Chapter 23: XIX

— RORI —

I decide to walk home from school today.

Albeit, this is virtually impossible in the heart of California but luckily our home is only about an hour's walk from downtown (usually quicker for me, because i have long legs and am able to walk fast). I could never Uber everywhere; i usually alternate between walking and cycling, my brothers playing taxi when they can, of course. Teddy usually drives us to and from school and i encourage Annalise to get such exercise with me as often as possible, however she insists on being chauffeured around a lot, which makes me scoff and tell her how much of a Beverly Hills princess she is, to which she replies with "Born and bred."

Xavi's rule of sticking together while we're out and about has not yet been lifted, however there's absolutely no chance any of my brothers would be willing to walk with me. Not that i would want them to, as this time of day is my only chance to be by myself.

Instead, Teddy drove himself, Seamus, and Quentin to The Clubhouse so that the three of them can train and then help out.

I haven't been there in days now.

Things are still awkward between me and Teddy. He seems to have stopped his taunting now, but instead he barely talks to me at all. If i walk into a room and it is just the two of us, he walks out. If i try and make conversation with him, he merely grunts or shrugs as an answer.

In fact, his new-found quietness seems to be omnipresent and i fear that it is my fault...

As i'm absentmindedly kicking a stone across the sidewalk, i notice, suddenly, that i am walking past Club Lumina: the club which i practically forced myself into on what became that very eventful night.

It looks no different than the last time i saw it, except now it is broad daylight and so everything is much clearer.

During the day, it seems there is just one young man who stands outside the entrance of the building. He gives me a curious look when he sees me eyeing him, and i quickly plaster a friendly smile on my face as not to confuse him. After staring, dumbly, at the building for a few moments longer, i continue my journey home. However, i only make it as far as Aunt Tosca's cafe before i spot someone seated at the table closest to the window.

I instantly recognise him as the same man who waved at me the night when my brothers and i were eating dinner in Fresco Dal Forno, just around the block from here.

I remember being a little weirded out by the action at the time, but not thinking much of it afterwards.

And just like the first and only other time i saw him, my eyes are unable to look away from his. And then he repeats the same gesture as before, slowly raising his right arm to wave at me. He wears a poker face while doing so, only a hint of...i think it's amusement in his eyes, but my expression is probably one of confusion. Even after he lowers his hand, he is still staring directly at me and seems to be completely unfazed by the interaction. I furrow my eyebrows at him in question, and his lips twitch with a definite amusement for a brief second, before his serious expression falls back into place.

"Hey, Loser, i'm talking to you."

Startled, i spin on my heels and am met with the face of Uvaldo.

What is he doing here?

"What are you doing here?" i voice my thoughts.

"What am i doing where? Existing in the town i live in?" he mocks.

"No, what are you doing talking to me? In public?" i ask him, as if it is obvious, because, well, it should be. "You never talk to me unless you want me to share my private affairs with you, so that you have blackmail material to use against me at a later date. Or if i have shit to say about our siblings, with which you also use to blackmail me..." i continue, frowning in realisation. "Or if you're plotting against—"

"Point taken. Why are you standing in the middle of the side walk like an idiot?" he queries, not at all phased by my rambling.

"I just...thought i saw someone," i reply, somewhat truthfully.

"Thought you saw someone?"

"Someone Rori knows." i roll my eyes at his persistence.

It is true that Uvaldo tends to only engage in conversation when he wants information from someone, or when he has something to gain from it. But he is so nice compared to the other teens, and, hell, most of the adults too.

He isn't a snake like the others; he doesn't indulge in my insecurities or provoke me to react in any way. Should Uvaldo need to blackmail me, it will be because i witnessed him do something embarassing or something he could get into trouble for. He is never bossy, persay, he just plays the older brother card when he needs to. And i respect that.

Only, it is such a personality that ensures my brother and i are not close in any way. Because i have absolutely nothing in common with him. Zero. Zilch. Nada...Okay, perhaps this is an exaggeration. But to me, the only thing remotely exciting about Uvaldo is the fact he rides a motorcycle. And even then, many of my brothers do. And to him, i am just another little sibling he wilfully neglects in the name of his social life and career.

I'm serious. Of course i care for my brother, as does he care for me, but when he and Vinnie recently got shot, i thought to myself, who will now provide me with such excellent gossip if not him?

"Okay then." he surrenders, looking at me like i am strange. "On another note, why didn't Teddy take you home?"

"Huh?"

"Teddy...you know, the guy with the drivers license who's supposed to play taxi for you?"

"Oh, he went to the clubhouse," i answer, still distracted.

"And why aren't you there right now, beating the crap out of him like Big Brother taught you, hm?"

"Will you quit interrogating me, Uvaldo? I just didn't want to go," i grumble, albeit undeservingly on his behalf.

"You seem moody," he concludes.

"Wow, you should become a psychic or something."

He sighs, shaking his head.

Oh great, now i've disappointed yet another of my brothers who's opinion i should care about ever so much.

"Do you want a ride?" he asks, though his tone seems reluctant.

"I'm okay." i shake my head, feeling as though i am miles away from the spot i am standing on. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he responds, offering me a knowing smile. "Just make sure you get home soon. We don't want Xav to think you've been abducted by aliens now, do we?" he mocks, and the scowl on my face immediately unfurls into a tiny smile.

"Bye, Val."

The engine revs as he skilfully moves out of the tight space. At this time of day, this particular block is lined with cars, bikes, and scooters galore. However, such plain vehicles — mainly parked here for business — are nothing in comparison to the variety of makes and colours you see down at the beachfront.

I realise i am drifting away again when he revs the engine one more time.

Okay, we get it Uvaldo, you and your flashy bike are superior here!

"And not even a helmet on his head," i say aloud, giving him a disapproving look with which he merely responds to with an arrogant, boyish smirk.

