Sooo... I'm going to start this chapter by warning you that I may or may not have gotten a wee bit carried away. This chapter is currently clocking in at around 8,305 words. So if it feels like it's taking forever to end... I'm sorry.

Juliana's POV

"Either come in or fuck off." I grumble into my pillow, prying my eyes open to see Gino standing in the doorway of my room.

"Sorry." He apologises, shutting the door and cutting off the loud noises of the hospital. I swear, people never shut up.

He just stands there by the door, staring at me. Feeling awkward, and a little too tired to care, I just lay my head back into my pillow.

There's really no comfortable way for me to sleep. I have broken ribs on both sides, majorly on the left, I can't roll to my right side for obvious reasons, and even with the boot the added weight hurts my ankle.

And if you're annoyed at my complaining, too damn bad because this shit hurts.

I can't tell if I love or hate Patricia for agreeing to give me a sleeping pill last night. Uncle Stefano was more than wrong, I in fact did not sleep, even with my parents absence. So ha. I was right.

It was maybe Patricia's second round coming into my room when I broke down and begged her for a sleeping pill.

You know that feeling, when you're exhausted, your head hurts, your eyes are literally crossing from exhaustion, and you still can't fucking sleep?

That's what happened to me last night.

And baby let me tell you hospitals don't mess around with their hypnotics.

So while it is well past my usual wake up time of 7 am, aka when our day nurse starts her shift, I, most definitely, still feel every ounce of that drug.

"You look like shit." Gino says to me, his voice is that deep raspy voice that most boys have post puberty after they've just woken up.

"Thanks. You've always known how to make a girl feel her best." I reply dryly, voice muffled from my face down, scare-the-shit-out-of-your-nurse position.

It's silent, and while I know for a fact that he's still in the room, it surprises me. Gino hates the silence. I think it reminds him of when things got bad with Jameson.

We didn't always just sit there and take it.

The older we got, the sneaker we became. Sometimes, if there was ever a day he came home absolutely pissed, we'd hide.

Throughout the years we had tried and true spots that we referred to as 'safe spots.' Spots that nobody but us knew about. Especially Jameson.

And sometimes, we just didn't want to talk about it. As Jameson started integrating his friends into our 'punishments', or playtimes as he referred to them, the harsher everything got.

Sometimes, we just wanted the comfort of having someone else who understood what we were going through.

So yeah. Gino avoided the silence every chance he got. Which was why it was so troublesome that he was so quiet right now.

I could hear his breathing though. Since when has he breathed so heavily? Has he always done that? It's quite annoying, mind you.

He disturbed the peace by taking a step. It's not a loud step, it's quite soft in comparison. But against the still air of the room he might as well have been stomping.

He takes another, and another. Slow, controlled. Giving me all the more time to call off his approach.

But I don't. I'm interested to see what's going to happen. Here's a prediction:

He's gonna lay down on the bed. He's going to sit there awkwardly and eventually apologise. I'll forgive him, like I always do. And we'll go our separate ways until something traumatising draws us back to each other.

Like always.

He takes care of the first part of my prediction. Laying down gently on the bed.

Seeing as I'm laying with my head to the foot of the bed, with my feet where my pillow would usually go, he doesn't have the rails of the bed restricting him.

He's careful with his movements. Precise. He makes sure he doesn't put any weight on my shoulder, and tries not to jostle me as he nudges me over.

I comply, using my left arm to sort of army scootch to the side. I turn my head to look at him as he lays on his side, balancing precariously on the edge of the bed.

What better place to fall though?

He takes the arm he's not using as a prop for his head and puts it around my back, somehow knowing which areas to avoid.

He scootches a little closer, and now he's holding me. His grip is firm, but not so heavy that it's painful.

He just lays there with me. Allowing me to forget for just a moment where we are. Letting me forget the pain.

Forget the struggle to do something as instinctual as breathing. Allowing me to forget my limitations in that moment, and pretend my life wasn't a huge shitshow.

"I'm sorry." And of course, he breaks the silence. The peacefulness of my little delusion, to carry out step two of my prediction.

He doesn't specify what he's sorry for. If he's sorry for lashing out at me. For not coming to see me sooner. Hell, for not picking up the phone and doing something so trivial as texting me and asking if I was okay.

But no – anger is not what I need right now.

"You don't have to apologise." I say, opening my eyes and finally looking at him. And I mean looking at him.

How long has it been since I last saw him? Four, maybe five days tops? He doesn't look like the same person I knew before.

Not that anything significant had changed. He hadn't dyed his hair, or gained a bunch of weight, just the opposite actually.

No, it was all trivial things.

His hair is greasy and stringy. Kind of like noodles. A tell-tale sign that he hasn't showered in a couple days. But then again, who am I to talk?

His eyes look sunken, and he was adorning dark, discoloured circles under each one, telling me he probably hasn't slept all that great in the past couple days.

You can practically see the stress in his features. He no longer looks like a seventeen year old boy, but someone older.

