The Program (33 page)

He’s right. I will report him the first chance I get. He’s infected. He can infect others. “Let me through, Liam,” I say.

He stares at me, and then leans closer as if whispering a secret. “Do you remember me?” he asks.

“I remember you calling me a freak.”

He smiles. “Before that.”

There’s a twist in my gut. “No.” Just then the handle of the door turns, but Liam keeps his weight on it, preventing it from opening. I think about calling for help, or running, but at the same time, I don’t want to draw that kind of attention to myself.

“We dated,” he says, a bit of satisfaction in his voice. “Nothing serious, but they took that memory anyway. What else did they take? Don’t you see what you are? You’re empty. You’re nothing. And I’d rather be dead than be like you.”

My lip begins to quiver as I’m filled with shame and humiliation, but mostly anger. I reach out to push him, only succeeding in making him stagger a step. He laughs, and then coughs, bringing his hand to his mouth. When he pulls it away, there’s blood smeared across his fingers.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, stepping back.

“QuikDeath,” he says. “Because there’s no point. We’ll never be free of The Program, and even when we are, who’s to say they don’t change the rules? That they don’t come after us as adults? My cousin?” Liam says, tears beginning to gather in his
eyes. “He killed himself yesterday. He was twenty-one, Sloane. That means the epidemic is evolving.”

“Or maybe he just committed suicide,” I say, my stomach in knots. Fists pound on the other side of the door, shaking it.

Liam coughs again, spitting blood onto the patio. Red streaks his lips. He’s going to die. He’s going to die if I do nothing to stop it. I reach to take out my phone, but Liam slaps it from my hand, sending it across the wooden planks.

His eyes momentarily roll back in his head before he focuses on me again. His body convulses. And then he collapses against the door, sliding to the ground, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re no one,” he whispers before he goes still altogether.

I pause only a second, my breaths coming out in quick gasps like I might hyperventilate. The door shakes again, and I decide that I can’t be here when they find him. I can’t be involved in this. So I run, grabbing my phone on the way, and scramble down the stairs into the parking lot of the Wellness Center. I text Lacey and tell her that I’m at the car. We have to leave. Now.

As I wait there, hiding, people flood the patio. Handlers move people aside, the Wellness staff clearly horrified that someone would commit suicide in such a safe place. I block out all the things that Liam told me. I block out his theories. Because an ache in my forehead is pulsing, worse than it was earlier.

When Lacey reaches me, she looks frazzled. She doesn’t say a word as we speed away, leaving the Wellness Center behind
us. When we’re a safe distance away, she finally turns to me.

“Who was it?” she asks. “Who terminated?” Her face is pale with fear.

“Liam.”

Her eyes widen. Then she turns back to the road, pressing her lips together. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah.”

“You were smart to get out of there. Things are getting crazy. You feel it too, right?”

And I do. But I’m not sure I can handle any more talk of the epidemic tonight, not when my head is killing me. “Yes, but I have to get home,” I say. “I don’t want my parents to worry.” But really, I have something else in mind. I need to talk about tonight, both about my dad and about Liam. I need to talk to someone who’ll understand. I need James.

“Your parents?” Lacey sounds surprised. Then she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. “Maybe you’re not as rebellious as I thought.” She pulls up to the corner before my house. “Better get out here,” she says. “Wouldn’t want my car to give you away.”

Her voice is tense, and I think she’s shaken by the suicide. I just hope it’s not enough to make her sick again. To make any of us sick.

LATER THAT NIGHT, AS MY PARENTS SLEEP, I TAKE A
massive amount of Advil, get into my mother’s car, and drive to see James.

At the curb, I exhale and gaze at his large white house, wondering where his room is. I want to tell him that my father confirmed that Brady killed himself. And I want to tell him about what Liam said about the epidemic, and how I had to watch him die from QuikDeath.

In my hand, my phone vibrates. I hope my parents haven’t realized that I’m missing. I check the screen.

WHY ARE YOU SITTING OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE, STALKER?

I close my eyes. I’m just about to shove my phone back into my pocket and peel out, when it vibrates again. I shouldn’t even read it.

STAY THERE.

