The Program

  “You keep a secret and I will too,” Roger says, his eyes narrowed to slits as he backs down the hall.

  Realm takes my hand and gently tugs me to my feet. “Sloane, can you walk?” he asks.

  I try to say yes as I lean into him, but I can’t seem to get my balance. Realm bends and then slips his arms under my knees and scoops me up, my head against his chest. He starts toward my room as Roger gets as far against the wall as he can.

  “This isn’t over,” Realm says to him before kicking open my door. I can feel his body tense around me, and I wonder what Roger would have done to me if Realm hadn’t shown up. But I push the thought away, clinging to Realm as he lays me in my bed. I ask him to stay, not letting go of his shirt until his arms are around me. Then I drift, unconscious.

  • • •

  When it’s time for dinner, Realm and I don’t talk about what happened. At least not at first. He helps me get my food even as Derek and Shep break his balls, saying he’s whipped. I’m trembling, alternating between hot and cold flashes like a bad reaction to the medication.

  “Can I sit with you?” Tabitha asks, poised at the end of our table. The guys laugh, but Realm moves over.

  “Of course, Tabby.”

  I smile at him, thinking he’s kind. He’s smart. He reminds me of James in a way, always knowing how to make me feel better. James makes me laugh too, although I can’t remember the last time we did that.

  “Here,” Realm says, putting a piece of corn bread on my tray. “You need to eat, Sloane. You’re wasting away.”

  “Maybe I want to waste away.”

  “Don’t say things like that in here,” he whispers fiercely. “You’ll get flagged again.”

  I nod, feeling bad for upsetting him, and I take his hand under the table. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” I say quietly. “My memories . . . I don’t have many left.”

  Realm squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go. He looks at me like he understands, and then we go back to our dinner, listening as the others talk. I nod when Derek tells us that he’s going to move out of the country once he’s eighteen.

  I’m grateful Realm is holding on to me. It doesn’t feel romantic. It feels like a lifeline.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AFTER A SPIRITED GAME OF CARDS, REALM AND I retreat to the couch to watch a movie with a few others. I’m curled up next to him, and no one says anything: no nurses tell us to move apart. We can do what we want and it’s nice. It’s the first time in a long while that I feel in control.

  When Nurse Kell comes in and tells us all it’s time to return to our rooms, Realm pulls me in the other direction instead. “Wanna come hang out in my room?” he asks, motioning down the hall. I shrug, holding on to his arm as we walk.

  Opening his door, he allows me to go in first, and then he checks the hallway before closing it behind us. “It’s fun to sneak around, isn’t it?” he asks.

  “It is. And I thought nothing could beat being constantly medicated.” I laugh, but a serious expression comes over Realm’s face. He goes to sit on his bed as I sit in the chair facing him. I start to fidget, knowing he wants to talk about Roger.

  “Sloane, I have to ask. . . . Did he rape you?”

  “What?” I look up, startled. “No.”

  “Then what happened?” Realm swallows hard and I know there’s no use in denying it altogether.

  “He offered a trade.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “It was for a kiss. Some . . . touching, but I kneed him really hard when that happened. It was just a kiss.” I feel sick thinking about it, and lower my head, not wanting Realm to see my face.

  “And in return?”

  “He gave me a pill. Said it would let me hold on to a memory.”

  Realm swears under his breath, rubbing roughly at his face. “I’m going to kill him,” he says, mostly to himself. “I told him to leave you alone.”

  “He’s done it to others, hasn’t he?” I ask.

  Realm nods, and then looks over at me, pained. “I think maybe it’s been going on for a while.”

  I cringe thinking about girls here having sex with that freak, and I can’t believe I ever let him touch me. I just wanted to keep my life. Keep myself. I feel violated and stupid, and I wrap my arms around myself as I sit back in the chair.

  “It doesn’t work, you know,” Realm says. “The pill to block. With the memory out of context, it’ll never come back or make sense. You shouldn’t take it.”

