Ronnie turned to face Arlene, one arm at ten ‘o clock, the other at three (the way a gentleman danced with a lady) and Arlene—not meeting his gaze—stepped up to him and they began to dance—

—and no sooner had they made physical contact than Ronnie felt all the rage and sickness and sadness and Hurting slam into his gut like a sledgehammer, and he almost fell over but took a deep breath and pretended he’d just lost his balance, even tried making a joke out of it so that Arlene might smile, and she almost did, almost, but it took all of Ronnie’s self-control to keep a smile on his face and hold his body steady because there were these waves of fear coming from Arlene, fear and shame and misery and depression and loneliness and Hurting—God, so much Hurting—

—and all because of Mr. Pierce, Ronnie’s supervisor in Cell #5.

Mr. Pierce did things to Arlene that he wanted to do with his wife, but his wife thought they were “sick” and “perverted,” so he found himself a ree-tard, a sped who never talked much anyway and who had no friends and he did these things to her. He put himself inside her, in her mouth, between her legs, “doggy-style,” but there was more; objects, ropes, belts, marks he left on her that she had to cover up (Ronnie always wondered why she wore long-sleeved shirts, even in summer) and other things that involved peeing and pooping and for a moment Ronnie couldn’t take it anymore, he let go of Arlene’s hands and stepped back, trying to force the Hurting away from him, and for a moment, just a moment, Arlene’s eyes looked directly into his and he Knew that she knew that he Knew, and it was real confusing because this had never happened before, but he didn’t look away from her—nothing could have made him look away from her—because this was the first time in over a year (since Mr. Pierce had started “visiting” her, or taking her along during “special errands” during regular workshop hours) that she’d felt any real connection with another person, and Ronnie wasn’t going to deny her, so he pulled in a deep breath and stepped forward and took hold of her again, more firmly this time, because he wanted to share as much of her Hurting as she was willing to show him, and Arlene held nothing back, she couldn’t, everything flooded out of her and into Ronnie and she started crying and lay her head on his shoulder and he held even tighter to her, no one was going to pull them apart, not yet, and after she’d shown him every moment of her Hurting, everything that had been done to her, everything that she’d tried to hide from the world, Ronnie let himself go the rest of the way and see what her life was going to be like if he didn’t take the Hurting away—

—and something new occurred to him, something that might have been there all along (or maybe not, it was kind of hard to tell): except for what Mr. Pierce had done, was doing, and would continue to do to her, Arlene had a good life, with parents and brothers and sisters who loved her, and friends who came over a lot, and nobody else had hurt or would hurt her; if it weren’t for Mr. Pierce, she’d be just as happy as Vicki Flowers.