"Bye, Shorty."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

"How in God's name did you manage to fail the retake test, Seamus?" our younger brother asks as we exit the school, his tone that of sheer disbelief and disappointment.

"Xavi is going to brutally murder you and it is going to be the best day of my life," i say, with an over-joyous smile, contrasting the scolding look which Quentin wears so well.

Seamus throws me a faux smile of his own as i slide past them and hooks his foot around my right leg in the attempt to trip me up, however i skilfully avoid doing so, having already anticipated the action.

"You know, i really wouldn't boast if i were you. That's three tests in a row Seamus has failed now. Not to mention, Yakov is set on getting a tutor for both of you," Quentin typically scolds us.

My expression turns sour at the mention of our older brother.

Ever since Yakov called me out for not doing well in some of my studies, my heart has been set on making him proud. And so, on every night leading up to my Chemistry test, i buried myself in my textbooks, not resurfacing for hours at a time and even telling myself not to eat until i had completed a set amount.

For the first time since i acquired Yakov's phone number, i thought i finally had something worth sharing with him and so decided to send him a photo of my test sheet with a large B circled at the top of it in green ink. I even went as far as to add a smiley face on my caption. Only i discovered it was all in vain when i received the following response...

'A B is fine, however an A would be exemplary.'

I was already well aware of how much my brother values our schooling, however i must admit that i was quite disheartened when i didn't even receive a simple congrats in return for not failing the subject which i struggle with the most.

It's comments like this which remind me that, although Yakov may now come across as more understanding, he remains not at all easy to impress.

After my little bubble of excitement was immediately deflated by one brother who's opinion matters a great deal to me, i almost considered sending the same photo to Zephaniah...and then laughed as i imagined the offensive remarks he would come up with. Or a more likely scenario: him leaving me on read. It's such a shame that even my adult brother of almost twenty-eight years old could not care less for his kid sister's achievements. Or anything at all that goes in her life, for that matter.

I'm serious, i reckon i could smoke one of his finest cigars or drink one of his precious scotches right in front of his eyes and he would only care for the fact someone dared to touch his property.

Zephaniah doesn't care for a grade anymore than he does for pineapple on pizza, but oh how i wish sometimes that he cared to the same degree as Yakov. I would rather be admonished than stone walled, or mocked, or...hell, i don't know which is worse at this point.

And maybe it is just the fact i am used to Yakov's monotone voice and blunt delivery that his words reach me rather negatively. However, i wouldn't at all be shocked if he decides to gift me the book of periodic elements and tells me i am to stay in my room until i have learnt them off by heart.

Goodness, what am i to do with such useless, macho brothers?

"Justice for Seamus and Rori 'cause their triplet has more brain cells than the two of them put together," Seamus jokes, and holds his hand up, waiting for a fist bump, but i simply glare at him in response. He then lowers his hand when i don't reciprocate the action, not forgetting to roll his eyes in the process. "Making light of a serious situation is not appealing to either of you boring bitches, duly noted."

This time, me and Quentin roll our eyes.

"Xavi doesn't agree with Yakov," i proceed, kicking Seamus in the shin when he continues to annoy me — him now melodramatically wailing in the background.  "He thinks getting us a tutor would be a complete exaggeration, or at least getting one for me would be. Seamus may be failing practically every class but i'm managing just fine on my own."

Sure, i have the occasional slip ups here and there but it's nothing i can't manage if i put my mind to it.

Xavi is always so reluctant to provide and receive help. Especially with us kids. He has instilled in us from day one that we ought to be as independent as possible because, in his words, 'The only one you can truly count on is yourself," and, 'If you want a job done right you best do it yourself.'

In so many ways, he was right to teach us this life lesson. After all, we are more independent than a lot of kids our age and certainly more competent when dealing with more adult responsibilities, which may be due to the fact we spend most of our time surrounded by adults. However, on a more negative basis, we are often stuck at the age of fifteen feeling as if we cannot ask for anything. There is no discussion of mental health with our guardian, nor is there discussion of financial support when it comes to things that outstretch our allowance. Despite the fact our family has fallen into wealth.

I think a lot of it depends on the way our oldest brothers were raised when living under our parents' rules, and even Zephaniah's for that matter. And in fact, as much as complain, i know that we have it much easier than they and others who grew up similarly did.

It's just, i often wonder if we born into riches like Annalise, or Christian, or many of the people who attend my small, private school, would our brothers spoil us without care? Have some nanny to mind us and tend to our every need?

And perhaps if they weren't brought up with the hardened, working class of Western Russia, they would regularly take time off work and fly us to the amazing places they often go to for business. Or even the places they take themselves and friends on birthdays and special occasions: Bali, Monaco, and such other islands i've never set foot on because, once again, in Xavi's words, 'We go to party, not babysit', and, 'You'll get to go in due time.'

God, i'm sick of our family feeling so divided. The adults talk, i hear them talk! And of course i confide in my twins because, when all is said and done, they understand me like no other. But why would our brothers want to deprive us of this enjoyable and cultured upbringing?

And one can call me a spoiled brat for all i care. Why should i be complaining? After all, i have visited many countries over the years — often more than once — and am privileged to speak some of the languages too. I have dined at the most magnificent restaurants, some turning out to be a source of my family's fortune, and, theoretically, there is a large trust fund with my name on it. I will never again have to face the many hardships i did in early childhood. I will always have an endless amount of cash to fall back on (again, theoretically, because none of it i have earned myself) and if i really did require help from a third party — a tutor, or even a therapist — i'm sure one of my brothers would provide me with one, if not Xavi.

Have i truly turned into such a surly, rotten, rebellious child, or is it all in my head?

Christ, i'm so privileged that even my own personal shower is big enough to fit at least four people in it comfortably. And yet, i have the audacity to act so ungrateful?