  I flinch as if I’ve been slapped. I’d let Roger touch me, and now I wasn’t getting what I was promised. It was for nothing. I did it for nothing.

  “It doesn’t work?” I ask, my voice strained. Realm shakes his head. My world practically crumbles around me. My only hope is gone. I’d pinned everything on keeping the memories. I’m truly lost.

  “You should give the pill to me,” he says.

  “I can’t,” I say quietly. “I already took it.”

  Realm’s face flares with anger. “You idiot,” he says. “You could have been killed.”

  Stunned, I lower my eyes, Realm’s harsh words stinging. I move to get up but he reaches quickly for my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go. I’m just frustrated, Sloane.” He stops talking, and when I finally look up again, he exhales. “Sorry,” he repeats, sliding his fingers from mine. “Let’s just change the subject, okay?”

  I don’t have anywhere else to go, so I sit back down. “Whatever,” I say. Realm is always so accepting of The Program, so ready to let them take his past. But that’s not me. I don’t want to change.

  Realm scoots over on the bed, patting the blanket. “Will you sit with me?” he asks. I nod, and move to put my knee on the bed, climbing up next to him.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he says softly. “It’s almost over.”

  I stare at him, the air seeming to rush out of me. “Is that all I have to look forward to? The point where I’m empty?”

  He smiles sadly. “It won’t hurt anymore once you forget. It’s the only thing that can save us now.” He bends to rest his forehead against mine, whispering. “We can’t go on like this. You have a huge hole here.” He puts his palm over my heart, and the touch is intimate and almost comforting. It’s not butterflies or romantic—I don’t have those feelings for him. But it’s a touch that makes me feel human. Alive.

  “I don’t know if I can make it,” I say, closing my eyes.

  “You can. You’ve made it this far. And hell, you’re not dead, right?” He moves back and takes my chin, making me look at him. “Now I want you to hold me,” he jokes, curling me against him as we lie back against the pillows.

  “It’s lucky that we were both here,” he continues as he begins to play with my hair. “Otherwise I’d have to snuggle with Nurse Kell.”

  I laugh, putting my hand on his chest, over his heart. I’m surprised by how fast it’s beating. “You nervous?” I ask.

  “Well, I am in bed with a pretty girl. I think this sort of reaction is beyond my control.”

  I sit up, and Realm shifts to lie flat on the bed. I get on my elbow and look down at his face. The black under his eye has faded, and his skin looks healthier than it did the first time I met him. The scar around his neck is healed, and I wonder how old it is. I trace my index finger over the raised pink line, and he holds his breath, his dark eyes meeting mine.

  “Does it still hurt?” I ask.

  Realm licks his lips but is slow to answer. “Every day.”

  I pause, my finger under his chin. “Me too,” I respond.

  Realm reaches to draw me closer, and I don’t pull away. I’m so lonely, so broken that I don’t think I’ll ever be fixed. Being with someone could make me forget for a while. Realm’s been good to me. He’s my friend.

  But as he leans forward, something inside of me seizes up. Just when his mouth meets mine, I turn away, making his lips brush my cheek instead. “I can’t,” I murmur. Realm is no
t my boyfriend. He’s not James.

  I close my eyes and lower my head to his chest, hugging him and hoping he won’t send me away. I don’t want to be alone right now. Realm immediately starts to apologize, but I stop him.

  “It’s not you. I’m . . . I’m with James,” I tell him, not sure if it’s cruel to say. “I love him.”

  Realm adjusts his position, but doesn’t push me aside. Instead he wraps me in a hug. “I understand,” he whispers.

  “I’m going to find him again,” I say, mostly to myself. “The Program can’t erase James from my heart. I know they can’t.”

  “If it’s meant to be . . . ,” Realm says, sounding like my mother. But underneath, I hear his hurt. I don’t respond and just let him hold me, knowing that I shouldn’t be here like this. But no one ever comes in to make me go back to my room. And when I start to fall asleep, I think that my guilt is gone—if only for a moment.

