"Please tell me you're joking," I groaned, following Dylan down the hallway.

"Are you really that surprised?" Dylan responded.

"No, I suppose not."

I pushed open the doors, running out of the back of the building, straight for the field. There was already quite a big crowd; everyone was buzzing and cheering, holding their phones up over everyone else's heads. I pushed past them forcefully, trying to find the center of the crowd.

I froze for a moment as I watched him. He was more than angry.

His face was contorted in a malicious sort of way. His eyes were dark with his brows angled downwards. He had his jaw clenched tightly, but the arrogant, self-assured smirk was still on his face. He was sure as hell pissed.

It was clear to tell he was in control of the situation. He threw another punch, landing it directly to the left of the other guy's nose, almost like a warning. I recognized the other guy as Ryan Collins from our year; I had no idea Carson even knew him.

Ryan kept swinging, but he was on defense more than anything, taking blow after blow, not having enough time to recover and throw a decent punch.

I knew yelling at Carson to stop wouldn't do any good; he had tuned everyone else out to focus on his punching bag. I looked over to Dylan to see if he had any bright ideas on how to handle this, but even Dylan knows trying to pull Carson out of a fight is a suicide mission.

Well, if it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he's going to get.

I ran in front of Ryan, pushing the kid back a bit before Carson could swing his fist back again. By the disgruntled look on Carson's face, I could tell he hadn't noticed the person in front of him had changed. I rolled my eyes before moving closer and slapping him across his face.

He sneered viciously as a bright red mark appeared across his right cheek, but his eyes were still fixed and he was setting himself to throw another hit once again. I groaned internally. He always has to be so difficult.

He threw another punch, and I quickly moved to the side, his tight fist whizzing past my ear, just barely missing it. Before he had time to reset, I kicked him in the balls (Not too hard, though. I don't want damaged goods).

I watched as his face contorted in pain and his eyes finally unfocused.

"Fuck," He panted out as he bent over. "Madeline?"

"You're an idiot," I said, angrily, grabbing his ear and pulling him. "Let's go."

* * *

"Madeline," He tried. I didn't respond.

"Princess?"

"Baby?"

"Are you a complete moron?!" I yelled at him. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it to rethink what he going to say. I took that as an opportunity to continue yelling at him. "What possessed your obviously very small brain to think it was a good idea to get into a fight?"

He opened his mouth once again, holding up a finger.

"Don't you dare say anything," I threatened. He sighed, but sat back against the closed toilet seat without a word. He watched me as I passive-aggressively cleaned the cuts on his face and began wrapping up his very bruised hand.

"Madeline," He tried again a few minutes later. I shook my head and chose to ignore him. I could tell he was getting frustrated with me, but I wasn't the one getting into petty fights less than a month into the school year.

He grabbed my face with his good hand, so that I was forced to look at him and stop what I was doing.

"I'm sorry," He repeated for the ninth time since we left the school.

I shook my head, "But the thing is, you're not. You would've done it all over again, regardless."

"Okay then, love, what more do you want me to do?"

I shrugged and sarcastically suggested, "I don't know, maybe stop getting into fights and putting yourself in death's path at every possible opportunity. That would be a good start."

"It's not that big of a deal," He replied casually.

"Not that big of a deal?" I exclaimed. "How is it not that big of a deal, Carson?"

"I'm not seriously hurt or anything," He said, shrugging. I actually wanted to throw something at him.

"You clearly don't understand. We've already been here, Carson. I've already bandaged up your hand, and I've already wiped blood from your face, and I've already cleaned up your cuts. I don't want to have to keep fixing you, over and over!"

He finally stopped trying to interrupt me, looking away guiltily and allowing me to finish my rant.

"You don't understand how scared I was that night, finding you in that alley. And I couldn't say that I was scared because you were scared, too! But you keep doing this; you keep treating your life like it doesn't matter, like you have nothing to live for! You are reckless and cocky and stupid, just plain stupid! So, grow up and stop this before you seriously get hurt."

"Madeline," He sighed. Carson pulled me down to sit down in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"You've already said that."

"Yes, but I mean it this time."

I stayed silent, not really knowing what to say to him anymore.

"Do you know what it was about?" Carson asked, tucking fallen strands of hair behind my ear.

I groaned and shook my head, "I don't care what the fight was about."

"But-"

"I don't care, Carson! I don't care if it was about you or Jason or anyone else. It doesn't change anything in my mind."

"He deserved it, though, and-"

I pulled away from, leaning back to look him in the eyes, "You're still not getting it. I don't care if he 'deserved' it. I couldn't give a damn about Collins; I care about you, Carson. I care about you not getting killed, and I also care about you not getting expelled."

"I'm sorry-" He started again.

I interrupted him, "But you would do it again."

He grabbed the sides of my face, holding it in between his hands. "Let me finish," He said calmly. "I can't say I'm sorry about what I did to Collins, but I am sorry for worrying you. And I'll try to stop, okay?"

Carson wrapped his arms loosely around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I wanted to slap him, or punch him, or scream at him again. Yes, screaming felt good. But, I wouldn't. I would remain calm.

"Thank you," I smiled, letting my head fall down onto his shoulder. I felt him lay a kiss on the top of my head while he ran his hands through my hair.

"The fight was about you, by the way," He said. "Well, us, really. Collins made a joke about which of the two of us would cheat on the other first."

I sat up straight and took his face, kissing him. "You're an idiot for letting Collins get to you. Especially when Jason makes the same jokes."

"Yeah, but it's Jason," He said, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You have to expect stupid, over-the-line jokes from him. Collins is different."

