The files burned in my bag like they knew what they were.
Confessions. Evidence. Triggers.
Everything Lila died trying to gather, everything Killian almost lost himself trying to forget, and everything I wasn't sure I was brave enough to carry.
But I couldn't stop now.
Because even if I ran, even if I gave in to the panic chewing through my chest, it wouldn't save me.
The only way out was through.
Jules handed me the envelope during her shift at the campus library.
Didn't say anything.
Just slipped it across the counter like a quiet apology.
Inside were three things:
A hard drive
A printed list of faculty PRAXIS "supporters"
And a photo
The photo made me drop the envelope.
It was Lila.
With Dean Soren.
His hand on her shoulder. Her eyes… wide. Too wide. Like she knew something was wrong but couldn't say it out loud.
On the back, a name:
Dr. Elise Marrin.
I didn't recognize the name.
Killian did.
"She's the university's psychologist," he said. "Private sessions only. Discreet. Rumored to have connections with PRAXIS."
"She's still here?"
"Office in the east wing of the admin building. Appointment-only. But I might know how to get in."
I looked at him carefully. "You're sure she's involved?"
"She counseled Lila," he said. "And she counseled me."
"What?"
His voice dropped. "After Lila died, they told me I needed therapy. Told me I wasn't processing properly. They sent me to Marrin."
I stared. "Did she help you?"
"No," he said. "She studied me."
We broke into her office that night.
It wasn't hard. Killian still had his old security access from a "group session" two semesters ago.
Inside, it smelled like peppermint and bleach.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
We moved fast. I checked her filing cabinet. Locked.
Killian found a mini fridge. Full of pre-labeled blood samples.
I froze.
"What the hell is this?" I whispered.
"Testing," he said. "Biological tracking. They're not just watching behavior. They're studying it chemically."
I wanted to throw up.
Instead, I opened the locked drawer with the same blade Killian had used in the faculty archives.
Inside were files.
Dozens.
I flipped through until I found it.
Patient: Lila Monroe.
My hands shook as I pulled the report.
Four sessions
"Elevated emotional instability"
"Resistance to institutional authority"
"Subject displays deep paranoia — possibly justified"
Final note:
Subject fears for her life. Warned against further pursuit of PRAXIS-related inquiries. Terminated treatment per supervisor instruction.
"Terminated," I whispered. "They knew she was scared."
"They sent her back anyway," Killian said.
"No… They planned to."
Because beneath the last note was a stamped signature.
Approved by: V. Soren.
My world blurred.
My sister begged for help. They gave her silence.
She begged for answers. They gave her observation.
She begged to be believed.
And they watched her fall.
I didn't cry.
Not there.
I didn't speak as we left the office, silent as ghosts down the marble halls of administration.
It wasn't until we got back to the greenhouse that I said it:
"I want to publish everything."
Killian turned.
"They'll shut it down."
"Not if I leak it off-campus. Use anonymous dumps. Screenshots. Copy-paste the whole damn system."
His jaw flexed.
"I want them to feel naked," I said. "I want the world to see them for what they are."
He nodded slowly.
"We'll need help."
I looked up.
"From who?"
The next day, I made an appointment with Professor Halvers.
I didn't ask.
I didn't hint.
I walked in with a flash drive and a choice.
"I'm going to release this," I said. "But if I disappear before I can… I need someone who won't flinch."
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Then he held out his hand.
I placed the drive in his palm.
"I taught your sister," he said. "She was a pain in my ass. Brilliant. Loud. Stubborn."
"She died alone."
"No," he said. "She died screaming. And we let her."
I swallowed hard.
Then left.
The next 48 hours passed like a blur.
I wrote. Compiled. Uploaded.
Anonymous accounts.
Emails to student-run newspapers.
One post every hour.
#BlackmereFiles started trending in three states by the end of the night.
Photos. Journals. Lila's session notes. Staff names. Biological tests. Surveillance logs. Codenames.
My name.
Killian's name.
Jules's confession.
Even Camille's report.
We exposed all of it.
And that's when the university responded.
With silence.
No official statement.
No press release.
No denial.
Instead… every campus bulletin board was wiped clean.
Every mention of PRAXIS was erased from the internal database.
The campus-wide maintenance? Extended another week.
And then the police showed up.
Not for protection.
For "compliance checks."
They pulled me from class.
Killian too.
Took us to separate rooms.
Asked questions like:
"Where did you get this information?"
"Who helped you?"
"Have you been in contact with any former faculty?"
"Do you have proof this was real?"
I smiled.
And said nothing.
Because the truth was already out there.
And the world was watching.
They let us go after four hours.
No charges.
No warnings.
Just a final sentence from the administrator leading the review:
"You've made your point. Let's hope you don't regret it."
Back in my room, I checked my email.
Hundreds of messages.
Some anonymous thank-yous.
Some threats.
Some survivors.
"They did the same thing to my brother."
"I was almost chosen for PRAXIS."
"I remember your sister. She saved me before she was gone."
I sat on the floor and cried.
Not because I was scared.
But because she hadn't died for nothing.
Later, Killian showed up at my door.
Same hoodie. Same haunted eyes.
I let him in.
He handed me a newspaper.
The student-run one.
Front page:
EXPERIMENTS IN THE DARK: HOW BLACKMERE BETRAYED ITS OWN
Underneath, our names.
Not as victims.
As authors.
"Zara," he said quietly. "It's not over."
I looked at him.
"I know."
"They'll fight back."
"So will we."
He sat beside me.
Not touching.
Just there.
Like he always had been.
Maybe that's what made it scarier.
Because even after everything…
I still wanted to believe in him.
[Creator's Note – SCREAMING CRYING THROWING LAPTOP 😭🔥]
THE FILES. THE POSTS. THE VIRAL DROP.
ZARA. WENT. OFF. 🖤
She and Killian finally expose PRAXIS — but at what cost? No denials. Just threats and silence?? You KNOW the institution is hiding more.
And Halvers? A real one.
Also, Jules redemption arc = unlocked.
What do you think comes next?
Is Blackmere about to go full cover-up mode? Or is someone even darker pulling the strings?
Chapter 11 is gonna change the entire game…
xoxo
Smith_10