The Program (The Program #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I WAKE UP TO THE SOUND OF SHOUTS COMING FROM the hallway. I sit up suddenly, regretting it the moment I do because it feels like my brain might fall out. Pain pulses in my temples as I try to get my bearings and look around the unfamiliar room.

“Michael!” I hear what sounds like Nurse Kell yell. “Get off him!”

“Stay away from her, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself!”

I gasp, sure that’s Realm’s voice. I climb quickly out of the bed and go to the door, opening it just a crack to look out the way Realm does. Halfway down the hall, Realm has got his forearm to Roger’s throat, pinning him to the wall. But Roger isn’t saying anything. He’s just staring back at Realm as if challenging him.

“Michael,” Nurse Kell says again, only softer. She touches Realm’s arm and he suddenly drops it, making Roger stumble to the floor. For a minute I think Realm might kick him, but instead he steps back with obvious restraint.

I open the door more and it creaks, making all of them look over at me. When Realm turns in my direction, I see that one of his eyes is puffed up. Nurse Kell immediately bristles. “Sloane,” she says. “Return to your room.” Then she takes Realm roughly by the elbow. “We need to see Dr. Warren now,” she hisses.

Realm shrugs at me, almost like an apology, and then lets himself be led down the hall. My heart pounds in my chest as it fills with worry. What if they send him away? Hurt him? Realm is my only friend, and what if they take him from me too?

Just then I notice Roger, still sitting on the floor. When my eyes meet his, he winks, and then gets up to hobble away.

? ? ?

I wait in the dining room, not touching my food as I sit by myself. They haven’t brought Realm back yet and I’m completely panicking. I haven’t told anyone what I saw, but I heard Derek and the other guys say that Realm punched out a handler and now he’s getting shipped off to another facility. My fingers shake as I try to eat a spoonful of Jell-O.

“Can I sit with you?” Tabitha asks, motioning to the empty chair across from me.

“Oh. Sure.” It’s a chance to see her up close for the first time. She has dyed red hair, but from the roots I imagine it’s naturally dark. Her skin is pale and her eyes are a light hazel. She’s pretty in a really emo sort of way. She sort of reminds me of Lacey—or at least, the old Lacey.

“I see your bandage,” she says, taking the first bite of her food. “Did you try to slit your wrists?”

“Sort of. But I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just pissed.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right. So where’s Realm?” she asks, and I suspect it was her real question from the beginning. “He said I could play cards with him today. Oh”—she pauses, smiling—“maybe he’ll let you play too. He’s pretty nice. Cute, too, right?”

I stare at her, trying to see if there are any obvious signs of damage. I’ve never heard of anyone surviving QuikDeath before. Lacey had thought about taking it. She wanted Miller to take it with her.

Wait—Miller. What happened to Miller?

“What’s that look? You don’t think he’s hot?” Tabitha is grinning from ear to ear, but I don’t answer her and instead look down toward my tray.

What the hell happened to Miller? In my mind, it’s like he’s there and then suddenly . . . gone. “Oh my God,” I say. “I can’t remember.”

“Are you okay?” Tabitha asks, sounding frightened. “Should I get the nurse?”

“No,” I say quickly. I stretch my hand out and cover hers. “They’re taking my memories,” I whisper to her. “They’re erasing me.”

She blinks quickly as if she completely understands, but then her eyes glaze over. “Don’t talk like that,” she says pleasantly. “Or you’re going to get us both thrown into a new facility to start over.”

Tabitha abruptly stands, taking her tray with her, and walks away. My hand feels cold on the white table, and I’m shaking. First the ring and now Miller. What else is missing that I can’t find? What’s happening to me?

And suddenly, I know. I know what I have to do if I plan to make it through this. I leave my tray on the table and walk toward the exit doors. I’m almost there when an older handler stops me.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Bathroom.”

“There’s a bathroom here,” he motions toward the back of the room. I try to think fast.

“No tampons in there.”

He stares me down, as if he can tell if I’m menstruating just by looking at me, and then he waves me out. “Hurry up,” he says before going back to monitoring the room.

I rush out into the hall, not sure where I’ll find him. Desperation is making tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. I need to be stronger. I need to save myself.

It’s when I pass the supply closet that I see him and skid to a stop, sliding in my slipper socks. Disgust twists in my stomach as I watch him counting off rolls of toilet paper and then marking the number on a clipboard. When he notices me, he smiles.

“Hello, Miss Barstow. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, Roger.” I nearly choke on his name. “I guess you can.”

? ? ?

Roger locks up the supply closet and leads me back to my room, smiling the entire way, even humming a song. I can barely push myself forward, but I have no choice. The Program has given me no choice but to hold on to what I can.

Roger opens my door and steps aside for me to walk in. When I pass him I smell the strong scent of mints, and I know I’ll never be able to taste peppermint again without gagging. I pause just inside the room, not looking at the bed.

