â DAMIANO â
Zephaniah returns over an hour later, a tense expression fixed onto his face as he approaches me with purposeful strides.
"Vinnie will ensure the others are made aware of Rori's current condition," he informs me. "I'm going to get a coffee from the canteen. Granted, i'd be better off drinking from a puddle outside. But i haven't had a drop of caffeine since this morning."
I stand up just as he turns around, but, when he realises i aim to follow him, he slowly looks over his shoulder to throw me a contemptuous glare.
"That wasn't an invitation," he chides, and i have to refrain from rolling my eyes at his pomposity, though he proceeds nonetheless.
"The nurse spoke to me while you were away," i reveal.
"She had no right," he insists.
"She told me that Rori is experiencing nightmares."
He immediately comes to a halt.
"What kind of nightmares?"
His eyes are inquisitive now, his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth frowning with concern.
"Nightmares of being drowned by, according to Nurse Jones, a man who vaguely resembles her father," i answer.
He stares at me without commenting, before continuing to walk in the direction of the canteen.
"Rori has never once come close to being drowned," he dismisses.
"I figured," i say. "Nurse Jones emphasised that she was quite distressed, however, and that we'd best look into it. She suggested it could be a projection of what Rori is going through...her past coming back to haunt her, perhaps?"
Zephaniah is silent once more but, as i observe him, i note the way his eyes fail to remain still, as if he is internally assessing the situation.
"Let me get my coffee first, before you start bombarding me with such theories, hm?"
Like Zephaniah, i, too, purchase myself a coffee from the canteen. It isn't too busy, and we settle ourselves in the far corner of the room. I observe my brother intently as he takes a single sip of his coffee, shakes his head in disapproval, and removes the mug from between his lips.
I try my own, then cast him a glance of indifference.
"You're nothing short of dramatic, Zephaniah," i muse.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds.
"Coffee is coffee."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."
"It's not my fault i don't care for it," i remark. "Besides, you could have ordered something else if you truly consider it to be that awful."
He stares at me, blankly.
"And what would you propose?" he asks, unamused.
"There's always tea," i say.
"I'll stick with the crappy coffee, thanks," he grumbles.
"I fail to understand you," i comment, blinking at him in disbelief.
"I could say the same thing," he retorts.
He glares at me for a moment, and i reciprocate the action.
"What do you know about these nightmares Rori is having?" i ask him, inconspicuously.
"I do not think my sister is of any concern to you," comes his typical response.
"After all, she is my sister as well," i point out.
He scoffs, seemingly amused.
"She is your half-sister, whom you did not meet until last month, and that, in my rightful opinion, means she is none of your concern."
I sigh, shaking my head in exasperation.
"You truly do prove, time and time again, that you fail to act mature in just about every circumstance," i rebuke.
His lips curve upwards to form a slight, boyish smirk.
"Well, but maturity is overrated."
This time i close my eyes, momentarily.
"I'm trying to help you here, Zephaniah," i insist. "I'm trying to help Rori."
"You can help all of us by taking yourself back to New York and never showing your face around here again," he tells me. "Or, better yet, go home to Russia. I'm sure it misses you."
"Dear God, Zephaniah," i groan, massaging my forehead in sheer frustration. "Rori wants nothing to do with either one of us right now. If you don't learn to put aside our personal issues for the time being, that'll only continue. Can't you understand that?"
"Are you kidding me?" he asks, his tone laced with incredulity. "We wouldn't even be having this conversation if it wasn't for you resurfacing our so-called 'personal issues' to begin with and causing my sister to turn on me. Can't you understand that?"
"Yes, but i had no idea that you would shoot her," i seethe.
"Like i said, i intended for it to be you."
This is one of many scenarios where i am forced to be the bigger person.
No matter what i say, Zephaniah will always believe that he is the victim.
It is true that i should not have involved Rori, and i deeply regret it in this moment, given the aftermath, but Zephaniah is not making things any better by being so disrespectful.
