5 a.m.: Wake up.

5:10 a.m.: 20 minute bathroom period.

5:30 a.m.: Prepare breakfast.

Breakfast options: Toast with marmalade, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, or butter. Bowl of wheat cereal. Available fruits and pastries.

6 a.m.: Clean after self.

6:30 a.m.: Return to bedroom.

9 a.m.: Bathroom period.

11 a.m.: Prepare lunch.

Lunch options: See options for Breakfast.

11:45 a.m.: Clean after self, return to bedroom.

12:30 p.m.: Bathroom period.

12:40 p.m.: Allowed to practice piano in attic.

2 p.m.: Return to bedroom.

6 p.m.: Join family for dinner.

7 or 7:30 p.m.: Assist Emily with cleaning.

8:20 p.m.: 30 minute bathroom period.

8:50 p.m.: Assist the Führer with paperwork or assist Sherry with "important" business.

10 p.m.: Bathroom period.

10:30 p.m.: Go to sleep.

This is the schedule I must follow every day for as long as I breathe. It was established the day after Mother's funeral. Originally, I was supposed to be doing manual labor for the majority of the day, beginning with cleaning out the cellar and ending with scrubbing the floors of the mansion. However, Stepfather noticed how very weak I was. I could barely lift a small box of paperback novels! He shouted at me, calling me worthless, noting I looked close to breaking my knees just from lifting a single box. He figured he would be better off hiring someone else to clean out the cellar, so he ordered me to go back to my room and continue wasting oxygen.

So, for the past two weeks, I've been spending the majority of my time in my room.

The closet.

What have I been doing in the closet all this time?

Dying.

Not in a literal sense, of course. I was exaggerating to emphasize that all I've been doing is struggling. The Revolutionary Rebels use exaggerated expressions all the time when they talk about something that upsets or excites them. For example, when their boss gives them an unforgivable amount of paperwork to do within a day, they say they want to commit suicide by rope to escape the tyranny of their abusive boss. Of course, my friends are not actually suicidal. They just dislike their work, so they express themselves through exaggeration. I do not see myself using suicide as an expression, but I understand how it is not to be taken literally and shouting in exaggeration can be an uncontrollable expression and helps release unwanted emotions like stress. I believe I am doing it right, don't you agree?

Of course, sometimes we Birkenaus use exaggeration in our speech, but not as much as the Rebels. Too much of it is seen as improper grammar. Not a very great thing to be told, that your grammar is askew. I try not to do it as much, but the Revolutionary Rebels' attitudes are taking their toll on me. Just the other day, I said something sarcastic! It's definitely not something I do everyday in front of relatives because I am so bad at it, but I said something sarcastic to my stepfather, who didn't even pick up on it! Do you know how proud I felt when I achieved that feat?! Ha! I think I'm slowly starting to become a normal human being.

...I got a little distracted. I apologize.

You've been gone for two weeks. Are you aware of that? I am not angry with you at all. In fact, your absence has given me a little time to think.

I know, I know. Thinking has never been the best thing for me, has it? But I wasn't thinking much about how awful life is like I usually do. I've been thinking about something that could possibly help me with my current situation. It could be something more helpful than Burning Sunshine pills or lobotomies or listening to ominous voices. It could also get me to change my mind about not going to Elsewhere with the Rebels.

Before I explain more about my daily schedule to you any further, I must tell you what I've been thinking about while being cooped up in the closet.

I'm talking about mind-walking.

...

You're still here, so I assume you do not think I am crazy. Which is good, because I'm not. After all, you've stayed this long, haven't you?

Anyway, as you should know by now, I have the ability to enter people's dreams. Yes, as you should. [Why are you looking at me like that?] According to many ancient fantasy novels, that is commonly called "dream-walking" or "dreamscaping." I can do this because I was born with my demons. It's another "perk," I guess you could say. Mikasa has a similar ability, which is "mind-walking." She can enter the mind of another. It is a very interesting skill. Mikasa could see my memories, my thoughts, my emotions. She could even see the plain that is my very mind. It is quite surreal and hard to explain, something you have to witness to believe.

