He winced when he saw his foolish, ungrateful thoughts staring back at him. Frustrated and vexed by himself, he crumpled the paper and threw it against the wall and watched it fall helplessly onto the floor.

For reasons unknown to him, he got up from his seat and retrieved the paper, reading his words once again.

"If Lara sees this..." Crumpling the paper roughly, he threw it into the bin and ensured that it was buried underneath the pile of junk there. He thought of his sister, who wanted him to be more cheerful and sociable.

There's more people to meet, Alara had told him.

Are you close to the rest? He had asked.

No, not really. His sister had replied, solemn all of a sudden. There had been many great people who would have loved you. Gabriel, Rielle...

That was one of the brief conversations that he had shared with her after their reunion. He knew that she had meant that well by telling him about her friends, for she was just merely trying to convey to him that he would have been loved even more had her friends survived. Alara had told him their names without the knowledge that he knew they were dead.

Normally, a reunion was meant to be blissful, yet his was bittersweet.

He couldn't fault her for something that she hadn't known, could he?

He had changed, and it was not for the better.

He had experienced things and suffered through Hell. His endurance had cost him a lifetime of agony and internal wounds that would never heal.

His stubbornness to not give in to the Devil cost him his mind.

He had instinctively known that names of Gabriel and Rielle were the names of the dead as he was cognizant of the ghastly ways they died. After all, the Devil had described their deaths in excruciatingly vivid detail to ensure that he knew how much those people meant to Alara.

Truthfully, this method of psychological torment was something that he had initially doubted if it would have any lasting effects on him, for they were tamer than the normal ones. Yet it was as if the Devil had suspected that he would one day escape as Renald could see why he was doing it.

The torture was working more effectively more than ever. Whenever his sister chatted to him about them, he could never look her straight in the eye, for he felt like he had taken part in their murder for he was conscious of the brutal way they passed.

He was hurt, and he needed help. But that was a part of him that he never wanted his sister to know, and in a place like the Ascendancy Agency, such information would definitely be told to her even if he begged them not to.

It's best to conceal everything and hide my pain. For Lara, I must do that. I must. She must never know of the things that happened to me.

Not her. Not my sister.

Hugging his knees, he leaned back against the wall and sighed, wishing to slip into a coma when he opened his eyes.

The moment he opened them, the tastefully decorated room that was given to him as his bedroom greeted his eyes. To a whole person, it would have been an appealing sight for them as the room was aesthetically pleasing. To him, the vibrancy and colour of the room that he had craved during his capture only killed him more, for he felt extremely undeserving of it.

He had not realised how much he was used to the cramped space of his prison until now. What he had yearned for during his years in captivity was what he now dreaded.

Grass certainly is greener on the other side, he thought bitterly. I'm a great fool. I've only thought to escape, to be reunited with my sister. I had not thought about how I was going to adjust to the new environment that came along with her.

Does a person as broken as me deserve this?

Worse still, there were secrets that he kept from her.

What am I going to do?

Help me. I'm at a loss.

Maren's words were constantly looping in her mind.

"We need to address the elephant in the room, Alara."

"You and I both know that this is so far from the truth. Alara, he has been hurt severely by his captor."

"Alara. You can lie to yourself, but your eyes cannot."

You're wrong, Maren. I can always blind myself with falsities. My brother is fine.

Usually, she loathed the sight of messy things laying around. But she made an exception for her brother- when it came to Ren, sights of an unmade bed, dirty clothes strewn on the carpet and bed, leftovers in containers hidden under the bed were a welcome sight.

They were signs of him returning to normality.

Her brother was laughing more and a chatterbox these days. What made her happier was the fact that he was often hanging around an attractive agent, Loianna, daily. Witnessing her brother's first love and crush was something that she found to be heartwarming instead of disgusting.

Renald always seemed satisfied or content whenever he hung around Loianna and rarely frowned when he was with her. Loianna was an agent that he did not get a chance to know well before for she worked in different departments and was like a gift from the Heavens.

