Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 88 (Cylan's POV) The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder, sharper, and impossible to ignore. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at my phone screen. Emily's first ever message replayed in my head on a loop: "I'm locked up somewhere in the center. It's dark, and I don't know where I am." But that wasn't all that haunted me.

My thumb hovered over the call log. Ellen's nwas at the top. Her trembling and broken voice still echoed in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the memory surged forward anyway.

It had been two nights ago. I was sitting in the common room, scrolling mindlessly on my phone, when a nurse appeared. Just from her face alone, I knew shit was waiting in store for me. "Cylan," she called in a clipped tone. "You have an urgent call." I followed her into the staff corridor, my heart pounding. Who could it be? When I picked up the receiver, Ellen's voice cthrough. She sounded weak and ragged, which was so not like her. "Cylan," she whispered.

My stomach dropped. "Ellen? What's wrong?" "I... I'm in the hospital," her words were slurring slightly. "He... he found out." I didn't need her to say more. My chest tightened. "Your fiancé?" "He knows about us," she continued, "He... he calleddisgusting. The fact I was still...keeping in touch with my ex... he said he thought we were just friends from highschool. Said I was...that we were a mistake...him and I. And then he..." She trailed off, but I could hear her stifled sobs.

"Ellen, where are you? What hospital?" My words cout rushed and frantic.

She didn't answer right away. When she spoke again, her tone was different. Resigned. "Promisesomething, Cylan." "What?" "Promiseyou won't let your parents force you into anything. Not into their plans, not into their idea of who you should be. Promiseyou'll fight." "Ellen, stop-" "Promise me," she interrupted sharply despite its frailty.

"I promise," I whispered and my throat tightened.

And then the line went dead.

I blinked back to the present and realized I was already gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. Ellen was out there, hurt and alone, because of me. Emily was somewhere in this hellhole, begging for help, and I had done nothing.

I couldn't sit still anymore.

I got off the bed and started pacing the length of the room. Angel wasn't going to help me. She was too busy playing house with Thomas, completely oblivious to the real dangers around us. Hendrix was a lost cause, consumed by his own anger and bitterness.

No. If I wanted answers, if I wanted to save Emily and expose the truth, I'd have to do it myself.

I started making a list in my head. First, I'd need allies. People who had nothing to lose. People who were just as desperate as I was. There were enough of us here, people discarded by the system, written off as unfixable.

Then, I'd need a plan. Something to infiltrate the staff quarters or even the West Wing. Emily's messages suggested she was somewhere deep inside the center, hidden away where no one would think to look.

As the ideas formed, a flicker of hope ignited in me. For the first tin weeks, I felt like I had a purpose. I wasn't just going to sit and wait for answers anymore.

(Angel's POV) The slap stung more than I expected. My cheek throbbed, but I didn't stop. Again and again, I brought my hand down, the sound sharp in the quiet dorm room.

"Focus," I muttered under my breath. My voice was trembling. "You're losing focus." I let my hand fall to my lap as I stared at the faint red mark blooming on my skin. What the hell was wrong with me? For weeks, I'd been so consumed with Thomas-his smile, his touch, the way he madeforget about everything else. It was intoxicating, blinding. And Hendrix... his distance hurt more than I wanted to admit. Every the looked atwith those cold, accusing eyes, it felt like a dagger to my chest.

But this wasn't about them. Not really.

I stood up and began pacing the room. The journal was gone. The one piece of evidence we had, the key to exposing this nightmare, and I'd lost it. My carelessness had cost us everything.

And Dr. Nixon... her cryptic warnings played on repeat in my head. "There are things at eve What did she'd said.

even mean? Inspections were coming, and I had no idea what they were looking for or how much danger we were in.

I stopped by the window looked out at the courtyard below. Patients m milled about, laughing talking, oblivious to the horrors that lurked beneath the surface of this place. How could I have let myself get so distracted? So complacent? I clenched my fists as the anger rose in my chest. I wasn't just angry at myself. I was angry at this place, at Dr. Joe, at the lies and manipulation that surrounded us.

I turned away from the window. I could feel it...my resolve was getting stronger. I couldn't afford to lose focus anymore. I couldn't afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment.

This wasn't just about surviving. It was about exposing the truth. About saving the people I cared about-Hendrix, Thomas, my dorm mates-and getting out of here alive.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "No more distractions," I whispered. "No more mistakes."

I grabbed my notebook from the desk and flipped to a blank page. It was V om tto regroup to figure out my next move. The journal might be gone, but that didn't mean the fight was over. Not yet.