“Sisi, please, can we talk?” Helene pressed her fingernails into the playful carved flowers in the dark wood of the door.

Silence again.

“Mother was too harsh.” Helene bit her lip, glanced over her shoulder, as if Mother might have sneaked up behind her.

Perhaps Sisi had climbed out the window again. Her bedroom was on the second floor, but the tree outside it was sturdy. Helene wouldn’t be surprised if she was talking to the air.

“Sisi?”

Helene pressed the door handle. Unlocked. She hated to violate Sisi’s privacy, but she needed to know that her sister was all right. She’d never seen her mother threaten her sister quite like that before. If it had taken the wind out of Helene, what had it taken out of Sisi?

She gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was nearly lunchtime, but Sisi’s heavy blue curtains were drawn and her room was dim. Clothes and books were strewn haphazardly across the settee. A pair of shoes peeked out from under the bed, where they’d clearly been kicked. A rogue sliver of light escaped around the edge of the curtain to fall, sparkling, onto the golden rug. And on the bed, lying on her side and facing away from Helene, was Sisi. She looked so small, like Mother’s threat had taken away half her presence. Helene had been thinking of herself and Sisi as grown women, but in that moment, Sisi looked like a child again.

Helene took another step toward the bed, tentative, then stopped. Sisi hadn’t answered or turned toward her. Maybe her sister wanted to be alone.

“Sisi?” Was her sister ignoring her because Helene was using her nickname? Helene wasn’t sure if she was allowed to use the endearment anymore. Sisi had never minded before, but lately she’d been asking Mother not to use it. So was Helene forbidden to use the endearment as well? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything these days.

“Are you hurt?” she whispered, knowing it was a foolish thing to ask. Of course Sisi was hurt. Father had come in a short time ago and told Helene about Puck. If Mother hadn’t done the damage, surely that had.

But maybe it was a good thing. Sisi couldn’t keep up like this. She’d ruin herself, ruin her family. And a little hurt now might save her a lot later. A little hurt had forced Helene to grow up, and she knew she was better for it.

Then again, it hadn’t been a little hurt for Helene. It had been the worst moment of her life that forced the change; it was a violent stripping of her confidence in the world she thought she knew.