The reason why I have been thinking about this is because I want to try it again.

A long time ago, Mikasa explained her abilities to me and told me, if I gave her permission to see into my mind, she could help me overpower my demons. She cannot kill demons, but she could help me bring a sort of balance in my mind. My demons would continue to pester me, as all demons do to their victims, but they won't be able to control me or hurt me. She told me it worked for many others, including Archie. Especially Archie. They haven't gotten hurt or caused any pain because they were able to keep their demons at bay. It meant they were strong enough to beat their demons with the aid of someone stronger.

I gave my permission to Mikasa. We did this once when I was seventeen. It didn't work. I was too weak and my demons were too strong. I was too scared to face everything residing in my mind and I failed. Mikasa had to quickly pull me out and hold me for several long hours. Naturally, I became paranoid and afraid to perform the ability with Mikasa again.

But now is different.

After all that's happened, I think another "shot" at this strangeness wouldn't hurt. In fact, I think— no. I am hoping it will work if I do it a second time. My demons have been advising against it, but I have been ignoring them. Also, I haven't cried once during these two weeks, not even during the mourning. I think this is a sign that I am mentally improving, meaning I may be strong enough to try it again. If it works, life will become so much better. Perhaps I will no longer be a disappointment for my mother and to my siblings. Perhaps I will understand how my emotions work and confess to either Archie or Mikasa. Or maybe I won't need to. Maybe Archie or Mikasa will find me attractive after the success of the mind-walking and they will confess [or, rather, propose?] everything to me! Whichever comes first. But most importantly, I will get to be apart of the world that is Elsewhere.

Imagine. I won't have to worry about ruining things for everybody. No one will get hurt because of me. People will trust me. I could become a normal citizen of Elsewhere and live the rest of my life like a normal, peaceful, understandable person.

Of course, for this to happen, Mikasa has to be here with me. After what I did at Mother's funeral and with my stepfather spending more time at home with his pregnant wife and the strangers constantly stopping by to congratulate them, there is no possibility she or even the others would come near me again. It's probably fair that they don't.

Maybe I shouldn't be so positive about these things. What if things don't work out? What if something awful happens? What if I was right about ruining things for everybody?

Maybe I shouldn't be so negative either?

...Maybe I should think about something else now.

Oh! My schedule! I didn't get to continue telling you about it.

Emily had convinced Stepfather keeping me in my room twenty-four hours a day every day was too cruel, and so was not allowing me to use the bathroom whenever I needed it, leaving me only with a can to contain not only smelly urine, but the symptoms of the Sunshine pills Doctor Lilja left me. So I was rewarded with breaks in the bathroom on the third floor as long as I behave. I was given a new toothbrush, a new tube of toothpaste, a new bar of soap, a new towel, and absolutely no scissors. I could use the bathtub as well, as long as I was responsible with it.

"That means no drowning yourself, no touching yourself, no blowing bubbles like a queer," scolded Stepfather. "Understand?"

I had raised my eyebrow to that second part, but said I understood either way. I've been using the bathroom like a responsible adult, as promised.

Stepfather then said he didn't see the point in constantly going up and down the stairs to lock and unlock my room, so he told me he was going to leave it unlocked as long as I did nothing to change his mind.

I haven't done anything to change his mind so far. I've been breathing the same oxygen he is responsibly, staying in my room when ordered. When I am not thinking or ignoring my demons in my room, I am sleeping or daydreaming. I am a little embarrassed to discuss some of my daydreams, although it would be nice to grab a pen and some paper and write the other ones down like the good old days, but I am not brave enough to ask Stepfather for anything else.

Also, every once and while, I try doing some exercises. Stretches, hand-stands, running in place, the likes. I do want to get stronger and I don't want to be "nothing but bone" anymore, but I get tired too quick.