"Stress doesn't look good on you." I whisper, rolling onto my left side and using my good arm to poke at his split lip.

He doesn't respond, just wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me from the hips and pulling me close to him.

He moves his arm back up to my middle, hugging me properly.

It was kind of nice, I'll admit. Having someone who wasn't afraid of hurting me. Who didn't obsess over the injuries, or be scared of poking me with a cotton ball.

But of course Gino was different. We had danced this dance a hundred times. Sang this tune more times than I cared to recount.

"You've missed some pretty good drama." He whispers. "Jamie hasn't taken too well to the news. I can't tell you how many temper tantrums she's tried to throw. The adults aren't having it though."

I feel bad for laughing at that. But can you blame me? Jamie can act so spoiled sometimes.

"I bet that was really hard for her." I whisper, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah. It's not like she's used to getting her way or anything." Gino laughs, and I smile, resting my head against his chest.

When I wake up, he's not there anymore. Instead, my right arm is resting on a pillow.

"Hey Juliana, I need you to start waking up for me." A voice says softly, a hand patting my back. I sigh, using my left arm to push myself up, letting my injured leg fall off the bed and sitting up with my right leg bent beside me.

"Hi Aunt Stefanie." I mumble, rubbing my eyes and letting out a yawn. I have no idea what time it is, or where Gino went. I'm assuming he went back home though.

"Hi sweet girl. Justin just got out of school. He wanted to see you." She says and I nod, looking over to the door and waving at Justin who was standing in the hallway with his backpack on.

He waves and skips into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hi Julieee." He sings. Dumping his stuff in the chair next to my bed. He then sits on the bed, giving me a slit second hug that doesn't actually require him touching me.

"Hi Juju." I say absentmindedly as I rub my eyes again, still not fully awake.

Whether Justin notices the odd nickname or not, he doesn't react to it. He just starts rummaging through his bright red backpack while he starts to ramble about his day.

"So I have this teacher, her name is Mrs. Revera. She's awful. Not like, as a teacher, but everybody just hates her. She's a huge b-word to the students"

"Justin." Aunt Stephanie warns, interrupting his rant.

"What?" He whines, looking up at his mother. "I didn't actually say the word, bitch. I just insinuated it." I smile at that comment, but take notice that the longer he talks, the more childish his voice sounds.

Looks like someone is going into little space.

"But you just said it." I laughed, and Justin turned his head to glare at me. He gives me a 'shut the fuck up' face before turning back and smiling at his mother.

Aunt Stephanie rolls her eyes at him telling us that she was going to pop out to the nurses station for a moment and to be good.

Justin just goes back to look for whatever it was he was rummaging in his backpack for.

"Anyway, she's our Pre-Algebra teacher. She had the gall to tell me that I wasn't ready for Algebra next year. Like, what?" Justin griped, sitting up and kicking his backpack when he failed to get whatever it was he wanted.

"You're still in Pre-Algebra?" I ask, instantly regretting my word choice as I hear how rude I sound.

"Yes, Juliana." He spits at me, giving me the most viscous glare I had ever seen on his face. But the only emotion his eyes showed was hurt.

"I'm still in Pre-Algebra. I'm also in summer school, and at risk for repeating my grade. Sorry we can't all be scholars like you."

"No, that's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean, Juliana? Huh?" He cuts me off, anger replacing the hurt. But he doesn't give me a chance to respond.

"You meant that I'm an idiot and you're better than me. I get it. God, I can't wait until this is over. I can't believe dad is making me do this." He mumbled the last part, but I know that he had every intention of me hearing him.

I just take in a breath, staring at the rough bed sheet below me. They should really look into a different detergent. These things are awful. Like sleeping underneath sandpaper.

I really wasn't trying to hurt Justin's feelings. I genuinely forgot that maybe Italy's school system worked differently than mine did. Or went at a different pace. I didn't mean to upset him.

Aunt Stephanie came back soon after that, her face adorning the fakest smile I had ever seen.

"Well, is there anything the two of you would like to do? Maybe watch a movie, play a game, eat some lunch?" She suggests, and Justin gets up, moving to the rocking chair by the window.

"I'm good. And isn't it almost time for dinner?" Justin gripes, rocking himself back and forth while staring out the window.

"Well yes. But Juliana. You really do need to eat something. You've been sleeping all afternoon." Aunt Stephanie directs her attention at me, and I shrug.

"I'm not really hungry. I'm still kind of tired." I mumble, leaning back against the head of the bed and bringing my right knee to my chest.

I need to shave. It's been almost a week, and I'm starting to get hairy. And I probably stink too. I haven't showered since I got here. Disgusting, I know. But everything about the hospital is disgusting.

"Hmm. Maybe I should call the nurse. Why are you so tired today honey?" She asks, sticking her hand out to touch my forehead.

I flinch at the sudden movement, and while I know she noticed I'm grateful that she doesn't respond. Her hand feels really cold. Like she'd just stuck it in an ice bath.

She hums distastefully, taking away the ice pack that is her hand.

