I stood in my hotel bedroom in front of the door to the living room and was gathering the courage to open it and face my eldest brother. I knew he was there because I had been awake for over an hour, just lying in bed, and from time to time I heard his hushed voice when he answered his phone.

Mainly, I was embarrassed by the spectacle that I staged at the cemetery. I was still extremely sad and embittered with the final result of my visit to my mother's grave but the way I treated Vincent couldn't be right and I knew that my frustration should have been expressed in a more mature way.

They will never treat you like an adult if you keep getting carried away so easily.

To make it clear - I didn't take all the blame on myself. I was still angry at Vince. I think that I am generally quite tolerant about his demanding nature and it would be really nice if this one time he managed to show a little bit more understanding and didn't demonstrate to me in such a soulless way how effortlessly he can make me do things his way.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to go back to bed and roll into my comforter like a wrap. The bed was warm, comfortable, and there was no Vince in it - no matter how wrong or ambiguous it sounded in my head.

But I had to go out to him. When he left my bedroom (after he checked if after the warm, soothing shower he'd told me to take, I followed his instructions and went to nap), he asked me to let him know when I would wake up.

Let's get it over with. I sighed and opened the door, slowly emerging from the safe oasis of my hotel room. I felt as if I was voluntarily encroaching into a dangerous animal's cage. I fueled my own fear and that was really dumb because inside of my heart, although I was a bit afraid of Vincent, I didn't believe that he would do something to me.

My brother stood with his back turned to me at the other end of the room. He was looking through the large window at the panorama of the city, and he was holding a phone to his ear but not as if he was talking to someone, but rather listened to the voice message. I caught out a few words and raised my eyebrows in surprise because whoever recorded it to Vincent, they did it in French. I learned French at school and I had really good grades in this subject but all I could understand now were a few separate phrases.

Suddenly the message was stopped half-word and Vincent turned and stared at me. Either he had eyes on the back of his head or he saw my reflection in the glass because I swear, I didn't make the slightest sound.

He certainly changed his clothes and took a shower - he looked fresh and well-groomed as always. He bored into me, traditionally, with an indifferent look and slowly slipped the phone into his pocket.

My poor self-confidence, which strands I managed to collect before leaving my room, now spilled to the floor with a rattle like candies.

"How are you?" he asked, surprising me completely. I was ready for the harsh, instant lecture.

I swallowed and wanted to murmur a cut-and-dried "Fine" but at the last moment, I decided to answer honestly. Vince would have guessed anyway if I had lied and I didn't want to annoy him even more. Maybe he'll appreciate that I'm telling the truth.

"My head hurts and my throat tickles. And I'm a bit cold. And hungry," I listed quietly, looking down and playing with my fingers unconsciously.

I was particularly proud of myself for confessing to hunger. I was hoping he picked it up and appreciated it too.

"Sit down," he commanded, nodding at the sofa. There were some folders and papers laying on it. Apparently, he worked here while I was taking a nap. Oh, well.

I obediently squeezed into the corner of the couch and watched shyly as he first pulled a large, thick blanket with the pattern of black and white cow patches out of the closet and handed it to me. I immediately unfolded it and covered myself with it. Then, Vince headed to the cupboard next to the apartment's front door and grabbed a restaurant menu that was laying there together with hotel regulations and brochures informing about a few of the miserable attractions that the city offered.

"Choose what you want to order. Lunch and tea. No ice cream or soda drinks."

I immediately took the card from him, quickly deciding on fish and chips. Mainly because I fancied fries but I knew that for Vince it wouldn't be enough if I asked only for them, without a set. I also chose green tea with raspberries and an orange juice, quietly sighing at the fact that I cannot drink a coke.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother put a glass of water on the table next to me and tossed the effervescent tablet into it. He put another pill next to it and told me to take these drugs while he placed the order, showing off his perfectly mastered phone etiquette skills. The medicine tasted terrible - like a watered-down coffee mixed with lemon but I didn't dare to complain about it.