Yeah, right. I can’t face him now. I turn the ignition, but a figure streaks across the lawn toward my car. I swear under my breath and wait.

A second later the door opens, flooding me with uncomfortable light as James gets in. When we’re immersed in dark again, I feel him staring at me. “Well?” he asks.

My heart races in my chest. I’m worried that he doesn’t care about what I have to say. I shouldn’t be here. “Forget it,” I tell him, sounding exhausted. “This is dumb.”

“Where were you tonight? I texted.”

I meet his eyes. “I know. I went to the Wellness Center with Lacey. And something . . . happened.” His shoulders tense, and I go on. “That guy Liam? He killed himself. He took QuikDeath, but not before saying that he and I used to date, calling me empty for not remembering. He said that his cousin committed suicide yesterday at the age of twenty-one. Liam says the epidemic is evolving—”

“You saw Liam die?” James asks, ignoring the rest.

I nod. “And I talked to my dad earlier,” I say. “He’s drinking; he and my mother are fighting. Everything’s falling apart at home, but I finally asked him about my brother.” Tears trickle over my cheeks. “Realm was telling the truth. Brady did kill himself.” I’m consumed with grief, absolutely consumed.

“I’m sorry,” James says.

I shake my head. “And I don’t even know why I’m telling
you all this. You made it pretty clear that you’re not interested in finding out about the past. I—”

“No,” James says coolly. “I’m not interested in your love life. I am, however, interested in finding out what happened to your brother, and how I fit into it.”

My face stings, and I turn fiercely toward him. “Why do you do that?” I ask. “Why do you say things that you know will hurt my feelings?”

He flinches, but then fixes me with an annoyed look. “Hurt your feelings? Sloane, I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t even remember how we know each other. So whatever fantasy you’ve built up in your imagination, it’s not real. Things weren’t pretty before The Program, so let’s not start pretending they were. Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

The pain in my head suddenly explodes, and I cry out, leaning forward against the steering wheel. It’s as if a hammer has just been smashed into my forehead.

“Are you okay?” James touches my shoulder, sounding scared.

“Just get out.” I close my eyes against the pain. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but it’s intense. When I can straighten, James is trying to talk, but I don’t listen. “Get out of the Goddamn car, James!”

He waits long enough for me to wonder if he will. When the interior lights come on, I know he’s leaving. The door slams, but I can’t move for a minute, waiting for the pain in my head to pass. It doesn’t. And now a cracking sensation rips inside my chest.

Your brain is like fine china.

I open my eyes, squinting as I look out the windshield. I have to find Realm. Something is wrong with me. I think I’m breaking.

•  •  •

It’s dark as I drive up Realm’s long driveway, my headache finally resolving into a bearable throbbing. It started raining the minute I pulled away from James’s house—a sign of things to come, I guess. Now the pattering on my windshield comes harder. I hope Realm’s home. He has to be.

I knock impatiently on the door, soaked from the walk to his porch. My shirt clings to me, and my pulse is loud in my ears as the headache continues, making me weak all over. When I hear the locks click, I practically push my way in.

“Sloane?” Realm stands there, rubbing at his hair, wearing just pajama pants and a terrified expression. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“I’m falling apart,” I tell him, sounding desperate. “I’m completely falling apart.”

“Sweetness.” Realm hugs me, and I put my cheek against the warm skin of his chest. “Sit down,” he says, leading me to the couch. Outside, thunder booms in the sky, but Realm’s living room is warm with the remains of a fire burning out. He sits next to me as I continue to shake, my wet clothes uncomfortable. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Headache,” I say. “And pain in my chest as if my heart is being torn out. It’s overwhelming. I don’t think I can survive it.”

“Shh . . . ,” Realm says. “Of course you can. You survived
The Program, didn’t you?” He pauses, letting out a harsh breath. “Is this because of what I told you about Brady? Did I cause this?”

“No. It’s not your fault. I asked my dad, and he confirmed that my brother killed himself.” I close my eyes, hating saying the words out loud. “And then I went to the Wellness Center, and this guy said I was nothing without my memories.” I look up to meet Realm’s gaze. “Am I nothing?”

“No. You’ve just been cured.”