Even Seamus would slap me if he knew that i was thinking so foolishly.

"It's not fair, though. Why does he get all the good grades?" said brother whines and gestures to his twin.

"Maybe because i actually study."

"Whatever," the elder grumbles. "S'not like i need school anyway. I'm going to work for Xavi when i'm older."

Quentin and i share a meaningful look.

"Xav still wants results, though," Quentin reasons. "He's far more lenient than Zeph and Yakov are but that doesn't necessarily mean he'll take you on. Especially if you flunk school."

"Then i won't!" he declares, as if it were as simple as just saying so.

"Seamus—"

"Zephaniah?"

"Zephaniah?" i repeat him, utterly confused.

"Yeah." he gestures with his chin to a spot directly behind us. "Over there."

Sure enough, upon turning around, i see that our eldest brother is leaning against the side of a sleek, black town car. As usual, his clothing is refined but is worn in a more comfortable and stylish way. By that i mean that the sleeves on his shirt are rolled up slightly, showing off a few tattoos on either of his forearms, and said shirt is sitting somewhat loosely and paired with a dress coat that, instead of being worn in its correct manner, he has draped over his shoulders like a shawl. And of course this precious cigar of his which i mentioned earlier, or one of them, rather, is dangling from his mouth.

Hell, my brother looks as if he has just waltzed off some film set in which he is starring, in his true nature, as an Italian mobster. His presence, naturally, does not go unnoticed by the students and parents who flood the parking lot. I see that many of the kids are standing there, awe-struck, pointing him out to their friends and family.

God, such theories they must conjure up upon seeing the head of the Łabanowski clan after so many years.

"Hey, Seamus!"

I have to fight back a groan when i hear the sound of none other than Lindsay Foster's voice screeching from right next to me. Like nails on a chalk board it is. I swear i'll kill her one day.

Both Seamus and Quentin visibly tense also, and my older brother flinches slightly as she rests her bony, little hand on his shoulder. He immediately shrugs it off, causing her to flash him a small pout, only for a sultry smile to reappear on her face not even a nanosecond later.

"Yes?" my brother responds, reluctantly, through gritted teeth.

"Isn't that Zephaniah?" she questions, and very obviously points in his direction. "Right over there."

We all meet her with a look of sheer disbelief.

"And what of him?" i cut to the chase.

"Is it true what they say?" she continues. "That he's some kind of—"

"Criminal?"

I swear i nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of his voice, which is somehow right behind me now even though we had only glanced away for what felt like a matter of seconds. Though with my brother's long strides, i shouldn't be surprised at all.

I don't know whether Lindsay had noticed him approaching after all, or whether she is at all phased by his presence, but she certainly doesn't let it show. What she does do, however, is diverts her attention from her most common victim, Seamus, — who is probably glad to have been relieved of her beady, little gaze — and now targets my eldest brother, even going as far as to twirl the ends of her hair.

"Wow," she says, through a bated breath. "You're even taller up close."

"That's generally how proximity works," i murmur to no one in particular, though my eldest brother must've heard me as he releases somewhat of an amused sound.

"Don't tell me one of you bozos found yourself a girlfriend?" he asks our brothers, though clearly directs the question to Seamus whom he must have seen her torturing a mere moment ago. "Huh, Seamus?"

Lindsay giggles at his teasing, though why she finds it funny is a puzzle to me, and, expectantly, Seamus sends him a hostile glare with the clear intent to kill, to which Zephaniah simply smirks at, evidently enjoying the latter's discomfort.

"Well, are you?" Lindsay speaks once more, and we all focus on her. "A criminal, that is?"

She poses the question with such lack of conviction and instead a clear excitement at the very thought that he just might be. This time i have to laugh, and Zephaniah once again catches on.

"Me? A criminal?" he makes a point of sounding shocked and accusatory, and i smirk a little when i notice her crown slip. "I'm only the very best criminal in all of the land, aren't i Rori?" he then claims in what is clearly a mocking tone.

"That's right," i join in with his charade, and out of the corner of my eye i see my other brothers shaking their heads in amusement.

"Really?" she asks, though is clearly skeptical now. "Well, what are you known for?"

"You name it and i'm probably known for it," he brags, in a joking manner.

"Theft?" she asks him.

"Naturally," he responds.

"Arson?" she continues.

"Many a time."

"Even...murder?" she proposes, a wicked glimmer in her eyes.

At this, my brother leans down so he is closer to her height and, like it is some secret for her ears only, says to her in a low and ominous voice, "Especially murder."

After Lindsay is done fawning over our brother, we say our goodbyes —Zephaniah's the only one sounding remotely friendly — and our brother escorts us to the town car.

"A friend of yours, i assume?" he asks me, placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me forwards slightly to prevent me from trailing behind.

"A friend?" i snort, the question itself offending me. "I wouldn't say that. She's a raging bitch."

For some reason, this must amuse my brother greatly, as he looks down at me with a huge grin, shaking his head.

"Well i must say, she looked besotted in Seamus's company."

I roll my eyes.

"That's the same with most girls in this school, for some reason unknown to me," i say, further amusing him.

"And what about you?" he innocently poses the question. "You have any admirers?"

"Plenty." i shrug, just to spite him.

"Oh, really? Well you better not be paying attention to such boys."

"Why?"

"Because i say so," he decides.

"Why?" i press.

"Because, i was a boy once too. I know exactly how they think at your age. I don't want you affiliated with such characters."

"Well, unfortunately it's not up to you to decide whom i do and do not associate with."

"I think you'll find it is."

I scoff.

What is this trying to act all protective of me all of a sudden? He's surely done a good job of it so far, hasn't he?

I would quite like to tell him that i am not as innocent as he thinks i am. That i have been to parties already and kissed boys already, even older boys. How would he like that?

