Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 82

(Angel's

POV)

The hallway was eerily quiet, save for the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. My sneakers squeaked softly against the linoleum floor as I made my way toward the West Wing. I wasn't entirely sure why I was heading there-it wasn't like I expected the journal to suddenly reappear, or for Dr. Nixon to miraculously hand me answers on a silver platter. But something was pulling me, like a magnetic force I couldn't resist that particular night. The night before was a disaster with Hendrix and I didn't want to remember our awkward conversation.

Just as I turned the corner, I nearly collided with Dr. Nixon. She looked startled for a split second before her face smoothed into that cold, unreadable mask she always wore. Her clipboard was clutched tightly in her hands, and her gaze swept over me like a scanner assessing for weakness.

"Angel," she said sharply yet quietly, as though she didn't want anyone else to hear. "What are you doing here?"

"I was... just walking," I lied, trying to sound casual. But the way her eyes narrowed told me she didn't believe a word of it.

"You need to be careful," she said as she stepped closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "There's an inspection coming. Soon. And if you're not careful, everything you've been doing... everything you've found... will be exposed." My heart skipped a beat. "Inspection? What kind of inspection?"

She glanced around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Dr. Joe is tightening his grip. He's looking for... anything out of place. Any excuse to eliminate threats. Stay alert, Angel. And stay out of his way."

Before I could ask her anything else, she brushed past me and disappeared down the hall. I stood there, frozen, as her words echoed in my head like a bell. An inspection. Dr. Joe was planning something, and it wasn't going to be good.

to look for her, she seemed to vanish into thin air. Was that intentional? Was she hiding because she had the journal? Or was I grasping at straws, desperate for

wall, rubbing my temples as my anxiety got worse. If Dr. Joe found out about my plans, my snooping, my connection with Dr. Nixon-it would all be over. And the journal? That would

(Ava's POV)

dripped once, twice, in a slow and rhythmic pattern that was just like the pounding in my chest. I stared at the black box on my desk as my stomach twisted into knots. Dr. Joe's instructions had been clear, but that didn't make it

out the patients' water supply with the liquid from the bottle he'd given me. Then, replace a batch of medicine in the storage room with another set of pills marked in red. Lastly,

I was doing crushed me. I was tampering with people's lives. Again. And for what? To clear my mother's debt? To earn a sliver of freedom from

of my bed and buried my face in my hands. The questions started swirling in my head; they were loud and with each one that went, ten more

I doing the right

have to.

patients? What about their

to him. Aren't

this worth it? Is

This is temporary. A means

What if I'm stuck in this

I can't be. I'll

make me a monster? A coward?