“Alright,” I conceded quietly. “I’ll tell you everything, but not here. Take me back to the apartment.” I slid into the car. Oran thought for a moment, then closed the door and rounded to the driver’s side. The ride home was tense, yet I felt an odd sort of peace. Was that how people felt on their final walk down death row? No more option to debate. No more reason to fight. Just the simplicity of acceptance. It was freeing. I greatly appreciated the comfort it brought as I walked back into Oran’s apartment without any guarantee about what would come next. I crossed to the living room window and looked out over the city. It was easier that way—as though I was talking to everyone and no one at the same time. “When I was seventeen, my mother sold my virginity to gain admission to the Society.
