It was roughly eight in the morning, well before anyone in my family would rise, when the Trujohn anthem rang in my ears.

I pried my eyes open, blinking away the sleep that blurred my vision. Yawning, peaceful and groggy I peered up at Ander. My chin comfortably rested upon his bare chest.

While his hair was far messier than usual, his eyes not quite as sharp, he seemed to be more alert than I was. He rubbed my neck gently, massaging beneath the collar of his blue long-sleeved T-shirt to wake me. "What's going on?"

Heavy footsteps bustled past my room, doors flying open. Dad had a camera to the front porch beside his bed, so, whoever was at the door was important enough to draw him from his room in the morning.

I wiggled out from under the blanket, savoring the last moments of warmth and Ander's embrace. "Stay here. I'll go check." Anyone showing up in person at such an hour... More doors opened. I could distinguish the footsteps of Donald and even Elaine filing downstairs to investigate. "Dad will probably try to incinerate me, but oh well."

Ander caught my wrist as I slid out of the bed. "Don't worry about what your father says." He pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

I smiled, gratitude plain on my face as I moved towards the door.

"Wait!" he hissed, jumping out of bed to catch me. "My shirt."

I glanced down at my outfit: my sleeping pants and Ander's blue shirt. "Shit." I quickly changed into a green sweater and threw Ander's shirt at his head. I pulled on my Trench Coat as if that might earn me some sort of brownie points, or at least might make it less obvious I had a boy hiding in my room. With a final glance at Ander, I slipped out of my room and padded down the hallway.

Before I even reached the top of the stairs Dad's voice reached my ears. "Ridiculous. My daughter hasn't had any contact with criminals."

My stomach lurched. Criminals? As in Ander? My knees wobbled then locked, leaving me frozen at the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Mister Bennett," a stranger's voice replied, male and not the least bit apologetic, "but our evidence is conclusive. Your daughter has been found guilty of a number of sexual encounters out of wedlock, and one particularly cardinal affair a few years back. Amongst other crimes."

"With all due respect, Patri Christian, but you're not taking my sister." I was surprised to hear Donald's voice, standing up to the Patri member.

Patri Christian must have responded, but my attention turned to the footsteps behind me.

John tiptoed towards me, rubbing his eyes. Though the thirteen year old would never admit it, his widened eyes betrayed his fear. "What's happening, Jeanie?"

I didn't answer, but clasped my hands onto John's shoulders. Oh, nothing. Just the fact that I'm about to get arrested for sleeping with Ander... who is currently sitting on my bed.

"She didn't—" Mom protested before being cut off.

"Mister Bennett, control your wife," Patri Christian grumbled. "Let's not make this harder than it is. I have a daughter too. I certainly wouldn't want to watch Kelly get arrested, but I'd understand the necessity if I couldn't father her well enough to keep her from breaking the laws. Remember, anyone who knowingly harbors a traitor to Trujohn is a criminal as well."

Add another crime to the list, why don't we.

Just report him, Ross urged. They might go easy on you.

Don't you dare, Andi whispered, pleading and desperate. Ander trusted you with this information. Don't disappoint him too.

"Move aside, Bennett," Patri Christian ordered, voice harsh and demanding. I wondered how long it would be until he'd forcefully push Dad out of the way.

Unfortunately, Dad didn't give me the chance to find out.

"Alright. As you commanded." The reluctant sigh in Dad's voice did nothing to make me forgive his moving away, granting the Patri member total access to our house.

His heavy footsteps moved deeper into the foyer until...

"Let me go!"

I held John tighter, worried he'd run. Or maybe it was simply to keep myself from screaming. Elaine. He was there for Elaine when I'd only been concerned for myself. Elaine... Great Father, no, not Elaine.