"You're a little warm, honey. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" She asks, and I nod.

"Just tired." I lied. I don't feel the greatest, but it's just one of those icky feelings you get from time to time. Nothing serious.

"If you're sure." She trails off, changing the subject with a happy smile. "I talked to your parents. They said they should be here in a couple of minutes."

I feel my mouth break into a smile of its own accord, a strange feeling of excitement bubbling up inside of me at the mention of my Mom and Dad.

"Mom, when can we leave?" Justin gripes, looking up from his phone as he rocks himself more forcefully in the chair.

Hearing his voice makes me drop my smile, and I again feel guilty about making Justin upset.

"Justin, don't be rude. We're here to keep Juliana company." She scolds, and Justin mumbles something under his breath unhappily.

"It's okay if he wants to leave. I don't particularly like hospitals either." I let out a dry laugh, and Aunt Stephanie doesn't look convinced. "Besides, you said my parents would be here soon. They can keep me occupied. It's fine I promise. I completely understand."

I give her as convincing of a smile as I can, and she sighs.

"Since you insist on being rude," She addresses Justin, who had gone back to staring at his phone. "Then when Juliana's parents get here, we can leave."

"You know, for somebody who doesn't like hospitals you're sure in them a whole lot." He comments, ignoring his mother.

Both Aunt Stephanie and I's mouth's drop. Mine from hurt, and I'm pretty sure hers is from astonishment.

"What the actual hell did you just say?" She snaps at her son, sounding completely flabbergasted.

"You heard me." Justin says, sitting up straighter and looking me dead in the eye. "For someone who supposedly hates hospitals, and the attention they bring, you're sure in them a lot." He repeats, seemingly oblivious to the warning tone in his mothers voice.

"Apologise." Aunt Stephanie's voice is significantly lower than usual, and I don't think that's a good sign for Justin.

"Now." She demands, her voice at a regular volume, power behind her words.

"Why should I?" Justin sneers, obvious to the fury in Aunt Stephanie's eyes. "She's an attention seeker. Jamie told me so. This is what she does. Whenever she feels like she isn't getting enough attention, or doesn't get what she wants she does something dramatic and-"

"JUSTIN." Aunt Stephanie yells, making me jump in surprise. I don't think I had ever heard her raise her voice before.

Justin has just about the same reaction as me. He doesn't jump, but he sure does look shocked. Aunt Stephanie marches over to him, snatches his phone out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket.

"Go to the car." Justin opens his mouth to say something but she is not having it.

"Since you can't act like we've raised you with manners, go wait for me in the car. I will be out there after Juliana's parents arrive, and you better pray to god that I've calmed down by then because you are on very thin ice young man." She snaps, and I swear I can almost see her vibrating, with anger.

Justin glances at me, and I direct my attention back to my nails. They look atrocious. I've been picking and biting them almost nonstop since I got here.

"Mom I-"

"Go." She cuts him off. "Save it for your father." Out of the corner of my eye I swear I see Justin get pale, but I have to choose to ignore it. To ward off those thoughts.

Justin wipes at his eyes furiously, practically running out of the room.

After the door slams shut behind him, the silence is heavy. Aunt Stephanie sighs, rubbing her hand over her forehead.

"I'm really sorry about him, Juliana." She apologises, and I just nod. Somehow the nail of my thumb had ended up in my mouth.

It was annoying, because there was hardly any nail left, so I was basically nibbling on skin.

The pain of it grounded me, in some odd way. The fact that it was self-inflicted, not something inflicted upon me. Something within my control-

No. No, I'm not thinking like that. I'm not going back there.

"Juliana." I gasp when a hand touches the back of my head, jerking to the side. I see the pain in Aunt Stephanie's eyes and I instantly feel like shit.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, and she shakes her head. She wraps her hands loosely around me, moving slowly this time. I lean the side of my head against her stomach, holding her arm with my left hand.

"None of this is your fault. I don't know why Justin said what he did, but he's wrong. You didn't ask for this."

I take a shaky breath, wishing more than anything that this could just be over. Why couldn't I have just been born into a normal family?

A knock on the door breaks up my little pity party. I see my mother peek her head inside, and I smile at her.

"Hey. Hope we're not interrupting anything." She holds the door open for my dad, who takes his sweet time getting through the door, closing it behind him.

I think people have picked up that I don't like my door being left open.

"Hi Ana. How are you doing baby?" Dad asks, crutching over to my bed and placing a kiss to my forehead.

"I'm good. But who's Ana?" I ask, scrunching my nose up.

Dad laughs pushing my head back with his palm.

"It's you, silly."

"No it's not. My name's Juliana. Not Ana. You missed a few letters." I explained melodramatically.

"Oh, silly me. How could I forget my own daughter's name?" He brings his hand up and smacks his forehead, shaking his head like he was disappointed in himself.

"Dad." I laugh, pulling on his elbow, but he's practically superglued his hand to his forehead.

