"Her name is Symphony. Today is her birthday."

The boy blinked.

"She is your little sister. Look, she has your eyes, your hair."

"Why are you showing this to me if you won't show me the world?"

The woman placed a hand on her son's shoulder. He slapped her hand away. She let out an audible gasp. For a ten year old, he wasn't that strong, but he also wasn't holding back. How she wished he would. If he did, that'd mean he understood. That'd mean he knew what pain felt like. The woman didn't dare another attempt, instead, she sighed, "Good night, Noiz," and left the room with Symphony silent in her arms.

Noiz stared after her with blank eyes. A moment passed before he let out a slight laugh.

Symphony? Really?

No one ever told him where children came from. As far as he knew, his mother bought it from the same place the servants bought the groceries. But he somehow knew his parents would someday try to replace him. Their first child was a failure, a complete mistake. What sort of emotionless, selfish freak could possibly run his father's company? Noiz was what he was named for-an annoyance, something to be dealt with, nothing beautiful as a symphony. Sure, a symphony couldn't run a company, but it could marry a rich adolescent with experience in business. Perhaps he'd come from some dazzling rivaling company and the two would merge, making even more money. Noiz noticed that's all his father ever cared about. He'd hear him talk passionately of it at the dinner table.

The old man will get what he wants. Then he'll leave me alone, and I can play by myself in peace. He'll stop pestering me about such stupid things, like why I break them.

The little boy looked to his bed. It was devoid of any stuffed animals or any kid's toys; they laid in shreds and remnants on the floor. Noiz kicked a toy soldier's arm out of the way as he climbed into bed and rested his head on the pillows. It was too hot for blankets, so he just had his pajamas. The beginning of summer was always the warmest. June 13th. Just any other day. Noiz closed his eyes. Right before the darkness could overtake him, he made a wordless, selfish wish, then drifted off, only to forget it as he did every other night.

The next few months weren't that different, in contrast to his new sister. The only difference was that he never saw his mother. His father said she stayed locked in her room with Symphony, only coming out for meals and bathroom breaks. It wasn't surprising Noiz didn't see her. Noiz spent most of his days in his room as well.

Some months later, Noiz awoke to hear his nurse knocking on the door. As custom, she brought him his breakfast and his change of clothes for the day. She'd long since abandoned the trial of trying to dress him. Once, Noiz had a wardrobe of clothes, but it was taken away, since Noiz tore the garments apart. It took a few years to force him to accept the clothes on his back. He expertly dressed himself in a white button-up and jeans, leaving the socks, as usual. No matter what anyone would tell him, Noiz hated the feeling of his toes being restricted. Whenever relatives asked why Noiz wasn't allowed outside, his parents could say it was because he refused to wear shoes without lying.

Noiz brushed by his nurse and walked into the long hallway. He followed it to the stairwell, then down through the family rooms no one used except for his mother and him. Every morning he would scan them for changes, anything new that might prove useful to him or anything that would affect him. A new baby meant many new things. Noiz found a large bin of baby toys in the living room, next to a bouncy seat covered in cartoon duckies. There was a mini toilet in the bathroom. But the biggest change was the loud shrieking resounding from the kitchen.

Noiz's mother was sitting before Symphony by the dining table, holding a jar of baby food and a spoon with sloppy green stuff in it. Her usually tight, neat bun was in an unkempt blonde mess. Dark circles masked her cheeks. She let out a low breath, "Morning, Noiz."

Noiz spoke with her monotonously, only making observations aloud and never particularly concerned about his mother or her baby, "You're tired."

"Yes, yes I am," she put down the spoon and jar in front of Symphony, who kept crying, "Unlike you, I can't sleep through thunderstorms."

"A nurse could have fed her."

She shook her head, "Even if you ever learn compassion, you will never understand a mother's love for her children."

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. You're my son. I love you just as much as I love Symphony."

Noiz glanced at the infant's red, pinched face, wailing like there was no tomorrow, "No one could love something that ugly and obnoxious. I guess you don't love me either."

