Tony's stifled laughter was the first sound I heard after waking up.

Opening my eyes, I saw him standing sideways facing the hospital bed I occupied. He was putting his fist to his mouth to strangle a loud snort. And he was amused by Dylan, located next to a large arched window, the only one in the room. Apparently he was trying to open it and was staring at the broken handle, which he now held in his hand.

"What a piece of shit," he muttered under his breath and tossed the broken object onto the windowsill, then glanced at Tony. "Stop guffawing or you'll wake her up."

Surprisingly, Tony tried to calm down a bit. Then both of my brothers gave me a controlling glance, and when they discovered that I really wasn't asleep anymore, their eyes widened. Dylan immediately moved forward to stand to my left. He tried to act natural, which he didn't do very well, because he was obviously uncomfortable. First he intertwined his hands in front of him, then he lowered them loosely along his torso and clasped them again.

Guys, bring a camera, a rare specimen of an embarrassed Dylan just stood in front of me!

I looked up at my brother's dark eyes. I imagined that my expression was void of all emotion, because at least that's how I felt in spirit.

"What... what's up?" he asked quietly. He was serious too, and his gaze was wary.

I knew my answer would either be hoarse or quiet, squeaky or snarling, so I didn't bother to open my mouth.

"What's up," snorted Tony, who was now leaning against the parallel wall with his arms folded across his chest and also watching me intently. "You'd ask her how she's feeling, not what's fucking up."

Dylan looked at him in exasperation.

"Then why don't you ask her yourself, you're here too, right?"

"Whatever, if you're talking, then talk."

"Then be fucking quiet."

I used the duration of their banter to explore the room I had been assigned in this fine clinic. It wasn't very big, but at least I didn't have to share it with anyone, and there was an extra door that probably led to my own bathroom. The walls were a cream color, probably like the hallway, if I remember correctly, but here there was a thick, dark brown stripe stretching across them just below the ceiling. Also, there was a flat-screen mini TV hanging across from the bed, and a brown visitor's chair in the corner near the window. Next to my bed, however, was a table with a pretty flower with thick, luscious green leaves.

Next to Dylan's head was a bag filled with a transparent liquid, which I noticed only when I tilted my chin up. Attached to it was a tube, which my gaze then followed. The other end was a needle stuck into the top of my hand. I stared impassively at the venflon, trying to remember who the hell had put it in me and when.

I glanced back at my brothers, but they weren't done teasing yet.

".. then make yourself useful and go, tell the rest she's awake."

"Well, fine, I'll go."

"Awesome, then go."

"And fuck you, I'm going."

So I continued my inspection. I was dressed in a grey t-shirt. It smelled of powder, so it must have been freshly washed, it was perfectly comfortable, so it must have been of good quality, and a hundred sizes too big on me, so it must have belonged to one of my brothers. I couldn't see the bottom of my outfit because I was covered by a simple, neat quilt. After a while, I was indeed haunted by vague memories of a nurse helping me to change. She had also attended to my forehead wound, and I wanted to lift my fingers to touch the bandage to confirm the reality of those events, but eventually my brain decided that tearing my hands from the comforter was too much trouble for my condition, so I gave up.

"Sorry, Hailie," Dylan muttered to me as soon as the wooden door with its rectangular, milky glass pane closed behind one of the twins. "Tony you know... Tony is stupid."

I stared blankly into my brother's dark eyes, then the growing urge in me to tease him won out and I spoke up for the first time.

"You aren't any better."

Dylan raised a finger and threatened me with it with a pretend serious look on his face.

"Ey, ey, you, don't cross the line, little girl."

I looked at him still unmoved.

"Nu, nu, nu," I muttered weakly.

This patented by him, stupid phrase immediately caused a wide smile on his face. It provoked mine as well, so that suddenly we both just burst out laughing.

At some point my amusement was too much and I felt physical pain. My still oversensitive throat hurt, which was probably due to the choking, among other things. My ribs were sore, and I had bruised them doing flips in that unfortunate car, and my jaw was sore. And a million other things, the analysis of which in my deplorable condition would be completely pointless.