I want him to face punishment for his crimes. More specifically, i want him behind bars. But right now, i am aware that the right thing to do is to try to piece our family back together. Not for our sake, but for the kids'.
We may never live in harmony, but we can at least make an effort to be civil for the time being.
And so, with great reluctance, i say to my brother, "Let's call Lorenzo."
â VINNIE â
"Seriously?" i seethe, storming towards my eldest brother, as i ignore the concerned looks on the faces of those who linger by the hospital entrance.
"Vinâ"
"You have done a lot of fucked up things, Zephaniah, but shooting your own, goddamn, sister? What the hell is your issue?"
"Keep. your voice. down," he scolds me in a low, threatening tone of voice, as if he has any right to be authoritative in this moment.
Another man who is not much shorter than myself approaches us, rolling up the sleeves of his oatmeal colored, grandad style, knit jumper.
My eyes narrow at the sight of him, easily recognising that he is the same man Zephaniah spent almost an hour telling me about.
"You're Damiano," i say, as if i am informing him of his name.
"You must be Vincent."
He extends his right hand, clearly expecting me to shake it, and i turn to face Zephaniah with an unimpressed glare.
"You put him up to that?" i ask my brother, who raises his hands as if to prove he is innocent.
I face Damiano once more, my glare deepening as i look him in the eyes.
"First thing's first, Damien, my name's not Vincent. It's Vinnie."
I would say the man even appears mildly amused by my response but i pay him no mind, only focusing on the anger i feel for the situation that has just been explained to me.
"My mistake," he apologises, retracting his hand when he realises i am not going to greet him.
"You really thought you were smart calling me, didn't you, Zeph? Didn't think i would react badly?"
"That's not at all true," Zephaniah dismisses me.
"Then what?" i snarl. "What other reason would you have for calling me? It's not like i'm normally your go to consultant," i point out.
"Normally, you are equipped to deal with such situations," is his explanation.
I snort with disbelief.
"What the hell does that mean?" i ask. "Wouldn't you rather Yakov be here?"
"Now that you mention it," he sarcastically grumbles.
I shake my head at his typical ways.
"You shouldn't have called me, Zeph," i say, my voice lowering ever so slightly. "I'm not her guardian."
"Doesn't matter. I decided to call you because i decided to call you. Take it as a compliment, if you will," he quips.
I sigh, averting my gaze elsewhere.
"I told Xavi..." i reveal. "On the phone. As i was on my way here. He's called a family meeting and he's going to break the news to the rest of them."
"She's going to be okay," Zephaniah insists, but his voice is quiet; doubtful.
"You don't know that," i argue, my own voice just above a whisper. "The last thing you said was that her body is failing to repair itself. That she's been sleeping for hours on end. You guys haven't even been able to speak to her yet. And, even if she does make a full recovery, she's not gonna be the same...she's never gonna be the same."
"Don't say things like that," Zephaniah says, his voice far less confident than usual.
"But it's true," i tell him. "And you know it's true," this time, i address both he and Damiano. "There's no going back from this point. Once you're involved, you're involved. And that's it."
The two of them look at me, knowing fully well just what i mean, and, in Zephaniah's case, it is the most remorseful i have ever seen him.
"So, really, well done on endangering our only sister and traumatising her for life. Your brother of the fucking year, Zephaniah."
I turn to face Damiano, looking him up and down with disgust.
"And you," i seethe. "You had no right to involve her in this pathetic drama in the first place. What do you have to say for yourself?"
He remains silent, looking at me with an annoyingly calm expression.
I scoff with not a single trace of humour, and head towards the entrance.
"Fucking brat," i hear Zephaniah murmur under his breath, as he instantly catches up with me.
I push him away from me when he approaches, hard enough that he stumbles slightly.
He clicks his tongue in disapproval but, given the circumstances, doesn't react.
"You're forgetting that our sister was born into this unfortunate family dynamic. As we all were," he tells me, having found his words. "Give me hell about traumatising her, that is completely valid, but do not for one second accuse me of being the one to involve her in a world that is just as much hers as it is mine."