"I believe you could have gone without punching him."

"I was going to let it slide, but then he said some shit about you being a slut, and at that point I couldn't stop my hand from hitting his face."

"Carson, you call me a slut all the time."

"No," He said defensively. "I call you my slut. And only I can call you that."

"Right, okay, so hitting Collins-"

"Was to defend your honor. You're welcome."

"How noble of you," I said, rolling my eyes and and giving his shoulder a pat. "You're still sleeping alone tonight."

He scoffed, "That's a lie and you know it."

Getting up from his lap, I shrugged in response and made my way out of the bathroom.

"YOU'RE LYING RIGHT?"

* * *

I wandered through the house aimlessly as I tried to find something to cure my boredom. As a result of yesterday's fight, Carson was serving a detention after school today, so he would be gone for the next hour or so.

I found my mother, sitting alone on the couch in the living room, reading a book. I plopped down beside her, and she barely glanced up to acknowledge my presence before returning the novel.

I curled up next to her as she wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer to her. I enjoyed the comfortable silence between us, but I couldn't fight off the questions that had been swirling around my mind for ages.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What were the Daniels like? When you first met them, I mean."

Once again her concentration on the book was stolen, and she stared straight ahead now, as if in deep thought. She sighed, placing her book down on the coffee table and taking off her reader's glasses.

"They're good people, Madeline. If that's what you're getting at here."

"They don't seem it. Not anytime I've met them, it seems. How am I supposed to believe they are, or ever were, good?"

She leaned back against the couch, contemplating what to say next and responding with caution. "Your father and I met them at the beginning of our residencies, and we survived it together. Naturally, we all became best friends; family."

"As we became closer, we found we had similar ideas about advancing medicine– taking advantage of advancing technology ,and making healthcare more affordable. The trouble was, no hospital board was keen to hear from 'god-complexed' doctors straight out of residency.

"So, when the four of us had passed our boards exams, made names for ourselves, saved enough money, and had enough substantial investors, we built our hospital."

My mother must have tried to tell me the story of how they made the hospital a million times before, but I never really listened. Now, as I watched her relive it all, I realize how amazing it is what she and my father have done, and even more that she did it while being a mother.

She continued on, "For a while, we were on every paper, every news broadcast. Finding staff was no trouble; healthcare workers worldwide were intrigued by the modern hospital, and wanted to be part of the legacy.

"At this point, we were with the Daniels almost every second of the day, and we could think of no one better to share this glory with than our friends since first-year residency."

"Your father and I always planned on having children one day and you were everything we wanted. We waited purposefully to have you until after we were certain we could provide you a happy life, not clouded by student debts or a life where we could never be home to watch you grow up.

"The Daniels, however, planned differently; they wanted to devote their lives to medicine. Kids were not on their agenda."

My mother stopped, and looked down at her lap.

"Mom?" I asked, pleading for her to continue, certain I wouldn't like what she would say next.

She sighed, "The Daniels didn't plan for Carson. And they weren't overly ecstatic about it either."

I looked away from her, something sharp pinging at my gut.

"They never considered having a family, but they were willing to make it work for Cason's sake. They cared deeply for him the second Carson was born, but-"

"But he forced them away from their work at the hospital," I interrupted.

My mother nodded, "I remember Carson's father was the most upset, though he hid it. His mother, I think, was changed after Carson was born, and took a lot of time off during his younger years."

"So, then, how does Katie fit into all of this? If they didn't want one child, why have another?"

"I think it was more for Carson's sake," She sighed. "To keep Carson company. When Katie got sick, they were obviously very worried, and I think it pained them that she was dying of an illness they specialized in. Now, I think her death has arisen some guilt."

She finished her story and shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsettled. We sat in silence as I replayed her words in my head, as I'm sure she was doing the same. Knowing the story made me grateful to have my mother and father. There were some days that I would go without seeing them, but they never missed an important moment in my life. They loved me, and made sure I knew.

However, I hated that I could partially understand Carson's parents from their point of view, and I hated that I sympathized their position almost as much as I did Carson.

"I wish I could hate them," I said.

My mother nodded, "I know. I wish I could, too, for putting Carson through this. But, I believe they will do the right thing eventually, and come back home."

I did too. A large part of me ached for Carson and wanted nothing more than to tell his parents where to shove it. But another part of me hoped they would come back and try to atone for their mistakes, and make things right with Carson.

Carson came through the front door only ten minutes later, a small smile on his face as he came into the living room. He came to a stop behind the couch with me directly in front of him, placing a kiss on the top of my head and greeting my mother.

"What are you two up to?" He asked.

"I was just about to head upstairs for a bit," My mother said with one of those completely non-inconspicuous suggestive smirks, removing the blanket spread across her lap and standing up from the couch.

After she had left the room, Carson took her place on the couch next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned backwards, pulling me down on top of him to lay across the couch.

"How was it?" I asked.

He sighed, "Long. It was just me, Collins, and some other random guy. No fun at all, really."

"I hardly think they intended for detention to be fun."

"I know. But if you were there, we could've snogged right in front of Collins. I'd kill to see the look on his face."

"I'm not sure he can even see, his eyes are so swollen, they're practically closed shut."

"I know," He chuckled. "I really did a good job, didn't I?"

I resisted the urge to slap him and move away because I was enjoying how nice it felt to lay with him like this. I could feel his chest rising and falling under me as his warm breath hit my forehead. His hand was running up and down my back, his fingers tracing over my spine delicately.

I could lay here, like this with him, in complete silence forever, and I had no intention of being the one to break it.