They have led her inside a room full of devices that are ten times cooler than the simulation decide Jorge has.

"We need to take your blood so we can check if you're immune and haven't caught the Flare, alright?" The woman crouches down beside her.

"What's that?"

"The Flare? It's a virus. Have you ever seen one of the... zombies walk around?"

"Ohh." Her eyes squint a bit. "Yes. They were our guards."

"Right..." the woman says slowly. She seems nice enough.

Young enough. Other than Brenda, it's the youngest woman she remembers seeing. And one of the few ones she remembers seeing.

"Anyway, our doctor will be taking your blood. Just relax and breathe out."

Just as she mentions that, a male who can't be older than thirty steps inside. He has no facial hair, nor a lot of hair on his head. Toned cheekbones. White clothes like everyone inside of here.

Wide-eyed, Siren shakes her head.

"Are you afraid of needles? That's okay. Just close your eyes. And as I said, breathe. I'm sure we have a lollipop or something once you're done."

"I want you to do it," Siren says, trying to sound confident. "Not him."

"I'm not as specialized as him, honey."

She leans in closer, so that the man won't hear her. "I don't want him to touch me," she whispers.

"He's really kind, I promise. It's just for a quick blood test."

She shakes her head again. "Please. I know you have dozens of kids here and are probably not the nicest to them, but I promise I can be very useful as long as you just don't let him touch me."

"Useful in what sense?" The woman asks kindly.

"Any sense you want. I can draw and I have decent reading and writing skills. I'm very good with guns but any weapon is fine."

She notices one of the other nurses noting something down on a piece of paper.

"I can prove it later on," she adds. "I really am good."

"How old are you?"

"Almost ten."

"Hm, perfect age match with most of our subjects," the man hums. He steps closer, a needle already in his hands. "This will sting just a little bit—"

"No!" She wants to go one single day without someone touching her. Just one. The girl backs away to the corner of the bed, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay, enough." The nurse is nice enough to take the syringe out of the man's hands. "I'll do it, then. If she is as useful as she claims to be, we better not ruin anything for ourselves."

A few minutes later, her pale face proves that she does have a bit of a problem with needles. Other than that, she couldn't be more pleased, though.

This seems to have been the perfect decision.

"Immune," they announce after a while. "We should get her cleaned up. Then have her talk to the psychologist. Run some more blood tests."

꥟

After truly the best shower she has ever had, they dress her in a clothes that for once fit and aren't broken. The shirt and pants are colorless, but that's her last concern. She loves it, actually.

"So," she's now sitting with that... whatever they called it and whatever that means, "may I ask your name?"

"Siren," she says slowly.  

"Okay. I like that name," the woman compliments. A desk is the only thing keeping them apart. "What's your situation with your parents?"

"Dead."

"Recently?"

"I was only three."

"Okay. Do you remember how they died?"

"Yes."

"Okay... so, how?"

"Daddy killed Mommy and then Daddy fell into the fireplace."

"And after that?"

"A cunt found me and brought me to this place."

The woman's cheeks catch a blush for some reason. "A what found you?"

"A cunt. I remember someone saying that a lot of times but it's not the cunt himself."

"Moving on," she clears her throat, "where did you stay with that... cunt?"

"In some sort of building."

"And you said Cranks guarded?"

"Yes, but I only heard them scream and moan. I never really saw them."

"And what was the place like? As in, people?"

"All the people are stupid."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

"How come?"

"They either hurt me or don't listen to me. So I'm glad that's over now. You are listening very well."

"Of course. It's important." She nods. "Did you have friends?"

"For a little while, until she stopped listening."

"Is that because she was the problem or because you wanted everything to go your way?"

"Same thing. Anyone who doesn't go with my ways is certainly a problem."

The woman's eyebrow flies up. "You have an interesting vocabulary for a ten-year-old. On one side, it's rough and very simple, but you somehow talk fancy at the same time."

"Thank you."

"I have some basic questions for you now. This will help us understand even more about you, other than with our blood tests. We will see how useful you actually are."

"Okay."

"Off to a great start; what's your biggest fear?"

"Hm." Her eyebrows furrow. "I have multiple."

"Feel free to share them all."

"I dislike small spaces."

"For any particular reason?"

"I was locked up in a small space for many, many days. I also dislike people who speak nonsense. Words are only needed when they're important."

"But that's not a fear, is it?"

"Words that aren't important? They are a fear. I've said many words in my life that appear to have been unimportant, and neglected because of that, and I have realized that it makes me weak."

"Words like?"

"Words like 'no' and 'stop'."

She stares at Siren for a little while, not blinking, then notes something down and continues, "More fears?"

"I don't like the presence of men, for multiple reasons."

"Care to give me those?"

"Sorry, but we'd be sitting here all day long. Next."

"Eh," she straightens herself, "yes. Can you tell me what makes you feel safe? Imagine a room you'd be perfectly comfortable in."

Her eyes remain on the woman as she replies. "It's a room with dim but warm lights. I have as much drawing equipment as I wish for. I have a wall of guns and a key to the door. One single key that only I own. A bed that only I can see and use."

"Interesting. And do you feel safe here?"

"Safer than anywhere else, at the moment. But it's a bit too clean and quiet."

"Once we'll place you with the others, you'll change your mind. And you said you hate it when people neglect your words?"

"Yes."

"What would you say to those people right now?"

"I will hopefully never see them again. If I do, I won't tell them a word because they won't listen anyway, like they have never done. And if they beg for forgiveness, I will neglect them like they have neglected me. And then I hope to shoot two bullets through their head."

"So you'd choose violence?"

"That's what I've been taught."