Dylan, probably at the sight of my sudden wryness, became serious and I knew him well enough to know that his muscles, hidden under that loose, gray sweatshirt he was wearing, were tensing up.

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

His statement was quiet, calm, and so ordinary, as if he were simply announcing that he needed to cut back on the caffeine. That's why it sent shivers through me.

"Dylan..." I didn't know what I was going to say and just stared into his determination-lit irises.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him, Hailie."

"Dylan." Our oldest brother's sharp, cool voice rang out as he joined us in the room.

We both shifted our gazes to him. He was in his shirt, as usual, and only slight shadows showed under his eyes. However, they absolutely did not undermine his authority or call into question his strength. He was just casting a hard, warning look at our brother.

"Do you need to go out and cool off?" he asked him, politely as usual.

Dylan clenched his hands into fists.

"She can't even laugh!"

Vince, approaching my bed from the opposite side to Dylan, looked at him significantly, and only after a moment lowered his gaze to me. I was pleased to see that his frigid eyes immediately softened. I needed relief from him as much as ever. I needed him to treat me with kid gloves like I could always count on Will to do.

"How are you feeling?"

Vincent couldn't sound caring, so his question seemed to be thrown in a dry way, but I appreciated the very sense of his words. By the way, they made me realize how hopeless my state actually was.

Sore head, blocked nose and swollen throat could be signs of a simple infection, which my poor, cold body had every right to catch. On top of that there were bruises after the fight with Ryder and bruises after the accident. My limbs were still stiff, my stomach sucked with hunger, my mouth was dry, and I wanted to go to the toilet.

"Quite... so-so," I grunted, trying to do it discreetly, then added: "I think I'm a little sick."

Vincent looked down at me for a long moment and I counted that he blinked maybe twice during that time, then he spoke again, this time openly switching to formal tones.

"You have a feverish condition, the last time your temperature was measured was half an hour ago. This is due to the prolonged weakness of your body. You were dehydrated, so an IV was put in. There were no stitches in your forehead, but they're about to take x-rays of your head and abdomen to rule out serious internal injuries. If you feel up to it, you can take a quick shower first."

I followed his hand with my eyes. So I guessed correctly before that that door led to the bathroom.

I nodded my head. The vision of a shower that Vince had now planted in my mind worked on me like a carrot on a horse. I needed to feel fresh. I needed my hair clean and fragrant. I needed to brush my teeth with some strong mint paste. And wash my swollen eyelids with a cotton pad soaked in cool water. And scrub my back, and my feet, and, oh Jesus, my nails. I just looked at them. Where did that nasty dirt come from?

As if on cue, I tried to get up. I pulled my head off the stiff pillow, propped myself up on my elbows, and lifted my back, but the movements were too abrupt and demanding for my lazy body, causing me immediate pain in even a few places, and I sank back onto the mattress, sighing loudly.

Dylan and Vince rushed at me from both sides, both extending their arms in readiness to insure me.

"Hey, wait, kid, be careful."

"Slowly."

I felt a hand on my chest, gently but firmly restraining me from any more such reckless spurts. Only moments later did I gather the strength and courage to open my eyes again. I immediately met Vincent's gaze, very intense, as if my eldest brother were trying by sheer force of will to convey to me some of his calm and composure. It was his hand that was holding me back. I glanced at it and the massive signet ring resting on one of its fingers. Similar to the one that Adrien had.

Then Vince took his hand, lifted it, and leaned over to, as I soon discovered, summon the nurse with the button hanging just above my head. Then, without a word, he pointed with his chin at my venflon, as if wordlessly arguing his actions. Well, yes, I had already managed to forget about that IV.