When Roger shuts the door and locks it, I cross my arms over my chest. “First tell me what’s going to happen to Realm.”

Roger chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure Michael Realm will be just fine. He has a habit of getting out of things the rest of you are punished for.”

I furrow my brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’ll be back soon. Now I hope this isn’t why you took me aside, Sloane.” He cocks his head as if truly curious. I’m terrified.

“How do I know you can really give me my memories?”

“I can’t give you back your memories,” he says, almost apologetically. “What I can do is let you hold on to select memories. Block them from the antigens.”

“Antigens?”

“The little yellow pill you take,” he says. “It seeks out your memories, the ones that are targeted by Dr. Warren. First you take the red—a sort of truth serum, if you will. And while you talk, it acts like a dye, attaching itself to the thoughts. Then you take the yellow to wipe them all away. It’s not exact, but soon you’ll have less and less to sort through, and they’ll be easier to pinpoint.”

The pills—they’re eating my memories. Dr. Warren said they were just to relax me, but she lied. What else has she lied about?

“How can you help?” I ask Roger. “What can you do to stop them from erasing me?”

He reaches into his pocket and opens a small container. He pinches out a small purple pill. “This can save one stray thought, one thing you don’t want to lose. Of course, it might make you sick, but it could be worth the risk. And if you tell Dr. Warren about this, they’ll strip your mind completely. So if you take it, know that this has to stay between us.”

I look at the little pill he holds up, not sure if it can be true. If he’s just lying to do something horrible to me. “And what do you want in exchange?” I ask, fearing the answer.

He smiles then, the skin crinkling around his eyes. “I’m not a monster, Sloane. Maybe all I want is a kiss.” He pauses. “This time.”

“Bartering for sex?” I try to sound appalled, but I knew it would come to this. I knew and I still asked him here. I had just been hoping for a different answer.

“Course not,” he says. “Like I said, a kiss. A little affection. Affection is good for your therapy, Sloane. Did they not tell you that? In fact, I think you’ve already found that out yourself.”

I know he’s talking about Realm, but I don’t bother responding. He thinks Realm and I are in a relationship, but that will never happen. I’m going back to James.

I reach out and take the pill from Roger’s hands, examining it. “How does it work?”

“You’ll have to concentrate on a single memory. Then you swallow the pill and hold the thought. Don’t mix the memory with anything else or widen the scope, otherwise it won’t be clear in your head.”

I look between the pill and the handler, my throat dry and my hands clammy. It’s just a kiss, but it’s like he’s asking me to jump off a bridge. I can’t move any closer to him, and I feel my resolve start to fade.

“What’s it worth to you, Sloane?” he asks softly. “What’s your past worth?”

And with that a few tears leak out. I think of James. Brady and Miller. The part of me that won’t survive The Program. Maybe this one pill can change the outcome. Maybe it can save me.

“Just one kiss,” I tell him.

Roger laughs. “Yes, but I say how long. And it has to be good, Sloane. I want to feel your passion.”

I wipe hard at my face, pulling the skin roughly until it hurts. I slip the pill into the pocket of my robe and take an unsteady step forward. I look Roger straight in the eyes. “Make no mistake,” I whisper. “I hate you.”

He smiles. “I like a challenge.” He grabs me roughly, pinching my upper arm as he pulls me against him, his other arm snaking around me. His mouth is on mine, wet and strong. I try to turn away at first, but he just squeezes harder, and I can feel how turned on he is as he presses against me.

I whimper and try to move back as his tongue licks my lips.

“Make me believe it,” he breathes. “Or I take the pill back.” He kisses me again, and this time I let his tongue inside my mouth. Peppermint coats my lips and I can’t stand the taste. I can’t stand another second of it.

Tears continue to trickle down my cheeks as his hand touches my ass, holding me tight against him. His other hand grips the back of my neck and tilts it so he can kiss me there. “You taste delicious,” he says into my skin.

I try to pretend it’s James, but Roger’s touch is too aggressive. James would never touch me like this. James would never do this to me. Soon I’m sobbing and Roger comes to kiss me once more, his hand sliding under my shirt. And finally I snap and bring my knee up, missing his balls, but connecting with his thigh. He yelps and jumps back. But as I stand there in front of him, soft cries still escaping my lips, he laughs.

“Oh, come on, Sloane,” he says coldly. “It wasn’t that bad. Other girls trade much more.”

“Get out,” I manage to say, and I back against the footboard of my bed. “Get out!” I scream.

He flinches and then looks behind him at the door. “Fine,” he says, putting up his hand. “But understand this is between us. If you tell—”

“I know.” I can’t stop crying. I spit out the taste of him right there on the linoleum tile and he looks at it, surprised that I’m even upset.

“Next dose is for bare skin,” he warns. “And I suggest you get ahold of yourself because the crying doesn’t really work for me.” With that he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.