Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Angel's POV)

It was happening again.

Another treatment. Another day when I couldn't breathe.

I watched Hendrix from across the room. His face was pale and his eyes looked unfocused. He sat on the edge of the bed and his hands trembled slightly as if he was trying to hold it all together. But I could see through it.

I always saw through him.

"They're doing it again," I whispered and my voice shook. I couldn't help it. My stomach twisted into knots as I pictured him in that room with those needles and those machines.

The door swung open and Dr. Nixon stepped in. She was cold and clinical. She didn't even look at me.

Just Hendrix.

"Are you ready?" she asked him in a low tone.

Ready? For what?

Another round of who-knows-what. My fists clenched at my sides.

Hendrix nodded and his jaw tightened. He didn't say a word. He never said anything about these sessions.

And that scared me more than anything.

I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming and from grabbing him and pulling him away from here. From this nightmare.

"We need to talk," I blurted out and my voice was sharp in the heavy air.

Dr. Nixon finally looked at me and her eyebrow arched. "Now?"

I nodded and stepped forward. I felt the weight of Hendrix's eyes on me but I didn't care. Not right now. I needed answers. I needed to understand what was happening to him. What was happening to us. "Alone," I said with a firmer voice this time.

She sighed and glanced at Hendrix before nodding towards the hallway. "Fine. But make it quick."

I followed her out of the room as my heart raced and my pulse drummed in my ears. The door closed behind us with a quiet click and I was alone with her. With the woman who held all the cards. The woman who could tell me everything if she wanted to.

"What are you doing to him?" I asked as my voice barely rose above a whisper.

Dr. Nixon crossed her arms and her expression was unreadable. "I'm helping him."

"That's not what it looks like."

She didn't respond and just stared at me with that same detached, almost robotic calm that made my skin crawl.

I stepped closer and my voice trembled with anger. "You said... you hinted that his illness might not be real, that something else is going on here. I want to know what you meant."

She watched me for a moment as her eyes narrowed like she was deciding whether to say something. Then finally, she spoke.

"Angel, you're smart," she said slowly and her tone was condescending. "You already know there's more to this place than meets the eye. I don't need to tell you that."

Her words hung in the air, thick with implication, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to know why.

"I'm not stupid," I snapped. "Tell me the truth. What are you really doing to him?"

Dr. Nixon took a step closer and her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

My blood turned cold.

"What... what does that mean?"

Her gaze flickered toward the far end of the hall where I knew Dr. Joe's office was. A chill ran down my spine.

"Some people here..." she said faintly as her voice almost got drowned out by the pounding in my chest. "Some people have their own agendas. And not everyone is interested in curing patients." I stared at her and my mind raced. My throat felt tight and I couldn't swallow. I couldn't breathe.

"Who?" I choked out even though I already knew. I already suspected. I just needed her to say it.

She didn't.

She stepped back and her cold mask slipped back into place. "You should be careful, Angel. Sometimes when you dig too deep, you find things you wish you hadn't."

I opened my mouth to argue and demand more answers, but she was already walking away and her heels clicked against the floor.

And I was left standing there, feeling like the ground had been pulled out from under me.

...

I didn't go back into the room right away.

I stood in the hallway and stared at the closed door while my hands trembled at my sides. Dr. Nixon's words echoed in my mind.

"Not everyone is interested in curing patients."

I knew it. I knew something was wrong here. But now it felt so much bigger than I imagined.

Dr. Joe. It had to be him. It always felt wrong the way he smiled and the way he moved through the center like he owned everything. Like he was playing a game and we were all just pawns. I pressed my back against the wall and tried to calm my breathing.

Hendrix. I had to warn him. But how could I tell him that everything he was going through and everything they were doing to him was most likely all a lie?

...

When I finally walked back into the room, Hendrix was sitting on the edge of the bed again and staring at his hands. He looked up as I entered and his eyes searched my face.

"What did she say?" he asked in a quiet, almost hesitant voice.

I shook my head and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Not much. Just... just that we should be careful."

Hendrix's brow furrowed. "Careful?"

"Yeah," I said and sat down beside him.

My heart pounded in my chest and I couldn't help glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

Why did he have to look like this?

Like he was so far away from the annoying and reckless stepbrother I grew up with. Like someone I didn't recognize anymore.

And yet... someone I couldn't stop thinking about.

I bit my lip and tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back. His skin looked pale and soft in the dim light. The way his jaw clenched when he was deep in thought. The curve of his neck, the line of his shoulders.... Stop. Just... stop.

He was Hendrix. He was my stepbrother.

"Angel," he said suddenly and snapped me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

I blinked and turned to face him. His eyes were dark and filled with worry. For me.

I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't want him to look at me like that.

But I did.

"I'm fine," I said in a voice that was too soft and shaky.

Hendrix frowned and leaned closer. His hand brushed against mine and I felt a spark shoot up my arm like fire under my skin.

"I don't believe you," he whispered in a low, almost teasing voice. But there was something else there, something deeper. "What's going on? Why's Dr. Nixon suddenly talking to you privately?"

I pulled my hand away and stood up quickly. My heart raced and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't be in that room, so close to him.

"You have another treatment today," I said and tried to change the subject, to distance myself from the pounding in my chest. "You should get ready."

Hendrix watched me and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you always so worried about me?"

I froze because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know the answer myself. Not anymore.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I murmured with my back still to him.

"It's more than that, isn't it?" he asked and his voice was soft but insistent.

I closed my eyes and my fists clenched at my sides. "Don't," I whispered.

"Angel..."

"Don't," I repeated and my voice broke. I turned to face him and my heart pounded in my chest and my mind spun.

He looked at me with his eyes filled with something I couldn't name. Something I didn't want to name.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked and stood up and stepped closer.

I stepped back and shook my head. "I don't-"

"You do," he said firmly but not angrily. "You care more than you should.”

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

"Hendrix, stop," I pleaded but he didn't stop. He kept moving closer and his eyes stayed on mine and his face got so close that I felt the heat of his breath. "Why?" he whispered in a voice barely audible. "Why should I stop?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't speak. I only stared at him and my mind screamed at me to move, to run, but my body refused to obey.

He reached out and his hand brushed against my arm and sent another jolt of heat through me. My heart pounded so hard that I thought it might explode.

"Hendrix," I whispered but it wasn't a protest anymore. It was something else. Something I didn't want to admit.

He leaned in and his lips got just inches from mine. I felt the heat radiating off him and the tension between us felt thick and heavy.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled back. His eyes looked dark and his jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry," he muttered and stepped away from me and turned his back to me. He then shook his head, as if unbelieving of what he just tried to do. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

I stood there and froze, and my mind raced and my body trembled.

What just happened? What were we doing?

"I... I should go," Hendrix said in a voice low and almost pained. He grabbed his jacket and didn't look at me and headed for the door.

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood there and stared at the empty space where he was and my heart still raced and my mind still spun.

What the hell was happening to us?

...

Later, when I was finally alone, I sat on my bed, my hands trembling in my lap.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't okay.

He was my stepbrother. He's Hendrix.

I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't want him like this. But I did. And it was tearing me apart.

And now... now I didn't know what to do.