“Well, that sounds wonderful,” she says sincerely. “I’m sure The Program has already told them that you’re here, but they’ll probably appreciate an update from you. You’ve given them quite a scare.”
Has The Program told my parents that they have me? It wouldn’t make much sense, not if they plan to lobotomize me. Looking at Nurse Kell, she seems honestly impressed that I’d want to write to my parents. I’m not sure she knows what happens to the people who leave this facility. I don’t think anyone does.
My parents. If The Program hasn’t told them, where do they think I am now? Did my father tell my mother that James had called? Do they think he’s keeping me safe like he promised? If only they knew that The Program was planning to lobotomize me. Make me well-behaved. Is that how they want me?
I’m quiet as Nurse Kell finishes tidying up the room, saying she’ll be back in an hour for my plates. I don’t eat any more and instead find the paper and bendable pen she left for me to write with.
I move the dishes off the tray and set it up as a desk. But as I stare down at the paper, vast in white and blankness, I can think of nothing to write. Really, I think of James. And how likely it is that I’ll never see him again—at least not as myself.
Closing my eyes, I imagine what I’d write to him, not daring to put it on paper. I let myself think back on the good times, some of the bad. Our promises.
I love you, I write to James in my mind. In another life we could have stayed together, fought, gotten back together. Our existence wouldn’t have been anyone’s concern. Maybe I would have learned to swim. Maybe we would have had children.
James, we didn’t fail each other. You took The Treatment and now you’ll always remember me. My tears drip onto the blank paper. But I won’t remember you. I won’t remember how you make me laugh or make me furious with your stubbornness. James, I won’t remember you.
But I’ll always love you.
I lie on my side, and the paper falls from the bed, swaying in the air until it lands somewhere on the floor. I’ll never be able to tell James how I feel—not unless I find a way out of this. But each second that ticks by reminds me how little time I have left. No one’s coming for me. Except the surgeon.
CHAPTER FIVE
“TELL ME YOUR LAST MEMORY of the farmhouse, before the handlers came to collect you,” Dr. Beckett says. He’s back in his leather chair, and I’m in the seat across from him, my hands no longer bound. My head is heavy as the medication the doctor gave me to calm me down winds through my body, twisting and turning and setting me at ease.
“I was with James,” I say with a smile. “I had a dream about us, and I was telling him about it before we heard Dallas scream from downstairs. Then we ran through the woods.” I close my eyes and tell him about the chase. About Arthur getting Tased, and Dallas stabbing Roger. He listens intently, never interrupting. But when I’m done, he licks his lips as if he’s been waiting with a question.
“Where was Michael Realm during this exchange? Casanova was there, but Michael wasn’t at the farm. Do you know where he went?”
“Maybe he killed himself,” I say bitterly. As the words meet the silence of the room, I immediately regret them. I don’t want Realm dead. I want him to tell me the doctor is lying about all this. I want him to bring me to James.
“I’m fully confident that Michael is still alive,” the doctor says. “But don’t worry; you’ll get your justice once we find him. Now, when was the last time you saw him?”
“In the house. He and Cas got into an argument, and they took it outside. Then James and I went upstairs and . . .” I lift my eyes to Dr. Beckett, realizing I shouldn’t know that James is free. “How is James?” I ask, sounding concerned.
The doctor smiles. “He’s just fine, Sloane. He’s in a Program facility and being very cooperative from what I hear. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. You only have to worry about yourself.”
“Don’t hurt him.” Dr. Beckett is caught in his own lie and he doesn’t even know it. I blink rapidly as if holding back tears. “Please don’t hurt him.”
The doctor purses his lips like he’s having an attack of conscience.
“I’ll send word that you asked for him. Okay?”
I nod, pretending to be grateful. I ease back in the chair and focus on the last days at the farmhouse. My conversation with James about babies, details that can’t possibly help Beckett find anyone, let alone my boyfriend.
Beckett writes something down in his notes, and he’s visibly agitated. I’m reminded that I have only about six days until I’ll be lobotomized, unless I buy more time. That’s what Asa told me. “Maybe . . .,” I start, not sure what I’m going to say next but knowing I have to do something. “Maybe I’m forgetting a clue,” I say. “To where Realm is. He might have told me something, but I can’t remember.”
The doctor glances up, removing his glasses and setting them on the desk. “There are medications that can help make the memories more vivid,” he says. “We can try them next time.” He’s distrustful, and I guess he’s wondering the real reason to why I’m suddenly such a model patient. I’m quick to offer a cover.
“If you find him,” I say, sounding braver than I feel, “I want to talk to him before you do”—I wave my hand—“whatever it is you’re planning on doing to him. And then I want to go home.”
Dr. Beckett nods condescendingly. “Or course, sweetheart. You’ll still have to complete The Program, but after that you’ll be free to go.”
“Deal.”
The doctor doesn’t mention the lobotomy, not that I thought he would. But maybe part of me hoped he would just admit it. Then again, without the niceties, each day could dissolve into torture. I’ve seen Lacey, Arthur. I know what’s to come. Maybe it’s best to live in denial for as long as I can.
Dr. Beckett has me swallow a shiny red pill before leaving his office. I’m surprised when Asa isn’t waiting for me, but I’m already getting sleepy so I try to hurry down the hall. I pause on my way past the waiting room.
Lacey’s there, rocking gently as she stares out the window. She seems better—at least a little more with it—than she did the other times I saw her. Before walking in, I cast a glance around the hallway, and when the coast is Kell-free, I walk in.
“I like your hair,” I say as my lamest and most nonthreatening opening statement ever. Lacey looks up and flashes her teeth.
“Thanks.” She doesn’t ask me to sit, but her posture tells me she isn’t opposed to the idea. I don’t remember what Lacey was like before The Program, but I have to believe she was always a badass. I wonder if that side of her will eventually come out again.
I sit on the stiff couch cushion, facing her chair, and she turns slightly as if curious about what I’ll say next. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “I’m Sloane,” I say.
She smiles softly, her eyes wide as they glance over at me. In them I find no recognition, but they’re not dead. Not completely. I lean closer, checking again to make sure we’re not being watched.
“Your name is Lacey,” I whisper. “You’re Lacey Klamath and you’re from Oregon.”
Her smile fades, her brows pulling together as she fights to understand what I mean. She doesn’t know who she is—at all—but her personality is set. It’s not solely based on her memories. She’ll still be Lacey. Despite the panic that’s bubbling up at the thought of her never coming back, I’m trying to convince myself that she’s still Lacey.