"Hey!"

For the first time in my entire nineteen years of living on this god-forsaken earth, I was happy to see a cop. I breathed a sigh of relief as the female cop exited the car and walked to the scene. Mr Angry Blond dropped me, literally, and I had to get back up and dust off my butt. I was still shirtless and the woman stared me up and then down before speaking again.

"This is him?" she asked. My eyes widened. Oh shit. She's not helping. I shoved the brother back and was about to run and for probably the fifth time today, I was held back. This time by the female cop. I cursed softly. This is a trap. How could I run right into a trap? I should have known she wasn't on my side. No cop ever is. I should have run when she initially called, distracting them from me. But I didn't.

"You're him?" she asked me. I blinked a couple of times then looked around. How come there is no other cop in the car? When they're chasing me there's always about four damn cops for just one me. Where are they now? And where are all my damn neighbors? Where is everyone? Where is Bird?

"I'm a him. I identify as male. But I'm certain the 'him' you're looking for actually lives down the street. Tall, buff, not me." I flashed a slight smile, which probably exposed me as scared out of my mind right now.

"He talks. A lot."

"You're coming with me." The woman said and gripped my arm, the way a cop does. I stared down at my naked chest. "Shirtless? Dude, at least give me a damn shirt!" I groaned as she tugged me along as if she were taking the garbage outside. She wore the same upset face as the first guy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had a pair of dark glasses stuck on top of her head. I can see her eyes, brown, just like her brother's, and angry just like his too. Don't they ever smile? Loosen up?

The woman ignored me, and the other two guys did too. What the hell is this? She can't just do this. I'm not arrested, because there are no handcuffs on my wrists, and she hasn't even read me my rights. She shoved me in the back seats of the car and the tough blond one went in with me, while the brother sat up front. I groaned softly and stared out the window. I don't understand d what's going on. Why can't I get a top?

We drove until we were at a hospital. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at the angry blond then back to the hospital. This has got to be illegal. Abducting someone and taking them to public places while they're half naked. I swear that is a crime. Is this woman even a real cop? She could have stolen the uniform and car.

The door opened for me but I didn't move. I need a top. I can't go anywhere without a top on. I was tugged at one end and shoved at the other, out of the car. Gosh, these people are brutal. The woman's grip on my arm was too tight and I felt like if that continued for a little while longer she might wring my arm off. She tugged me through the hospital and no doubt, people stared at me. I had a grumpy look on my face and was shirtless--I really do hope they think I'm being kidnapped and they call the cops, like a good cop.

Only the brother followed us in, Angry Blond left when we entered the hospital. We walked to the elevator and I was shoved in. The ride up was long and awkward. "You know all of this is so unnecessary. You could at least get me a shirt. Or a hospital gown." I rolled my eyes. They both stared straight ahead, while I looked between them. Definitely siblings. Aside from them sharing the same angry brown eyes, their demeanor seems to be the same. 

They didn't even look at each other. Honestly, I felt like a celebrity, with a bodyguard on my left and right. 

"My brother wanted to see you," he said. I looked at him, still trying to understand what really went wrong. Did I get the wrong twin? Which twin is this? Is he the snitch or did I get the snitch? This is all very confusing and aggravating. Why couldn't Bird have been home?

"In one piece." The woman said and glared back at him. Obviously, there is some tension between them.

"He would have been in one piece... Sort of." He replied. I rolled my eyes. The elevator stopped and I was pulled out quickly. We walked a while--with people still staring at me--until room two-eighteen. I tried to peek through the little clear square in the door to brace myself for what I was walking into, but there was no time for that. They shoved me into the room.

I looked at everything around the room. Everything besides the thing in the bed. The room was small, but it could fit a black, leather sofa against the wall, next to the door probably leading to the bathroom. On the sofa was a boy, probably fourteen years of age, with shaggy brown hair and big wide eyes. He cocked an eyebrow at me and scoffed.

"This is him?" he almost laughed, "he looks like a fag."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, kid?" I'm taller than he is, and I have way more fat on my body than he could ever dream. The kid's practically a short skeleton. And he looks more gay than me, with that girly, young Justin Beiber haircut and feminine eyes. How dare he? 'Gay' doesn't even have a look, but if it did, I'm sure it would look like this kid.

"Hey. Stop that." The cop said to me. She seems to be accustomed to giving commands and getting respect, but there is no way she is going to get mine. She lost my respect the moment she jacked me up and shoved me in that car without a shirt on.

I scoffed at her, "What, am I supposed to stand here like an idiot while this kid calls me names? See, this is how Donald Trump started." Yeah, I'm not the most mature person. But I wasn't going to just stand there. I hate the term fag. I'm not a fag. I'm a gay man, yes, but not a fag.

"Fuck you!" he spat. How dare his parents allow him to speak that way?

"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Donald," I answered him almost immediately. He glared at me. Who does this kid think he is? He slouched back in his seat and I sighed softly. Gosh, why? Now that he's no longer speaking to me, I can't use him as a distraction any longer. I have to look at him. I bit my bottom lip and lifted my eyes to meet the figure on the bed.

Shit.

