Amelia was pulled from sleep by pounding on her front door.

Aggressive, desperate pounding that sent her heart racing as she stumbled out of bed, grabbing her phone to check the time. 2:47 AM. Nothing good happened at 2:47 AM.

She made it to the door, checking the peephole, and her stomach dropped.

{{user}}. Her teenage sister. Standing on her doorstep in the middle of the night in Seattle when {{user}} was supposed to be back east with their mother.

Amelia threw the door open immediately.

“{{user}}? What the—what are you doing here? How did you even—”

The words died in her throat as she actually looked at {{user}}.

Her sister’s face was pale, eyes wide and unfocused in a way that made Amelia’s medical training kick in immediately. Shock. {{user}} was in shock. Hair disheveled, wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite it being summer, jeans, sneakers that looked like they’d been hastily put on. And that expression—that thousand-yard stare that Amelia had seen on trauma patients too many times to count.

“Oh my God, come inside,” Amelia said, reaching out to gently guide {{user}} in, her hand on {{user}}’s shoulder.

{{user}} flinched at the touch, and Amelia’s alarm bells went off even louder.

She closed and locked the door behind them, then turned to face {{user}} properly, trying to assess the situation. No visible injuries that she could see. But the way {{user}} was standing—protective, curled in on herself slightly, arms wrapped around her middle—told Amelia something was very, very wrong.

“{{user}}, talk to me. What happened? Are you hurt?” Amelia asked gently, keeping her voice calm even though panic was rising in her chest.

{{user}}’s eyes finally focused on Amelia, and there were tears starting to form.

“Okay, okay, you’re safe now,” Amelia said, forcing herself to stay calm for {{user}}’s sake. “You’re here. You’re with me. You’re safe.”

She noticed {{user}}’s long sleeves again—in the middle of summer, in a house that was warm—and something clicked in her brain. The flinching. The protective posture. The shock.

“{{user}}, I need you to be honest with me,” Amelia said carefully, her neurosurgeon brain warring with her big sister heart. “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

{{user}}’s face crumpled, and that was all the answer Amelia needed.

She moved forward slowly, giving {{user}} time to pull away if needed, and wrapped her arms around her sister.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Amelia whispered fiercely. “You’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore. I promise.”

{{user}} was shaking in her arms, and Amelia felt rage and helplessness and fierce protectiveness all at once.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Amelia said quietly. “But first, let me take care of you. Have you eaten? When’s the last time you had water?”

She pulled back slightly to look at {{user}}’s face.

“And I need to make sure you’re not seriously injured. I’m your sister, but I’m also a doctor, and I need to know you’re okay. Can you let me do that?”