Another good thing to come out of this schedule is I have been allowed to eat three meals a day. The thing is, I do not know how to cook and have no one to teach me, so that is why I only eat small, quick "meals" like toast. I am not allowed to eat with my siblings for breakfast, and I am not allowed to eat with them for lunch when they are not at school, but for dinner I am not excluded. Sherry wants everyone to eat together like a big family for dinner, the boys on one side of the dining table, the girls on the other side, the matriarch and patriarch at either ends, like how her family used to do it. She didn't mind that it meant I had to sit down among everyone else. I didn't mind being included either. I just had to keep my mouth shut unless I was spoken to.

Sherry and Emily were the ones that made dinner. Emily was also the one to set up the table, clear the table, and clean up after everyone. I wasn't supposed to help her, but I didn't see the harm in squeezing it in my schedule.

I think she was grateful I helped, despite me breaking a cup or two. She was always coming home from school tired. She has to deal with homework and bills and such. I like to think me aiding her after dinner helps her get through the remainder of the day.

What else do I have on my schedule...?

Oh, yes. This one here. For an hour and twenty minutes, I get to practice piano in the attic. The Gravepiece is always happy to see me, and I'm always happy to see her. The radio still hates me but I could care less. I get to play on the Gravepiece for my grandmother Kristen. And...I also get to sing with no one hearing me. I do that for Mikasa and Archie. They like singing.

As for working for Stepfather and his wife, it depends who ever comes up to me first. Emily has been too busy to help either of them, so the burden has fallen on my shoulders.

When Stepfather needs me, he makes an impatient gesture to come into his office and orders me to do one of the following things:

A. Sort important documents in alphabetical order and put them in a box.

B. Sort marked papers in numerical order and put them in a binder.

C. Take out certain binders from their shelves and put them in a box.

D. Look through certain documents and separate them based on information given.

E. Assist a Knight with carrying in or out boxes of paperwork.

F. Assist my stepfather in writing/understanding an important document.

F is a rarity. Stepfather doesn't like to admit this but his vocabulary is not as big as he likes to think it is. He has difficulty finding a word that expresses a certain emotion or situation, and he has difficulty understanding what other employees have written him in important reports. In my stepfather's defense, some of those words and phrases are not used in Autach's Capital, at least not in the way some are used, like slang. That would be "Rebel talk." Stepfather won't be happy when he realizes the Rebels are still roaming around his precious city.

I have to admit, I found it a little funny to see his reaction when I described what batmen were. Could you imagine? Heavily muscled men running around in a dark suit with little horns sticking out at the top of their heads, doing the authorities' job by pummeling criminals, and then disappearing into the night? Burning Sunshine would be humiliated that such men exists! Stepfather's face was so red when I explained it to him. He mentioned he was going to have to hire more Knights this year if there really were batmen wandering around, committing treason by doing the Knights' work. At least, that's what the Rebels implied was happening. They would know.

I suppose those were the only funny bits about working with my stepfather.

As for Sherry, well, it's a bit more awkward. With Stepfather so busy with work and Emily so tired, she had no one to help add finishing touches to her extravagant wedding. Except, unfortunately, for me, since I was an adult "with taste," and Helena, since she was a girl "who needed to see what her future had in store for her." Mikey had no interest in joining, being given a pass as he was "just a boy." Lucky brother.

Sherry mainly asked me and Helena questions such as,

"Do you think these shoes will match these dresses?"

"Do you think I chose the right bouquet of flowers?"

"Should I move the reception from this venue to this palace, or should I keep it where it is?"

"Do you think I've made the right choice here?"

"Are you answering truthfully?"

We barely get a chance to answer. She answers her own questions as soon as it comes rolling off her tongue. We were only there to give her moral support, I suppose. Helena and I sat on her bed or on the couch in the lounge, watching her frantically make telephone calls and rummage through catalogs.

And then her wedding dress came. After scouring through women's magazines and trying on forty-seven different dresses that nearly squished her baby bump, her official gown was delivered by Gem City artisans. It was a rather ugly thing. Ruffles gathered at the wrists, glitter barely clinging on. White lilies were stitched onto the chest area, daisies on the long sleeves, and a pattern of leaves and scrubs on the skirt. The skirt itself— by God, did it look more like a white umbrella than a skirt! It was so wide and large, it looked rather silly on her. It made her look like a human dreidel!