He was asleep. There was a cast on his right leg and on his left arm. His face was bruised and you could tell he was beaten. I could only imagine how his chest looked. He was hooked up to the machine and I stared at it for a moment, watching the steady pace of it. His chest moved slowly, up and down as he took in soft breaths. As beaten as he looks, he also looks quite peaceful sleeping. He's alive. I let out a breath of relief. I'm glad he's alive. It was never my intention to kill him, or even have him in this hospital. I just wanted his twin to learn a lesson about snitching.

"How do you like your art piece?" the brother asked. They didn't look alike now. There was a large difference now. I looked between them for a split second then swallowed dryly. His brother's hair is different. It's one of those fuckboy hairstyles; how did I not notice this before. How did I not see the difference?

But what does it really matter? If I got him or his brother I think I would have been in this trouble. I looked around at the family. They all hate me. They all have that look in their eyes, partly. And the other part was for the guy in the bed; sympathy and sadness, and worry and love.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. I get it. I screwed up. I got the wrong twin. Sorry." I said.

"You don't even-" his twin was silenced by the cop, and she shook her head. I bit my bottom lip softly. "Well, I saw him. You dragged me out of my house, no, chased me out, then dragged me here topless to see your dying friend. I've seen him, so now I would like to leave if that's alright with you."

"Why are you so cold? Don't you know how to be kind and compassionate?" The only female in the room asked.

"I don't know what you want me to do. You brought me here to see him, I'm here. If you want to send me to prison, go right ahead, at least I wouldn't be in this place freezing my ass off with Donald Trump Jr and you two hateful sons of-" I was cut off when I heard a sound coming from the bed. I instantly turned to look at him.

His eyes were wide open and he was staring at us all. His little brother was at his side, while Mr. and Mrs. Grumpy were basically tackling me down. My eyebrows went upwards as I stared at him. I knew he was alive but this is a bit weird to hear from him. His voice is a bit different from his brother's. Just slightly higher in pitch.

"H-hey."

"This is him." All day they've been referring to me as 'Him' and I really kind of hate it. I growled lowly at that but didn't say anything.

"You're..." he sounded in pain. I cleared my throat. "Why are you shirtless?"

"Oh, I don't know... Why am I shirtless?" I looked at the cop and his twin. They both didn't say anything and I just rolled my eyes. What the hell is this? "Why am I here?" I asked him in a drawl. He stared at me. His stare was intense; I sort of shrank under it. Same brown eyes. The only difference is he didn't have as much hate, there was pain in his eyes. I must admit, I felt horrible. Even though the words I'm saying to this family are gruesome and hurtful, I actually do feel bad. I can't imagine what this guy is feeling. Shit.

"You deserve to rot in prison," he got out. I didn't even lay a finger on him. How will I rot in prison? The cops would never trace anything back to me. I didn't touch the kid. I remained silent as he spoke. I stared at his bruised lips, there were cuts there, along with his forehead and his eye. What the hell did those guys do? I winced inwardly as I stared.

"Well then press charges. Let's just get this over with." I sighed. Why are they still holding me down? Why hasn't anyone gone to get me a shirt?

"That's too easy. You need to learn to take responsibility for the shit you do." he seethed. I wanted to roll my eyes but part of me was afraid because his two other family members might beat me down to size if I did.

"Well, what do you want from me?" I asked, with a bit of irritation in my voice.

"I need a personal caregiver," he said. How is he in pain but still has time to plan about this type of rubbish? I furrowed my eyebrows at him. A personal Caregiver? I'm not licensed. That's not legal. What kind of rubbish is this? What's the point of that? I'm not caring. I can't care to give.

"What?" That wasn't me. That was actually his twin. He stared between his brother and me with this puzzled look. "You want him to take care of you? You should have just let me beat the shit out of him." Honestly, I see his point. 

"Where's the point in that, Kol? He'll just heal and do the same shit again." Why are they speaking as though I'm not trapped in this room with them? I looked at the twins as they spoke. "Yeah well, this doesn't make much sense either. I don't want to be around him." I would much rather be charged and arrested than be someone's personal caregiver. I can't imagine myself attending to this guy's every need. That's brutal.

"Is it maybe because you've got locked-up feelings for me that I would unlock the moment we spend a day or more together?" I added. They both looked at me. He scowled. I can't help it. The guy is blessed. His brother is obviously good-looking as well, but his face is all bashed in.

"I'm doing this." The injured twin said then looked at me. "I want you to attend to my every need as I recover. If you don't or you miss a day due to whatever crap excuses you make I will press charges and have you go away for a very long time." Damn these people with big bucks. He could probably get the world's greatest lawyer and have me spend my entire life in prison, which I don't really want. I'm only nineteen--going in at nineteen is not the best thing in the world, or so I've heard.

"You got that?" he asked coldly. I scrunched up my face for a second as I looked around at the people in the room. The room was quiet, save for the hospital machine. It's as if they were all waiting for me to agree. What would happen if I disagreed? Young Trump was at his brother's side, half his focus on his phone, the other on us, well me. Kol--I learned was his name-- was staring between his twin and me, and the cop was glaring at me. I was staring at the ceiling. 

"Fine. Whatever," I finally said, "Can I get a shirt now?" I asked them all. No one replied. I scoffed then tugged my arm from the woman's grasp. I turned on my heels and walked out of the hospital room, shocked they let me go.