I open my blurry eyes to discover Benji poking and prodding at me, lying in his hospital bed. "Joel, wake up, the cops are here."

"Wha...? I didn't do anything..."

Both he and another voice chuckle. I rub my eyes and turn my stiff neck to face the cop. It's the guy who interviewed us the other day. I feel like hell, and I know I must look it, too. They should really make these bedside chairs a little more comfortable. "How are you both?"

I stare at him. Oh, we're just fucking dandy. I mean, I'm still weak from having broken ribs and a collapsed lung, my brother's been raped by his psychotic ex-boyfriend, and what's more, the bastard's still stalking us and most likely intends to kill me. Things are just great. Couldn't be better. "We're fantastic, thank you," I mutter.

He nods stiffly, obviously picking up on the hint of sarcasm in my voice. Benji shoots me a look that says something along the lines of "just shut up and be a good boy", and I reach up into the air with both arms, stretching my aching limbs. "I have news on the case. Good and bad."

I bite back a snide remark. Why the hell would he be here this early in the morning if he didn't have news on the case? I look at the clock. Oh. Afternoon. Whatever.

Benji's smiling politely. "Okay, bad news first."

The cop shakes his head. "No, I think I should give you the good news first."

I blink a couple of times and stare at him. That means either the good news is really good or the bad news is really bad. I'm willing to bet it's the latter. "Alright, out with it, then."

He's trying to ignore my attitude, I know, and I should be nice to the guy. I mean, he's trying to help us out here, but I'm not so good when I've just woken up. Especially when I've just woken up in a crappy hospital chair that doesn't even have a neckrest. "Well, the blood on the paper has been identified as belonging to a Mr. Anthony Lovato."

This is somewhat of a relief, but I didn't think Tony had killed anyone yet anyway. There's no one he wants to kill. Except me. Man, I love my life right now.

I look over at Benji and he smiles at me and reaches for my hand. I take it and he squeezes lightly.

No, seriously, I love my life right now.

"The bad news is, a Robin Madden called the station last night."

Both of our heads shoot up and we stare at the guy. "M-mom called you? Why?"

He bites his lip nervously. "She said that a dog belonging to the pair of you had died."

Cashdogg. Cash is dead. Benji loves that dog almost as much as his blood relatives. Maybe even as much. First he looks shocked, then sad, then confused. "Wait," he mumbles, struggling to keep his voice steady, "why would she call you about that?"

The cop scuffs one foot on the floor and looks down at it for a moment. Then he looks up at us, still chewing on his lip. "The dog was murdered in your backyard last night. We believe that-"

"That bastard killed my dog?!"

Benji's just angry now. He's sitting straight up in his bed, fists clenched, teeth gritted. He looks pretty fucking intimidating. "There's more. He left a note, which your mother - fortunately - didn't understand."

I stand up and place my hand gently on my brother's forearm, rubbing it up and down soothingly. He's shaking, probably in both anger and grief. "What did the note say?"

"'Stay away'. That's all."

I sigh. "Alright. Is there anything else? I think we should be alone for a while."

He shakes his head. "No. Nothing else. But when Benji gets out of hospital I'd like you both to come straight down to the station to organize living arrangements."

We say our goodbyes and he leaves quickly. It must be hard, having to break that kind of news to people. Even worse, having to tell people that their family members have been killed. I sit on the side of my brother's bed, and he moves over a bit so I can fit better. I wrap an arm around his shoulders, and he starts to cry silently. Occasionally he wipes his tears away with the back of his fists. We're both quiet for a very long time, just sitting on that bed, him crying and me trying not to. I loved Cash too, but not like Benji did. Benji adored him and spoiled him rotten. He'd buy him presents for christmases and birthdays, and sometimes just because he saw something he thought Cash would like. More often than not, our cute little boxer just wanted the bone from last night's dinner.

Benji curls into the crook of my arm and starts sobbing into my chest, slinging one arm around my waist. Between sobs, he manages to squeak out a few words. "How could anyone be so cruel, Joel?"

I want to have an answer for him, but I don't. "Wish I could tell you, Benj."

"How would he feel if it was Bow Wow? How would he feel if I murdered his dog?"

I squeeze him tightly in my arms and sigh. "I don't know if Tony even has feelings right now, Benji."

"So inhuman..."

I nod, kissing the top of his head, and look up as I see a figure leaning against the doorframe. I glare at him. "Paul."

He looks stressed out and worn, and his eyes are bloodshot. It's as if he's been crying. "If this is a bad time, I'll come back, but I have to talk to Joel."

I glance at my brother. "It's okay, just go," he mumbles, "just don't be too long."

I jump off the bed and make my way out the door and into the hallway, brushing past Paul on my way. If I didn't know that Benji would want me to talk to him, I wouldn't even give him the fucking time of day. Once we're out of earshot, I fold my arms across my chest. "Alright, Paul. Say what you've gotta say."

He looks at his feet and then back up at me. "Joel, I'm in love. With you."