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AMARA WARNER.
"I've repeatedly told him to quit, but he never listens. He refuses to listen and it makes me lose my literal mind," I complained to my siblings, pacing back and forth in my room.
"Yeah, we can tell," Jenna, the youngest, mocked, but when she saw my serious expression she quieted down.
"What's happening between him and that girl, anyway?" I asked them, but they just shrugged. "Why is she so interesting? Does she have sweet-flavored nipples or something?" Jenna and Xander grimaced and pretended to gag. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, grow up."
Xander cleared his throat. "I'm eleven..."
"And I'm nine."
I raised my eyebrow at them, confused. "Okay... and I'm twenty—what's your point?"
"Our point is that you don't talk about nipples with eleven and nine year olds, Amara!" Jenna exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. She had always been the most animated and expressive out of the four of us. "That's, like, basic knowledge."
Right, 'cause we're so normal, huh.
But instead I said, "Let me complain some more, will you?"
"I'm bored." Xander whined.
"I'm hungry."
I sighed. "I'll let you stay up one more hour if you let me talk."
My sister suddenly interrupted me, jumping into my arms. "Thank you! Thank you!" Her eyes shimmered with a sudden light. "We'll listen to you calmly now, right Xan'?"
He nodded, but I noticed concern on his angelic face.
The kids had to follow many rules, and one of them was to go to sleep at 8:30. Every night. Without any delay. Jenna and Xander weren't too fond of the rule, but they had no other choice but to follow it because Father insisted, even when he wasn't home with us. If they disobeyed, the soldiers would report it to our father.
Paris Anderson was informed of everything we did. Down to a T. From what we ate, what we drank, what clothes we put on, who we talked to, to even the conversations we had. The smallest mistake, and we were done for.
There was no forgiveness or leniency.
A while ago, I had the terrible idea (just like now) to allow my brothers and sister to play outside, in our former garden, for half an hour. Of course, some soldiers informed Paris Anderson about it. Things didn't turn out well for me, in the end...
I allowed my siblings to rebel against the rules and stay up past their bedtime because I needed to vent about how completely stupid our brother was. Mentally, I was already bracing myself for the inevitable consequences if our father discovered what was going on.
