Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Ava's

POV)

Dr. Joe sat behind his massive desk, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine as if he could see every dark thought I'd ever had. I hated the way he looked at me, like I was both indispensable and disposable all at once. "I have another task for you," he said icily. "This one requires precision."noveldrama

I nodded though my stomach twisted. "What do you need me to do?"

He slid a sealed envelope across the desk. "Inside, you'll find details on a specific treatment schedule. I need you to tamper with it."

I hesitated. "Tamper with it how?"

"You'll replace Angel's injections with these," he said then produced a small bottle filled with a pale yellow liquid. "It's a suppressant. Nothing dangerous, but it'll slow her down."

My throat tightened. "Why Angel?"

His smile was cold. "Because she's becoming a problem. Too curious, too nosy. We can't have her poking around in things that don't concern her."

I stared at the bottle as my anxiety rose. Angel wasn't my friend-not really-but she wasn't my enemy either. She was... complicated. A girl caught in the same trap I was, just fighting it differently. "And if I refuse?" I quietly asked.

Dr. Joe leaned back, his fingers steepled. "You won't refuse, Ava. Not unless you want your mother's situation to take a turn for the worse."

That was it. The ace up his sleeve. My mother. Always my mother.

•

I carried the bottle back to my room, breathing like my heart was pounding beats in my chest. The envelope felt too heavy in my pocket.

I waited until the dorm was empty to open it. Inside were detailed instructions on how to switch Angel's injections without raising suspicion. The timing, the storage location, even the specific moments when the nurses would be distracted.

As I read, I grew more guilty. I wasn't doing this to hurt Angel. I was doing it to survive. To keep my mother safe. But how much longer could I keep justifying my actions?

.

The next day, I slipped into the supply room under the guise of looking for a bandage. The bottles were exactly where the instructions said they'd be. My hands trembled as I swapped Angel's treatment for the suppressant. "Hey, what are you doing in here?" a voice startled me.

I spun around to see Dilrah standing in the doorwa with narrowed eyes.

"Just looking for a bandage," I said quickly and held up a random roll of gauze I'd grabbed from the shelf.

Dilrah didn't look convinced. "You're always sneaking around. What are you up to, Ava?"

"Nothing," I snapped. "Mind your own business."

But as she walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that she knew more than she let on.

•

Later that evening, I sat in the corner of the common room, pretending to read while secretly observing Angel. She was laughing with Thomas and her face was glowing in a way that made me ache. How did she do it? How did she manage to fight back, to plan escapes, to fall in love-all while being in this hellhole?

I wasn't like her. I wasn't strong. But maybe I didn't have to be strong to survive.

I pulled out my notebook and started writing down everything I knew about Dr. Joe and the center. If I was going to make it out of here alive, I needed leverage.

.

(Bundah's POV)

Charlotte sat cross-legged on the floor with a French-English dictionary in her lap. Her brow furrowed as she tried to pronounce a word; her accent made it sound more musical than it should. I chuckled. "It's 'protector,' not 'pro-tec-tor,"" I said, emphasizing the correct pronunciation.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I am trying, Bundah. English is stupid."

"Tell me about it," I said, sitting down across from her. "But you're doing great, really."

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled. "Merci."

We spent the next hour going over basic phrases. Her frustration turned into laughter as she butchered words and I exaggerated them for effect.

"You know," she said suddenly, softer, "I don't know what I would do without you here. You've made this place... bearable."

Her words caught me off guard. "I haven't done much," I said as I scratched the back of my neck.

"You have," she insisted. "You listen to me. You talk to me. You don't treat me like I'm... broken."

I swallowed hard as her vulnerability struck a chord in me. "You're not broken, Charlotte. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met."

She blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears. "Thank you."

I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I promise, no matter what happens, I'll protect you. Always."

Her smile was small but genuine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was doing something right.

We sat there in comfortable silence, just existing together.