͏b͏r͏o͏k͏e͏n || ͏b͏i͏l͏l͏y ͏h͏a͏r͏g͏r͏o͏v͏e

T W E L V E

"You don't know?" Neil's laugh was humorless, cold.

Billy swallowed hard. "Look, I'm sure she just—I don't know—went to the arcade or something." He guided them into his room, grabbing a jacket from his bed. "I'm sure she's fine."

"You were supposed to watch her," Neil said, low and lethal.

"I know, Dad, I was," Billy insisted. "But you were three hours late, and—well, I have a date." He straightened his jacket like it could shield him. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Neil's eyes narrowed. "That's why you've been standing in front of the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister?"

The slur hit like an ice bath. I clamped a hand over my mouth, nausea rising.

Billy's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I've been looking after her all week. If she wants to run off, that's her problem. She's thirteen. She shouldn't need a babysitter. And she's not my sister!"

The room froze. Then Neil moved. He shoved Billy against the bookcase so hard the shelves rattled. I flinched, fingers digging into my arm.

"What did we talk about?" Neil hissed through his teeth. Billy stared, defiant—until Neil's hand cracked across his face. "What," Neil growled, "did we talk about?"

Billy's voice dropped to a broken whisper. "Respect and responsibility."

"That's right." Neil jerked his chin toward Susan. "Now apologize."

Billy stared straight ahead, jaw trembling.
"I'm sorry, Susan."

"It's okay, Neil, really—" Susan tried to step in, but Neil cut her off.

"No, it's not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay."
He wasn't yelling anymore. Somehow, the quiet was worse. "He's going to make up for it. He's going to call whatever whore he's seeing tonight and cancel his date." His eyes bored into Billy's. "And then he's going to find his sister. Like the good, kind, responsible brother he is. Isn't that right, Billy?"

Silence.

"Isn't. That. Right?" Neil roared.

Billy broke. "Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry—I didn't hear you."

Billy lifted his chin, eyes blazing with humiliation.
"Yes, sir," he said, louder this time. Bitter. Sharp. Shattered.

Neil nodded once. "Find Max."

He and Susan turned and left, the door slamming behind them.

Billy stayed exactly where he was, shoulders rigid. Then slowly—like his bones stopped holding him up—he sank into a crouch and pressed his palms over his face.

His breath hitched. Then broke.

My chest tightened painfully as I watched him shake, silently and violently, his body folding inward like he was trying to disappear.

I'd seen Billy angry.
Cocky.
Reckless.
Smug.

But this? This was a boy who never stood a chance. And it gutted me.

I gently opened the door to the closet. Billy jerked his head up, swiping at his face like he could erase what I'd just seen. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Before he could speak, I wrapped my arms around him. He hesitated for half a second... then collapsed into me. His face pressed into the crook of my neck, and the moment it did, everything inside him came undone. His breath hitched, then cracked, and he clung to me like he was drowning.

"Billy..." My hand slid into his damp curls as his whole body trembled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I—I couldn't," he choked out. "You don't get it, Ana. I didn't know what he'd do. I still don't."

My throat tightened. "I'm sorry," I murmured into his hair—not an apology, but grief. Grief for everything he never had.

He pulled back, wiping his face with the heel of his palm, trying to reassemble himself. "Don't be sorry. None of this is your fault." His voice cracked on the last word. "I've gotta find Max."

He stood abruptly, rummaging through drawers for his keys. Panic jittered in his movements. I took a step toward the window.

"Y-Yeah," I said quietly. "You should go. I need to uh—get home."

He froze. Slowly, he turned to face me—eyes blotchy, breathing uneven, but sharp. Focused.

"You know where she is," he said, not a question but a verdict.

My stomach twisted and I shook. "Billy, I—"

"Don't lie to me." His voice wasn't angry. It was desperate. "Where is she?"

I swallowed hard, fingers gripping the window frame. "I have to go."

"Ana." My name wasn't a warning—it was a plea. He took a step toward me, shoulders still shaking from tears he was trying hard to pretend he'd stopped shedding.

"Billy..." I whispered, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He stared at me—hurt, confused, betrayed. And I hated it.

"This is gonna hurt," I muttered under my breath.

Before he could reach me, I swung myself out the window and rolled off the roof. I hit the grass with a jarring thud.

"Yep. That hurt," I groaned, rolling onto my back.

"Harrington!" Billy's head appeared in the window, hair wild, eyes wide with disbelief and panic. "What the heck was that?!"

"No time to explain!" I yelled back, already sprinting down the street.

My legs burned, heart pounding as I ran for Steve's car. I threw myself inside, slammed the door, and turned the key.

"Please God let this end well," I whispered as the engine roared to life.

I hit the gas and tore off toward the Lab—straight into whatever nightmare was waiting for me next.