Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Angel's POV)

The next day, I walked into class still felling put off by Hendrix attitude the previous day. Not only that, I had barely managed to sleep because of another night of hallway noises. This time, I had not come out to inspect like the last time, afraid of what I'd see. Maybe...Dr Joe.

Yes!

I was really out to get him.

He just irked me.

But maybe I was imagining things, I thought. Maybe I was misinterpreting everything. Maybe Hendrix had just had a bad day yesterday and was not really in pain. Maybe the noises in the hallway last night was imagined(lies). Maybe I was the most paranoid person ever, suspecting everyone.

But then Dr. Nixon walked in, and my doubts were confirmed. Something had happened last night.

The right side of her face looked red and swollen, like she had been hit. She seemed very unsettled too, which was really unlike her. These days she really didn't seem like herself.

As she began to speak about general preventive measures for not contracting STDs, I couldn't help but stare at her face. What had happened to her? She was always so composed, so in control. But now, she looked like she was on edge. When the superintendent walked in to supervise the class, I thought I had imagined the whole thing. No one reacted to Dr. Nixon's appearance, no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. But then I heard a small wince come from where Dr. Nixon stood. I looked at her, and she looked really scared.

My mind started racing. If the almighty Dr. Nixon was afraid of someone, who the hell was this person? I felt literal chills and I realized that something was seriously wrong.

Dr. Nixon droned on, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy trying to piece together what was happening. Who had hurt Dr. Nixon? Dr Joe? And why was he acting cool like nothing out of the ordinary looked out of place?

As we sat in class, I couldn't help but stare at Dr. Nixon's bruise. It was a deep purple, and it looked painful. I glanced over at Hendrix, and our eyes briefly met. But he quickly turned away, his expression unreadable.

I pulled out my phone and sent Hendrix a text: "Meet me in the garden after class. We need to talk."

As soon as the class was over, I headed to Dr Nixon, giving Hendrix him a look and he understood. He nodded and waited in center of the room.

"Dr. Nixon, are you okay?" I asked, trying to sound concerned.

Dr. Nixon's eyes narrowing slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Angel," she said, her voice controlled, not betraying anything.

"But....your face...it looks like it's been hurt," I pressed on.

"What business of yours is it?" Dr. Nixon's expression turned icy. "I'm going to warn you again, Angel, do not overstep your boundaries. You are a patient, and I am your doctor. Do not think you can question me like this. I will not be interrogated by you."

I blinked, but I had not expected anything less. And judging by her tone, I had struck a nerve. "Come on, relax. I'm just concerned. That's all."

Dr. Nixon's expression turned even colder, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm fine, Angel. And even if I wasn't, I doubt it's anyone's place to care."

I shrugged, stating the obvious. "Well, yeah. That's true. You're not exactly the most likable person, Dr. Nixon."

Dr. Nixon's face twisted in a scowl. "How dare you," she hissed. "You think you can speak to me like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm just stating the truth. You're always so evil and bitter. No one likes you, Dr. Nixon. That's why no one asked you what happened to your face."

Dr. Nixon scoffed, "You're pushing your luck, Angel."

"Yeah, whatever," I said and she hurriedly left the room.

Hendrix and I met up in the center of the room. He dragged me by the arm, his grip firm, and we made our way out to the garden. The cool breeze and sound of birds chirping was a welcome respite from the tension inside. Hendrix led me to our usual spot, a secluded bench surrounded by tall trees and overgrown bushes.

I sat down, my eyes fixed on Hendrix. He looked troubled, his brow scrunched like it did when he was upset as a kid. I could tell he was hiding something, but I didn't know what.

The garden was peaceful, but my mind was racing. What was going on? Why did Dr. Nixon have a bruise on her face? And why was Hendrix being so secretive?

I waited for Hendrix to speak, but he just sat there, his eyes fixed on the ground. I knew I had to be patient, but it was hard. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.

(Hendrix's POV)

As I sat next to Angel in the garden, I didn't know how to start. I had been carrying this secret for so long, and it was eating away at me. I knew I had to tell her, but I was scared. Scared of her reaction, scared of being vulnerable, scared of being judged.

I took a deep breath.

"Angel, do you remember the day I was rushed to the infirmary?"

She looked at me, her expression expectant, and I could sense her curiosity. But I knew she had no idea what was coming.

"How could I forget?" she replied, her tone light, but I could sense a hint of concern beneath the surface.

"There's something I didn't tell you... Something that happened while I was there."

Angel nodded repeatedly waiting for me to go on. She had been waiting for me all this time to fell her what went down that day, but I hadn't had the courage to say it. She put a hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting. "Hey, it's okay," she said softly. "You can tell me."

I took another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. Where did I even start? How did I explain the humiliation, the shame, the feeling of being completely helpless?

"They did some things to me," I started, my voice cracking.