"Oh Stephanie, before I forget, we caught Justin practically sprinting out of hospital. He looked really upset, but wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

"Justin is in a lot of trouble right now – I'll tell you about it later. But speaking of him, I don't want to leave him with the guards for too long, so I should probably get going." Aunt Stephanie leaves with promises of returning soon and then it's just my mom, my dad and me.

"So, Ana," Dad puts a teasing stress on the name Ana, and I hold back and eye roll. "Anything happen today?"

"No. Same as every day. I've not seen any of the doctors or nurses so fingers crossed that means I'm going to go home soon." I said, holding up one of my hands and crossing the first two fingers.

"Fingers crossed. I heard Gino came to see you. Has anyone else stopped by?" Mom asks, and I give her a weird look.

"No. Just Gino, Aunt Stephanie, and Justin." I recite. Now that I think about it, I've had a very odd combination of people visit me today.

Be it Elijah to check up on my physical well being, or Uncle Stefano popping in to say goodnight. Then of course either Hunter would come, normally accompanied by Justin, or Elliot would pop in literally to just stare at me.

He'd brought a few drawing supplies one time, so I guess I was thankful about that.

Seriously though, if the most entertaining thing he can think of is going out of his way to come here and stare at me... That boy needs to get a life.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't see mom and dad sharing a look.

"Why?" I ask, breaking them out of their little private parent-y chat. "Was there someone you were expecting me to see?" I question, and they both immediately jump to tell me that no, there was no one else.

Yeah... Because I totally believe that. And it totally didn't make me more suspicious.

"Juliana." Dad says, getting my attention. He tilts his head in my mother's direction. "Is there something we talked about yesterday?"

I cringed, pressing my lips together. It's not that I didn't want to apologise to her, I know I need to. I was a complete ass to her. But I really just wanted to forget about it.

"I'msorryImadeyoucry." I mumble, bringing my left leg back up onto the bed, inspecting the boot to give me a reason to not look at my mother.

"Excuse me?" My mother asks politely. I don't think she's trying to make this worse for me. More so she genuinely didn't hear me.

"I'm sorry I made you cry." I say, a little more legibly, picking a small piece of fuzz out of a velcro strap.

"It's alr-"

"No." My dad interprets whatever my mom was trying to say. Rude much? "Is that how you give an apology, Juliana? Or do you look at the person you're speaking to?"

Yeah, having a parental figure is going to get old real quick. I get over myself, knowing my mom deserves a true apology, and look up at her.

"I'm sorry I made you cry yesterday. I know I was being rude, but I wasn't trying to upset you. I'm not really sure why I behaved that way." I admit, staring at the centre of her nose so she would think I was maintaining eye contact.

Staring into someone's eyes is just weird and uncomfortable. I don't understand how some people consider it 'polite' cause I just see it as creepy.

But no offence to people who like that type of stuff. We all have our red flags.

"It's okay. Yesterday was very overwhelming for all of us. I don't blame you for lashing out. Thank you for apologising." She smiles softly at me, and I'm suddenly glad that Dad made me apologise correctly.

Stupid parents and their ability to make everything better.

"We brought some games you might like to play. And, we even brought you some cookies." Mom says, shoving her purse to sit on the adjustable table.

As she's pulling out a lot of different games, and I mean, she's pulling out so many games I'm wondering how the front desk didn't ask to check her bag. That's how many freaking games she stuffed in there.

As she continues pulling out game, after game, after game, after game, she finally pulls out a tub that has paper towels lining it, concealing the inside.

My eyes brighten as I reach out my good arm, opening and closing my hand like a crab claw.

She hands them over absentmindedly and I rip the tub open, which is surprisingly difficult with one hand, before I take a big inhale, smiling creepily down at the cookies.

In my stomach you shall be soon, my pretties. Mwahahahaha.

I'm so focused on my plan to devour the delicious cookies that I don't hear the soft two knocks on my door that signal the nurses.

"Hey honey. How are you this evening?" Nurse Patricia asks, as she walks in, making sure to close the door behind her.

"I'm good, what are you doing here already?" I ask, my gaze wondering up to the large digital clock that was positioned right above the big nurses computer they use to snitch on patients.

I see that it is in fact a little bit after 19:00, which I learned is when she clocked in.

"Oh, that's weird. When did it get to be that time?" I question to myself, obviously not lowly enough because it excites a laugh out of everybody in the room.

"Well from what I hear, you've been too busy sleeping all day." Nurse Patricia teases me as she scans her badge on the little barcode scanner that is attached to the computer that allows her access into my account.

"Hey, you're the one who gave me a sedative at almost four in the morning." I remind her and she smiles innocently at me.

"Don't tell anyone, but I slept all day too." She mock whispers that last part to me, and I smile at her.

"So, I know you've had a couple extra rounds of feeding today, but have you eaten any solid food today?" She asks and I pick up a cookie, shoving about half of it into my mouth.

"Yesh." I lisp around my bite of cookie. But damn, not that I'm complaining or anything, but whoever baked these was not playing around when it came to size.