"Stay here, John," I instructed, with all the authority I could manage. It wasn't much. I had no superiority over my younger brother, but he was just scared enough to listen to me. Hastily I scrambled down the stairs, nearly falling over but I didn't care. I needed to see her. I needed to stop her, to hold onto her arm and never let go. She was my baby sister. Only mine—Mally never cared—and no one else could decide when we were separated.

I'd told Elaine that when she got arrested, I'd be laughing. How damn wrong I was. How the hell had I thought I'd laugh? How the fuck did I think I'd be able to so much as breathe at the sight of a rugged Patri member with thick side burns shoving my sister until she doubled over, clasping heavy cuffs around her wrists?

And Elaine sure as hell wasn't flipping off Patri Christian either. How could she, with her arms bound behind her back?

She lifted her head to me, no one else noticing my presence. Her glasses were lopsided as she peered at me through short bangs. She could denounce me. She could reveal all she knew about me in exchange for slightly better treatment. Part of me wished she would, even if it meant certain arrest for Ander and I. But she wouldn't. Elaine would carry my secret to her grave, however nearby that might be, and if I outed myself it would do her no good.

"You're seriously going to arrest her for a couple one night stands?" Don argued, taking a step towards Patri Christian.

"For a number of other offenses as well," the officer repeated. "Most prominently, she refused to recite the Trujohn pledge and a cardinal affair three years back. Fortunately, the other perpetrator has been identified."

Elaine bucked, writhing like a worm on a fishing hook, twisting and squirming. "Slyvia didn't do anything! It was all me. All my fault. Don't arrest her!"

Patri Christian wrestled Elaine down, his burly arms forcing her into submission. "Miss McDonald has already been taken into custody." He grasped at her flailing shoulders. "I suggest you stop fighting and come quietly."

"Don't let him take her, Dad," came a meek voice from behind us. Little John had slipped unnoticed from his hiding place, eyes wide with horror, shining and pleading with Dad.

Dad regarded his youngest child for just a moment. "Grow up, Johnathan. Wipe your pathetic tears."

And in that moment, I hated my father. Maybe I wouldn't forever. Maybe it made me a terrible daughter. But he passively allowed his child to be snatched away, without a single glimmer of despair, and I hated him. If he'd died then and there, I knew grief would come, but only after a brief moment of terrible satisfaction. You let Elaine be arrested. You deserve to drop dead.

Elaine was quiet. Her tears remained stoically in her eyes.

I could have screamed. I could have attacked Patri Christian. I could have said something, anything, to show Elaine I loved her. I loved her with the depth Ander talked about. More than that. I could have told her. I could have...

Infinite could haves rang in my mind, but remained mute—choked in my throat.

When the Patri member dragged my sister away without protest and the door shut with a final, inevitable bang, I remained a statue. Not of stone or iron, but of glass: motionless, even as a crack ran through me.

My tears moved before me, streaming down my face even as I stared down the door, just waiting for Elaine to return, or for me to jerk awake from a nightmare back in my dorm at Carthowa. But I didn't wake up. I was utterly trapped within this living nightmare.

I remained motionless as my family drifted away, Mom escorting John upstairs, Dad disappearing, Don stalking into the kitchen. I didn't move until Donald returned, a beer bottle in each hand. Wordlessly, he extended one to me.

For as long as I could remember, Donald had never gotten his own food or drink. He sure as hell never brought anyone else anything. But I took the cool, brown bottle. It cried heavily, condensation wetting my fingers as I took a deep sip. I'd never been a fan of beer. I didn't like soda, and it was nothing but soda that made people act funny. But it was something, something that would hopefully drown the pain clawing at my heart.

Don didn't say anything. He didn't make me talk. He simply drank his beer and watched the door with me.

I didn't know how long I stood there, taking small gulps, not even noticing the burn. Maybe she'd return. Maybe they'd let her go or she'd free herself. And if she did, I needed to be waiting for her. I'd need to hide her so that Dad couldn't simply hand her over to the Patri again.

I waited.

But the door didn't open.

