With her heart beating in her throat, Siren enters Brenda's room. She was told the girl woke up about an hour ago, her head aching, but no permanent damage.

She sits down on the chair beside Brenda's bed. It's still warmed from Jorge's visit.

"Hi," Brenda greets weakly.

Siren refuses to meet her eyes, and just looks at the ground. "Hi."

A silence falls. Brenda shifts in her bed, small winces leaving her mouth whenever her head moves, and Siren just stills.

"I'm sorry," she then says, almost having to force the words out.

Almost.

She really is sorry for making Brenda bleed.

She's not sorry for pushing her. She hopes it has learned Brenda a lesson; don't trust Amery.

And don't neglect Siren.

"It's okay," Brenda, who does not know the apology is only half-hearted, assures. "I should've stopped bugging."

"Yes," Siren replies.

Brenda noticeably tenses, as if she's about to shoot some harsh words back at Siren, but then she remains silent.

"Why is Amery so bad?" The girl then quietly asks. "What did he do?"

The blonde girl shrugs. "I don't know. I have no idea what's it called."

"Can you, like, explain it?"

She shakes her head.

"Why not?"

She presses her lips together.

"Siren?"

"He'll hurt you, too," she forces out, then she makes a thin line out of her mouth again. She can't risk spilling anything. Amery can't do this to Brenda, no matter how 'normal' it is.

It hurt Siren, and Brenda has always said that Siren is the toughest sibling.

If that's the truth, Siren had thought, then she can't let anything that hurt her hurt Brenda.

"Did he say rude things?"

She shakes her head again.

"Did he hurt you?"

Very, very slowly, she nods.

"By hitting you?"

And then she's back at shaking her head.

"Did he hurt your mind? Or your body?"

Mentally or physically? "Both."

"Hurt you how, Ren?" Brenda whispers.

"Don't call me that," the words leave her mouth so harshly that both of them flinch.

But it doesn't calm Siren. Her gaze remains narrowed towards Brenda, as if it's her fault that she called her the same nickname.

The nickname.

Deep breaths, Ren.

It'll be over soon, Ren.

Keep your voice inside, Ren.

Don't tell anyone, Ren.

The pain will be gone soon, Ren.

Him and his stupid nickname.

Instead of apologizing like Siren wanted her to, the girl frowns. "Why are you so goddamn snappy these days? I can't do a single thing and you immediately get angry!"

"Why can't any of you listen?!" Siren shrieks back.

Her friend throws her hands in the air. "No one can listen if you don't explain properly!"

Can't they hear her sobs once it's done? The yells before he slams his hand on her mouth? His own tiny little grunts? Can't they hear anything? Can't they see that something is clearly wrong?

She doesn't want to believe that she's the problem, just like Amery keeps telling her she is.

"Well, I was explaining to you until you started this argument!"

"Me? You are the one who complained about a simple nickname!"

Siren clenches her jaw. Her chair falls over at the force she gets up with. "Never mind. I'm not sorry for pushing you at all!"

Jorge can suck it up. They all know who he prefers. Who he'll listen to. Who he'll try to understand. No one ever tries to understand.

Well, they do. For a quick moment. Then it gets too difficult and they give up. Just like Brenda did.

On one side, it was indeed Siren's fault. She shouldn't have started snarling about the nickname. But, once again, enough things have been 'Siren's fault' so far.

"Hija? What's going on?" Jorge appears in the hallway she was just stumping through. "Was that you and Brenda yelling?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

"Brenda called me a nickname and I told her not to. Then she said I was acting snappy." Her little arms cross over her chest. "And then I left."

"And now you're going back," he says. She can tell he's doing his best to keep calm. "Come on. We'll have a talk together. See what went wrong, apologize, and start over."

He takes her hand. In a second, she has jerked away from him. "I told you not to touch me, imbécil."

An extremely stupid person.

Jorge gapes at her. 

He's doing it again. He doesn't listen to Siren until Brenda is involved. Until he sees his chance to punish Siren.