Nurse Patricia does a double take when she sees me, and lets out a laugh.

"Girl get that out of your mouth before you choke. Cookies don't count." She laughs as she walks over to the sink, which is adjacent to the door, grabbing a few paper towels and passing them to my dad who passed them to me.

I clamp my mouth shut, shaking my head no as I force myself to swallow the too large bite of cookie.

I cough, realising that might not have been the best idea. I cringe at the burning in my throat, and dad hands me water with a look on his face that all parents master.

It's that, 'Should have listened to me, yeah?' look.

I just sip the water and silently pout. How rude of him to be right.

Nurse Patricia walks over and takes my blood pressure, my heart rate, presses on the tips of my fingers. She frowns slightly when she sees how long it takes for the blood to refill in my capillaries.

"Make sure you're drinking water. I know we've still got you hooked up to the IV, but the less dependent you are on that, the better. How's your throat feeling?" She asks, while she grabs the tympanic thermometer sitting up on the wall of torture devices above my head.

"Yeah, I mean, it's still sore, but it's not as bad as it was." I explain as she presses the thermometer to make sure it's on, before swiping it over my forehead until it beeps twice.

"That's good, let me know if you want any more numbing gel." She murmurs to me as she squints down at the thermometer.

She puts it back on the wall, taking a glance at the clock above her snitching computer.

"I'm going to take your temperature again in about five-ish minutes, so don't drink anything, okay?"

"Um, you literally just told me that I needed to start drinking more." I remind her, playfully bringing the cup up to my lips and she scoffs at me, taking the drink from my hands.

"Okay, then I'm being hypocritical. You can start in five minutes." She says, setting the cup out of my reach and going to log my vitals into the computer.

"I think her Aunt was right, she is a little warm. I want to keep an eye on that, especially with what's going on with her lungs." Patricia tells my parents, but I notice something odd that she said.

"What do you mean, what's going on with my lungs?" I ask, and her hand freezes over her keyboard for a second, before she continues typing.

"I'm sorry, Juliana, I'm not licensed to discuss diagnoses with you. You can try asking Elijah, but I think you'll be finding out soon enough." She says, and I want to pull out all of my freaking hair.

I mean, yeah. I already knew she wasn't legally in the position to talk to me about information I wasn't previously privy to, but it was so frustrating not knowing what was wrong with yourself.

"I know." I sighed. "I don't know why I asked, I'm sorry."

"If I were in your position, I would have pulled the same exact thing. No harm in being curious, honey." She says, and then there's another knock on the door.

"How's it going in here?" Elijah asks as he comes in carrying a bunch of square, cardboard looking bottles.

"What's wrong with my lungs?" I ask and he freezes, looking up at me.

"Well hello to you too. I'm doing good, by the way, thanks for asking." He drawls, rolling his eyes at me while walking into the room and dumping the cans on my bed.

"What are those?" I ask, momentarily distracted.

"Do you pay any attention to me at all? I've literally given you these every night since you've gotten here." He says, flicking my ear.

"Nuh uh." I defend. "You bring chocolate milk in a big bag and hook it up to my feeding tube."

This elicits a laugh out of everyone in the room, and I press my lips together, glaring at Elijah. Still smiling, he reaches out two fingers and squeezes my cheeks, causing my lips to do that fish face thing.

He clamps and un-clamps his fingers, and I pull back, snapping my teeth at his fingers. He yanks his hand back, pouting like I had bit him.

"Well, you're about to see what that 'chocolate milk' actually is." Elijah tells me as he grabs the cardboard bottles.

"So these are called Isosource. It's a formula we put into your feeding tube-"

"Hold up, you're giving me formula? Like what you would give a baby?" I interrupted. Who the heck thought that was a good idea?

"No. It's meant for feeding tubes. It's a mixture of proteins, vitamins, and calories. Everything you can't sustain for yourself right now." He explains.

I just nod along, watching him disconnect the bag he normally replaces every night. He pulls it down, holding it loosely in his grip.

With his other hand, he holds out one of the baby formulas, or excuse me, isosource to me.

"Can you take off the cap for me?" He asks, and it's a little difficult thanks to me having to use my left hand, but I still get it off.

"Good job. Do you want to pour it?" He asks, and I nod, taking the carton.

I take a small sniff of it, and scrunch my nose up. It definitely doesn't smell like chocolate milk. It smells like baby formula.

I give Elijah a suspicious look, pouring the thick, goopy substance into the bag.

"You're sure this isn't baby food?" Elijah just rolls his eyes and asks if I'd like to do the other four. I shrug my good shoulder, and he hands me the next one.

I get the cap off and pour it in the bag along with the other one. The bag is about halfway full, but Elijah tells me to just go ahead and pour the other two.

"Is this drinkable?" I ask before I pour the third one.

"I mean, technically? Yeah. I can't promise it'll taste- Juliana!" He exclaims when I've already dumped a fourth of it in my mouth before he can finish his sentence.

