Light. Bright, blinding light and the smell of...sterility? You couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but you knew good and damn well you were in a hospital. You searched your mind, trying to think back on the past 24 hours.

Then the pain hit you. And afterwards, your memories.

To put it frankly, you felt like a beaten sack of shit. Your arms ached- no, they burned. It was as if the Texan sun itself decided to nestle on your arm. You could barely stifle a whimper of pain and you faintly hear a machine beep somewhere.

Haven't you ever mentioned that you hate hospitals? All the sick people, the death, sadness, and the sickening sterile smell always set you on edge.

You hesitantly open your eyes, and immediately regretted it. Fucking hell, that's far too bright. You squint, letting yourself adjust to the light level and then try again, glancing around the room. You would've liked to say you were alone, but you weren't. A woman in her mid-twenties had slumped over the end of your bed, fast asleep. And Bro was nowhere to be found. Oh God, where was Bro?

Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh no oh no oh nonononono-

You hear your heart monitor speed up, and that only serves to freak you out more. You can't calm down and will that machine just shut up. You were panting, bright red eyes wide open on full display. Where was your Bro? Did he hate you now? Wait, who the hell is she? Why is there a random woman in your room? Why are you alone with a random woman in a hospital room? Where were your shades? Why can't you breathe, why are you losing your sight?

Oh God.

What was that bang? Why are there voices? No, get their hands off of you! Get them to leave you alone! Try to breathe, don't get claustrophobic, ignore the people crowding around you, you can fix this-

Spots danced across your vision, and you fell into darkness again.

oOoOo

"-don' understand, Rox, I don' know how ta deal with this. I didn'- I shoulda- I shoulda fuckin' known! How glarin'ly obvious can it be ta notice that my lil' bro, who I live with, is sufferin'?" Bro was on another of his famous rants, and again you were the cause, but this time... it broke your heart. Even his accent slipped out, which is rare. You've only ever heard your bro this upset once- you were very young. Someone called... Jack? Blake? Jude? No... Jake. His name was Jake, and he... you don't know what happened to him, but he never came back. After all these years, it's still a touchy subject, and sometimes in the earliest hours of the day you can hear him cry over whatever he had with the man.

"-he was... h-he was jus'... crumpled. On the tile, Rox, with red around 'im. So much blood... I swear I was gon' be sick." You could almost hear your heart shatter into fragments of broken emotions and eased open your eyes.

Bro was in the corner of your room, with the woman from earlier. They were intertwined in an embrace, Bro holding his shades in his gloved hand and his back to you. The woman lifted her head from your brother's shoulder-

-and her pink eyes locked directly with your tired, red ones. They widened and she frantically tapped on your brother's shoulder. He lifted his head, removing his hat and carding his hand through his hair and replacing it. He gave a tired sigh.

"Roxy, what the hell is your problem?" Oh. So her name was Roxy? She looks a lot like Rose.. she even had weird eyes like Lalonde. Was Roxy her mother?

She didn't say anything, but her bubblegum pink eyes glimmered with... something. She pointed at you and Bro wearily looked over his shoulder. And just like pink met red earlier, a brilliant orange locked onto your eyes and stayed there, a fire burning.

You couldn't say anything. Anxiety and previous thoughts flooded your head, closing your throat and restricting your breathing. Bro didn't bother putting his shades back on, he just kept staring.

And staring...

And staring...

...and then the silence was broken by a choked sob from someone, you aren't really sure, and you find your face smothered in the rough material of the polo's that Bro buys in huge packs.No, that can't be right. Didn't he hate you? How couldn't he?

"David.." his voice was sort of oddly pitched and you didn't know how to react.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. You lifted you head and looked around, spotting the water bottle on your bedside table. Cliché, but you'll take anything right now. You reach for it and-

Holy fuck never do that again.

You almost screamed as you irritated your injuries, a loud hiss escaping instead. Bro immediately let go of you and grasped your shoulders, worriedly asking what was wrong. You fixed him with a look that screamed, 'What do you fucking think?' and pointed at your arm. White gauze was snugly wrapped around the entirety of your forearm. Bro grimaced.