Vince put the phone down and took his place on the couch, unfortunately, not as far from me as my cowardly persona would have wished. He didn't say anything yet but began to pull up the sleeves of his shirt. He did it slowly and gracefully, and I focused on sipping my disgusting drink, peeking at him.

After a while, I knew that Vincent didn't just suddenly feel too hot. He pulled up his sleeves so that I could see the red marks I had scratched on his skin. Similar to the ones I left on Dylan's chest once.

I looked down at the empty, already, glass that I was clutching in both my hands and nervously adjusted myself on the couch.

"I know it was a difficult moment for you and you simply got emotional but I want to hear your explanation of what happened there," Vincent announced, leaning back comfortably and looking at me. He crossed his legs and rested one hand on his thigh.

"I, well, I guess... I panicked..." I admitted, clearing my throat, and when my brother didn't speak, apparently waiting for something more, I continued, sensing that this was my only chance to defend myself in his eyes. "I just ... I wanted to stay a bit longer... I didn't have time to say a proper goodbye. And you suddenly just forced me to leave... like literally out of nowhere..."

I certainly couldn't mask all the reproaches that the last sentence was full of.

"Hailie, I didn't make you leave by force because of a whim," Vince said, rubbing his forehead for a moment. He seemed kind of tired but he continued his clarifications. As always, the massive, mysterious signet ring was glistering on his finger. "You were soaked and cold, now you already don't feel well, and it could have ended worse if you stayed longer in the rain, hugged to cold stone. Especially, since we were in an open space during a storm."

Already halfway through his speech, I looked down at my knees, now crouched, still hidden under a blanket. I preferred to think that Vincent was mean, not that he was taking care of me because this way it was easier for me to be mad with him.

I said nothing.

"I'm sorry your mom is dead and I know you miss her a lot. You have the right to be angry and sad. I accept it. At the same time, I want you to know that for me your safety is a priority and is more important than your comfort. Therefore, I will not sit with you at the grave, stroking your hair when a storm gathers over our heads. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

My heart trembled.

"I just wanted to speak to her a little more..." I cried, trying to rationalize my behavior. I also felt kind of gratitude for these words that being spoken by him seemed to be thousand times more powerful.

I started to blubber a bit, which certainly didn't help my headache. I heard Vincent's sigh, then he moved closer to me and gently pulled me to him. I didn't ignore this gesture, quite the opposite, I hugged him immediately, inhaling the scent of his perfume - strong and masculine. He held me tight, like in the cab, but this time I felt the pleasure and relief.

"Supposedly, time heals wounds," I murmured this well-known quote into the void, staring blankly at the floor.

Vince stroked my back gently, which made the shivers of cheer run through my body.

"That's not true, Hailie. Such deep wounds as yours don't heal," our eyes met when he saw that I raised mines at him. I was still pressing my cheek to his chest though. "Time will only make you gradually get used to the pain but it's always something."

I processed his words for a moment, wondering if they made me feel better or depressed me even more. Vince let me relax in his arms until the ordered food arrived. I felt so good wrapped in them that I forever-damned that stupid fish.

Everything was probably fine between me and Vincent. He wasn't mad at me and I didn't hate him. The next day, I felt much better and we got up very early because Vince promised me that we would go to the cemetery again, before leaving, so that I could say goodbye to my mom and grandma the way I wanted. I was endlessly thankful for this offer.

He also asked if I would like to visit some old friends but I didn't have anyone here who I was keeping in touch with. My contacts with people from school fell apart like a house of cards after I moved out. Faster than I would expect.

"Would you like to see your old apartment?" my brother asked randomly as we sat in a cab.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at this offer.

"It's not mine anymore. Mom and Grandma were renting it. Now someone else lives there," I informed him.

"I know. But I can buy it for you if you want," Vince shrugged, looking with no interest through the side window at the buildings we passed.

With the corner of my eye, I saw a taxi driver giving him a look in the rear mirror.