Goodness, how typical and patriarchal he is. But of course, most of my brothers behave similarly.

"What's with the town car?" Seamus asks what we've all been thinking.

"My own cars only accommodate two people and i certainly wasn't going to be caught driving that old Jeep of Wyatt's," he responds, and the three of us shrug in unison.

Well, he's already made such a spectacle of us, why not make our exit in a town car?

I stay by Zephaniah (knowing that if Seamus were to sit within such close proximity to our eldest brother, the latter may be inclined to strangle him) and we make our way into the vehicle. I am grateful when he chooses to sit in the forward-facing seats, as i get terribly carsick when facing backwards.

I wonder if he remembers.

However, my plans to keep the two of them at bay turn out to be entirely fruitless when, before we have even made it out of the parking lot, Zephaniah and Seamus have already begun to argue over something as insignificant as a few missed phone calls.

"So here i am, a few metres away from the school, and i'm calling, and i'm calling, and the phone keeps ringing. But guess what? You don't. fucking. pick. up."

"Phone's on silent during school hours, got a problem with that?"

"Yes," Zephaniah seethes. "I should be able to reach you all hours of the day. I wouldn't have given you my number if i didn't want you to fucking pick up my calls, hm? And don't give me this phone's on silent bullshit, Seamus, i know how you work."

When a moment of silence passes, i watch Zephaniah do a double take at Seamus, who continues to ignore him and simply smirks at his phone screen. Before i have time to calculate what the elder's next move will be, he reaches forward and snatches the phone from my twin's hand, holding his free hand out to prevent him from getting it back. And then, with taking one glance at his brother's phone screen, Zephaniah's hardened expression mellows into one of satisfaction: as if he has just discovered the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

At first, he returns his gaze to Seamus with a menacing glint in his eyes — Seamus looking more infuriated than one could ever picture, with his jaw clenched tightly and his Adam's apple bobbing, the only thing unusual being the way his hazel eyes seem almost pleading.

And then, through narrowed eyes, Zephaniah turns to face me with an expression of shock and also realisation. He releases a low, mocking chuckle, before turning to our brother yet again.

"Don't tell me you're messaging that girl?" he asks him, deeply amused, and i furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"Which girl?" Quentin beats me to it, just as confused as myself.

"The one i just spoke to, of course," he says, through a smirk. "Are you really having such relations with your sister's supposed enemy?"

"What? No?" Seamus answers, at the same time as Quentin and i screech in protest. "I wasn't even messaging a girl, i was talking to Chris," he insists.

"Oh, and do you normally get such a dazed look in your eyes when talking to your bestfriend?" Zephaniah mocks. "I saw this girl's name appear, wasn't that her?"

"That was no one of your concern, now give me back my phone," he seethes, in a demanding tone.

Zephaniah happily complies, but never once removes the cocky smirk from his face.

"Well it certainly wasn't no one," he argues. "I know of that girl's name, i just don't know where from."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

We end up at The Clubhouse, where we also find Teddy, and Zephaniah orders the four of us to train with him. Whether it is his idea of surprising his siblings and spending some quality time with them, i'm not quite sure. But i'm betting he simply wishes to torture us. Although, the first half hour is fairly low-key and he seems to be in quite a chipper mood, which unsettles me, and i think all of us, a little, as Zephaniah being in such a mood like this happens only once in a blue moon.

I'm pegging it on the fact he must've had a day well spent. Whether that means he took the day off work, i am unsure of, however, the clothes he was previously wearing suggest otherwise. Either way, i am unaware of what his schedule is. All i know is that in the days we've been apart — around eleven — he has acquired a new suit, a new car, — which he proudly showed us pictures of — and had a trip to the barber.

If this is how my eldest brother acts after being in hospital, we really ought to lace his drinks more often!

The nurse had also mentioned that he needed to limit his alcohol intake. I know he went out with the guys last week, however, i'm assuming that if he has been sticking to the advice he was given by both the nurses and us (which would be shocking itself), his new-found joy could be a result of drinking less and getting more sleep.

"So, i like your new car," i tell Zephaniah, as he grabs a drink of water, only acknowledging me with a blank glance through the side of his eye. "Can i get one?"

This question, for some reason, causes him to snort, and i'm surprised to see there isn't water flying out of his mouth or nostrils.

"Can you get what? A Lamborghini?" he asks me, deeply amused. "Is this some toy car for your Barbies to play in, or what?"

"For the last time, i have never owned a Barbie doll! And no, i mean a car. A real car. And not a Lamborghini, per say, but, well, i don't know. I like your Maserati."

He laughs, screwing the lid back onto his water bottle.

"Well, why should i buy my little sister a car?" he points out. "Besides, you're not sixteen until next August. What would you do with it? Pose for your Instagram?"

"I'm not that vain!" i exclaim in offence. "And fine, well maybe not now, but what about when i am sixteen?" i ask him, hopeful.

"Hm." he pretends to think. "Maybe if you're good, i'll get you a nice, little, Ferrari California," he mocks, feigning excitement.

"I'll take it," i say, with a shrug, and return to my workout.

And like i said, things are going well so far...

Well, things were going well. Until a few minutes later, when Zephaniah orders me to join Teddy in the ring.

"Boxing, i find, is incredibly therapeutic," our brother begins. "And in your case, especially, as teenagers, you might find it can help to channel any pent up anger, stress, et cetera, into something like boxing," he elaborates. "And of course, as much as it is a relief of such emotions, it can also help siblings who don't get along with one another to, well, work their issues out," he concludes, giving both of us a knowing look.

I turn to the brother on my left. His eyes appear to hold no emotion, except from that of disdain. And such icy, cold eyes he has too. Nothing like mine or any of my other siblings, which consist of mainly brown and green shades, with the exception of Yakov's grey. And certainly nothing like that of Christian's: a deep, ocean blue...

