"Maybe she just meant that she'd take care of her-- like a nice person would do for another nice person. You could be reading too far into it; Mama's not a bad person," he countered slowly, pressing the sleeve of his nightshirt against his lip to soak up the blood that had started to appear as a result of his talking, though he figured it was inevitable - he couldn't communicate in grunts and murmurs, both because his brother wouldn't understand and because it just felt rude for him to do that anyway. If he had to face some bleeding and pain just to talk to his brother, he would gladly do that.

Despite his attempts to protest against the other's decision, knowing that it would leave him without the person that had saved his life and who he had confessed his love for, he also just wanted the woman safe and sound, so quickly reached to pick her up into his arms. The main damage was to his face and, from his heavy limp, his legs - fortunately his arms seemed fine enough to hold Maria and carry her out to the car, because evidently, Oliver wasn't going to manage that.

"You could get checked out whilst we're at the hospital. Your arm looks in bad shape," he pointed out quietly, his eyes wide at his brother's inability to even move his arm without wincing. "It... it might be broken, Oliver. They know us at the hospital, right? Mama said everyone 'round here knows our family, so..."
 
“Well, what about your leg? Or your cheek?” He countered, a soft pink riding to his cheeks in embarrassment. He hated being seen as weak so for his brother to call him out on his poor state only embarrassed him. Shooting a nervous glance at Maria, he pursed his lips as he trudged up the stairs, quiet while doing so.

“I dunno...” he began honestly, hesitating by the door. “Yeah, we’re going. It’ll be fine, right? I... I don’t know if the police know yet. We could sneak on hypothetically and get checked out now rather than worry about the cops getting suspicious. It’s been a few hours but I don’t know if the other cops have looked into it. We’re bringing Maria there at the very least.”
 
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"...Mama fixed my cheek, she said it'll heal if... I don't talk a lot... she's going to be angry with me, I've broken the stitches," he babbled, anxiety hitting him the moment the taste of blood fully hit him, his hand flying to his mouth to take note of how bad the damage was. A few stitches wasn't going to help much, but he knew he had made the recovery process longer by proceeding to chatter with his brother. He wasn't frightened of his mother whatsoever, but he was terrified of disappointing her - and he figured that was what he had done just by breaking a few stitches. Sneaking Maria out and going to the hospital, therefore, risked really upsetting her, his confidence ebbing away by the second.

"My leg's fine. Mama said I'll limp about for a bit but she said I'll be alright. She said our Dad lost his foot and he got around just fine, so... I'll manage," he nodded as firmly as he could, despite never being particularly known for his confidence or firmness in what he believed. Even as he spoke, his voice shook and eyes nervously peered about, the only thing that brought him a little relief from that anxiety being the sight of his girlfriend... even if he had to come to terms with the very distinct possibility he might not ever see her again after tonight.

"Mama said that she was going to find that doctor from the asylum for what he did to us. She said we can help her-- he won't be difficult to track down and-- and it's his fault, right? He had us on medication we didn't need, and-- and I was on it for years; I'm not stupid, I know what it's done to me. He-- He deserves to pay for that. Maria doesn't, she's innocent, I get that. He's not, though."
 
“Can you please stop talkin’? You’re only ruining the stitches and to be honest, I’m fucking sick of hearing ‘mama said’. If you keep talking as much as you are, your stitches will tear more and you’ll have to get ‘em fixed again. I’m no dummy, I know how much pain it was for you.” He firmly reminded, his brow furrowed once stepping outside. Motioning his brother to set Maria down, he immediately began to fiddle with the car.

His adopted father was a car fanatic, watching as the man would toy with it with a cheerful whistle while he let the record play in the background. In that time, he also was taught how to Hotwire a car in case of emergency. If you asked him, this was a bit more than just an emergency. When hearing the car rev to life, he slid into the seat.

“We’ll get to the hospital, get your face stitched up properly and... I dunno, maybe they can fix my arm. They can stitch up Maria and we can leave before mama even knows we left. If she gets mad at us getting help, well... what is she gonna do? She’ll kill us? I doubt that.”
 
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Being told off by his brother (at least, that's how he saw it) didn't sit right with the younger male, unsure whether to feel angered by it or, alternatively, respect it. After all, he had always listened to whatever Oliver had to say, taking his words as the gospel truth, even if he initially disagreed with them. However, ignoring the mention of their mother wasn't at all possible and while he completely agreed with the statement, the very fact his brother brought up the words horrified him. For a moment or two, he stayed in silence, glancing out of the window to observe the stars in the sky. It was only when the silence became almost deafening that he dared to speak.

"...Don't say that about her, that's... I don't like that, Oli. She'd never lay a finger on us, ever-- I don't know how you can say that," he grumbled with a stern glare over at the other, his fingers absently twirling the crucifix on his necklace to keep his nerves in check. "You don't like me talking about Mama but-- but there's nothing wrong with that. You never say anything nice about her, I-- I'm not going to feel bad about loving Mama, Oliver. I spent years away from her, I won't be made to f-feel bad about it."
 
I did too! Don’t forget that not everything is about you,” IOliver replied with a grimace as he started the car, his eyes anxiously taking in his childhood home warily. “I was taken away from mama for just as long as you were. You - I don’t want to fight with you right now. Just - please stop talking so I can have a clear fucking head.” He demanded, his jaw clenching in clear frustration as he dug his nails into the steering wheel, so much so that it left marks.

“You should be happy that I’m savin’ Maria from her but instead you just want to get mad at me? So are you saying you’d rather have Maria - who has done nothing but help you - killed, all because mama said so? I know this is a wild idea but she isn’t always right. If she was, we wouldn’t have been taken away in the first place. Don’t don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you can go run back to mama and get me once trouble if you want. I know what I’m doing and I’m going to do it.” He firmly declared after a moment of silence, his eyes locking on his brother’s intensely.
 