"Uhm ... t-thank you, but you don't have to," I said weakly.

I don't know why such lines were still shocking to me. The old apartment I lived in was probably worth little more than two watches from Vince's large collection.

We were supposed to have lunch before catching the plane and, returning from the cemetery, we stopped at the traffic lights and I looked out the window and spotted the restaurant that served the best and cheapest Chinese food in the city. My mom and I always ordered from there. With excitement in the voice and nose almost stuck to the glass, I informed my brother about it.

And he told the cab driver to stop and offered me to eat there which I happily agreed on. The interior of the restaurant was simple and not very sophisticated - wooden tables, cheap tiles on the floor, and kitschy decorations. On the table, instead of napkins, there were boxes of tissues placed, the same which my mom always bought me when I had a runny nose. Vince didn't comment on this but shortly after we came inside, I got ashamed that I had brought him here. He was the last person to fit into this place.

He raised his eyebrows at the menu, which was a simple A4 paper in a document sleeve that was sticky with a sauce. Or was it at the sight of the prices? When I said it was the cheapest and best Chinese food in town, I really meant it. Fortunately, the quality of it was still high, so we ate really well. I think Vincent liked it too, and I reminded myself of old times.

Finally, my brother paid and left to a nice middle-aged waitress who served us a generous tip. Then his phone rang and I had to go to the toilet, so we split up for a moment.

Okay, the bathrooms in this pub were awful and I remembered why my mother and I always preferred to order with delivery from here. Another thing was the fact that this particular area was a little too suspicious and it wasn't recommended for an adult, pretty woman, and a teenager to hang around here on their own. A man who just got out of the men's bathroom at the same time as I left the ladies' one was the perfect confirmation of it. We ran into each other in a very narrow corridor that led to the main room. The door to the ladies' bathroom was at the very end, so in order not to squeeze past the stranger, I had to wait until he went first.

I had a bad feeling about him right away. First I wrinkled my nose when I felt the unpleasant scent of alcohol and mold. Then I met his eyes and I knew already that he wouldn't be able to go without some rude commentary on me. His eyes were red and puffy, the gray and slightly yellowed beard unevenly cut. He was not very tall and dressed in some rags. He looked like a homeless man who managed to slip in through a side door. Strange, because he didn't seem to care about dealing with his physiological needs in human conditions. I didn't want to think about the other person this way but the miserable image of this man didn't leave me much choice.

I stopped to keep a distance from this sleazy guy, which wasn't easy in such a cramped corridor. Let him just keep going and I'll follow him after. Just let him keep going. But he didn't.

"Oh, dolly ..." he whistled hoarsely in my direction.

I clenched my jaw. I should go back to the bathroom. But what if he rushes after me and I won't have time to close the lock? Or is he harmless?

I waited for him to move, but he wasn't, devouring me with his eyes. I felt discomfort and a bit of fear. I can always start screaming. Should I start now?

"Hailie."

Vincent stopped at the other end of the corridor, looking at me expectantly. He also cast one quick look at the stranger, but he immediately transferred it to me. I will not lie, in the presence of my brother I felt immediately more confident, so I headed towards the exit, tensing when I had to pass the man. I cringed so as not to rub against him accidentally and I held my breath.

He didn't stop me, as I had imagined before that he could do but when I thought I passed him safely, I started in disgust because I felt his mitt on my buttock.

I pursed my lips and speeded up, without even turning, wanting to be next to Vince as soon as possible. However, my brother immediately moved and passed me by. I turned after him, confused.

"Wassgoinon..." The slimy pervert mumbled, raising his dirty hands up.

Due to his disgusting appearance, he probably usually gets off with such actions. I imagined most people preferred not to touch him and just move away from him as far as possible. Like me.

Vincent, despite his always well-groomed image, didn't have such inhibitions.