I think to myself, why am i reminded of my brother's best friend right now? But the answer is obvious. For he, the only other boy whom i know has blue eyes, has treated me better throughout this month than my own brother has throughout my entire lifetime.

What a fucking pity. Truly. And to think that all of our lives it has been preached to us, time and time again, that family is above all else. That blood is thicker than water.

But now that i am older, and looking back on the way that my parents treated me, and my siblings treated me, i realise that they only used such phrases as a manipulation tac-tic.

Because the truth is, with Łabanowski's — the men in particular — they don't care. Not one bit.

"You really are good at this whole snitching thing, aren't you?" he snarls. "You been crying to Zeph about how much of a meanie i am, or something?"

I turn my head and glare at Zephaniah.

When i confided in him about Teddy, i never once thought he'd actually tell our brother how i feel. Granted, it only makes sense that he did so...but i knew Teddy would overreact like this.

"Don't look at me, Rori," he commands, somewhat harshly. "Not everything can be solved by relying on me."

And when he says this, so sure of himself, i lower my head immediately. In shame, or guilt, or i don't know what. It's just that this is one of those few and far between moments when Zephaniah actually speaks some sense and, God forbid, acts the role he is supposed to play.

"I never said anything of the sort," i tell Teddy, looking into his eyes with earnestness. "I didn't even say anything bad about you."

"Whatever." he sighs, clearly bored of me already. "Let's just get this over with, hm?"

Intimidated, i head to the side of the ring and gather my belongings: firstly, taking a sip of my water, secondly, placing my gum shields in my mouth, thirdly, wrapping my hands, and finally, putting on my boxing gloves. The gloves are lovely; a matte, black colour with a bedazzled, red 'R' on the strap — in place of the logo. Wyatt gifted me them on my birthday last year, because even though we still refuse to celebrate, he insists on getting me something each time.

Well, this year he wasn't present on my birthday itself but he did treat me to hotdogs by the pier just the day after. So that still counts for something.

Besides, he's one of few in my life who actually make an effort to be there. Even if he isn't always physically present.

Wyatt does in fact care. He has always been the exception.

When i was younger, i swore i would marry him. Such a silly thing i imagine most kids say about those that they love first, whether it be a parent, or sibling. But one thing is for sure, whoever marries Wyatt will be one lucky girl...

Once i am finished getting ready, Zephaniah, much to my surprise, approaches me in the means to give me a pep talk. Well, his own twisted version of a pep talk.

"Do not succumb to him. You will dodge every damn punch he throws your way and you will not land your ass on the ground even once. You understand me?" he orders, in a hushed yet brash tone.

Okay, it's a threat. He came over to threaten me.

"Roger that." i nod, eagerly, though both doubt and fear remain in my eyes.

"Rori," he warns, grasping onto my wrist before i have the chance to turn around. "You want to be taken seriously by your brother, no?"

I eagerly nod.

"Then prove him wrong. Prove us all wrong. Make me proud," he commands, and i nod once more, not before nervously gulping.

Zephaniah allows us to box without a head guard, so long as we use controlled punches as not to seriously hurt one another.

We start simply by warming up, sparring and such, but even Teddy's 'light blows' leave a resounding impact. There's no doubt that he is a much better boxer than myself. And if our last match is anything to go by, this will not end well for me. He is both taller and stronger than i am, and his moves are sharper and more impactful.

I surely stand no chance against him.

But at the same time, i want nothing more than to prove my brothers wrong. To prove Teddy wrong. And once and for all, have him view me as his equal...

Shortly after, Zephaniah decides that our warm up is over and sends Seamus and Quentin into another room to allow us to focus. I am glad that this means i have less of an audience to worry about, however, even just the looming presence of Zephaniah on the side-lines is enough to unsettle me.

Instantaneously, Teddy stalks towards me until his stature is literally towering above me. Goodness, even in the last few months i think he has grown immensely. So much so that he is one of my tallest brothers now. In fact, he might even soon take the third place spot away from Vinnie. I will be shocked if he manages to surpass the eldest two, however, seeing as they are unfathomably tall.

It doesn't help to make me feel any less intimidated, especially now that he is wearing a training top and i am able to see just how muscular he has gotten. I should almost be concerned for him, given that he seems to spend more time in the gym than even Xavi does. And he owns the place! But this is Teddy's stomping ground, and working out is his vice, and i feel as though i do not belong here, suddenly, in this testosterone infested place.

I am one of few girls who appear at The Clubhouse, given that it is a private gym reserved for specific members of the public. And it really doesn't cater to us women at all, not that it is was designed to. When i asked Xavi if if i could join Annalise and her mother at the country club they are apart of, he literally snorted when i told him it would entail lots of pilates, spa treatments, mimosas, and other things alike...

And the girls i do see at The Clubhouse are nothing like me. They're lovely women, don't get me wrong, but i would never dream of joining one of their sessions. No matter how many times they (rather teasingly) offer me to. I almost want to cower even watching them! They are robust looking women with defined muscles of their own, and how do i put it nicely...they radiate more of a masculine essence than they do feminine.

In the main gym, all i hear is men shouting words of encouragement —or more so profanities — at each other, and loud music blasting from its speakers. When i look around, all i see is people pushing themselves to the limit: sweat dripping from them as they lift weights that would surely crush me. And in the ring, what they call 'harmless roughhousing' ensues. Though with the amount of blood i've mopped up over the years, i'm starting to wonder if my brother is running some sort of illegal fight club.

Well...i can't say i would be surprised.

"What are you waiting for, Little Girl?"

Lost in my self-destructive thoughts, i am startled by the sound of Teddy's voice, having forgotten that he is no more than a foot in front of me. And, gee, he could have punched me already and i wouldn't have saw it coming. What a great start!

