She spends the following days by doing the exact same things every time, yet it never bores her. 

Wake up, eat something, put her clothes on, start drawing. While she was locked up in her room, for days long, she practiced a lot. Now she no longer draws stick figures and tiny suns, but real persons. Realistic persons.

She draws Jorge, but with devil horns and ugly teeth like Barkley because Jorge does not deserve a nice drawing.

She draws Brenda, with her eyebrows furrowed deeply, representing the grudge she's able to hold for so long. The eyebrows are abnormal.

She draws Amery, his beard full with bugs and knots. His eyes are fully black. His hair greasy. He also does not deserve to be drawn nicely.

After drawing everyone in the way that she wants to draw them, she goes through some older drawings to look at her techniques. She used to draw every simulation she even went in. Now she has quit doing that. No one has to know that she doesn't fight.

Fight. She can fight. She's good with every weapon they have here, in fact.

She's less good with only her hands when it comes to fighting a grown man off.

But with a weapon...

She hurries to the simulation room. No one is there, luckily, so she slips a knife down the side of her pants.

Then she goes into the simulation of the kids and the woman, once again.

꥟

He's not in her room yet, but she knows he will be. He's in her room every night. Back when she was locked up, he'd also take the opportunity in the morning. If he felt like it.

It did not matter if Siren felt like it because Siren's feelings are nonexistent to him, and apparently to everyone else here as well.

Sometimes, she looks at her hand. Moves her fingers. Frowns, because she is a real person. Why don't they treat her the same?

Not that she wishes anyone the pain Amery caused her, but why her specifically? Why did he choose to hurt her? Was it a random choice, or did he base his choice off things? Because she was more naive than the others? Because she treated him like a friend? Because he was able to gain her trust easier than Brenda's? Would he even be working for Jorge had Siren not been there?

All the questions overwhelm her. She wishes these questions didn't exist. Or just no questions, at all. They're beginning to annoy her. Jorge's 'how are you' as if that will fix what he did. Brenda's 'want to play' as if that will make Siren any happier.

The girl sits up in the dark. Looking around her at the drawings on the walls, she bites her lip.

"You know you're going to die after a while."

"Yes, sir."

"Hey, what did I tell you?"

"Not to call you sir."

"Then why did you?"

"Daddy once told me not to listen to old men."

"Yet now your daddy's dead," one of Jorge's men blurts out.

Even her daddy was better. Even her dead daddy was better! Even the daddy who yelled things at the phone and who was never home and who didn't do anything with her but give her piggybacks was better. Even the mommy who fed her and was also never home but did still take care of her was better.

"I don't want you to replace my daddy."

"I won't. We can just be friends."

"I don't trust your men either. They look like they're going to hurt me."

"They won't. I promise. I'll make sure of it. I trust the ones that work for me. Yeah? And I'll teach you how to fight, Siren."

Liar.

She should've never come with him. She hates this place. Her beliefs that it's better at WCKD are still standing strong.

The girl crawls below her bed. She knows that if she hurts Amery with the knife, she'll somehow be the one who gets punished. She can avoid it by hiding, and if that doesn't work, she'll stab.

Her back presses against the wall. She makes a tiny ball of herself, so she's also practically hiding behind her nightstand. It gives extra shadow.

The door opens. Siren pinches her nose with her fingers and presses a hand to her mouth. She does her best to still her trembling body.

Heavy footsteps against the floor. Her eyes squeeze closed. Her heart drums against her ribs, so hard that she's afraid he'll hear it.

Above her, he messes with the sheets. His sigh as he sits down on her bed proves that he hasn't found her.

But sometimes, he waits for her in her room. He'll wait now.

She releases one of her fingers from her nose, allowing some air to come through. The knife presses against her side, positioned in a way that if she'd move even an inch, she'd cut herself.

He sits there for a long time. It feels like forever. His bouncing foot has hit the ground who knows how many times.

Then finally, he leaves.

She still doesn't dare to breathe properly. She keeps waiting. He'll come back. She knows he will. He's not going to skip a night.

And she was right. A long time later, he enters the room again. Her eyes close the second the door squeaks. She sometimes believes that if she can't see the thing she fears, it won't see her either. It won't hurt her, at least.

A loud gasp slips from her when she gets pulled away from the bed.

Followed by a loud groan from him when she slashes the knife across his stomach.

His dark figure stumbles backwards against the wall. She slashes again, and again, and again. He deserves the same pain she has felt every night.

"Siren," his voice warns weakly. The figure slumps down to the ground when she cuts a little deeper. If he puts even one hand on her, she'll stab.

"Si-ren," he coughs out, blood spatting. She stops for a moment, to look at his face. To look at the pain. To enjoy it.

It's Jorge.

The knife drops to the ground. A sharp metallic clang echoes through the room as it bounces twice before settling with a last, dull thud.

She steps back. Her mouth goes dry. Her eyes widen.

With a ton of groans, Jorge gets off the ground. His glare sends daggers right back at her as he grabs the weapon off the ground. She flinches, staggering onto her bed.

"What is wrong with you?" He hisses, pressing a hand to his stomach.

She averts her eyes. There is nothing to defend. A 'sorry' will sound as crazy as 'I thought you were someone else'.

Then he slams the door shut. Siren hears the keys chime against each other; he locks it.

That's one good thing this night has brought. Amery can't reach her if Jorge has the key.

A little too satisfied, she sits down on her bed.

Her face pales. The extra key. Because how else would he have gotten in her room all the other times?