"Are you ready to act normal?"

Jorge stands in her doorframe, arms crossed.

"I don't know what normal means to you at this point. Do you need me to be some kind of godly child that obeys to every single thing someone says?"

"Siren." He walks over to her bed. Sits down. "I'm trying to figure out what's going on. You're been different lately, and I don't know how to help if I don't know what is going on."

She turns away from him, facing the wall. "Maybe you should just stop trying to change me."

"I'm not trying to—"

"Then why do you lock me up in my room because I'm 'acting different'? Maybe that's just the way I am."

"Random outbursts all the time?" He asks. Before she gets the chance to reply, he continues, "Tell me what's bothering you. I want to help you, Siren."

She wraps her arms around her knees. Silence falls, thick and heavy against her chest. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," she says.

Jorge scoots closer to her. She feels the warmth of his hand, hesitantly lingering just an inch away from her back. "Try me."

Suddenly, her vulnerability turns into anger... once again. "You say that now, after I don't know how many weeks of not wanting to listen. You didn't even want to do a simple thing like putting off your music when I tried to tell you!"

"I know," his voice is filled with shame. "That's why I am trying again now. I want to do better."

"I'm glad you realized."

He recoils slightly. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for trapping you in your room and not listening. But I'm giving you a chance right now."

She blinks tears away. He won't believe you, Amery had said. And if he will, he will laugh at you.

She thinks of all the trainings she has had the past years. The simulations. With all of that, she should've been able to fight him off, shouldn't she?

He told her that, at least. That Jorge would also think she's weak. Not ready for her role in their plan to destroy WCKD.

A silent tear falls. More begin to follow. Her shoulders start shaking.

Gently, his hand slides onto one of them, squeezing.

She cries and cries and cries until he attempts to pull her into his side.

At that, she jerks away from him. In this bed, touching a man as grown as Amery, will never feel right again.

Even though Jorge looks close to hurt, he doesn't say anything. "You could tell me what's wrong through a drawing. Is that an idea? Can you draw it?"

A light frown appears on her face. "I can try, I guess. But I can't draw with someone present."

"I'll leave. Call me when you're done." He gives her shoulder another squeeze. Before he vanishes, he hands her a tissue, his smile twitching.

"Thank you." She looks down. Jorge nods, then he closes the door behind him.

꥟

She wasn't sure how to draw it.

In the end, it has become nothing but a white paper with frustrated lines running through it.

"I'm done. But it didn't work." She lies the paper down on the table, where he's sitting with a drink.

His eyebrows indeed furrow at the paper.

"It's like this." She taps him on the shoulder, so he looks up at her. The girl makes a circle out of her index finger and thumb. With her other index finger, she stabs through the circle. She's close to smiling because she finally found a way to explain.

His frown deepens. "That's..." he shakes his head. "Is this a joke? Where did you even learn that gesture? Did Brenda tell you things?"

Now she frowns. Frowns angrily. "No."

"I gave you a chance, and you decide to play with me. This is not appropriate."

She takes a step back. "It's not a joke," she stammers.

He won't believe you.

Amery was right.

He doesn't believe her.

Then she storms off to her room.