Read The Brothers for Free Online Page B

Brianne’s table, the anger pulses on her face. I’ve done my best to calm her. I hope she won’t do anything stupid. Not after what we saw earlier.
    I want to be angry at Brianne and her flunkies, but I can’t find the energy. Instead, my brain picks away at thoughts of Dr. Bashees paying that wild man to put on a show for us. Bashees wanted a spectacle, a beast and his broken-eyed toy, to teach us a lesson. And it has. The cafeteria is subdued. Talk is quiet, muffled by hands over mouths. Better to say nothing. Then your friends can’t report you to the hospital heads. Most of them think they’ve got it made, but their ignorance isn’t their fault. Nanny Bell’s been telling me about the hospital’s twisted manipulations. That we’re the free ones and those outside are prisoners. And after today, who could blame them? I saw it in their eyes. Poor, poor creature. Aren’t we so lucky to be safe, to be here?
    But we’re slaves, just as much as that girl. The only power we have is the power to hurt each other, to make each other feel small and ashamed. I watch Sabrina run her hand over her head, naked as a baby’s. We focus on the drama of getting pink flowers embroidered on our gowns, on who gets ribbons and who doesn’t, and we miss the bigger fight.
    The worst part is even though I know I’m a prisoner, I don’t fight either. What good would fighting do? There is no freedom, nowhere to run even if I could escape. Why does it matter if I’m a prisoner here or out there? Why does any of this matter?
    It’s the saddest thing of all.
    Sabrina sucks in a stuttering breath and picks at her green beans. My hand goes to her back and rubs in circle. Sabrina matters. Nanny Bell matters. That’s why I want to stay. Because pain shared is better than pain swallowed alone. Together, we can endure so much more.
    When dinner ends and we’re herded to the common room to watch Leave it to Beaver or Father Knows Best , I swing by the front desk. Nanny Grenda is on duty.
    “What is it?” she asks, setting down a manila folder with a stack of papers inside. Her wrinkled face curls into a smile. “Not interested in the show?”
    I shake my head. “I’ve seen it. Any deliveries I can take for you?”
    She swivels around in her chair, scanning the cubbies marked with floors and departments, seven rows labeled with things like “Receiving,” “Staff Kitchen,” and “Labs.” She finds a stack of forms in the cubby for “First Floor Janitorial” and pulls them out.
    “Well, this, but it could wait until morning if you’re—”
    “I got it.” I reach for the stack of work orders and take off before she can change her mind. “Thanks, Nanny Grenda.”
    “Just be back before lights out.”
    I hoof it to the elevator as if I’m expecting someone to stop me, but there’d be no reason. As a courier, I run forms and packages all over the hospital. Even though evening runs are unusual, I’ve done it before. Still, I’m sweating as the elevator doors close. The delivery may be legitimate, but the rest of what I’m planning is definitely against the rules.
    The elevator hums steadily down. It doesn’t stop on every floor like it does during the day. This is why I like night runs. The hospital grows quiet and it’s just me slipping down the halls, going where I like. It has to be close to what freedom feels like.
    The ding for the first floor startles me and I jump a little, wrinkling the papers clutched in my palms. The elevator doors slide open.
    The first floor is quiet. Black-and-white checkered tiles count off down multiple hallways that lead to doors for which I have no clearance. Big, heavy doors with scan card locks replace the tiny residence room doors we have upstairs. There are labs, storage spaces, and janitorial closets on this floor. I’ve delivered and picked up items from each. But there are also rooms—vast, cavernous rooms based on how few doors lead to them—that I cannot name. My scan card only