I shake my head, taking a step closer to him as to impose authority.
"I'm fully aware that you didn't bring Rori into this world. I'm fully aware that you were not responsible for endangering her in the first place. And i'm fully aware that we are all one in the same," i pause, taking a breath as to compose myself. "But no matter how young and brainwashed you were, you involved her. You involved her fifteen years ago, and you involved her just now when you introduced her to the feeling of a bullet."
His expression hardens as he looks at me and, even though i know he knows it is the truth, i can tell he is trying to pretend otherwise.
"You traumatised her, Zeph," i say, my tone not coming from a place of resentment but, rather, empathy. "You traumatised all of us. 'Bout time you fuckin' work through your own issues so you can acknowledge that you contributed to ours."
I start walking in the opposite direction once more, but quickly turn around when i realise i am not quite finished with the conversation.
"My God, i mean, between you and Yakov, it's like you're still unwilling to even broach the topic of your childhood, over twenty years later. Not even that, but you don't seem to hold each other accountable," i say. "Yakov didn't fucking speak to anyone from the ages of fifteen to seventeen, Zeph. And, even now, he barely returns my calls...But at least he has the decency to check in on me once in a while. You, on the other hand," i say, my pointer finger held out towards him, as if i am a parent scolding my child, "you wouldn't know a fucking olive branch if you tripped over one."
I release a quiet, humourless laugh, Zephaniah's expression remaining stoic throughout the entirety of my speech, though i know that he fully understands the message i am trying to get across.
"...And i don't wanna sound conceited but, as a middle child in this family, i am sick fed up of dealing with you lot. Sort yourself out, or i might take a leaf out of your book and disappear for five years."
Zephaniah doesn't seem to follow me this time, as i walk into the hospital, which i am grateful for.
Having been here multiple times before, i am able to navigate my way to Rori's floor without the receptionist's help and, as soon as i get there, determinedly storm towards the first nurse i lay my eyes on.
Her expression morphs into one of recognition at the sight of my face, and i vaguely recognise her.
"You must be here for Rori," she says, giving me a once over.
Her gaze lingers, and i glance down to be met with the innocent face of Rori's Simba plush, who's neck is tightly gripped in my tattooed hand.
I glare at him for not reminding me of his presence earlier on. No wonder Damiano was so amused.
"Yeah," i say, holding my left hand out for her to shake. "I'm Vinnie," i add, as if anticipating her to start taunting me with the name Vincent which, as i have clarified many times, is not my name. "Vinnie Åabanowski."
Her eyes widen and she now stares at me as if i am some kind of celebrity.
"You're the guy who started flirting with one of our senior nurses while on anaesthesia, aren't you?"
My throat produces some kind of displeased grunt.
"Anastasia?" i say, quirking an eyebrow. "Not familiar."
She smirks.
"You really are all alike," she muses.
I narrow my eyes at her.
"Do you have a name?" i ask, rather hostilely.
"Nurse Jones," she replies, with a sheepish smile. "Apologies â that was unprofessional of me â would you like me to give the stuffed animal to Rori...assuming it's for Rori?"
"I'll give 'im to her, myself, thank you," i say, even more confused.
"Very well," she responds. "She's resting at the moment, but you can stay as long as you like. There are refreshments in the canteen which isâ" she pauses. "Well, you know where it is."
We reach Rori's room in a matter of seconds, and i instantly look around.
My sister is propped up on the hospital bed, asleep, just as the nurse described her, and i frown at the sight of her frail figure.
When i was last in hospital, i had to undergo several miniature operations due to being shot in my lower abdomen, but it never felt particularly life threatening. Maybe i didn't notice the risks at the time, because i was unconscious for most of it, but, looking at my sister, i can tell that she has had it much worse.
The room, itself, is nice. And there are already several bouquets of flowers sitting on a table by the foot of her bed, which i assume have been given by colleagues of Zephaniah, who may have already heard about what happened.
"Your brother made sure she was placed in the best room in the hospital," Nurse Jones says, and i look over to see her standing in the doorway of the room.