I stared in horror as my brother clenched his fist on the opponent's worn-out T-shirt and pushed him back to the toilet. Its door opened obediently immediately letting both men in. Then, Vince slammed it with one hand and for a few long seconds, I could only hear the loud groans and even the screams of a man coming from inside. His voice sounded old and dusty, long unused on such high pitches.

I didn't know what to do, so I stood there, feeling dumb, and stared at the door to the men's bathroom, listening to those awful noises. At some point, the waitress who served us earlier stopped beside me. She looked worried. However, she didn't have the courage to check what was happening. Well, she didn't have to, because after a while the pitiful whimper rolled together with the only one last long cry and then we heard the sound of running water and a few seconds later the dryer...

The door opened and Vince left as if nothing had happened, rubbing his hands calmly. The woman accompanying me and I looked at him without a word. I don't know what she expected to see but surely, not my elegant brother, who came up to me, full of grace, put his hand on my shoulder, and motioned his head towards the exit. The waitress got just a polite "goodbye" from him and we were gone.

When I got into the taxi that was waiting for us, I still chewed on my lower lip.

"What did you do to him?" I asked quietly, gathering my courage.

Vincent didn't even look at me, but he answered.

"I explained the difference between being a gentleman and a pervert."

Nothing more, nothing less - there was no point in pushing him for details. I looked at his hands surreptitiously and asked myself, what were they capable of? Did I even want to know the answer? Would I bear it?

I don't know. All I know is that when we got home and a few days later I was notified that it was time to start my training, I was more than excited. Finally, I was to learn how to defend myself. Without anyone's help.

It seemed to be a lot of fun at the beginning, especially since I started learning with Will, who was as lovely and forgiving as ever. Dressed in sports clothes, he took me to our gym.

I practiced here only once - almost a year ago, with Dylan. It wasn't exactly a good memory so I never showed up here anymore. All these machines only reminded me of how weak I was. I know, stupid, it would be better to pull myself together and build any muscles but I was ashamed to even start. I knew that soon one of my brothers would see me training and probably make fun of me.

Will told me to sit on the mattress, which I did, pulling my legs under my chin. I tied my hair in a ponytail, which was now wagging behind my back. My brother took his place in front of me and made sure that he had all my attention.

"First of all, Hailie, I have to ask again. Do you still want to learn self-defense?"

I nodded enthusiastically, staring confidently at his wonderful blue eyes, now extremely serious.

"Use the words, babygirl," he asked gently.

I refrained from rolling my eyes.

"What difference does it make if I just nod? The meaning is the same," It was something that I wanted to say from the first day of my stay at the Monet's house when Will and then Vince reminded me to answer them verbally.

Will lifted one corner of his mouth.

"Well, one of the reasons is that it's easier for me to recognize if you're lying when I hear your voice," he said, winking at me.

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

"You're not serious."

"I'm serious," he laughed at my reaction.

I paused for a moment, thinking intensively.

"Yes, I still want to learn self-defense."

Will nodded and sighed, and I tilted my head at it.

"Will? Why do you not like it so much?" I asked curiously.

He looked at me for a moment, then reached out and stroked my head, running his hand over my ponytail - from the top to its very end.

"I don't know," he murmured as if to himself and, a moment later, added, "I don't want you to lose your innocence, little one."

My heart began to melt like cheese on toast. I rose to my knees and moved closer to my favorite brother, boldly wrapping my arms around him.

"I won't. I will only know what to do in an emergency. As soon as you teach me how to fight and shoot."

I imagined myself with big boxing gloves on my small fists. Oh, oh! Or in tight shorts and a T-shirt, with a loose braid and a holster with a gun attached to one of my thighs, like Lara Croft or something. Oh yeah, I was more than ready to learn how to fight.

Will snorted, embracing my back with one hand.

"I won't teach you how to shoot. I still don't think it's necessary. I don't want to see you with a gun in your hand," he said and ran his index finger down my cheek.

I frowned.

"If not you, then who?"

"Vince. Or Tony. I do not know," Will shrugged.

Great. I swallowed, hoping my brother didn't notice that.