The Last Librarian

36.| The Truth Hurts

My mind is spinning. What just happened? What did I just watch? This has been broadcast for the last two weeks and nobody told me. Then again, I was practically MIA for the past five weeks.

Most of the people are staring at me, having realized who I am. If I didn't know better, I'd say there is respect in their stares. Because I'm Magnolia Noble. The girl from Level Eight who stood out against the Council. The thought makes me grimace.

"We have to help him," I speak up, turning to my father. There's a grave expression painted across his features.

"Magnolia," he starts slowly, trying to reason in that way all parents do. But before he can get anything more out, somebody comes up to us, ushering my father away. 

"I have to go," he states, turning to follow the other man, "We'll discuss this later."

"Mags, look," Brann starts but I'm quick to stop him. 

"No, don't. I don't care what it takes. I won't just sit back and watch them torture my little brother!" I snap. Tears fill my eyes. "I won't," I choke out, thinking about all the things they did to Uncle Jinx. And now he's dead. Will Res suffer the same fate if I can't get to him in time?

"We're two hundred miles outside of Hinge," Brann states, coming up to us. His words are laced with disbelief.

"That doesn't matter. Take me back to that forsaken tower city. I don't care what they do to me. I want my little brother safe," I reply, staring into his eyes.

"Renoir won't allow it," Brann pipes up with a heavy sigh. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"Who the drips is Renoir?" I ask, receiving a warning glance from Brann.

"He's the leader of the Sentiment," he states in a quiet voice. His words are laced with reverence.

"I love how everybody else knows this stuff but me, "I remark, fighting off a dizzy spell. 

"You're still experiencing withdrawals from the meds they gave you at the Expound. We haven't had time to explain any of this to you," Brann shoots back. A thought comes to mind. I don't recall ever seeing Brann, or my dad or anybody else from my family in my room. 

"How come none of you came to visit me?" I spit the question. Brann shakes his head. 

"They wouldn't let us come see you. The doctors said it might make your condition worse," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. My eyes become narrow slits of anger. 

"I love how everybody thinks they know what's best for me," I shoot back with a scoff. It seems like Brann wants to say something more, but he doesn't. 

"We can't just leave Res for dead," I finally speak up, glancing up at the screens that have returned to normal. One of them has a bar graph with the current population of the Rifts. 21,580 residents. I still can't believe that the Council doesn't know about an outfit with that many people. It just doesn't seem logical. 

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to speak up. To explain our situation, to think up some way we can rescue Res. But he doesn't say anything. He just stares at his hands as if he's guilty. 

"So that's it, then? You're just going to listen to this Renoir guy?" I question, throwing my hands out. 

"We don't exactly have much of a choice," Brann finally speaks. 

"Oh, now you sound just like the Council, "I retort, shaking my head in disbelief while laughing. Brann's face falls. Clearly, my words have hurt him.

"You don't have a choice? If that's what you believe, then fine. But I do. And I'm going to rescue my little brother. I don't care what it takes," I tell him.