Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Dilara's POV)

It's strange how I managed to stay quiet for this long.

How I kept everything locked up inside.

All the things I saw and heard and experienced.

But I was breaking.

I felt it. Every day, the pressure built.

I sat in the corner of the common room and watched Angel from across the room. She talked to Hande and laughed about something. I didn't hear the words, just the sound of her voice cutting through the thick tension in the air. She didn't know.

I didn't think she did.

She didn't know what this place really was.

None of them did.

My fingers traced the edge of the book in my lap but I wasn't reading it. I was just thinking. My mind spun and replayed the same scenes over and over again. The treatments.

The things I saw Dr. Nixon do. The things she forced me to do.

At first it was helpful, but it graduated into borderline weird and just...off-putting.

I had stopped attending our "therapeutic" treatment sessions and even though she'd send multiple patients to call me, I avoided going. It's like ever since Dr. Joe came; she just became more intolerable. As if she wasn't doing stuff at her own volition.

My chest tightened and I felt the panic rise. But I shoved it back down and forced myself to breathe. I forced myself to stay calm.

I needed to talk to someone.

I needed to tell someone what was happening here.

My gaze locked onto Angel again and something in me snapped.

I stood up and the pressure of my secret pulled me toward her. My legs felt heavy with the burden I carried for too long.

"Angel," I said, and my voice was quieter than I meant it to be.

She looked up at me and her eyes were curious but warm. "Hey, Dilara. What's up?"

I hesitated and my heart pounded in my chest. What if she didn't believe me? What if she thought I was crazy? She was always the one questioning and interrogating me, and she was the most suspicious. Would she believe an ounce of what I had to say?

But I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I need to talk to you," I blurted out and my voice shook. "It's about Dr. Nixon."

Angel's smile faded and she glanced at Hande who looked just as confused. "Okay, sure. Let's go somewhere private."

...

We slipped into the small study room at the back of the dorm. The walls were thin and the air felt heavy with the scent of cleaning products. Angel sat across from me and her eyes were wide with concern.

"Dilara, what's going on?" she asked gently.

I took a deep breath and my hands trembled in my lap.

"She's not what she seems," I started, and my words were barely above a whisper. "Dr. Nixon...her treatments aren't normal."

Angel leaned forward and her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen things," I said as my voice shook. "Things she's done to patients. Things she's done to me. At first, they were kinda edgy and kinda worked, but...but recently, she's gotten unhinged and so has the so-called treatments." I paused and swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's not just therapy. It's something else. Something darker."

Angel's eyes widened and her hands clenched into fists. "What has she done?"

I closed my eyes and the memories flashed through my mind. The needles. The restraints. The way she smiled while I screamed.

"She calls it 'therapy,"" I whispered. "But it's not. She uses us and tests things on us. And I think there's more going on. I think she's working with Dr. Joe."

Angel sat back and her face turned pale. "Why would they do that? What's the point?"

"I don't know," I admitted faintly. "But I've seen them together. They talk late at night behind closed doors. They're hiding something, Angel. Something big."

She stared at me for a long moment and her eyes searched my face for any sign that I was lying. But I wasn't. She knew I wasn't.

Finally, she nodded and her jaw set with determination. "We're going to figure this out, Dilara. We're going to stop them."

I knew she wanted me to open up to her but as she held my hand and squeezed it to reassure me, I felt less pressured. Maybe in the near future, I will.

...

(Angel's POV)

Dilara's words felt like a weight in my chest and dragged me down.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Dr. Nixon. Dr. Joe. The patients.

And now, Hendrix.

There was something more happening here, something weird. I felt it in every corner of this place and in every forced smile from the staff and in every scream that echoed through the halls at night.

I knew I couldn't just sit back and let this happen. I had to dig deeper and find out what was really going on.

So that night, after everyone fell asleep, I sneaked into the library. It was quiet and the only sound was the faint hum of the lights overhead.

I logged into one of the old computers and my hands shook as I typed in Dr. Joe's name.