While waiting for the nurse, I didn't speak. I was looking at my slim hands, which in hospital conditions seemed to be morbidly skinny. Here and there they were decorated with ugly, purple spots. More than once I moved my stiff fingers, sometimes smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on the quilt. I was busy with silly things so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with my brothers anymore. Not long ago I had begged the universe to be among them, and now that I had them with me, I felt strangely indifferent. It wasn't that I didn't want them here, it was just that my effusiveness was blocked by something, as if my psyche had built itself a dam, in (rightful) fear that I would turn into a crying baby.

There was a sense of tension in the air, and I was sure that Dylan and Vincent were glancing at each other. And when the older one opened his mouth and grunted, I prepared myself for the sound of his cool voice, which didn't happen. We were interrupted by a nurse who entered the room with a smile glued to her face.

The lady looked a bit like a beautician at some esteemed spa. Her neat uniform consisted of a loose shirt and cappuccino-colored pants, and a pretty face was adorned with natural makeup.

My brothers stepped aside while the woman asked me questions about my well-being, which I practically didn't answer, cringing as she took the needle out of my hand. Several times she made sure I was able to shower on my own. As she helped me up from the bed, I thought I was going to throw myself back onto it and suffocate myself with a pillow as she repeated the extremely annoying word "slowly" to me every now and then.

I heard Vince throw quietly to Dylan to open the window and get some air in here and I almost rolled my eyes when he muttered in response that "Tony broke the handle".

"Slowly," the nurse chirped as I lowered my legs off the mattress. Waiting for me right by the bed were perfectly kitschy pink rubber flip-flops with fluffy pompoms. I don't know who brought them here for me, I don't recall having them before.

As I slipped my feet into them and prepared to lift, Vince approached and held out his hand. I gladly chose to hang onto his steady arm over those of the petite nurse. She didn't seem to have a problem with this and merely held out her hands, as if she expected my brother to lack the reflexes to hold me up in case I suddenly slid to the ground.

"Slowly."

I clenched my teeth.

I took the first step and then the second.

"That's right. Slowly."

I twitched and stopped. I realized that I was unnaturally calm, while trapped in my soul were burning, extreme emotions. So it turned out that it didn't take much to release them.

"Well, I am doing everything slowly! I am slow! Even if I wanted to, I couldn't be fast! I can barely walk, as, I guess, you can see!"

My eyes opened wide when I realized that I myself was the author of this outburst. If I hadn't clenched my fingers on Vince's shirt, I would have just covered my own mouth in shock.

The nurse blinked, then lowered her head and apologized to me politely, continuing her assistance in silence. Dylan stared at me puzzled, with raised eyebrows, but didn't speak, and I didn't even dare looking at Vincent. Thankfully, he decided not to comment aloud on my rudeness.

The bathroom brought back in me the feeling of being in a hotel. The glass shower was small but very clean, the toilet white and scrubbed to a shine, and the large mirror over the sink well lit. I was given about five minutes to shower and I was going to watch myself with my watch in hand, because I wasn't allowed to lock the door so the other could react as quickly as possible in case something happened to me. And I wouldn't want someone, such as Vincent, to come in alarmed and find me without clothes. Oh, my lord.

My time limit was cut to the bare minimum, as half of it was lost to examining my battered body in the mirror. I looked terrible. So dirty and bruised. I had bruises in places I didn't even know it's possible to have them.

The warm water and flower-scented shower gel really made me feel better. I jumped into fresh clothes, which were another t-shirt, this time black with some red lettering – I was pretty sure I'd seen it a few times on Tony – and my sensationally comfortable women's boxers and black sweatpants. I was scrubbing my wet hair with a towel when an urgent knock on the door sounded.

The initial examination and evaluation of my injuries had been done while I was asleep, or almost asleep. I had no recollection at all of the doctor who had supposedly attended to me during the night, and had it not been for my brothers confirming this version, I would have thought someone was lying. Such trace amnesia, however, was to my advantage. Like probably everyone else, I wasn't fond of hospitals.