"I'm sure he did," i say, nodding. "Great view," i add, as i glance outside through the window.
"I'll leave you two alone," she says. "If you need anything, i'll be in the foyer."
"I appreciate it."
Slowly, i approach my sister's bedside.
I glance down at her sleeping figure and, with one last silent warning directed at Simba, gently place him beside her.
She doesn't stir, and i feel a little awkward observing her like this while she is, hopefully, having a peaceful sleep.
"I know you don't like to be without him," i murmur.
Though i am fully aware that i am speaking to myself, i half hope that she can hear me.
I sigh when i am met with the sound of silence, and instinctively extend my hand to move the unruly hairs away from her face.
"I hope you're not pretending to sleep â like you used to do in long car rides when you were little," i continue.
She doesn't budge.
I sigh, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. She feels cold to the touch, which causes me to scowl.
"If i was your guardian, i would never have let harm befall you, Sorellina. I would have given you a good life, far away from any of the chaos of our family. And, more importantly, we would live somewhere where such violence is not known..."
â QUENTIN â
Upon walking into the living room, i immediately note the absence of Zephaniah, Vinnie, and Rori.
It's not that i immediately think something is wrong, but my stomach has sunk in a way that would disprove that, and i am left confused.
I am the last to arrive, as i was hanging out with some of my friends at Mikey's house, which is located in Calabasas. I sit down on the love seat next to Seamus. He doesn't greet me, and wears a cross expression that must rival my own.
Sometimes i forget we are identical, and i get creeped out when i see a mirror image of myself.
This is one of those moments.
Xavi rests his forehead in his right hand, massaging it as if to relive tension. He and Yakov are the only ones who stand, in the centre of the room, surrounded by the rest of us who sit on the couches. I immediately feel concerned after i pick up on Xavi's mannerism, as i know it is a sign that whatever news he is about to deliver cannot be positive. Even more so when Zephaniah, Vinnie, and Rori are missing.
"Everything okay, Xav?"
I try to soften my tone as much as possible, but i simply cannot mask my concern.
My brother sighs, reluctantly removing his hand from his face and glancing up in order to face me.
"No."
All it took was this one word, and the atmosphere suddenly shifts.
Xavi is rarely ever this direct.
Usually, in such meetings, he will talk for hours; not stopping unless one of us interjects.
He is never so decisive that he will provide a one word answer.
"What's happened?" i ask, his response immediately confirming that my concern was not to be ignored.
My eyes remain on Xavi the whole time, ignoring the perplexed glances from those around me.
"Zephaniah..."
I frown.
I'm not at all surprised that the topic of this conversation is our older brother, but hearing his name be uttered in such an ominous way only causes my concern to grow tenfold.
"...shot...our sister."
"I'm sorry?" i instantly say, half believing that i misheard him.
"Zephaniah fired a gun and unintentionally shot Rori," he elaborates, rather hasty this time around. "She's in hospital as we speak."
I had assumed Yakov knew what was going on, seeing as he stands by Xavi's side, but, looking at him now, i realise that he was none the wiser.
My second eldest brother's eyes have darkened, and i observe the way his head slowly turns to face Xavi, a shell shocked expression on his face which is a stark contrast from his usual stone cold one.
Wyatt leans against the arm of the couch to the right of us. I cannot see his expression, seeing as his back is facing me, and, if it wasn't for the glass in his hand that has stopped moving entirely, i wouldn't be able to tell that he has even acknowledged our brother's words.
Uvaldo, on the other hand, sits to the left of us, and is staring at Xavi with a dumbfounded expression akin to that of Yakov's, his mouth parted ever so slightly.
And when my eyes eventually land on Seamus, his own staring back at me, once again, i am met with a mirror image of myself in the form of a bewildered expression.
Zephaniah...shot Rori?
(Edited)
A/N: I hope these POVs will not be too boring or too repetitive. These are, of course, initial reactions and so it may seem brief right now but, like i said in the previous chapter, there is still lots to unfurl ð¤.