(Camden's POV)

Everything is... hazy. 

Each time I feel like I'm getting a better grip on consciousness- each time I can hear faint voices or feel a pair of rough hands wrapped around my own- it slips right back through my fingertips and I'm pulled under once again. 

I lost track of how much time has passed. Minutes turn quickly into hours which turn into days that I haven't been able to keep my head above water. I beg, pray in the hopes that someone can hear me, for this to stop and to end this miserable cycle. 

I fought my hardest, but if this is all I'm capable of fighting for, I don't want it. 

I'm not sure if my prayer is finally heard or if I'm just the luckiest fucking person in the world, but with a little effort and who knows how much time, I'm finally able to open my eyes. Better yet, I'm able to keep them open. 

My senses come back to me slowly, one by one. It's the sight first, followed by my hearing. The first thing I notice is the cold, white walls and the steady beeping. Confusion sets in as I realize I'm in a hospital with no recollection of what put me here. There's an awful taste in my mouth and I wonder vaguely how long it's been since I've brushed my teeth last. 

Oliver is leaning against my bed, his back to me. His hand rests delicately next to mine and I notice the back of it is covered in blood. 

He's shouting, but at who? I ignore the sharp jolts of pain that shoot down the length of my body when I move and tilt my head to look over Oliver's arm. To my utter fucking horror, I see my dad screaming back at Oliver. He's being held back by three men in scrubs, but I don't notice any blood on him. 

The shouting is overwhelming. I'm trying to catch my bearings and make sense of why I'm here, but I can't focus on the brief memories and images that flood my brain when these idiots are at each other's throats. 

"Can you guys chill the fuck out? I'm trying to sleep here," I joke. 

Heaven knows I've gotten enough sleep as it is. There's no chance I'm going back to that darkness. 

My voice is raspy and rough from lack of use, but it does the trick. Oliver whips around at the sound and my dad's body freezes in place as he locks eyes with me. I notice Oliver falter a little out of the corner of my eye, like he's having trouble holding himself up. 

When my eyes make their way up to his face, I'm horrified. His left eye is bruised and almost swollen shut. His nose looks a little skewed on his face and is gushing blood, and there's a giant gash on his upper lip that's bleeding just as heavily. 

The worst of it seems to be the deep, angry red mark on the side of his cheek. It's causing the right side of his face to swell further and the bruising surrounding the cut is painful just to look at. 

"What the fuck?" I screech, which promptly turns into a cough. 

Oliver crouches down so that we're eye level and places his hand in my hair, stroking it gently. I can see the concern for me in his eyes. Well, what's visible of them at least. My dad rushes to the other side of my bed and takes my hand, their scuffle seemingly forgotten at my waking. 

Two of the men in scrubs exit the room quietly while the other one pushes my dad out of the way to check my vitals. 

"While I'm sorry you had to wake up like this, we're happy to see you awake, Ms. Foster," he smiles down at me warmly. 

The nurse is a younger man, probably only a few years older than me, and fuck was he good looking. 

He has curly, sandy brown hair that seemed to fall in his eyes a lot, but he didn't appear to mind. His chocolate brown eyes were cheerful and they wrinkled adorably at the corners when he smiled down at me. 

My heart monitor starts beeping erratically, much to my embarrassment. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I look anywhere but at the man giving me a full exam. 

Oliver growls from beside me, but the nurse just laughs. I want to roll my eyes at his obvious display of dominance- even battered and bruised, he's still the most gorgeous man I've ever met. 

"The doctor will be here in a few minutes to check up on you. Glad to have you back," he smiles at me again as he finishes up his exam and leaves the room. 

My dad and Oliver both glare at his retreating figure. I sigh at their neanderthal behavior, but they don't even seem to hear it. The room quickly falls into an awkward silence, but the tension between the two men on either side of me is still palpable. 

"Hey, where's mom?" I ask. 

If my dad is here, that has to mean my mom is close by. 

"She left the room when Oliver and I were... talking," my dad replies. 

Oliver coughs to cover his laugh and some of the tension between them dissolves, although they both seem weary of each other. That's a problem I'll just have to deal with later though. 

"Come here, I've missed you, dad."

I stretch my arms out to him, as best as I can with all these wires, and he envelopes me gently in a hug. 

"I've missed you, too, Princess. More than you can imagine."

His voice is muffled by my shoulder, but we stay in our embrace. 

"Oh my god!" a wonderfully familiar voice calls from the door. 

I look over my dad's shoulder to see my mom standing there in shock with a tray of coffees in her hand. She places them haphazardly on the table by the door and practically skips over to us.

My dad reluctantly releases his hold on me to make room for her. She squeezes me as tightly as she can without hurting me and I nuzzle further into her neck. The scent of her perfume is oddly comforting, always Chanel No. 5, and I finally feel myself relax a little after all the chaos. 

"My baby," she sobs quietly into my shoulder. 

I can feel her tears fall in little wet droplets on my shoulder, causing me to squirm. They make me a little uncomfortable- my parents have never been big on showing emotion- but I let her have her moment.

"I'm okay, mom. Really," I tell her, patting her softly on the back. 

She pulls back and straightens herself up, wiping the remaining tears from her face. 

"Of course you are. You're a Foster. Oh, let me go get you a coffee! You must be dying for one," she changes the subject quickly.

"She can have mine," Oliver finally speaks up. 

He's been silent this whole time, watching blankly at our family reunion from the sidelines. 

"Thank you," I smile sweetly at him as my mom hands me the steaming cup. 

"You owe me," he mouths silently at me, but there's a smirk on his face at least. 

The coffee tastes burnt, but it feels so good going down, it's almost a panacea for anything and everything wrong in my life right now. 

"Alright, now that we've all had a moment to settle down and regroup, does anyone want to tell me why I'm in a fucking hospital bed?"