"Right, 'bout that.. lil man, ya gave me poss'bly the biggest scare 'a my life. Ya almost didn't make it," he told you, his accent becoming slightly less pronounced as time went by. You knew this information of course, and had nothing to say. You were 100% ready to die, just like that, on your bathroom floor, with a very fragile hope that your bro was being sincere with the words he said.

He might've just been screwing with you. Why wouldn't he hate you? You're a piece of shit. You're racking up what's probably a huge hospital bill. You apparently scared him half to death, but that one you kind of doubted. If he hated you, why would he be scared for you?

Unless he didn't. Unless he didn't hate you.

..maybe he didn't. You're just not sure yet. Nevertheless, Bro hands you the water and you swore in that moment that water was the best thing ever. Your throat was so dry, and you don't even know what it was dry from.

"Thanks," you managed to say. Bro nodded absently and then proceeded to have the most awkward stance you've ever seen on anybody.. ever. He looked so uncomfortable. And you felt the same way.

"Bro?" You hesitantly asked.

"Sup?" His tone gave nothing away, and you asked the question that had been nagging at you since you woke up.

"Who's this?"

Bro looked behind him and offered a hand to her. She smiled absently and took it, standing next to him. She was dressed nice, in a white button-up dress with black stockings and expertly done black lipstick. What interested you about her most was her eyes, and you would say her hair, too, but you honestly don't want to know whats up with that.

"This is Roxy Lalonde, your old babysitter and a very close friend of mine." And that's when the puzzle pieces fit together.

This was totally Rose's mom. She sometimes referred to her mother by first name when their passive-aggressive war got too infuriating for Rose to handle. And her last name, weird eyes, and hair color was the rest of the giveaway.

You weren't stupid by any means, this is just your confirming tidbit of information. And right now you aren't dealing with eloquently wording your sentences, even though that's probably what you should do.

"Fucking hell, you're Rose's mom, aren't you."

There are a lot of reactions one would expect after saying that to a random ass woman that turned out to actually not be so random, but loud laughter was not it. It was like this chick found what you just said to be the funniest shit ever, and just about pissed herself laughing.

"Dirky, you weren't kidding, he really can be bulnt! Er, blunt," she corrected. She sounds like the party animal type, like a rather aged college student who never took the hint to stop partying.

It was odd. Your surroundings were odd. This whole experience has been odd.

"Wait, Dirky? Bro, please don't tell me that's your actual name." You pause then, realizing that you actually don't know your own brothers name. You're sixteen, for God's sake. Bro lightly smirked.

"Ain't Dirky, it's Dirk. Short for Diederick."

And now is your turn to involuntarily pout. Because holy damn, your brother has a cool-ass name. Diederick. Diederick something-or-another Strider versus David Elizabeth Strider. You're gonna ask him about that, actually. You've always wanted to know.

"So you get a cool ass name like Diederick Strider, and you make my fucking middle name Elizabeth," you state monotonously, and Roxy bursts out in laughter again. Bro smirked.

"Yup, lil' man."

You scowled.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" And at that outburst, he joined Roxy in laughing like a maniac. Wow. Your brother's laugh is almost as charismatic as his voice. It almost made you jealous.

Okay, no, you're totally fucking jealous. You sat there and waited while those two calmed down. It was quiet, and you're not sure if it was comfortable or not, since you were completely spaced out. It was a few minutes until Bro spoke into the silence.

"Lil' man, why'd ya do it?"

And just like that, you were incapable of speech. The atmosphere turned tense, and you felt like you couldn't breathe. You fumbled for something, anything to say that would justify what you've done. And you came up short. Roxy and Bro were both looking at you, waiting for an answer. An answer you didn't have. You sat and thought on everything that led up to your first decision to do it. Knowing good and well what happened to spur you on. With their expectant gazes on you, you blurted out the first and foremost thought you had as an answer.

"I deserved it."