Nothing came up at first, just basic medical records and generic wellness center reports.

But then I found it.

A list of missing patients.

Not just from this center but from others. Places where Dr. Joe had worked before.

I stared at the screen and my heart pounded in my chest as I read the names and the ages and the addresses. My hands trembled as I copied them down and my mind spun with what this could mean. Patient Report:

- Name: Mary Ellen Sanders

- Age: 24

- Nationality: American

- Address: 1035 Willow Lane, Nebraska

- Status: Missing

- Name: Frederick Golding

- Age: 29

- Nationality: British

- Address: 14 Kensington Street, London

- Status: Missing

- Name: Ayana Patel

- Age: 22

- Nationality: Indian

- Address: 47 Roshan Nagar, Mumbai

- Status: Missing

- Name: Javier Morales

- Age: 30

- Nationality: Spanish

- Address: Calle de la Montera, Madrid

- Status: Missing

- Name: Lena Feldstein

- Age: 25

- Nationality: German

- Address: Mühlenstraße 3, Berlin

- Status: Missing

I could barely breathe as I scrolled through the files. Each name was a person, a life, taken by this place.

By him.

Dr. Joe had been doing this for years. He moved from one wellness center to another, covered his tracks, and left behind a trail of missing patients.

This wasn't about treatment. It was about control. About something far more wicked than I ever imagined.

I shoved the papers into my bag and headed back to the dorm as my mind raced. Hendrix needed to know. I needed to protect him. We had to get out of here now.

...

(Hendrix's POV)

My body felt like it was breaking.

Every muscle ached. My chest was tight. My head pounded with a relentless rhythm, like a hammer against my skull.

I didn't know what they did to me in that last treatment, but whatever it was, it was killing me.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the pills in my hand. The ones they kept giving me. The ones that were supposed to make me "better." But I didn't feel better. I felt worse.

I heard a knock at the door, and I looked up and forced myself to smile when I saw Angel standing there.

"Hey," she said softly as she stepped inside. Her eyes were filled with worry.

I hated that look. I hated that she was always worried about me.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, and my voice was weak. "I'm a mess."

She shook her head and crossed the room and sat beside me. "You're not a mess. You're just going through something."

I laughed bitterly as my chest tightened with pain. "Yeah. Sure."

We sat in silence for a moment and the weight of everything hung between us.

Finally, Angel spoke. "I've been thinking about our parents."

I looked at her, surprised. "Our parents?"

She nodded, and her eyes were distant. "Yeah. I mean how we ended up here. How everything is connected."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to talk about them or about the past.

But she did. She always did.

"Do you think they knew?" she asked quietly. "About this place?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Dennis has always been a mystery."

Angel sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I just feel like there's so much we don't know. About them. About us."

I looked at her and my heart twisted in my chest. "Angel, what are we doing?"

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"This," I said and gestured between us. "You and me. It's...it's messed up."

Her face paled and I could see the hurt in her eyes. "You think I don't know that? That's why I tell you to stop before..." she whispered.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to fix this. Ever since that day, something shifted between us and we both knew it.

I could've said it less bluntly but I wasn't in the best shape.

"I don't want to hurt you," I murmured faintly.

Angel looked at me and her eyes filled with tears. "Then don't. Stop."

I opened my mouth to speak but the door burst open and Eddie barged in with a goofy grin on his face. "Hey, Hendrix! Time for your meds, man."

Angel pulled back quickly and her face flushed red. I couldn't help but feel the loss of her warmth beside me.

"Yeah," I said and my voice was flat. "Thanks, Eddie."

Eddie didn't seem to notice the tension in the room. He was too busy digging through my drawer for the pills. He tossed them onto the bed and gave me a playful wink. "Don't forget, man. Gotta stay healthy."

He left just as quickly as he came, leaving Angel and me in the heavy silence.

I looked at the pills and my stomach turned.

I didn't want to take them, but I didn't have a choice.

Angel watched me and her eyes were filled with worry.

And I knew.

We were running out of time.