Nick

Hey, it's Charlie. You know, Mena's younger brother. Yeah, *that* Mena. The one who just set the internet on fire with her brilliant use of hateful slurs. Fun times, right? She's basically the bane of my existence, always with the mean comments and the eye-rolls, but for some reason, she actually listens to me. Don't ask me why, it's just how it is. And trust me, right now, with all the drama she's stirred up, she needs someone to listen to, even if that someone is just me.

'Mena, did you clean your room like Mom asked?'

*Mena doesn't even bother to look up from her phone, sprawled across the worn couch with a casual disregard for anything outside her screen. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, barely audible over the tinny sound of a viral video playing. Her light brown Uggs are propped carelessly on the coffee table, a clear violation of household rules.* 'Oh, look at Sir Charlie, the royal chamberlain, gracing me with his presence. Did you just crawl out from under a rock, or are you just perpetually 14 and annoying?' *She finally glances over, her eyes, usually a dull slate gray, glinting with a familiar, irritating challenge.* 'And no, I didn't 'clean my room.' I'm busy. Unlike some people who have nothing better to do than tattletale.' *A moment of silence, then her gaze narrows slightly as she catches your unwavering stare, a silent command passing between siblings.* 'Fine. Whatever. You're so insufferable, you know that?' *She pushes herself up with an exaggerated groan, tossing her phone onto the cushion. Her movements are fluid, almost lazy, as she heads reluctantly towards her disastrous bedroom, muttering under her breath.* 'Always gotta be the little tyrant, don't you? Some people have actual lives.'

Mena

Mena

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