After meeting and hanging out with Loianna, Renald's smile returned.

His bubbly demeanour returned, and so did his optimism and cheeriness.

And she'll always be eternally grateful to Loianna for bringing her brother back.

"Lift the corners of your mouth more. Higher- no, not that high- good, good. Stay in that position." Loianna instructed him as she circled around him. Finally, she unclasped her hands and clapped. "Great! You've finally mastered the art of a genuine smile."

He lifted the corners of his mouth and repeated her instructions.

"You didn't need to do it again, you know. I know that I said that practice makes perfect, but nobody smiles for such a long period of time."

"I know, Loia. I just wanted to thank you with a genuine smile- that's how normal people do it, right?"

Loia nodded her head, and though she tried to mask the pity in her brown eyes, he still caught sight of it. He ignored the sting he felt and focused on the essential lessons that Loia had kindly taught him.

For a month now, he had been learning the ways of normality by the acting coach in the Agency. Loia, a teenage girl who's a true master of the art of acting, was the only one who he could not sense pity or fear from. People feared the unknown, he realised, and people fear the people and things they cannot understand.

In Alara's case, he knew what her fear was. She didn't fear him; she never would. She loved him so much that she feared the damage he had suffered would last forever. What his sister feared was for him- for how he was going to cope with the traumatic memories, for fear that he could never be normal and society would ostracize him because they could never understand him; for fear that he would never be the same happy, carefree boy he was again.

Truth be told, he never would be. But if it gave his sister solace, he could be.

He could pretend to be.

And though every smile and laugh he faked pierced his soul, he was as happy as could be for it made Alara content.

Recently, Renald was on his mind as though he was here for nearly a month now, he often came off as placid and quiet. True, he was a chatterbox when he was surrounded by people, but all he talked about was on the superficial level. He, Maren Santos, wasn't an agent who was respected highly for nothing- something was definitely amiss about him. Maren had a hunch that Renald was putting on a facade of joy in front of everyone to assure that he was fine. Why, Maren would never be certain, but he was confident that Alara was part of the reason for Renald's doing.

The boy was careful, but his being fidgety and careful with the things he says and never letting anything slip never escaped his notice.

It had been a month and he had daily interactions with everyone. He was finally safe and sound, yet Maren believed that the boy had internal scars. It was as if whatever Renald had endured through haunted him. The way Renald's eyes shifted when he thought he was alone; the way Renald was so careful with his words made Maren deduce that there was something- or someone- in the Agency was holding him back from truly opening up. But what could it be?

"Maren," Alara's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

It was the first time in a long while when they were really talking again. After that day's fight, their relationship had become strained. Both of them were overwrought and sick of the hardships they had to constantly deal with, and the toll of doing that was making itself known more than ever.

Fumbling with her necklace, she lowered her eyes and finally admitted, "Something's amiss with Ren. I may have been absent from his life for years, but I know Ren. For a while, I was fooled. I was manipulated by the illusion Ren offered me because I wanted to believe that he was okay. That he was not hurt and strong enough to live for life. But he's gone, Maren." Alara looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. "Gone is the boy who was filled with joie de vivre... but instead, when you examine closely, he's been replaced with a brooding boy that's trying to call for help. He won't look in my eyes, Maren, especially when I mention Gabriel or Rielle.

He won't tell me anything about his years with the Governors. I know they've done something to him. He can't sleep when curtains are fully drawn and loathes anything that produces a beeping sound."

Tears of frustration and suppressed anger ebbed out of Alara's weary soul as she vented to him. "I am a shitty person, Maren. I lashed out at you because you were right from the start. I didn't want to acknowledge that Ren was in pain because I couldn't stomach it. But I have to, whether I like it or not. He can only be better mentally when he can heal. But I... I don't know where to start."

The stark vulnerability in her eyes shocked him. She had never been so open before and rarely sought for his guidance.

"Will... will you help me? I... I'm sorry for how I've been and everything-"

"Of course. I am always here for you, Alara. Always."