"Aren't you going to punch me?" he continues, an easy smile on his face to accompany his chilling confidence.

Suddenly, i don't feel too well. And i don't feel like playing this game anymore.

I swallow the thick lump in my throat and shift away from him, but he doesn't get the hint. He is only further amused by my display of cowardliness. I turn to face Zephaniah, who is standing there with his arms folded across his torso, expectantly, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And suddenly, at fifteen years old, i am beginning to realise just how increasingly overwhelming my every day life is becoming.

I don't feel like i belong here, and i don't think i ever have. Or will. In this world, that is, — my world — where i have to fight in order to prove myself. In order to be worthy of their respect. I can't keep up anymore; not with my brothers, nor their friends, and even their female company.

I am a let down to the Łabanowski name. I am not tough and cut-throat. I am merely a teenage girl. And that is the problem: i am not treated as such.

Nine boys and one girl.

The world has it out for me.

"Jesus, if i knew it was going to take this long for you to throw a punch i would've—"

The sound of rubber and leather resonates as my glove comes into contact with the side of his face, startling him slightly as his body jolts at the impact.

"Shut the hell up."

I almost don't believe it is me who says those words — and don't want to believe it is me — until i see the look on Teddy's face.

He appears just as shocked as i am at first, over the fact i actually worked up the courage to stand up to him in such a way. But then, immediately after, any and all shock or doubt completely drains from his face: he lifts his chin up in a way that oozes superiority and his jaw unclenches as his mouth spreads into his usual, sinister smirk. However, his eyes are contrastingly dark making him look all the more dangerous.

I feel even smaller, and now i really want to cower into a ball, but i do my best not let it show.

Is it possible that Teddy is more evil than even the most evil of my siblings?

"Well, well, well," he starts, his tone that of pure condescension, "has Little Sister finally learned how to use her words?"

"Didn't i just tell you to shut the hell up?" i seethe, though i really wish i would take my own advice right now.

He snorts and nods his head in amusement, not at all threatened by my act.

"Fine. Have it your way." he shrugs, sending a cross punch my way which i luckily mange to block in time.

I don't know what's happening right now, but it seems that my mind is focused on one thing and one thing only, so much so that i don't even bother to turn to my eldest brother for reassurance.

I will win this fight and get my vengeance and Teddy Łabanoski will never dare to mess with me again...

"Only," he begins once more. "Won't you tell me why you involved Zephaniah in some non-existent dispute of ours?"

He tries again with an uppercut and his glove lightly grazes me this time.

"I already told you, it wasn't like that," i say, going in for a right hook which he easily blocks.

Using his free hand, Teddy distracts me by pretending to throw a punch at my face, and when i go to block it, he hits my chest with just enough force to make me stumble.

In the background, Zephaniah tuts in disproval, and once again, i ignore him.

"Then what was it like, hm?"

"I told him i was worried about you. I wanted him to check on you."

He scoffs a laugh.

"And why would you do that?"

I land an uppercut on his lower jaw and this time it is he who stumbles from the impact. He is quick to recover when he sends a straight punch my way, but luckily i manage to block him just in time.

"Look, you may be a complete asshole, Teddy, but that doesn't mean i don't worry about you. And yes, i told Zephaniah that we don't get along. I vented to him. I don't know why i did, but i did. I guess i had a suspicion that he might've been the cause of your behaviour."

At this, Teddy's eyes narrow and his face morphs into an expression of both confusion and irritation.

"The cause of my behaviour?" he repeats, slowly, as if he cannot quite believe what i am saying. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Angrily, he throws a cross punch my way and i barely manage to block it in time as his glove touches the side of my face.

"Need i remind you of the time you let me think Quentin was in the wrong when it was just you trying to set me up?" i sneer, bravely approaching him and looking right into his merciless eyes. "You are always trying to make my life miserable, and for no reason at all. You can't stand me!"

Teddy's jaw clenches and he practically pounces on me. I almost feel inclined to cry when his fist collides with my nose, hitting it so damn forcefully that i am surprised it has not yet started to bleed. I involuntarily gasp at the sharp pain of his hit, and then take a sharp intake of breath, turning my head away from him in a means to gather whatever strength i have left.

Zephaniah is no longer watching us now, i realise, and is instead standing at the opposite end of the gym with his phone pressed against his ear, though every so often he furiously throws his hands up and gestures in true Italian fashion.

I furrow my eyebrows at him, observing the way he acts so haughty. If it were Yakov on the phone with someone, and they had angered him, he would appear so effortlessly calm and controlled on the outside, even if he was internally losing all composure. So much so that i wouldn't even be able to tell what his mood was. I like to think that even in the boxing ring, he maintains such grace.

I often find that my brothers are one or the other, but that i share a mixture of their personality traits. Usually, i pride myself on not losing my temper. But today...

Today, i don't even know who i am, or what demon has possessed me, because i swear to God, if Teddy so much as mouths one more insult to me, he's go to wish he was facing the wrath of one of our brothers.

And when he laughs at my wincing with a mocking pout on his face and says, "Don't tell me you're gonna cry now, Little Girl," any last shred of sanity within me dissolves...

As he steps forward and swings at me again, i skilfully hook my foot around his left ankle and hook my arm around his neck, which sends him stumbling, and then we both fall to the floor. His eyes widen in disbelief when i suddenly straddle him and grab him by the neck of his t-shirt, repeatedly punching his face with all of my might, not even letting up when i hear a clicking sound.

Any remaining doubt of whether or not i have injured my brother soon disappears when i hear him cry out in agony, and i feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

"Why use my words when i can use my fist to crack your skull?"

Everything that occurs after this moment is a complete blur.

