Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 32

(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."

hands clenched

through my mind. The needles. The restraints.

not. She uses us and tests things on us. And I

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

know," I admitted faintly. "But I've seen them together. They talk

eyes searched my face for any sign that I was lying. But I wasn't. She knew I

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

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

...

(Angel's POV)

in my chest

stop thinking

Nixon. Dr.

And now, Hendrix.

something more happening here, something weird. I felt it in every corner of this place and in

and let this happen. I had to dig deeper and find out

sneaked into the library. It was quiet

computers and my hands

just basic medical records and

I

list of missing

just from this center but from others.

the ages and the addresses. My

Mary Ellen

- Age: 24

- Nationality: American

Address: 1035 Willow

- Status: Missing

- Name: Frederick Golding

- Age: 29

- Nationality: British

14 Kensington Street,

- Status: Missing

- Name: Ayana Patel

- Age: 22

- Nationality: Indian

Address: 47

- Status: Missing

- Name: Javier Morales

- Age: 30

- Nationality: Spanish

de la Montera,

- Status: Missing

- Name: Lena Feldstein

- Age: 25

- Nationality: German

Mühlenstraße

- Status: Missing

breathe as I scrolled through the files. Each name was a person,

By him.

years. He moved from one wellness center to another, covered his tracks, and left behind a trail of

control. About something far more wicked than I ever

dorm as my mind raced. Hendrix needed to know.

...

(Hendrix's POV)

like it was

head pounded with a relentless rhythm, like a hammer against my