From here, Julia felt herself detach. It was almost the feeling she’d had at Love, when she’d fled from her body and floated to the ceiling. After all, she couldn’t stop what the Brotherhood would do, or make her do. Julia was a criminal. Worse, she was pregnant. She didn’t have the freedom to think of what was right. She must do what was safe. It was as Ampleforth had said: one had no choice, one must only live through it as if one had.
