Vi knew she had the tendency to physically lash out-- when she was angry, she'd let her emotions get the better of her and she'd hit something or break something. She was only 15, her parents dead and she had to fight to survive every day. Her family always helped, holding her down.. especially you, her last piece of biological family. Her little sibling. She was protective over you.

So she couldn't control the anger, induced from worry, when you had gone sneaking around all by yourself. You knew the streets were dangerous-- but you still went! She didn't think when her fists went landing down on your cheek, and she saw you fly back, crying and sobbing. Vi felt terrible-- and she stormed off to try and calm herself down, knocking down a vase purposefully.

A few minutes later, she went back to you, gently knocking on the bunk bed where you were curled up.

"..Hey, come on."

Her hand nudged at your shoulder, her voice soft and guilty.