As Teddy's eyes lock with mine, i don't believe i have ever seen him look so infuriated. One would think knocking him onto his ass and beating him to a pulp would finally put him in his place, but they'd be wrong.

I watch as he slowly raises his hand up to his nose, and when he lets go of it, a flow of blood is oozing out of his left nostril. Then, much to my surprise, the corners of his lips begin to twitch upwards. He breaks into an unsettling toothy grin and runs his tongue along his teeth, wincing when he tastes some blood that managed to drip onto them.

Not even a second later, his fist connects with the side of my face and he swiftly turns me over so i am now laying on my back, him hovering above me.

I see nothing but anger and hatred when he looks me in the eye. Nothing but anger and hatred for me, his little sister. And i wish i could do something to change that.

But right now, this is different.

I fucked up big time and now i'm about to pay for it, i know i am. I just wish i never dared to pull such a foolish stunt on my older brother, although i can't say much of me regrets it in this moment.

He doesn't say anything the entire time we are like this. He simply glances down at me with a lifeless look in his eyes, and then, as if has been compelled to do so, his hands make their way onto my neck and he is pressing down until i feel bile begin to rise from the back of my throat, and i begin to gag and splutter for air.

All of a sudden, a large pair of hands grab my brother's shoulders and tear him off of me. I immediately roll over to my side, coughing until my insides start to ache. I feel my eyes close and a slight ringing in my ears. Blurred figures surround me, and i start to wonder if i am about to pass out.

That is, until i am met with a slap to the side of my face.

The large hand grips my chin and shakes my head from side to side. I hear someone speaking to me, repeatedly saying my name, and then, as if have awoken from a tragic nightmare, my eyes frantically open themselves.

And there, staring back at me, is not a God, nor a Devil, but is the face of my eldest brother.

— SUCKER PUNCH —

I cannot believe that instead of making things right with Teddy tonight, i ended up attacking him. For real. What i can believe, however, is his reaction that came afterwards.

It wasn't the first time where Teddy has been so openly violent towards me, and it certainly won't be the last.

But i can hardly put the blame on him, solely, for this mess. After all, it was Zephaniah who made us box. And it was me who provoked his reaction.

Sure, perhaps he shouldn't have choked me out to the point where i was drifting in and out of consciousness. But at the end of the day, i don't believe he knows the power of his strength. Well, i'm hoping that is the case.

"Drink this."

Zephaniah hands me a bottle of water, which i finish in less than thirty seconds. He then pins me with a stern look, as he not so gently removes the nozzle from between my lips.

"I said to drink, not chug like you're at a frat party," he admonishes me.

I look around the gym in search of my other brothers, but soon realise it is just he and i left.

"Vinnie came to pick them up," he says, reading my mind.

"And what of Teddy?" i ask, concerned.

"Vinnie also called an ambulance. He's on his way to the hospital right now," he answers, nonchalantly.

"I didn't mean to hurt him, Zeph, i promise. Please don't be mad at me. I- i just lost control. I don't what happened," i mumble to him.

"You wouldn't have attacked him without a means to hurt him," he argues.

"I—"

Well, what am i supposed to say? He's right, after all, i did attack Teddy with the intent to hurt him. I knew what i was doing. Except now that i have had time to recover from what just happened, i feel completely different about the situation.

It's like i was watching it play out in third person. Like i was there, except i wasn't entirely. I lost control of all my senses, and i attacked my own brother.

At this point, i can't even remember what my motives were.

"Rori," he says, his stoic eyes still boring into me, "Don't hate yourself. After all, he attacked you also."

"Well, of course he did!" i exclaim. "I- i literally pounced on him. I didn't stop, Zeph," i say through a bated breath. "I don't know if i was going to."

His eyes soften a fraction and he indulges me with a closed-lip smile, like i am some clueless child.

"We are all at fault sometimes. But there's no use with dwelling on what happened. You attacked him, so he attacked you. Tit for tat. Now we can move on."

"But i hurt him!" i continue. "I might've broken something."

"Well i'm sure he deserved it," he responds.

I shrug.

"I thought so at the time, but now...now i'm not so sure what i think," i explain. "I just feel like i made some grave mistake and i'll never forgive myself."

I watch as he sighs, and then closes his eyes for a moment, as if gathering the mental strength to answer me. When he opens them again, staring back at mine, he looks cross.

"You know what i wish for you, my dear sister?" he begins, and i shake my head. "I wish that you would stop worrying about others so much, stop trying to be the pacifist in every situation, and for the first time in your life, be a little selfish," he seethes. "Teddy is no angel," he says. "But neither are you. And what's so wrong with that?"

I lower my gaze as i listen to the certainty in his tone. He is right, once again. I care more about those around me than i do for myself. No matter if they would prefer me to be six feet underground.

"And you know what?" he continues. "I have so much more respect for you, after today, seeing how you stood up for yourself like that," he tells me. "And do you know why?" he asks.

I shake my head again.

"Well it's obvious," he says. "You had so much respect for yourself in that moment, Ria. You were unstoppable. And the thing is, if you go about life not respecting yourself and always thinking that your actions are unjust, you're allowing people to walk all over you."

It is silent for a moment and my eyes remain glued to one spot on the floor, though i can still feel his piercing gaze on the side of my face.

"The day you stop worrying about such insignificant things will honestly be the best day of my life," he says. "Because it isn't right, Rori. It isn't right that you care so much. No one does."

I scoff in disbelief.

"What, as opposed to not caring at all?"

We lock eyes once more.

"Precisely," he nods. "You will never make it in this world if you choose to care so much about other people's feelings and how you might hurt them," he says. "You have to start putting yourself first. Having a kind heart gets you nowhere, and it will be your downfall. I just don't want you to create unrealistic expectations and then let yourself down when they cannot be met. I just don't want you to put yourself through such pain every time you are willing enough to give somebody a second chance."

