Well, here I am again. I really need to start to write longer chapters. And I desperately apologize for any spelling errors or grammar issues. Really. I'm sorry. Anyways... on with the story.

"Mo? Mo? Mo, are you okay?" someone calls over and over again.

Well, that's a stupid question, I think to myself.

I groan, and try to turn over, away from the light. The nurse- doctor, I remind myself, clucks and covers the blinds.

"Mo, I need you to tell me how you are feeling." She says.

I open my eyes and sit up, before instantly closing them and lying down again. My face feels bruised, my eyes are blinded by the light, and with every move I feel more and more dead.

"Uhhhh..." I moan, squinting to make out Dr. Solemon.

She squeezes my hand, and pats my cheek. I can't move to tell her to get away.

She tsks again and then flicks a switch at the bottom of the bed. The bed props me into a sitting position, much more comfortable.

She tilts the blinds darker then turns on a dim lamp.

"Well, I'm actually quite surprised Mo." She says, chuckling.

"You really are something. The story is out. You 2 are famous."

I shake my head, then wince. "Sorry?" I think I'll go for polite.

She purses her lips and strokes my arm. "You know. The 2 poor innocent, helpless girls, Mo and Py. They had a past filled with tortures and abuse from their parents, whom wanted them dead. They cried every night, enduring in the pain, fearing their parents. But they didn't give in, no they didn't give up. They prevailed. Both girls, brave and true, managed to collect wood from the forests and build a tree house, all the way up in a 104 foot tall tree. They scraped up money when they could to get food and clothes, sleeping in thin sleeping bags out in a Canadian winter, and..."

I can't stand it. Collect wood from trees? Helpless girls? tortures and abuse? Fear of Joe and Frisca? Thin blankets? I clench my fists and pull myself as high as I can while remaining sitting. I don't even feel the pain.

"Exsuce me?" I say angrily, trying to stay calm. I'm not doing very well on that one.

She looks up and I realize that she's reading aloud from a newspaper. "What? That's what this says?"

I snatch it away from her and begin reading as fast as I can. I think that I snorted at every other sentance.

When I finih, it's all I can do not to crack up laughing.

Dr. Solemon is staring incredulously at me, and I toss the paper back t her.

"I'm sorry to disapoint you, doctor, but there's not an ounce of truth in this.

She stares at me.

"So... so your parents weren't abusive? You didn't live in a tree? You weren't starving?"

I just luagh harder.

"Oh... oh... Dr... Dr. Solemon, My Dad was abusive, yes you could say that." I point at the deep gashes on my face, and my stomach and arms and legs, all at once.

"Where else did I get all of these? Only the tiny ones were from the fall. But as for 'collecting wood from trees to build the house'... well, our neighbor was ever so kind as to lend us his saw and some leftover planks from his little construction project. We had the warmest thermal sleeping bags piled with blanksets and pillows so we were never cold, and we definetly were not starving. We ate 3 meals a day, had a varity of different foods. We had cereal for breakfast- I believe that is normal, teenage breakfast? and whatever was in the bin for lunch. As for dinner- we know how to cook, and we do have the money for fruits and vegetables." I pause to look straight into her disbelieving eyes.

"But Dr. Hannah Grate Solemon," Her eyes open wider when I use her full name. Let her wonder. It was on my file, that"Py and I may have hated Joe and Frisca, but the minute that we met each other, there was absolutely no reason the fear them. We are capable of getting away. After all, you can't hurt something you can't catch, can you?"

A few hours later I'm surrounded by talking, chattering reporters, eagerly taking pictures and asking me stupid questions.

Currently, I'm pretending to be asleep, but I don't think anyone is buying it.

"I'm sorry, people, but she is sleeping. I would be happy to talk you outside, but if you wished to put her in danger by taking her off..."

And just when I think that they will finally shut up and go, someone yanks on my arm. Hard.

"Come on girl! Look at me!" He shouts, a newcomer, obviously. Apparently they missed the earlier speech of Dr. Solemon's "Don't Touch" Rule. Sometimes I love that woman, I mean, she scared off half the reporters. Unfortunately, the other half didn't shy away so easily,

I feel as if my arm has been pulled out of it's socket, is on fire, all while being dunked in a bucket of icy water that does nothing to quench the flames.

Upon feeling this, I don't scream like expected. Instead, I sit up as best I can, ignoring the pain in my left arm (that's the easy part. Ignoring the whispers and flashes of the camera is harder). A single tear drips down my eye, surprising myself. I cry about as often as I scream. Maybe the cameras just make my eyes water. That's more likely.

