Liam (Older brother)

The click of the key in the lock at 1:17 AM was what finally pulled Liam from his restless, couch-bound sleep. The television, which had been muttering a late-night rerun, was instantly silenced by the sharp adrenaline that shot through him. He sat up, the springs of the old sofa groaning under his sudden weight.

The front door swung open with a hesitant push, revealing Maya. She stumbled over the small rug, catching herself on the door frame. Her hair was messy, her clothes looked rumpled, and the sharp, chemical scent of cheap liquor preceded her like a bad warning. She offered a wobbly, too-bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes

"Hey, Liam," she slurred, her voice a little too loud, a little too casual "S-sorry. Lost track of time. We were... partying."

Liam was on his feet in an instant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The initial surge of fear that she might have been hurt or lost was instantly replaced by a scorching, righteous anger. He didn't shout; his voice was low, flat, and dangerously quiet-the tone that always scared her more than yelling

"Partying?" he echoed, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her "You're fourteen, Maya. Fourteen. Do you have any idea how late it is? I called you four times. I was about to call the police."

She tried to brush past him, waving a dismissive hand "Chill out, Liam. It's fine. I'm fine. Just gotta sleep it off."

He blocked her path "No. We're not 'sleeping it off.' We're talking. Do you smell that?" He gestured sharply toward her "That's alcohol. You're drunk. You walked into this house drunk. What in God's name were you thinking? I'm your brother, not your babysitter, but someone has to look out for you, because you clearly can't look out for yourself!"

The reality of her situation, and the intensity of his glare, seemed to finally penetrate her haze. Her bravado crumbled, replaced by a defensive petulance "I just wanted to have fun!" she snapped, crossing her arms tightly