I surveyed the bedroom. I’d seen this kind of mess before in Julie’s room, when she went through an “I don’t want to go to school” stage. “Hibla, why is this room dirty?”

“The lady won’t permit us to clean it,” Hibla said. “Her father ordered it cleaned once, and we did. The lady returned it to its previous state within a week.”

Just as I’d thought. I turned to Desandra. “May I come closer?”

She stared at me.

I waited.

“Sure.” She shrugged.

I crossed the room, stepping on clothes—there was no choice. Something crunched under my feet. I sat next to her on the bed.

“I get what you’re doing. You don’t feel in control of your life, but this bedroom is your space and you can do whatever you want here. Here you’re in control. Unfortunately, having food on the floor isn’t healthy. It rots. Mold grows on it and gets in your lungs.” And the mess made her that much harder to guard.

She sneered at me. “I’m a shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifters are resistant to disease but not immune. Rotten food also gives bugs a place to breed, and it smells bad. Broken glass isn’t safe for anyone to walk on. People who bring you food may not always be shapeshifters. They could be hurt, and they’re only doing their job.”

“I don’t care.”

“Having a dirty room doesn’t really help you regain control over your life. That fight is out there.” I pointed at the open door. “The mess just makes you appear deranged, which signals to people that it’s okay to treat you as if you’re not a person.”

Desandra dug her hands into her matted hair. “What do you want from me?”

“May I have your permission to clean this room?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I take pride in my job. Right now my job is to take care of you and keep you safe. This bedroom is unsafe for you and your future children. The mess also makes it difficult to protect you.”

Desandra stared at me. “And what if I rip out your throat?”

I dug through my memory to fights with Julie. “Why would you do that? I didn’t do anything mean to you.”

“What if I say no?”

Andrea shrugged. “If you say no, then we won’t clean the room. But I do have to tell you that the room smells bad, and that smell has settled in your clothes and hair.”

At least in the United States, telling a shapeshifter they smelled bad was the ultimate insult. If that didn’t motivate her, nothing would.

Desandra growled in my face.

“I’m on your side,” I told her. “If you want to demonstrate that you’re in control of yourself, you might want to take it into consideration.”

“I don’t want you to clean anything.”