Cured
. There was a time when I felt lucky to have been spared from the epidemic. But now it’s left me a bundled mess, lost in my own life. “That guy from the center,” I say. “He died in front of me tonight—QuikDeath. Afterward I went to tell James, but he was so cruel. Distant. And I don’t know why, but it crushes me, the way James acts sometimes.” I pause. “That’s when the headache got worse, and the pain in my chest started. God, Realm. It’s like I’m losing my mind.”

Realm stares into his lap, his brow furrowed as if he’s thinking. When he doesn’t say anything, I take his hand. “Why do I hurt so badly?” I ask. “I haven’t seen this in any other returners. I think I need my memories back.”

“You don’t,” he says. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

I look at his downcast dark eyes, his scarred neck. I think about how he loves me, how he saved me in The Program too many times to count. My head pounds, my body aches, but I think that in this moment, maybe what I need is for someone to care about me.

So I lean forward and kiss him, ignoring the sharp guilt that attacks my conscience. I push it away and let my mouth capture Realm’s. It takes a second for him to react, and then he’s kissing me, his hand around my waist as he pulls me onto his lap, peeling off my wet shirt.

I want to forget about everything. I want to forget about James.

My chest fills again with jagged pain, but then Realm rolls me off the couch, getting on top of me as we lie on the carpet. He’s kissing my neck, his hands searching my body as I try to feel him. Feel what it would be like to be with him.

But I’m a million miles away, and all I feel is lost and abandoned. I’m alone.

Realm’s mouth stops at my ear, panting wildly. I realize that I’m on my back, staring at the ceiling as tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Realm’s hand slides away from my breast, and he turns me toward him.

“You don’t want this,” he says, sadness in his voice. “You still love him.”

His words startle me, but I don’t argue. He’s put a name to the emotion raging inside of me. I know suddenly that I do love someone. Someone else.

Realm tries to laugh it away, shaking his head. “God,” he says. “He’s such a dick, too.” Realm lies next to me, shoulder to shoulder, as we both gaze up at the wooden-beamed ceiling.

“It’s James, isn’t it?” I ask softly, not sure what to do now.

“Yep,” Realm answers. “You love him. Always have. And
not being with him is confusing. You may not remember him, but your heart does.” Realm turns his face toward me. “I wanted to be the one to make you happy, but you’ll always be his.”

I swallow hard, not disbelieving it, but not understanding it either. Loneliness crawls over me. “No,” I say. “That part of my life is over. I don’t think he feels that way about me. At least not anymore.”

“He does.” Realm sighs. “He definitely does.”

“Was it because of Brady?” I ask, thinking it’s the clear explanation. “Is that why James was with me, because my brother died?”

“No. You loved each other. I believe the word you used was ‘madly.’” He pauses. “You’ve always loved each other. You always will.”

I lie next to Realm, half-naked on his floor, as he tells me that I love someone else—something I can’t remember, but something I can feel. The frustration I came in with eases, although the headache is still there.

“And my headache?” I ask.

“Your brain is repairing itself. That one memory you had cracked the smooth sequence of events they placed in therapy. Your mind knows something is wrong. Now it’s slowly binding back together. Let’s just be glad it was one memory, and not all of them.”

I look sideways at him, wondering if he truly believes that I’m better this way. “Why don’t you want me to remember
everything?” I ask. “What could I have told you that was so awful that it’s worth living like this?”

Realm smiles sadly. “Some things are better left in the past. For all our sakes.” Tears run from his eyes then, and I think about what I’ve done to him tonight, how I’ve wronged him.

“So if I have these feelings about James, where does it leave you?”

“In love with a girl who loves another. Very Shakespearean, if you ask me.”

I lean into him, putting my hand over his heart and wishing I could care about him in the same way. But even now, even when James is still so far away from me, I know that I can’t love Realm. He’s not mine.

We settle in next to each other, the coals in the fireplace burning out. “The guy that died,” I say quietly. “He said the epidemic is spreading to adults.” Realm tenses. “What happens if that’s true?” I ask.

“You shouldn’t worry about things like this so soon after treatment,” he says. “You should be focusing on recovery, listening to your handler when he warns you of—”