That's what it's like to a nine-year-old, at least.

Another thing she hates. She wants to grow up and be treated with respect, but once they act like she's older than she really is...

Jorge acts like that, sometimes. He either acts like she's three or eighteen. Not nine. Nine doesn't exist, or something.

She wished it didn't. It was when it all started.

"And no, I'm not apologizing," she adds, as all her thoughts begin to meddle in it. "Go figure it out yourself."

"You know I don't like this kind of talk."

"Well, you're a grown man, so you should be able to handle it," she replies, tone mimicking.

His eyes narrow. "You want me not to handle it better than normally? Because I was trying to do the right thing here, Siren. It's either the opportunity to talk it out, or get sent to your room."

"And Brenda gets to walk around freely because it is never Brenda's fault."

"I did not say that. I am talking about the way you're speaking to me while I gave you an opportunity."

Amery gave her an opportunity to be herself and to have a real friend, and guess how that ended.

She trusts no one. Jorge has lost her trust. Brenda has somehow lost her trust. Amery has definitely lost her trust. And those were the only ones who only ever had her trust.

They returned it as shattered pieces, poorly repaired with duct tape that will lose its strength as soon as her trust is misused again.

"Well, bring me to my room then," she sniffs. "I'm done talking. Forever!"

He looks at her like she's a fool.

A three-year-old fool who is trying to make sense out of herself by yelling at him.

In moments like these, she wouldn't mind him treating her as an adult. If that means he'd understand her.

"Sure, I will bring you to your room. And if you keep going like this, I will take all your drawing equipment away from you. I will not hide it, because you'd find it anyway— I'd throw it away. And then it would take months to find new equipment in the Cranks' bags. I will keep Amery in front of your door the whole time, so you can let him know when you need to pee, but nothing else. I'll bring food, what? Twice a day? Three times? Or are you going to act like you only need one meal a day?"

She doesn't break eye contact, even though her vision is blurry from tears. Her hands are shaking with both fury and fear. "I am only nine years old," is all the says, surprisingly calm.

"Yes. And kids are exactly the ones who need to be educated."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Are they?"

"Yes. Now, one last chance. Will you go to your room or will you talk it out?"

"Neither."

"Either one of them, Siren. You have a little longer to decide. If not, it'll be staying in your room, because you would not hesitate if you would truly want to talk it out."

"Well, bring me to my room already then, if you're so sure."

He grabs her by the upper arm. "I have no issues with that."

She elbows him in the side. "How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me?!"

"I am your—" he hesitates for a moment, then says, "guardian. I can touch you."

Oh, so it works like that? I am your guard, I can touch you?

"Technically, you're not. You might as well have kidnapped me from Australia. No autograph or anything."

"I saved you."

"I'm not sure if being here or being dead in the bottom of the sea is any different from each other," she states.

His eyes are nearly on fire from anger. "Room. Now."

"Te odio," she mumbles as she walks in front of him.

"Don't say that."

The girl turns around so fast that he nearly stumbles. "I hate you," she tells him, right in his face. "I hate you so much that I wish you left me in Australia because rotting in the bottom of the sea for sure would be better than staying here in your dirty little house with your dirty little people and your dirty little Cranks! I'd rather stay at WCKD than at yours, you hear me? I hate you. I hate you, I hate you—" and she's yelling at him again, always the same three words.

When he lifts her off the ground and starts walking to her room, she begins yelling even louder. She begins hitting his back as hard as she can. She begins kicking. Crying. Screaming when she sees Amery smiling in front of her door.

"I hate you!" She screams again, kicking him right in the knee. His face slightly twists in pain, and that makes her feel powerful enough to continue hitting until Amery lifts her up.

Then she's protesting so much that even the grown man has trouble getting her in that room.

But eventually, the steel door slams shut and she's locked inside with him. Again.

꥟

And again.

꥟

And again.

꥟

And again.

The same cycle.

Every week.

She's allowed to go out of her room, someone does something against her liking, and then she's locked back up.

Every single time.

With him.