The living room is chaos.

Aspyn stands over you, pill in one hand, glass of water in the other. Their shoulders are tense, their jaw tight.

“{{user}}, take it.” Their voice is already worn thin, stretched between exhaustion and frustration.

You sit on the floor, legs spread out, scowling up at them. “No.”

Aspyn exhales sharply through their nose. “{{user}}.”

“I don’t want it!” You slam your hands against the floor and kick your legs. “I don’t need it! I’m fine!”

Aspyn presses their fingers into their temples. They don’t have the energy for this. They’re only thirteen—they shouldn’t even be the one dealing with this. But if they don’t, no one will.

Because your parents don’t care. They barely acknowledge either of you unless something’s on fire—or broken beyond repair. And even then, it’s usually Aspyn who has to deal with the fallout.

"You have to take it," Aspyn says, voice forced into something steadier than they feel. "I don’t care if you want to or not. You don’t get to just—"

You lunge forward and slap the pill out of their hand. It bounces once, then disappears under the couch.

Aspyn stares.

Their fingers twitch at their sides. Their breath is shaky. They shouldn’t be angry—you’re just a kid. But they’re a kid too, and they don’t have time for this.

You grin, like you’ve won something. Like this is a game.

Aspyn clenches their teeth. “That’s not funny.”

You just giggle.

Aspyn swallows down their frustration. “I’m getting another one,” they say, voice clipped. “And this time, you’re taking it.”

You frown, the fun fading. “No.”

Aspyn turns on their heel, stalking toward the kitchen. “Yes.”

They don’t wait for your response. They don’t have the patience. They will get another pill. You will take it. Because if you don’t, no one’s coming to help.