  I’ve become comfortably numb.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I WAKE UP AND LOOK AROUND AT THE STARK WHITE walls. I’m alone in my bed, alone in my room. After falling asleep at Realm’s, I woke up at about three in the morning and made my way back to my own bed, feeling empty.

  When I walk into the dining room, Realm is waiting at the table for me, a stupid grin on his face. His friends whistle as I walk up wearing my lemon-yellow scrubs, holding a tray of scrambled eggs. Realm elbows Shep in the chest. “Get out of here, man.” But the smile never falters.

  “What’s going on?” I ask when I’m sitting next to him. I don’t care if they’re gossiping about me—not really. At least that way they won’t try to hit on me. And after Roger, I hope no one ever does again.

  Realm shrugs. “They may have noticed a girl going into my room with me last night. If they figured out it was you, and thought we got it on, it’s not my fault.”

  “You didn’t deny it?”

  “Nope. And it’s still not my fault. You should have worn a disguise if you didn’t want to be noticed.” Realm reaches over and opens my milk carton for me, and then absently goes back to his eggs. I stare down at the milk, thinking that opening it was a sweet gesture, even if slightly possessive.

  “I meant to ask,” I say, “how much longer do you have here?”

  Realm pauses, but doesn’t look up. “Two weeks. And you’ll have a week and a half after that.”

  Panic starts to pull at me, making it hard to breathe. “A week and a half is a long time.” My voice cracks, and I’m suddenly terrified of being here alone. Being all alone with nobody but the stranger with my face. And Roger—who is definitely pissed now.

  “Sweetness,” Realm says. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” I whisper. “I’ll forget everything. And then Roger—what about him? What will he do when I can’t fight him off ?”

  Realm’s posture changes. “Roger won’t mess with you again. I promise. I won’t let him.”

  “You won’t be here.”

  Realm looks sideways at me, his expression deadly serious. “I’m giving you my word that I won’t let him. I don’t care what I have to do, he’ll never touch you again.” He sounds like he means it. Although I’m scared something might happen to him, Realm just smiles, making my worry evaporate.

  Then he leans forward to put a soft kiss on my cheek, one that smells like breakfast, and goes back to eating.

  • • •

  Dr. Francis examines me again, and says that I’ve regained a pound. He’s pleased as he adjusts my medication dosage, saying that I’ve made such strides in my recovery that he can finally lower it. I want to believe him, but I don’t. Not when he still works for The Program.

  After I’m checked over, he ushers me to Dr. Warren’s office. She looks happy to see me, her hair pulled into a high, girlish ponytail, her suit replaced with a colorful blouse.

  “You look cheerful,” I mumble as I walk in. She smiles at this.

  “Thought you could use a change. Do we need Marilyn today?” She slides the Dixie cup toward me.

  “Yep.”

  I can see her tense, but she just waves her hand and the nurse comes in, holding me still as she stabs me with the needle. It doesn’t take as long this time for my fight to go out. I think that the dose has been increased, and not scaled back like Dr. Francis promised. Either that or I have fewer memories for the medication to attach to.

  I sink down in my chair. “What are you going to pick at today?” I ask.

  “I’m just listening, Sloane. I’ve never done anything but listen.”

  “Liar.”

  She sighs. “Why do you love James so much?” she asks. “Is it because he reminds you of the time you spent with your brother?”

  “No. It’s because he’s hot.” I laugh, resting my head back against the chair. She’s the crazy one if she thinks I’m going to tell her.

  “Would it hurt if I told you that James didn’t love you?”

  I glare at her. “What?”

  “I’ve been through James’s files, and he told his counselor that he felt obligated to take care of you. That he wanted to save you because you were so unwell, and he didn’t want you to die like your brother.”

  She can’t be telling me the truth—James was probably just trying to protect me from them. And yet Dr. Warren’s words are like a punch in the heart.

