Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 35

(Angel's POV)

The day dragged on like a slow-motion nightmare. Every time I saw him and every glance we exchanged across the room, I was pulled back to last night. The kiss. His lips on mine and the way my heart raced, the way my body betrayed me. How could it have happened?

I needed to talk to him. But not now.

I reminded myself to focus because there was more at stake than our tangled, forbidden feelings. Hendrix's life and our lives were in danger and I couldn't afford to lose sight of that. Not when I was finally beginning to piece together the twisted truth behind this place.

Later that night after everyone else in the dorm was asleep, I slipped out and my heart pounded in my chest. The dim flickering lights of the wellness center's hallways cast eerie shadows that made everything feel more sinister and more claustrophobic. My destination was the West Wing.

The place had always creeped me out and the air felt thick with something I couldn't name, but I had no choice. If I wanted to find the answers, this was where they would be.

I pushed the heavy door open and the old hinges groaned like they were warning me to turn back. But I didn't because I couldn't. The smell hit me first. Stale air, antiseptic, and something darker like fear that lingered in the corners. I walked deeper into the hall and passed rooms that all seemed the same until I found one that felt different.

There in the corner of a dusty abandoned room, I saw it. A small leather-bound journal. The kind that had been left behind on purpose, hidden but waiting to be found. The leather was cracked and worn from too many hands and too many secrets. I could barely make out the faded name on the cover: "Dr. Valen."

My hands trembled as I picked it up and flipped through the yellowed pages. The handwriting was sharp and precise like the person writing it was in complete control. But the words, the words were anything but.

...

<<

Case #247: ARDS Simulation

neurochip to simulate reproductive dysfunction. Subjects exhibit

post-treatment. Expected failure rates: 40%.

Pain Threshold

experimental serum L3-9X to monitor physical resilience. Results: Tissue damage accelerated beyond control. Death recorded at

Psychological Manipulation through

drug series (Compound HX-74) inducing

mental breakdown in preparation for surgeries

...

my breath hitched in my throat. My mind spun as I tried to process what I'd

created to weaken patients like him so they

journal said it clearly: "Viable organs post-treatment." It was all about their black market surgeries, taking people who trusted them, people like Hendrix, and preparing them

and skimmed pages, searching

...

Organ Harvesting

extraction. Failure

market organ

stopped reading. I couldn't. The horror of

place for treatment-it was a slaughterhouse. They played God with these people's lives. They lured in patients with fake illnesses like Hendrix's, made them believe they were being treated, and then they took what they needed and discarded

Oh God...

I needed to get out of there. I needed to tell Hendrix. He had to