I cringe, forcing myself to swallow and then shiver in disgust. It wasn't necessarily the taste, but the texture. It was really thick and kind of slimy. There was no actual taste though, just a sort of cardboard-y aftertaste.

"That's kinda gross." I say, tipping the thing upside down and shaking it violently into the bag.

"I tried to tell you." He griped, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Juliana." Nurse Patricia groans, and I remember that she was in fact, still waiting to test my mouth.

"Oops?" I smile innocently at her, and she puts her hands on her hips.

"I will be back in a few, don't let her drink anything, I need to take her temperature." She scolds Elijah while she logs out of the computer.

Elijah puts his hands up in a mock surrender, claiming innocence under the fact that he didn't know.

"If you just need her temp I can get it before I leave. Oral, right?" He asks, and Nurse Patricia nods.

"Yes. Thank you Elijah. I'll be back in a couple hours to check on you, Juliana."

Nurse Patricia leaves, and Elijah hands me the final carton.

"Are you sure I need this many?" I question, looking at the bag, confused. It was already pretty full, that third one had only left a little room on the top.

"I'm sure. You haven't eaten anything today, so we're doubling up on your feedings to make up for it." He explains as he urges me to pour the final one.

I tip this one upside down as well, however this time, instead of going straight into the bag, I misjudged the distance.

I see the whole thing in slow motion.

The Isosource slipped down the side of the bag. Elijah's free hand flying towards me. I shy away on instinct, spilling more of the feed as my fingers let go of the carton instead of pulling it upright.

Elijah's hand, the one I thought was coming towards me, wrapped around the carton, clutching onto my fingers as he turned the carton upright.

"Whoops. Be careful." He reminds me, smiling at me. He keeps his grip on my hand, directing it to pour inside of the bag.

Only half the carton remained, but that was all that was really going to fit anyway.

"Thank you for your help Juliana." He says as he takes the now empty carton, setting it on the table with the other empty ones.

His voice isn't condescending, or sarcastic, like I expected. No, he's being genuine.

"Hey Hunter, can you get some paper towels?" Elijah asks, and Hunter, who I had forgotten was in the room, walked over to the sink, getting the paper towels.

He holds one out to me, helping me wipe it off when he realises that might be a little difficult for me to do on my own.

He squeezes my hand when he's done, and I'm embarrassed, knowing he can feel the insistent tremors.

I groan when I hear a knock at the door, praying it was just Nurse Patricia.

It's not.

"Well would you look at this mess." Nonna says as she walks into the room.

I lean forward, pressing my head into Hunter's ribs. I feel his arms wrap around me as he leans down and whispers to ask me what's wrong.

I just shake my head, my thumb nail making its way into my mouth. Hunter pulls on my arm, saying that's gross, but I don't care. I'll care about what's gross or not when I'm home.

I hear talking, but I don't understand anything being said. It's like my brain is disconnecting. I start to feel fuzzy and warm, safely wrapped in Hunter's arms. I start swaying, the need to cry slowly dissipating.

I start forgetting why I was overwhelmed in the first place. What's there to be overwhelmed about? Hunter's here. Mom and Dad are here. Elli's here. Nonna's here. What's so bad about that?

Hunter's POV

I'm not sure what's up with Juliana. I know she got scared after she spilt whatever it was Elijah was making her pour into her feeding tube or whatever.

I think he handled it pretty well. He just acted like it was no big deal and made me clean it up. Like, boy? I know she can't do it, and she already felt bad enough, which is why I didn't make a big deal about it.

But seriously Elijah? What do you think I am? Cause I ain't your cleaner.

Anyway, I thought she was calming down. I mean, her hands were still shaking, but she didn't look like she wanted to go crawl in a hole and die. So that's a plus.

Then Nonna came in, and I mean no disrespect to her, but did she seriously have to point out the mess on the floor?

Now, I'm trying to get Juliana to talk to me while Nonna asks what's going on.

Elijah is still trying to get her tube set up, and my aunt and uncle look like they want to help, but like they're afraid they'll only make the situation worse.

Which they honestly might. So not helping is the best choice on their part.

Juliana's thumb goes up to her mouth, and she starts gnawing on her nail. Like, girl if you're hungry, we can get you some food. Your poor thumb isn't the solution.

I pull at her thumb, but she whines that scary whine all kids perfectly that tells you, stop or I'll cry.

I let her continue to eat her thumb, and Elijah finishes up whatever he's doing, turning to Nonna to say that Juliana probably just needs a second.

I can't tell whether Juliana heard what Elijah said and agreed, or if her minute's up. Either way, she starts to relax. Her thumb slips further into her mouth, and she starts to suck on it.

'Oh fuck. Oh please no. Not on me, why is it always me?' I think in despair.

"Juliana?" I whisper, and she looks up at me, thumb still in her mouth. Her eyes are wide with questions.

I can't say I'm not happy at the change. I mean, it's better than the constant heaviness her eyes hold.

The awareness, the guarded expression. It had all sort of reminded me of when she first arrived.

