In the attic of Jade's childhood was an old trunk, locked. And even though she couldn't pry it open, nor did she have the key, the muffled sobs coming from inside told her more than she wanted to remember.
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She looked so small.
She was always a little thing compared to her brothers' towering and firm postures. But seeing her lying in the hospital bed, hooked on all kinds of wires and wearing an oxygen mask, it made her look even more small. Her face was pale, accentuating the dark bags under her eyes and the few freckles peppered along the bridge of her nose. The blood had drained from her chapped lips, lacking the usual pink color. She looked so fragile - some would view the softness as a weakness but it took courage to stay delicate in a world so cruel.
Tristan drowned out the steady beep coming from the heart monitor. The sound wasn't enough for him, he needed to seewith his own eyes that she was alive and breathing. That's why he couldn't take his eyes off her chest, taking in the gentle movement of her even breaths. Every now and then she'd go completely still and his own lungs would shut down, refusing to consume any oxygen until she did. He'd wait until she'd part her lips to draw in a shuddered breath before exhaling through her nose - and only then Tristan would allow himself to breathe too.
Ashton's focus was on something else, her closed eyes. He could see them move behind her eyelids, twitching in a way that reminded him of when she used to have nightmares. He learned those telltale signs when she used to suffer from those terrible night terrors - eyes fluttering, cold hands, sweating, trembling lips, whimpering sounds. And sometimes, when he picked up on those signals, he could stop the terror from manifesting itself. Despite the fact that he kept his distance, he could tell that some of those signs were present again. He never wanted to wake her up so bad.
Unlike his brother, Noah thought she looked oddly peaceful and serene, like a sleeping beauty which didn't fit her. His sister rarely slept, it looked so wrong to see her unresponsive, unconscious. He ached to see her eyes so similar to his yet still not entirely the same. Hers were a lighter shade of emerald and only from a specific angle you could spot tiny specks of gold floating around her pupil reminding him of the sun. Maybe that's why her eyes had the ability to shine, maybe that's why her smile felt so warm. He wondered if her eyes would still be as bright if - when she woke up.
The door to the hospital room swung open but neither one of the brothers budged or averted their gazes from the small figure in bed.
A nurse walked in, the creases around her eyes wrinkled as she shot the brothers a soft, compassionate smile. They all watched quietly as she checked their sister's vitals, occasionally scribbling something down on the clipboard.
Jordan chose that moment to walk in, his glance swept around the room. Noah was the only one sitting down on a chair near the window, his fingers drumming incessantly on the armrests. Ashton and Tristan were leaning against the wall, arms and feet crossed at the ankles. Ashton was working his jaw, grinding his teeth. Tristan's hands were buried under his armpits where he most certainly was clenching his fingers into fists.
"How's she doing?"
The nurse's eyes flickered to Jordan, taking in his scruffy appearance - his handsome face and throat were covered in cuts and bruises. He was still in his police uniform, his hair disheveled as if he had ran his fingers through the strands numerous times.
