Emma barely had time to react before the sound of heavy, purposeful footsteps thundered up the stairs. Her door slammed open with such force that it bounced against the wall, making her flinch. Their father, still in his work clothes, stood in the doorway, his tie loose and his face dark with anger.

“What the hell is this I hear about you letting a boy into your room?” he demanded, his voice booming.

Emma froze, clutching her sketchpad instinctively. “Dad, it’s not—”

“Don’t start with me,” he snapped, stepping fully into the room. “I come home after a long day, and this is what I’m hearing? Some boy, in _your room_?”

She stood, her fists tightening around her sketchpad. “It’s not what you think! Ethan’s Mason’s friend, and we were just talking—”

“I don’t care what you were talking about!” he shouted, cutting her off. “You don’t let boys into your room, Emma. You don’t. Period.”

Emma’s face flushed, anger and embarrassment bubbling to the surface. “It wasn’t a big deal! We weren’t doing anything wrong!”

Her father pointed an accusatory finger at her, his face a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You’re too young to understand. You really think boy's care about a kids drawing. They don’t care about, you're growing older you should understand that those pigs only trying to use your body for themselves. They’ll say whatever they need to get close to you.”

“That’s not true!” Emma yelled back, her voice shaking. “Ethan’s not like that! He actually liked my comics, and he—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” her father roared, silencing her. “This is my house, and I’m telling you right now: that boy doesn’t come here anymore. End of story.”

“Dad, you’re not being fair!” Emma tried again, but he ignored her completely, turning toward the door.

“Not being fair?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s not fair is you thinking you can do whatever you want under my roof. This isn’t up for debate, Emma.”

As he turned to leave, his eyes landed on Mason, who had appeared at the doorway, drawn by the shouting. For a moment, their father’s fury shifted focus.

“And you,” he said coldly, glaring at Mason. “I trusted you to look out for your sister. To know better than to let something like this happen. What were you thinking?”

Mason’s face flushed as he tried to respond. “I didn’t know they’d—”

“You didn’t _know_?” their father interrupted, his voice like a whip. “You’re supposed to be responsible. Instead, I come home to find out you let your friend wander into her room like it’s no big deal? You’re supposed to have her back, Mason, not stand by and let her make stupid decisions.”

Mason bristled, his own frustration breaking through. “I didn’t let anything happen! It’s not like I told him to go in there!”

Their father’s expression didn’t soften in the slightest. “Doesn’t matter. You’re her older brother. You’re supposed to protect her. Instead, you’re standing here trying to make excuses.”

With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving both of them in stunned silence.

---

Emma stared at Mason, her face red with fury. “This is your fault!” she snapped.

Mason blinked, his face still pale from their father’s tirade. “What? How is it my fault?”

“You told him, didn’t you?” Emma accused, her voice sharp and trembling. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and now he’s freaking out and banning Ethan from the house!”

“I didn’t tell him anything!” Mason shot back, his frustration bubbling up. “Mom probably heard something and told him. What was I supposed to do, lie?”

“Yes!” Emma shouted, her arms flailing. “You’re my brother! You’re supposed to have _my_ back, not throw me under the bus!”

Mason sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Emma, come on. I didn’t mean for this to happen. You know how Dad gets.”

“I don’t care how he gets!” she yelled, her voice breaking. “The only time either of you comes into my room is to yell at me. That’s it! You don’t care about what I like or what I’m doing—you don’t even try to talk to me unless I fucked up something again.”

“That’s not fair,” Mason said weakly, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” Emma hissed. “You treat me like I’m some dumb kid, but at least Ethan doesn’t. He actually listened to me. He cared about my comics—he didn’t make me feel like a total idiot.”

Mason opened his mouth to argue, but Emma held up her hand. “Don’t. Just... don’t.” Her voice was quieter now, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I’m done with you two acting like I can’t do anything right. If you don’t trust me, fine. But don’t act like Ethan’s the problem when he’s the only person who’s treated me like I actually matter. Unlike you, you asshole.”

Before Mason could say anything else, Emma lays down her sketchbook. Went to the door and slammed it in his face. A muffled screamed from her dad could be heard but she didn't care.

---

Mason stayed frozen in place, his father’s words and Emma’s accusations swirling in his head. He’d never seen Emma so upset before. Normally, she just rolled her eyes and shrugged him off, but this was different. Her anger was raw and sharp, and it left a sting he didn’t know how to shake.

He wanted to defend himself, to say it wasn’t his fault. "I was only trying to protect you from being used, yet now I am the asshole here." he mumbled to himself walking towards his room.

Mason sighed, rubbing his face. He couldn’t shake the image of Emma storming out, her face red with anger, her hands clutching that sketchpad like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.