As long ago as that feels.

I can't help myself from thinking about how we were such idiots. How had we not seen it? Everything about her state when she first came to us was wrong. The girl was practically a walking red flag.

Over the course of the month I watched as she warmed up. As she slowly began to trust us, to feel comfortable.

And how she pulled back those last few days. How that guarded expression returned at the mention of her having to go back home.

It's not that any of us wanted her to leave, but Dad always insisted that she had people at home that missed her.

We are such idiots.

Sure, nobody ever confirmed what happened to her. But I'm not an idiot. I put two and two together.

I overheard enough of their conversations, started reanalyzing Juliana's mannerisms, and it wasn't hard to put together that somebody hurt her.

And from what I've put together it was somebody close to her.

"Bunny?" She asks, her voice a little distorted by her thumb and I smile down at her, trying not to freak her out.

"Elijah." I say through my smiling teeth.

"Elijah." I hissed. "Help. Me." Juliana has the nerve to giggle at me, taking her slimy thumb out of her mouth and swiping it on my cheek.

I gag and try to move away, but can't, as she comes with me. This finally gets everyone else's attention and Nonna understands immediately.

"Oh dear, well isn't this a surprise." She says, walking over to us. She tries to avoid stepping in the Eyesore stuff on the floor, but it's pretty impossible if she wants to get to Juliana.

Nonna sits down on the end of the bed, poking Juliana's side to her attention. Juliana skrieks, looking at Nonna and giggling. Nonna smiles, grabbing Juliana's waist and pulling her over to her.

Juliana again starts giggling, trying to hold onto the bed sheets with her free hand.

"What are you doing?" Nonna asks in that voice you would normally only reserve for children. "Where do you think you're going?"

Juliana tries to roll off the bed, but Nonna has her locked up pretty good. Juliana whines, kicking her feet, managing to nail me right in the knob with, thank god, her unbooted leg.

"Oh fuck!" I swear, leaning over as I covered my poor testicles. Juliana starts laughing like a maniac and I hear Nonna halfheartedly scold her, but she's not in any real trouble.

Seriously? I pushed Justin off the swings one time in primary school and I got grounded for two weeks. But she can cause me to lose all future children and nobody cares? I see how it is. Favouritism at its finest.

I drop to one knee, still protecting my valuables while I hang onto the bed for dear life.

"Love to see how much you all care for me." I gripe into the bedsheets, and I feel hands grab my arms. I'm too slow to react before I've been tossed over the railing of Juliana's bed, almost landing head first on the other side of the bed.

"Thanks for helping me clean up." Elijah says and I groan, realising that my pants are now soaked with that awful smelling eyesore stuff.

Elijah walks around the bed, picking up one of those oral thermometers that the school nurses use. You know, the ones that have those disposable plastic covers, the incredibly long cord.

Elijah tells Juliana to 'open up' which, gotta say I love the wording there, brother. It only causes Juliana to pinch her lips shut.

I see Elijah move to try and force the damn thing in her mouth, but then he thinks better of it.

'Yeah, the little brat isn't so cute now, is she?' Call me petty, but that thought makes me feel happy inside. Or maybe I'm still strung up about how she managed to kick me in the willy and Get. Away. With. It.

Elijah tries giving her the, I'll-tell-your-dad-if-you-don't look, but she could care less. She keeps her mouth clamped shut and shakes her head.

"Okay then." Elijah's voice has a warning edge to it, and I am more than interested to see what comes next.

Elijah sets the actual thermometer box down, using his now free hand to pull down Juliana's cannula and pinch her nose shut. It looks kind of funny, because in going so he ended up squeezing her feeding. Don't think that's recommended. Especially after it's turned on...

"Elijah Bianchi!" Nonna gasps, but Elijah's little trick worked, because Juliana had opened her mouth almost immediately.

He lets go of her nose while shoving the thermometer in her mouth. He pulls up her cannula and pinches her mouth with his fingers so she won't mess up the readings. Juliana, already sensing she was beat, just kicked her feet in response.

She kicks me in the thigh, but it's a very weak kick, so I don't really feel it. I do have to resist the urge to kick her back, though. Pretty sure kicking a hospital patient is a big no-no.

"Oh yeah. She's running a fever all right." Elijah says solemnly while he disposes of the plastic thing that went in her mouth.

"What's up with that, huh?" Poking Juliana's nose. She scrunches her nose up and turns away from him. "You're supposed to be getting better." He tells her and she just huffs.

"Io non gradire voi." She gripes, turning her face away from him. (T- I no like you)

"Oh, voi povero bambina. Che cosa volere noi facciamo mai?" Elijah asks as he logs into the computer. (T- Oh you poor baby. What will we ever do?)

"Is she okay?" I hear Aunt Edith asking Nonna. Honestly, Aunt Edith and Uncle Carlo had been so quiet that I almost forgot they were here.