If I raced down the street maybe, just maybe I could trade myself for her freedom?

My tears had long since died away, not because I was no longer sad enough to cry, but because my body didn't have enough left to cry anymore than I already had. I'd never cry enough. My sister was gone. Someone stole my sister. Someone took her away from me and I'd never see her again.

Donald waited for me to finish my bottle before taking it from me. I was tempted to ask for more, but couldn't find my voice. The beer hadn't helped. It hadn't filled the well meant for Elaine. I doubted another bottle would make her absence any easier. Nothing could.

Clearing his throat, Don inspected me as if he was waiting for me to shatter. It wasn't necessarily concern in his eyes, so much as an obligation to keep me together, but I was grateful nonetheless.

He licked his lip, gaze returning to the door. "The Father always has our best interest at heart. If he and the Patri deemed this necessary, then it must be for a good reason. We just can't see what it is yet."

I forced myself to nod, but I didn't quite believe him. How could this be a part of The Father's plan? How could Trujohn be better off without Elaine? How could faith in the country try to tell me that losing my sister was for the best? No good could come of this. Elaine never hurt anyone. Sure, she broke laws and committed trivial crimes, but she caused no harm to anyone.

"I have a meeting with Nikki's parents this afternoon," Don mumbled, checking his phone. "But if anything happens, instatext me, okay?"

I nodded again. Part of me wanted to insist Donald stay, but he wouldn't. If his conversation with Nikki's parents went well, the two could soon be engaged. After about two months of courting, Don wouldn't put negotiations off any longer.

Don opened the door as if it was five times his weight. The midday light filtered into the foyer, just barely brushing my feet. We peered onto the porch, half hoping Elaine would be waiting for us to let her inside before Donald stepped out. He walked briskly down the narrow driveway and into his car, in such an inexplicable haste that he didn't even put on his Filtration Mask. In his hurry, he left the door open.

I watched him pull out of the driveway and away. He turned left. I wondered which way Patri Christian had taken Elaine, even inspecting the road for invisible tire tracks. Finally, I forced the door shut. The quiet bang was the same as when Elaine had disappeared behind it.

Somehow, I made my way upstairs, unaware of the seconds passing, or the steps beneath my feet. I didn't see the hallway or the images on the walls, but I wound up in my room in such a daze that I was surprised to see a man beside my bed.

Ander had dressed himself, and apparently made an unsuccessful attempt to tame his hair. "'Bout time, Jeaniboo. It's been about an hour. I was starting to worry." He turned to me with his typical smile. In seconds his grin had vanished and he was hurrying towards me. "Hey, hey. What happened, Jeaniboo? Tell me what happened?"

He put his arms around me, pulling me into his tender, caring embrace. My tears returned in a waterfall.

My heart pounded in my ears, so close to his chest I could hardly breathe. He was squeezing too tight. Strangling me. Suffocating me. I shoved against his chest desperately, gasping for air.

He allowed me to twist out of his grasp, taking a step back. "Jeanie?" Ander's voice seemed miles away, underwater, helpless and unhelpful.

I sank to my knees, fists clenched so tightly my palms burned. I rocked back and forth on the carpet, wailing and blubbering. Gone. Gone. She was gone. With every choked sob that crack grew larger, chipping, crack, crack, crack. Until a fragment of glass, of me, fell away and dropped to the floor with a shattering crash.

((Well, we knew Jeanie couldn't have two mostly happy chapters in a row. Sorry? Not really.
This one wasn't too easy to write. I love Elaine, but this had to happen.

Any predictions as to how Jeanie will cope with this?
Will Elaine survive?

Dedications:

Restuva : I hope this one made you sad. Muahaha. Only the best for my most loyal reader.
&
triciabird : Congratulations on completing your masterpiece. Consider this the most trivial gift I could give, but I doubt I'd be the writer I am if not for you. I hope everyone gives your outstanding work a try!