered out of the office. Once I left the room, I felt my shoulders loosen; my breath quicken, and my heart return to its right place. No matter what, conversing with the matriarch of Dorley has always been a nerve-wracking experience. I got the hell away from the office as quickly as I could and moved back to the main rooms.

---

?????

I sat at my desk, trying to drown out the sound of the fucker one room over belting out some song I couldn’t be fucked to parse. His taste was too singer-songwritery. But he seemed interesting enough, from what little I saw of him today. It was like 45 minutes until lights out. When would he shut the fuck up?

Stardew Valley was a surprisingly relaxing game, with a good enough soundtrack that I could ignore the world around me. I had made a facsimile of myself, similar scruffy hair, bright green eyes. He liked the same things I did. He originally pursued the same sort of girl I would have.

But as I got more engrossed in the game, I found myself drawn to Maru. The plight with her half-brother was relatable. Reminded me of a home a little bit.

The world that I had opened up for him seemed quaint. Very American, but also strangely walkable, with actual infrastructure to use. Full of tillable land, but near some ocean. Somehow a seaside town and yet one that could support any agriculture you desired. Made no goddamn sense.

That lack of sense brought me back to the fucker next door. I sighed, saved the game, and moved to the middle of the room, between the table and the dresser, sat down on the side of the table and knocked on the wall. “Hey, Yankee! I know you can hear me! I wanna talk,” I half-shouted.

I waited a moment, before I heard him knock back. “Who are you? What do you want?” he asked from behind the wall. His pitch sounded rather hard to place, almost as if I was talking to a deep-voiced woman rather than a pretty-boy American.

“I think names aren’t important. Right now, I don’t know mine, and you don’t know yours,” I said. “Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind if we kept it that way right now?”

“Sounds fine,” he replied. “Guess we’ll just keep it a secret that we talked tonight, then. I’ll just call you… blondie for now, or something.”

“Good enough to me. You’ll figure out my name eventually,” I replied, grinning.

“So, what do you want?”

“We’re probably going to be here a while.” I led with the truth. Whatever he believed, being so damn new, I knew that this wasn’t some sort of short term stay. “I wanted to establish some decorum, especially if we’re gonna be here a while. I’d rather you shut the fuck up, but I know that I’m gonna have to give a bit in this relationship here if you like singing so much. So, could you give me some warning when you’re about to screech like a banshee?”

He waited a second. I put my ear up to the wall, waiting for a response. “Yeah. I’ll, like… knock or something. Special knock, like… five taps on the wall, or something.” He sounded a bit confused. “I guess I expected you to yell about it by now.”

“I’m not the type to reach for the fist on the first occasion.” Okay, yeah, that one was a fuckin’ lie. “I am willing to negotiate with a civil man. Even if, yes, you’ve already pissed me off a bit.”

“Fair enough,” The American responded gruffly through the wall. “I’m not here to cause conflict.” I cocked an eyebrow. This seemed like a bit of conflict here, given his… expectations.

“Got enough of those in here already,” I responded with a huff. “Fair warning: Tallest boy in here’s already been thrown in the cells a couple times. He’s quite the piece of work.”

“Got it,” they said. “Anyone else to worry about?”

“Honestly, I’d like to learn a bit more about how you got in here, first,” I asked. “All the other boys will ask you, but I’d like to get first dibs on the action.”

A pause. I waited for a few seconds, listened for any signs of him moving away from the wall before, “A lot of harassment. I shouted down a lot of people, called them slurs, and persisted until they went away. Seems like I pushed it a bit too far.” Hmm. He hesitated. He could just have been taken off guard by it, or…

“You’d have the cleanest hands out of all of us if that’s true,” I added. If the fucker’s lying, maybe I’ll pull it out of him with a bit of the truth of my own. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but me and the tall boy helped instigate that brawl in the local tavern back in September. Apparently we got 30 people injured as a result. Lead to the bar being irreversibly trashed, too.”

“They were still looking for a lot of people from that brawl. You know you’re still in the papers, right? They’re still lookin’ for you.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling my bravado slip away for a moment. “Well, I guess that’s some cold comfort.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re still looking for me almost a month later. I actually was brought here only a day or two after that. Hid out in a bando used by cokeheads and squatters, and the girls just knocked me out when I went outside to piss. When I came to, they had put me into the cells. Stayed there for a whole fucking week before I was finally released into the general population. Got into several shouting matches with tall boy over there in cell 05 while in whatever solitary confinement those girls see as rehabilitation.” I paused, waited for his input before adding, “I’ve told you enough about whatever the fuck happened. Give me a bit more about what happened to you.”

“I assume your conversations happened under similar conditions?” He asked, his voice seeming to get drier, his tone becoming terser.

“Same conditions, brother. ”

“I won’t parse,” he replied. “Not my place to barge into.”

“Give me some fuckin’ details about what happened to you. I don’t give this shit out for free.”

“Fine, fine.” An uncomfortable pause. Maybe he was making this shit up for me. “Could I… postpone this until tomorrow? I’m still kinda… swimming in the fact that I’ve gone from getting blackout drunk to waking up here without a hangover.”

“I’m a reasonable enough man. Your info’s good enough that I’m willing to wait a bit longer for that reason.” I rolled my eyes, but I understood it to some level. The guy in the cell next to me has just been fucking kidnapped. A few weeks ago, I was in the same place as him. “But you better have your bearings by tomorrow. There will be consequences if you aren’t ready.”

“I’ll try.”

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you alone now,” I replied. In the quiet of the evening, post dinner, there wasn’t much reason to play it up. Plus, I could tell that the boy behind the wall was going to probably destroy my eardrums if I kept it up much longer. “Just give me like… 15 minutes before you start singing again, okay? I want to get lost in something else so I don’t have to hear it.”

“Fine. But, one last thing,” I heard the American ask. “Anyone else to avoid?”

I sighed. That information was good enough to know that I decided peddling a bit more wouldn’t be an issue. They still believed me to be alive out there; that’s enough. “Shaggy haired guy is probably safe, but we don’t know much about him. Curly haired kid in a faggy cat-eared hoodie couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried. Dude’s been bitch-whipped by the girl calling herself his sponsor since he arrived. Rich boy is a bit of a wild card, but he’s harmless. I’d just advise avoiding the tall kid until you know more yourself. I also advise avoiding the blondie.” I sighed, away from the wall, hoping he wouldn’t hear. “Honestly I would advise avoiding everyone, except maybe rich boy and the shaggy haired kid. They’re probably the only ones who you could handle.”

“I’ll take your advice into account, I guess. Thanks. Have a good evening, blondie.”

“You take care of yourself there. We’ll get out of here eventually.”

---

Betas: @Inadorable and @Venusfogged on Discord. These two have been very helpful in me turning this into something that really feels good.

Song Title reference: "Broken Horses" by Brandi Carlile.

I apologize for the wait. I was doing some agonizing over storyboarding during finals and also, well, finishing finals. Next week, I'll be moving to Boston for the summer, and I will lose a few days of editing to gallivanting around a new city. I'll do my best, but no promises!

I hope everyone enjoys! There may be some structural edits to the story in the next couple of days as I figure out ScribbleHub fully, in terms of things like font sizes and all.