I left the room accompanied by the nurse and Vince. In the corridor we met Tony, who was standing by the candy bar vending machines, and then Will came across us immediately as well. He had come out from behind a corner and was just finishing up a phone call. When he saw us, he immediately came to me, hugged me to his side and at the same time took me over from Vince, who in turn disappeared behind the corner, already on the way pulling out his phone, as usual. This is how, in the end, my favorite brother accompanied me during the next examination, which, fortunately for me, turned out to be a formality.

When I was coming back, still accompanied by Will, we passed Dylan and Tony again, who announced that they were going to get food for everyone. Then we ran into Vincent again as he was talking (probably about me) to the nurse, and when I returned to my room, I found Shane stretched out on my bed like a comma. He had his head on his folded arms and had even taken off his shoes. He was watching tv.

This is what a hospital overrun by the Monet brothers looked like, if anyone asked. I was glad they were all here, nearby.

Which didn't mean I wasn't still irritated.

"Get off," I burbled, moving closer to the bed.

"Shh, little girl," he murmured and held out his arm, encouraging me to lie down by his side, and though I still felt a strange, unexplored irritation, I climbed onto the mattress with a grimace on my face and clung to his side.

Shane could be annoying, it was true, but I also had a secret weakness for him. He just had his moments where he was too comforting to get real angry at. I snuggled up against him and his warm sweatshirt and it felt nice when I felt his hand wrap tightly around my back. I even ignored the fact that I wasn't that comfortable at all. The feeling of closeness was successfully making up for it.

It's not that I fell asleep, I just closed my eyes and stopped hearing my brothers' voices for a moment. Will was giving Shane the boring news that the tests had shown me to have a mild concussion, which didn't look serious, but which had resulted in me being recommended to stay at the clinic a night longer. And then suddenly I smelled the wonderful aroma of a mixture of chili, ginger and, maybe spring onion or garlic? And my nose heated up.

Saliva immediately ran into my mouth and I blinked unconsciously. I was still nestled on the bed beside one of the twins, and as I looked around the room, I noticed that the other four were already here too. It was the first time today that I had seen them all in one room.

Dylan and Tony had brought over Chinese take-out and each now got their portion of the characteristically yellow noodles with vegetables and chicken in red cardboard boxes. I rose to a sitting position and leaned back against the cushions, digging into my dish.

"Funny thing," I began aloud, looking at the wooden chopstick with a friendly smile. "I shoved an identical one into Ryder Hardy's face."

The Monet brothers should have their own private photographer who would follow them everywhere and capture their priceless faces in moments like that, when they were so comical and unique that if it wasn't for the bitterness in me, I would have been rolling on the floor laughing long ago.

There was a grave silence. Tony stopped cackling and Dylan rustling. Everyone was now sticking their confused gazes into me. Even Vince, the king of composure, hadn't expected to hear such absurd-sounding words from my mouth.

I lifted my gaze, shamelessly reciprocating my siblings' attention without letting it intimidate me.

"What are you looking at?" I asked directly, making sure to look into the eyes of each of them, without exception. "Do you guys even care?"

The boys were so surprised that before they could answer me, I managed, shaking my head reluctantly, to go back to digging into my pasta, although it was clear that despite my hunger, my appetite was now equal to zero.

Will was the first to speak up. He himself also momentarily stopped caring about food. He put his portion aside, on the table next to my bed, and came closer.

"Hailie..."

I also felt Shane's hand, which he placed on my shoulder. I immediately knocked it off, a little more aggressively than I intended.

"I don't think so," I replied to myself, then stuck my gaze straight at Vincent, who had managed to occupy the only available chair in the room. "You'll probably just lock me in the house for who knows how long and maybe throw in two more bodyguards. Because why go into details."

"Hailie, when we found out that you had been abducted, there was no time for us to sit on our asses in peace," Shane said quietly and even he stopped eating.

"We were looking for you the whole time," Dylan added.

I gave him an irritated look.

"Well, you guys had a great pace, really. If I hadn't regained consciousness, I would have frozen a long time ago."