  “James loved me,” I hiss. “And your twisted lies won’t change that.”

  “How do you know that, Sloane? When did you realize that he truly loved you? That you loved him?”

  “Like I’m going to tell you,” I scoff.

  Dr. Warren nods, and then raises her hand to Marilyn. “Another dose, please.”

  “Wait, what—”

  There’s pain in my arm as Marilyn gives me another shot. “You can’t do that,” I say, scared of overdosing, of dying in this facility.

  “Sloane, we will do whatever we have to. We’re trying to save your life and stop the spread of an epidemic. Now please cooperate or we’re going to have to take you to an examination room.”

  The threat of the exam room truly frightens me. What will they do? Cut open my head? I glare at Dr. Warren and rub my arm.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

  Marilyn leaves and Dr. Warren settles in with my file, ready to write down what I say. I consider lying, but then a wave crashes over me that makes me too weak to be dishonest.

  “James had dated girls before me, quite a few actually,” I start. “So when we became a couple out in the open, some of those girls tried to say it was because my brother was dead. The same crap you’re saying now. Of course, they didn’t know that we’d been seeing each other before—but I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Not after keeping it a secret from Brady.

  “My brother had only been gone a few weeks when my parents sat me down for a talk. They said they were worried about me, but I was doing fine. Far better than they were. Then they told me that they were concerned about me getting involved with James—that two people who suffered a tragedy shouldn’t be together because it increases the risk of suicide. I then pointed out that maybe they shouldn’t be together.”

  My mother slapped me that night. I can still feel the sting on my cheek. I felt terrible for what I said, but I never apologized. Now I probably never will because I won’t remember.

  “I left then,” I tell Dr. Warren. “I got in the car and drove straight to James’s house. It was after ten when his dad opened the door, clearly pissed.”

  I remember Mr. Murphy’s face, how closed off he was.

  “Sorry, Sloane,” he said. “No visitors this late.” He looked a lot like James, only bigger, heavier. Colder.

  Tears had stung my eyes. “But it’s important.”

  He bristled. “Listen, I’ve talked with James about this. The two of you . . . I’m not in favor of it.” Mr. Murphy reached to put his hand on my shoulder. “I think you’re a great girl, Sloane,” he said. “And I loved your brother. But you and my son can’t heal
when you’re constant reminders of death to each other. Go home, honey,” Mr. Murphy said. “I’m sure your parents are worried.”

  “Obviously my parents had called,” I say to Dr. Warren. “They’d given him the heads-up that I was probably on my way.” I stop talking then, opting instead to relax into the memory. Recognize the moment when James and I knew we were forever.

  “I love your son,” I told Mr. Murphy as I backed off the porch. “Not because of Brady or anything else. I’m in love with him.”

  James’s father lowered his eyes, and then he shut the front door, blocking me out. I stood there, stunned for a moment. But when I headed back to my car, I heard a whistle. I turned to see James running toward me, backpack over his shoulder.

  “What are you—”

  His face was expressionless. “Let’s go.” He pulled me to my car, and we got in. I drove away, but James looked like he’d been crying.

  “James,” I started. “They said that—”

  “Sloane,” he interrupted, staring at me intently. “They can’t keep me from you.”

  “Then what do we do?” I asked.

  He pointed straight ahead. “Just drive.”

  Dr. Warren shifts behind her desk, and I look at her. She nods her head, encouraging me to remember everything.

  “James and I ran away,” I tell her. “We went to a campsite with yurts—those tentlike buildings already set up—and James rented it for the rest of the week. No one questioned him because he paid cash and looked older. When we got inside, it was like our own little house. Our own little life.”

  I lean back in the chair in Dr. Warren’s office, my body warm from the drugs. I think about how James and I rearranged the bed and table, making it all our own. We wanted to stay there forever. There was a deck of cards, and somehow James talked me into a game of strip poker, only he lost.