If she were anyone else, Noiz's mother would have been horrified by his words, but as she wasn't, she expected nothing else. Symphony knocked the baby food from her highchair tray. It clinked against the tile kitchen floor, rolling away. Noiz watched it, waiting for his mother to retrieve it, but she remained. A faint yawn escaped her lips as she rose, "Noiz?"

"What."

"Feed your sister for me, please. I need rest."

"You're requesting I sustain the worm."

"Yes. It will benefit you."

"How?"

"Like I said, you will never understand a mother's love."

With that, she exited the kitchen, leaving Noiz with his sister. Symphony heard the door shut and closed her mouth to wipe away her tears. Her tiny green eyes mirrored Noiz's, unsure of who this stranger was and what they were going to do next. Noiz eyed her warily, perplexed as to why she stopped crying. He had only been able to observe his mother, his father, and the nurses and maids. He only knew how adults behaved and what to expect from them. A baby was something he'd never seen before. Noiz waited a few minutes so he could figure out Symphony was incapable of escaping her highchair, then bent to pick up the jar. Turning to sit in his mother's chair, he examined the label. Since he'd never been to school, his nurse taught him to read and write, though his skills were sloppy since he hardly ever used them.

"Peas… and… y-... yams? Ew," Noiz looked to Symphony, "No wonder you won't shut up. This stuff sounds terrible."

Noiz noticed the green smudge on her bib and assumed she was crying because she didn't like the food. He set the jar of shit down and looked for something else. On the table was also a white bottle with a rubber top. It had a label that had numbers on it. Symphony's eyes latched onto it when Noiz shook the liquid inside.

"Did you want this instead? This… ba-bee form-yula?"

The boy lifted the rubber top to Symphony's lips, and she gratefully began drinking. Noiz waited for her to take the bottle from him, but she never did. He impatiently set it down, and she started to cry again.

"Oh, hush. Just grab it and drink, jerk."

Symphony bawled, tears and snot streaming down her face. Noiz shouted, "Just grab it! Here!"

He took her hands and wrapped them around the bottle, then guided them to her mouth. Noiz made sure she was holding it before removing his hands. Symphony suckled away audibly.

Do babies ever stop making noise?

Very abruptly, Symphony dropped the bottle and it squirted milk all over her. She automatically began crying again. Noiz rolled his eyes, groaning and clapping his hands over his ears. At that moment, a maid came in and screamed. The sound forced Noiz to turn around. Of course, it had to be one of the maids that feared Noiz. It had to be when his face was dark with annoyance. It had to be when the baby was crying.

"Get away from her!" she cried, eyes wide. Noiz lowered his hands and didn't move.

"I didn't hurt her."

The maid quickly reached over and grabbed a meat knife from the rack on the counter. She poised it at him, the blade shaking in her unsteady hands, "I said, get away!"

Noiz's gaze drifted lazily to the knife, then back to the maid's eyes. Keeping them locked on to her, he approached her. She stayed rooted to the spot, making strangled gasps when Noiz took the knife from her. He made sure she was watching when he dragged the blade's tip across his cheek. The cut wasn't deep, but blood instantly dribbled down his neck. The maid's pupils shrank. Noiz made no utterance of pain, as he didn't feel it. Very slowly, his palm opened, and the blade clanked to the floor. Symphony screamed louder in time with the maid's. Half a second later, a large man came into the kitchen and grabbed Noiz by the arm and hauled him up the stairs back into his room. Noiz gave all the resistance he knew, which would never be enough against a grown man. All the kicking and punching and biting wouldn't be enough for the man to stop from throwing him into his room and glowering into his eyes.

"Touch my daughter again and I'll cut your damned throat."

The man slammed the door behind him. Noiz stood there, alone, his cut still leaking blood. He reached up absently to trace his fingers over it, and looked down at them, examining the red.

Go ahead. It's not like I'd feel it or anything.

Noiz sighed, crossing his room to the window seat on the opposite wall. The only view it provided was of the street in front of the house. He knew the stores, the other houses, the other people's routines. He'd already learned it. There was nothing interesting out there. But there wasn't anything to break in here, nothing to learn in here, so why not watch a rerun of his only show?

And yet, it's not even noon.