I don't spend time pondering the situation, I just bolt upright and bring up my good hand to slap the reporter closest to me. I knew that I'd regret it later, but honestly, what would you have done? The idiot stumbled backwards, as expected, and Dr. Solemon managed to usher everyone else out of the room. She heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to me. I was already panting hard, and al lthat I'd done was slap a single person. Apparently, I was no where's near as strong as I used to be.

"Well, Mo, we've gotten rid of your uninvited guests." I just glare at her. Did she think that I was an idiot? In the few moments that I slapped the reporter, my mind cleared. It was kind of like being looked in a dark, musty, stinky room for a long time to go outside and face the sun and breathe in fresh, clean air. And in that moment I realized that someone had to have invited them in. It's technically illegal for reporters to just walk into an emergency patient's room to blind them with flashing lights- right?

Well, let's just try to confirm this.

"Dr. Solemon," I say through gritted teeth. "Isn't it... illegal... to allow reporters into an emergency patients room, without their- or the doctor's- permission?" Dr. Solemon smiles a tight smile, and walks over to me to try to get me to go back down.

"Now, now Mo. I'm sorry if you didn't ant any people bothering you. I'll tell whoever let them in to..."

This time it's her that I slap. Well, it's more like a punch, but you can take it either way, becasue I don't know what happened next. I was dead asleep the instant after.

"Uhghmmmmm.." I moan. My vision is fuzzy and disoriented, and my whole body feels numb.

Shifting in the bed, I can hear the faint sound of breathing above the racket of metal machines.

I groan again and try to sit all the way up. I slump against the wall, proud of my accomplishments. I can't feel any part of my left side.

As my vision clears, I zoom in on A certain dark haired girl slumped over on the bench. She's not asleep.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty." She says, not looking up from beneath the mop of black hair.

I grin. "Well?" I ask Py, expecting a full explaination. She looks up at last, purpilish bruises underneath her blue eyes.

"Well? That's the first thing you say to me? I don't get to talk to you for..." She glances at a calender on the wall "... a week? A week and a half?" I shake my head.

"No way Py. There's no way that I've been asleep for almost 2 weeks." She rolls her eyes and drags up a wooden stool besides me.

"Really Mo? No, you haven't been asleep for almost 2 weeks. You got up about 9 times. I think you met the amazing charmer Sal, who told you the incredible news- we're sisters. Incredible, isn't it? All those years of joking that we were actually long lost sisters and it's true." She clucks sarcasticly, if that's even possible. "And then I believe you found out what really happened. And then you were awakened to slap a reporter... nice going by the way." I open my mouth to protest, but she just holds up a hand. "Not done yet. And then you woke several times to get upset at Sal over and over again, only to punch another reporter. My, we certainly do have anger issues here, don't we?" She mocks playfully, saying all of this in one breath.

"You make it sound like I hurt them, Py! I barely touched those people! And as for Sal, or Dr. Solemon, or whatever her name is, she was asking for it! She practically called them to say, 'here I am, please talk to me and make me famous' Uh, the bloody git." I protest indignantly.

Py snorts. "You think I don't know that? Come one, Mo! I'm just telling you what was on the news!"

I nod appreciatively. "Figures. They do seem to exaggerate things a lot, don't they." I don't ask it like a question, but rather a statement.

She shrugs, and replys, "Yeah. They got to me too. Mrs. And Mr. Billingsgate are shitty about it. All they want is for me to talk, talk, talk to reporters. Wel, maybe I shouldn't have used 'shitty' I mean, I once used crap because I dropped a vase, and they were more upset about my usage of word than the broken vase. Anyways, I was tempted to go your way too, punch them in the face and all, but I didn't have the same excuse."

I just stare. She raises her eyebrows and stares back, before I can't help it. I burst into peals of laughter, snorting into my sheets, nearly rolling off the bed.

She just raises her eyebrows higher until they vanish completley.

"Uh... Mo?" I just laugh harder.

Finally, after 5 minutes of continueous laughter, I manage to giggle out, "Bilings... Bilin... Billingate..." Py just keeps on the skeptical look.

"Yes...? What is wrong with the name Billingsgate?" I just keep guffawing.

"Py," I say, tears blurring in my eyes. "Do you know what.." I let out a chuckle "...Billingsgate, means?"