Rather than return the intense stare, Wesley's own eyes were locked on his hands, which sat neatly on his lap as his fingers tapped nervously against his kneecaps. He didn't want to be yelled at, especially by the brother he was closest to - both in the family and outside of it. Oliver was the only person he considered a real friend, other than Maria, so being yelled and cursed at hardly filled him with happiness. Guilt did hit him hard, the only thing that distracted him from the feeling of uselessness being the coppery taste of blood, holding his sleeve to his cheek in an effort to stem the bleeding.

Though, the guilt only returned when he realised his stitches had probably all been torn and that his mother would be annoyed by that. He could hardly get it treated at the hospital - Corinne would only realise that he had left the home and that would just make her angrier.

"I like Maria but she hates me now. Do you really think she's going to ever like me, Oliver? I'm not naive; I know what Mama does, what the others do. I know they tried to make us do that when we were kids; I remember that now. Maria ain't gonna understand and-- it's just pointless trying to help her. She'll scream and yell as soon as she wakes up and we'll-- get arrested or somethin', they'll think we hurt her."
 
“So you want mama to kill her?” He confirmed in disbelief. “ ‘They’ll think we hurt her’? We did hurt her - or we will hurt her if you let mama get to her.” He reminded firmly as he jerked the car to a stop, his eyes once again locking on Wesley. After a long pause, he turned off the car with a scoff and a shake of his head.

“Fine, Whatever. Let mama get to her and have her killed but her death is on your conscience, Wesley. I’m not even goin’ to fuckin’ bother if I’m just going to be shit on by the person I’m doing it for. If you’re so against it then I’ll just let her get killed by mama and I’ll wipe my hands of it,” he decided flatly, his jaw adjusting as he forced back his anger.
 
"I never said I wanted her fuckin' dead, I just don't wanna go against Mama. But I don't wanna lose Maria either, she's-- I love her," he mumbled into his sleeve, his eyes nervously glancing around in fear that a police car would just drive up beside them out of nowhere. His mother had told him that the police kept a close eye on her and the house - it wasn't too irrational to believe that they might arrive on the scene if they stayed where they were.

"...Just go to the hospital then, as long as she gets help I think I'll be happy. And Mama won't find out if... if we don't get help for ourselves. She'll notice that we've had medical help, so it's best to drop Maria off and then leave," he decided as confidently as he could, wiping as much blood from his lip and chin as he could, though the steady stream of it made it impossible to clean up entirely. "J-Just drive, please-- I appreciate this, I do."
 
“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled, starting the car back up again before heading to the hospital, a route that had been engrained in his memory when he and his brother were whisked away. Once starting back on the road, Oliver grew quiet as he focused on the destination at hand with the eye that wasn’t swollen shut observing the streets to make sure everything was under control. Once at the hospital, he motioned Wesley to carefully set Maria down on the grass before hurrying to the payphone nearby. Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out the proper change.

“Get back in the car, Wes,” he insisted, his head tilting towards the beat-up vehicle. “I’ll make an anonymous call and tell ‘em where we set Maria and we’ll be outta here, okay? Just... keep quiet and this’ll all be over soon.”
 
"...But I'll never see her again, Oli. S-She's the only person that's ever... been interested in me, I can't just-- this can't be how it ends, this is-- it's not fair," he declared, though his attempt at being confident failed the moment he began to talk. His voice quivered and his words were stuttered which, combined with his clear and obvious panic, didn't give the stern impression he had hoped it would. He had to physically hold his hands together to stop them shaking so much, staring down at his unconscious girlfriend as tears formed in his eyes. He fully expected this to be the last time he ever saw her and, confident that no other girl would ever take an interest in him (especially in a town that thought his family was insane), it was difficult to just walk away from her.

"Can't w-we take her back? Or wait until she's awake so I can say goodbye properly?" He whispered anxiously, appealing to his older brother with wide eyes. "I-I can't just-- walk away, Oli. I'll never see her again and I want her to know I love her, y'know?"
 
“Unless you can miraculously convince ma to leave her alone, then we could bring her back. I already tried and you... love her too much to stand up against her. As for sayin’ goodbye, you could try and wake her up. It’s just - I don’t want her to get hurt, you know? I know how much you love her and all and I’m jealous of the fact you found someone despite everything, I want you to be happy. I’m just trying to approach this realistically,” he tried to explain with pursed lips.

“Look, it’s up to you. No matter what there’ll be consequences to face, yeah?” He reminded with a deep sigh. “I love you, Wes. I just want everything to work out as best as possible.”
 
"What makes you think Ma would even hurt her? Ma doesn't like outsiders, but Maria saved us-- she might let her stay! And then I can start a life with her and she'll be part of our family; she might understand what Ma and the others do. She... might believe in the stuff we believe. It's a long shot but-- but it might happen, I gotta try. We'll let her get help and then... I'll ask her if she wants to come back with us," he decided suddenly, his firm nod indicating that he had made his mind up and wasn't prepared to deviate from that course of action. It was probably a waste of his time to assume Maria would willingly head back to the place that had kept her locked in a basement beside two dead policemen for hours, but he had to try - or live with regret for years for not even attempting it.

"You can go home, I... I'll get back somehow. I can't expect you to wait here with me, it's not fair on you. You look awful, Oliver," continued the younger brother as he finally took time to examine just how injured Oliver was. Wesley wasn't uninjured and his face, currently, was a complete mess, but he could at least see out of both eyes and move his arms without wincing. He couldn't talk all that well, with blood pooling out of the now open wound in his cheek, but he considered himself in a better state than his brother. "You should go home and sleep; you need it. It's not that far a walk home, I'll come back later."