Sherry needed assistance getting into the dress. Helena was too small to help her, so sadly I was the one who had to do it.

While Helena sat on the bed and waited patiently, I followed Sherry behind a privacy screen with the dress in my arms. Wearing only a bra and underwear, she said with a straight face, "Help me into that thing, will you, Connor dear?"

I was too embarrassed to correct her. Deep down, I knew I shouldn't have been embarrassed. I had seen unclothed women before plenty of times, but Sherry was different. Sherry was the pregnant inamorata of my stepfather. Does it not make sense that I was uncomfortable? How I wished one of Sherry's friends could have been doing this instead of me.

"Oh, dear," I murmured under my breath.

As I helped her in the dress, Sherry attempted to make conversation with me and Helena.

"Do you happen to have an inamorato yet, Helena?"

"Um, no."

"Oh, really? That's quite a shock! You're such a pretty girl."

"The-the-thank you."

"How old are you?"

"I'm going to be ten in November."

"Ten! Why, when I was your age, I had Valentines and chocolate boxes from multiple boys in my class. Come on, honey! Time is flying!"

"But I'm only nine."

"Women have to start young, dear. Our beauty is not permanent. Why do you think your stepfather lost interest in your mother? Oh, speaking of beauty, I should have a talk with your sister about this. She's getting bags under her eyes. Have you noticed that?"

I rolled my eyes. Sherry didn't notice, of course.

"I am right to assume that you have no inamorata, correct, Connor?"

"His name is C-Carter."

"Right, Carter. Well, Carter?"

"Right," I answered quietly, helping her arms get into the sleeves.

"You have a somewhat handsome face but you're too skinny. Girls don't like scrawny boys; they like big, strong men like your stepfather. I've seen pictures of your father, by the way. Perhaps if you were fit, you would look like him and all the women would fall in love with you."

"That's mean," said Helena.

"Oh, on the contrary, my love. That is the way of the world. Although, perhaps being a defect would worsen his chances at being with women."

Helena puckers her lip. "W-what if he doesn't like women?"

I raise my eyebrows at my sister. Sherry only laughs and says, "At least that will save him from loneliness!"

The dress was finally on her. My job was complete.

Sherry stepped out from behind the privacy screen and slowly spun around in the middle of the room.

"Would you look at that?" she exclaimed, rubbing her baby bump that somehow looked uncomfortable in the dress. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

The baby disagreed.

"Oh, my!" Sherry giggled. "Baby gave me a little kick. He must be as happy as me!"

'...!' screamed Launcher hatefully.

Helena gave Sherry a smile. "You look beautiful."

Sherry blushed. "Thank you so much, dear! Maybe I'll save this dress for your special day!"

Helena's smile shrunk a tiny bit.

Sherry turned to me. "What do you think?"

It was so hideous, I wanted to claw my eyes out so I wouldn't have to look at it any longer. It was such a disgrace to all artisans and dressmakers, that it gave cancer to all who looked upon it. "It looks lovely."

"Thank you," beamed Sherry. "Oh, I just can't wait for the Führer to see me in this dress Friday!"

That was Wednesday. Today is Thursday. The last time I looked down at my watch, it said it was around nine. Only four hours until Friday. I'm too exhausted to worry about the wedding, but—

"Carter!"

Oh! I hadn't realized I began to nod off. I had been sitting with my back against the overflowing bookcase, the upper half of my body draped across a large box full of papers. Not the best of positions, I know, but I was so desperate to find sleep. I had finished doing paperwork for Stepfather early and he said to wait for him to give me something else to do. I waited, and I must have found sleep while waiting.

I look down at my watch. Eleven.

You're probably wondering about the watch, aren't you? Mikey gave it to me to assist me with my schedule. It used to be James's.

...What time is it again? Eleven-o'-one.

"Did you put all the papers back in their cases?" asks my stepfather, glooming over mountains of paper stacked all over his desk.

"Yes, I did." I rub the sleep out of my eyes.

"Did you sort them alphabetically?"

"Yes."

"Yes, sir. Don't