"Siren." The sheets get pulled off her body. "Good morning."

The girl blindly reaches for her blanket, but she can't find them. Eventually, she makes a ball of her own body for extra warmth.

"Siren," the whisper is softer than she's used to from Jorge. "Hija."

She turns her back to him.

"I managed to get ingredients for a cake. Do you want to bake it with me?" He wonders.

"No," she snaps. "Go do it with Brenda. Your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite. You're both equal to me. So will you—"

"Then why do you only listen to me when I'm talking about Brenda?" She grumbles.

He remains silent for a good few seconds, and Siren knows that she got him.

"Because the previous days, you have not listened to me either. That comes with consequences. Now I am suggesting we go bake something together, so we can fix what we messed up," Jorge explains after a deep breath.

She shakes her head.

"Please?"

"You need to listen to me first." Slowly, she sits up. Her hands work to cover her legs with the giant night shirt she wears, even though Jorge is only looking at her face.

"Okay," he says. "I will listen."

Her mouth opens, but no sounds come out.

If you tell anyone, I'll do it again.

I'll hurt whoever you tell.

No one will believe you.

A bit helpless, she looks at Jorge. He is waiting patiently for once.

No one will believe you, he told her. It's normal anyway. He'll laugh at you.

"I..." she begins. "I am very sorry for pushing Brenda," the girl ends up saying.

His gaze softens. "That's okay. Once she wakes up, you tell her that, and everything will be okay."

She nods, lips pressed together.

"Want to go bake with me now?"

"I guess so."

They get up. Jorge follows her into the bathroom. She stares at him, blinking.

His eyebrows raise.

"I don't want you to be there when I change."

For a second, he looks like he's about to protest. "Okay. Do you need me to turn around or completely leave? Last time, I remember you weren't capable of properly brushing your own hair."

"That 'last time' was months ago," she says, nearly snarls.

"Okay. I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."

After a visit to the toilet, she starts changing. Her eyes linger around her bruised hips. One of her fingers presses against the blue, and she winces. Tears form in her eyes, not at the pain, but at everything else about these bruises.

Then she finishes getting dressed, brushes her teeth, and makes her way to Jorge.

He has stacked the baking equipment on the wooden table already. Eggs, flour, milk, sugar, and a whisk.

Jorge gives the instructions. Siren completes all of them. Soon, the cake is baking in their rusty oven.