She shakes her head slowly, and I giggle with delight again. "What. IS. Your. Problem. With. The. Name. Billingsgate?" I just grin, so wide that my mouth feels like it's being ripped apart. Literally. I'd stop smiling if it were possible.

"Py. Billingsgate means... it means..." I take a moment to breathe in and out, calming myself. It's pointless, I'll just get laughing again the minute I spit it out, but...

"Py, the dictionary definition for billingsgate is..." I go into dictionary-robot mode. "coarsely abusive language. Example: Modern billingsgate betrays puerile imbecility of pundits" — headline in the Rome (GA) News-Tribune, March 4, 2006. About the Word: Since the 14th century, Billingsgate has been the name of a fish market in London, England – a fish market at one time notorious for its merchants' vulgar language. We find an allusion to the merchants' crude talk in 16th century British chronicler Raphael Holinshed's description of a messenger's language, which he said was "as bad a tongue ... as any oyster-wife at Billingsgate." I say this with a robot voice, droning on and on so that nobody but Py would be remotely interested.

I pause for an instant to gauge her reaction, and then after a brief moment of utter shock, we both crack up laughing, and every time one of us would manage to calm down, the other would just end up giggling hysterically.

"Girls?" A nurse (not Sal. Thankfully) She tuts, then walks over to us, hands on her hips.

"Py. You know that you are not supposed to be fooling around." She clasps my shoulder. "And you. If you feel like you are going to explode with the pain from laughing, stop it. You should know better than that."

Py shrugs, then turns to me. "This is Angela McKee." I nod, then try to put out my hand. No such luck. Pain jolts up my arm, and several machines start to beep.

"Pleasure to meet you. Try not to move." Angela says quickly. I blink. Well that sounded weird. Py laughs at my expression.

"It's true, you shouldn't be moving too much." I stick my toungue out at her, childishly. "You're the one that started it, Py."

She just shrugs again. "True, true. Now, do you want to know..."

Angela steps in. "Now, it's all very well that you're having a cheery time here, but I'm afraid I need to interrupt. Mo," She turns to look at me. "The all important question- are you hungry?" I blink. Really? I'm about to find out what happened, and you ask if I'm hungry. I start to shake my head no, but then my empty stomache grumbles and Angela smiles. "Denial," She says in a sing-song voice. "Is not just a river in egypt, my friend." So we're friends now? Well then...

"Okay, so before I get osme chow, how are you feeling? Headache, fatigue, soreness, numbness, anything?"

I bite my lip. "Ummm... I do fell sore, my feet feel numb, and ummm... my head hurts just a tiny bit. Not much, not much," I add when Py gives me a worried look.

Angela snaps the clipboard shut, then smiles brightly at me. "I'll be back soon with some chow."

As soon as she leaves, I sit up, and gesture at Py to continue. "Go on," I prod. Py laughs hysterically.

"Mo, you will never cease to amaze me. Ever, you know that?" She shakes her head, and props her elbows up on my bed.

"Well, Mo. It all began when ourdear, dear Joe killed his Mum..."

As Py tells me what happened, I find myself getting more and more surprised at every second, only to realize that it all makes perfect sense. Us being sisters, the hospital at cherrybrooke, the drunken fights... all of it. Until she told me about the tree house.

"Um... Py?" She looks up from the linen she's twisting around in her hand. "Yes?" she asks polietly.

I roll my eyes. "Yes? Wow, you're actually learning some manners!" I joke. She shoves me lightly and rests her chin on the mattress. Oddly enough, I do not feel any pain whatsoever. "Well, you showed a bunch of strangers our hiding spot, so that is no longer a safe house for us. And more so, you showed them to prove a point which is..." Py nods, finishing my sentence for me. "unlike me. I know. But... You don't understand. I felt so... so angry, that they could act as if they knew everything, talking to me as if I were a child," At this point, I interupt. "Py, you are a child." She snorts. "That's besides the point. I hated the way they talked to me in a condecending voice, telling me about all of those people in the hospital with no emotion at all. It was..." She sobs, red rimmed eyes in addition to the dark bags.

I place a hand on her shoulder, still not feeling the pain I should.

"Py. We've all got our faults. And by the way, you should probably get a hold of yourself because," I nod at the door. "Our little nurse here is right outside the door."

I was going to make this a lot longer, but my brother is watching the hunger games and it's really distracting, so I just had to finish this up. Sorry if it's too short, like the rest of my chapters :(