Page 122 of Death is Familiar

“That’s different…”

“How?”

“Do you know what will happen to me, to us, once Warden White and Madame have what they want?”

Unsurprisingly, Three looked at the floor, avoiding all eye contact.

For someone who had been in captivity her entire life, she was awfully tight-lipped when it came to any questions I asked. Like answering questions had been trained out of her. Which wasn’t surprising, just very unfortunate.

I’d dedicated a lot of time the last two weeks, in between Warden White’s visits, building trust, learning her favorite things, her fears, and what most importantly what motivated her.

She loved daisies, and pie, and finger-knitting, and playing with dolls, and making up stories, and reading about princesses. So, I used what I knew to my advantage.

I told her stories about princesses locked in tall towers who fought their way to escape. I told her about all the types of pie in the outside world. How many different daisies there were, how some liked shadow, and some had yellow petals instead of white, which she found “completely ridiculous.”

But every day, it was the same song and dance. Eventually, Three wouldn’t like something I was doing, she’d call me “Two”, I’d correct her, then ask her a question she’d refuse to answer.

Except this time her lips moved, mumbling something to herself.

“What did you say?”

“I said, we’ll live happily ever after!”

I got to my feet. “And you really believe that?”

“Of course, I do! That’s how all stories end!”

“That’s not how the real world works, Three. Not everyone has a happy ending, not everyone survives. You saw what happened with One.”

After the blanket episode, Three didn’t bring One up again. In fact, whenever I brought her up, Three blessed me with the silent treatment.

Being the positive and delightful person I am, I chose to look on the bright side—I now had a Three mute button.

Whenever she started singing the god-awful songs, or she got stuck in a loop of questions, I’d ask about One.

It worked like magic.

Until now. “That’s not going to work on me anymore. I know better because I’m smart! Warden White says so.”

“I know you’re smart, that’s why I’m asking you to think.”

“I am thinking! And you’re being mean. You’re a meany!”

Name calling, real mature. “Explain it to me, how am I being mean?”

“You!” She pointed at me, then paused. “You. You raised your voice. You are being mean. And it’s making me angry.”

“I did raise my voice.” I stepped towards the bars and wrapped my hands around the metal, my words so low she had to lean in to hear them. “So did you. But what did I say?”

Three swallowed, but she matched my tone, lowering her voice just above a whisper, “You said ‘not everyone has a happy ending’ and then you brought up One.”

A moment passed, then another. The tension slowly unfurling as she recognized the weight of her own words.

“Now, are you angry because what I said was mean?” I raised a brow. “Or because it made you uncomfortable?”

Another second passed before Three released the bars between us as if they’d been electrified. That was it, the reaction I was looking for—recognition.

Knowing I should further de-escalate the situation if anything was going to provide fruitful—and because arguing with Three took a lot out of me—I slid to the floor, my back against the bars.