"She is fine. This happened once before, when... well lets just say it was a less than desirable circumstance. It was involuntary then, just as it is right now. Her mind just isn't sure what to do with all the stress. Kind of like Justin." Nonna explains to Juliana's parents as she runs her hands through a still pouting Juliana.

"Oh my." Her mother responds, looking at Juliana with a mix of emotions.

"But I thought Justin could control it?" Her dad asks, his face a blank mask.

"Well, yes. Most of the time. The thing about age regression, especially trauma induced regressions, is that it's a coping mechanism.

"Like biting your nails, or dissociating. You can't always control it. Sometimes you don't even know it's happening until it's too late. If last time was any inkling, Juliana has no idea this is even happening to her."

Nonna continues trying to explain the whole, trauma regression thing to Juliana's parents, and Juliana seems to be getting bored of just sitting there.

"Mommy." She whines, holding out her good arm towards her mom.

"Hi honey, what's wrong?" Aunt Edith walks over and takes Juliana's hand. Juliana tries to sit up, but Nonna catches her head, keeping her in her lap.

"Vuoi giocare?" Juliana asks, giving her mom her best puppy dog eyes. Does Aunt Edith even know Italian? (T- Can we play?)

I mean, I know that she was technically still learning when they went missing, but I doubt she spent her time in captivity reciting Italian grammar.

"Uh, baby. I would love to understand what you're saying. If you'd say it in English, I'm sure I could." She says, patting Juliana's hand. I'm not sure Juliana got the message though, because she just whined sadly.

"Por favore?" She asks.

"Juliana." I say, catching her gaze. "Parlare en Inglese." (T- Speak in English)

Juliana huffs, but looks back to her mother. "You play me?" She asks, her voice choppy. Oh right, Juliana was a Kota kid. But for some reason she had always been stronger in Italian than English.

I'd blame Zeke if I were them. When Juliana was younger, she was attached at the hip to Zeke. For some reason, she latched onto him, and never wanted to let go.

Everything he did was so cool, and she wanted to be just like him when she grew up.

And since we mainly spoke Italian in our home, that was Zeke's primary language when speaking to her.

"Juliana say; Can you please play with me?" Nonna instructs.

"Can play you please me with?" Juliana repeated with a huge smile on her face, looking at her mom.

"This child..." Nonna mutters, grabbing Juliana around the waist and hoisting her up.

"Do you guys have everything covered here? Because my shift ended almost an hour ago, and I'd love to go home. No offence, or anything." Elijah speaks up, though I don't see why he even bothered because he was halfway out the door by the time he said anything.

"Oh, we're fine here. Hunter, can you help us get everything set up?" Nonna asks, and I nod, going over and picking Juliana up.

"Bunny!" Juliana exclaims when she sees me. God I hate that nickname.

When Juliana was really little, like just starting to talk age, she obviously couldn't say Hunter. So instead, we tried getting her to say, 'Hunny.'

Well for some fucking reason, she got that confused with Bunny, and I got cursed with the pleasantry of being called a Bunny for a good 3 years straight by Every. Single. Family member that knew about it.

"Bunny puzza." Juliana says, leaning away from me and swiping her hand in front of her face. (T- Bunny stinks.)

Just keep smiling. Just keep smiling. Just keep smiling.

"Thanks." I grit out. I manoeuvred us through all the different cords and wires attached to her so that I could set her on the floor in the open space. "You're a very pleasant child. Let me tell you."

"Lo so." She announces quite proudly, straightening her back and smiling at me.

I set Juliana down on the ground, a few steps away from the bed. I had had to drag the IV pole with her fluids and feeding bag attached to it, thankfully her oxygen tank was already on this side of the bed though.

Nonna comes around, a backpack that looks suspiciously like Justin's to-go bag.

"Isn't that Justin's bag?" I ask, and Nonna nods her head.

"Your mother left it here by accident. You know she takes this thing everywhere. I'm just getting her some paper and colours." She says and I wince.

"Just... don't tell Justin about it." I advise and she gives me an odd look, but just gets out the supplies and gives it to Julie.

I sit down next to Juliana and dump out the box of crayons. Juliana grabs the dark blue crayon and hands it to me, nudging one side of the colouring book towards me.

"Why thank you. My favourite colour even." I tip the crayon and bop her nose with it, causing her to giggle.

We start our separate drawings, mine is an eagle and hers is a puppy. I'm getting slightly annoyed, because she keeps seeing where I'm drawing, and trying to colour there also, which is messing up my picture.

At least when Justin slips, he's old enough to stay in his own space.

It was about the third or fourth time that I was redirecting her attention back to her own picture by scribbling a little in her drawing, when we heard two sharp knocks on the door.

"Hello. Anyone want some vitals taken?"

-----------------------

What the heck is going on with Justin?

Also, sorry about the super late update. And how long the chapter was.

I was trying to give you a cute chapter, where Juliana slipped into little space, and everything is just nice and chill, and calm. And that did NOT happen.

Lets just say I got a little carried away. I hope you still liked it though, and I truly will try to do a cute fluffy chapter involving Little Juliana soon.