"And why should i take your advice?" i ask, giving him a critical once over.

"I think you often forget that i have lived on this planet for thirteen years longer than you have, and have made many mistakes from which i have since learned from, and thus grown from," he answers. "And i might be a dick to you about ninety percent of the time, but the moment someone brings harm to you, Rori, i swear to God, just say the word and i'll deal with them. Capische?"

"Capische," i murmur, staring at him with bewildered eyes.

My heart still feels like it's pounding at three hundred beats per minute, my head still aches severely, and, goddamn, how can my throat possibly be parched when i just drank an entire bottle of water?

I gulp and close my eyes, resting my head against the metal railing behind me.

Zephaniah giving me such raw and detailed advice comes as one hell of a shock. I never knew he could be so open and honest like this. However, ever since he apologised to me, our entire relationship has seemingly changed for the better. And so i suppose, in a sense, i am finally ready to accept him back into my life.

And i hate to admit it, but i am beginning to be thankful for those five years that we spent apart. When Zephaniah arrived home, i thought he hadn't changed at all. I honestly thought that he was still the same immature twenty-two year old man. But now i am beginning to see that he has in fact matured. I mean, sure he only displays this maturity on the odd occasion, but that is not to dismiss his efforts for doing so.

But the one thing i appreciate most is that i know my brother will always be upfront with me and tell me exactly how it is. And i like the fact that i can count on him for something, whether it be his unbearable attitude or his somewhat parental mannerisms.

It's just weird thinking about how only a few weeks ago, i wanted absolutely nothing to do with this man. And now, sitting here today, i truly can't imagine living life without him.

Having Zephaniah on my side has given me a new-found confidence. Perhaps that is the reason i decided to attack Teddy today. But of course, with my eldest brother, nothing is ever set in stone. After all, he just reminded me. So maybe i should think twice now, because betraying him would be a truly dumb decision...

— SUCKER PUNCH —

I truly thought this day couldn't get any worse, but i am proven wrong just a few hours after we arrive home.

My eldest brother told me to go straight to my room before we even set foot through the door. The air was tense the whole drive home, and neither one of us felt like speaking after our conversation in The Clubhouse.

Rather than studying, i decide it would be better to watch another episode of Gilmore Girls. My brain is so foggy right now that i don't think i would be able to focus in the slightest. Especially since tonight is Mathematics. No thank you!

And so one episode eventually turns into three episodes, yet i feel restless. Only i don't have enough energy to workout — i just did — nor do anything else. And there's the fact i'm not allowed to leave my room. So instead, i force myself to watch the show. I think about how i would enjoy it much better if i had some sweet and savoury treats with me, but once again, i am not allowed to leave my room and i most certainly do not want to talk to any of my siblings right now.

And then it happens...

At exactly 20:48 pm, i receive an email titled 'URGENT'. I think to myself that this must be one of my teachers, as they are often emailing back and forth with us. Mr Clarkson said he would send us additional feedback from our previous test, as well as information regarding the next one. This makes me sigh when i see the notification, however i begrudgingly click on it. Our school —being that it is one of the top in the country — is super competitive, and so that means we need to chase those results as often as possible. They are often keeping us on our toes and so it is best to never ignore such emails. Just in case. I learnt from this mistake a while back, when one of my teachers had warned us about a spontaneous test that would be taking place in just a day's time.

The email takes a moment to load as it has a file attached. I check who the sender is, but there is none. My mind instantly back tracks to two weeks ago when i received the phone call from an unknown number, and i feel my breathing hitch.

I hesitantly click on the file. I know better than to do so, but what can i say? Curiosity always seems to get the better of me.

I see that is a video, and this makes me feel even more unsettled yet even more curious. I instantly click play, however, praying that it is not something graphic and wildly inappropriate.

It turns out to be nothing that i expected, yet something that leaves me equally as haunted: a video, CCTV footage, to be precise.

It is just nineteen seconds long and features only three people: a young girl, a pregnant woman, and a masked man.

The first seven seconds of the tape show the masked man aiming a gun at the pregnant woman. No sound can be heard but the woman's cries for help are 100% visible.

A few seconds later, the young girl is seen stealthily approaching the man from behind, and as she locks eyes with the woman, she encourages her to remain completely still and completely calm.

Not even a moment later, she places a gun against the man's head and fires a bullet. His body falls to the ground instantaneously, and he is dead. However, so is the woman and her unborn child, as when the girl looks ahead, she realises that the masked man pulled the trigger at the same time as her.

Immediately after that, the video stops playing.

I only have to watch it one time before i slam my laptop shut and place a trembling hand against my open mouth. However, i don't fail to miss the threat which is included in the email.

'If you don't want anyone to see this footage, you will do exactly as i say. I'll be in touch soon, Little Red.'

And from this moment on, i realise that whatever comes after this will be nothing but trouble. For the person who sent me this email, being the same person who called me that night, knows something that no one else does.

It is the secret i planned on taking with me to the grave, the secret that has loomed over me ever since, like a dark and thunderous cloud, the secret that keeps me awake at night, the reason i cannot afford to relax in my own company for even a sliver of time, and a torturous memory which i will never. ever. forget.

The time i failed to save not one, but two lives. The time i murdered a man whom was more than twice my age.

But now, they're going to use it against me.

And i don't think i've ever felt this afraid in my entire life.

(Edited)

A/N: Since i began editing, i have erased all of my notes at the end of each chapter but i feel i should start writing them again. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please do let me know your thoughts. Quite a lot of this one has been rewritten but i'm happy with the way it turned out. I think. I wonder, do you feel that Rori's thoughts and actions were justified throughout this chapter? And what of the others? I'll admit, i feel i did a good job of conveying her feelings and so i hope it resonates :)