The Complication (The Program #6)(110)

“Every time I try to make things better, they get worse,” I tell her.

“It’ll be different this time,” she says like she believes it with her whole self.

The kettle starts to whistle, and Marie takes out two cups and turns off the burner. When she’s made tea, she brings the cups to the table and sets one in front of me.

“I’m not sure I can live with it,” she says quietly. “Live with what I did to Quinlan . . . Nicole,” she corrects. She hitches in a breath, and her entire fa?ade breaks wide open. For as many times as I’ve seen Marie, I’ve never seen this. The woman here now is shattered.

“She’s my baby; she’s my little girl,” Marie says, choking. “And I did that to her. I . . .”

My eyes are tearing up in response, and I reach over to put my arms around Marie. I admit, what she did was disturbing. She ruined that girl’s life. She tortured her.

But I hug Marie anyway, because even though she messed up, she tried to make it right. She never gave up, even when other doctors did. Teachers, politicians, and parents—they all gave up on us at some point, relying on The Program instead.

Marie Devoroux never did. She searched for a cure until she found one. She’s the true face of this rebellion. She’s our hero, even if she nearly killed us to save us.

As Marie straightens out of my arms, thanking me and wiping her tears, Wes comes back in. He pauses a second, not sure if he should interrupt, but Marie offers him her chair.

“I’m going to check on my patients,” she says. “Dr. Wyatt is on her way, and we hope to start clinical trials immediately. Fast-track it to the market. Now, the rest of you should get out of here. Go home. It’s over.”

It’s such a strange thing to hear: over. I can’t quite believe it. Marie leaves the room, but Wes and I take a moment to absorb what’s happened. I’ll call Nathan in a few minutes, ask him for a ride so we can fill him in. He won’t believe it either.

“I hate to bring this up,” Wes says, biting his lip like he knows he shouldn’t continue. “But what are we going to do about your grandparents? That whole memory was really . . . fucked.”

“They’re not my grandparents,” I say, although not coldly. “But I love them anyway. They’re my family. Do you remember the other day when I asked you how we live with the people we love, knowing they betrayed us?”

“Vaguely,” he says. “I was much shinier then.”

“Yeah, well, you told me that you just do—you forgive the people you love because you have to. And I don’t know . . . I forgive them.” I take a sip of tea. “But I’m going to tell them everything, what I remember. It’ll hurt them, seeing themselves as the villains. I’m going to anyway. It’s time for all of us to see the whole picture—even the messy parts.”

“I’ll come with you,” Wes says, picking at a scuff in the table. “If you want me to.”

“You can be there,” I say, making him smile.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I’m never going home again, so . . . I hope I can live with you too.”

It’s sad, but we laugh anyway. I tell him there’s always room for him. He murmurs that he loves me, that he’s happy we saved the world after all.

And it reminds me of something Michael Realm said to me once in The Program. He told me that Wes and I were a heart rate on a monitor, sky high and then through the floor. Never quite even. We love hard and completely, and that’s the stuff that never goes away. Not from us. Not ever.

“You’re the love of my life, Wes,” I say, looking sideways at him.

Wes flashes me that devastating grin, the kind that can convince me of anything. The kind that made me fall in love with him in the first place.

“It’s three lives for me,” he says like it’s a competition. He looks over my face, pausing at my lips. “So let’s make this one count.”

I smile that we will, and when he leans in to kiss me, groaning once at the pain in his shoulder, I think that we’ll both be okay.

I think I’ve made the right choices this time.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


SCHOOL IS WEIRD. AFTER BEING attacked several times and fighting for your life, sitting through science class is a bit anticlimactic. But we made it. We earned this mediocrity.

Foster is next to me, filling in the last questions on our lab report as I stare dreamily out the window.

He made good on his promise to find the handlers. There were thirty-seven in our school. The number is staggering, shocking. I wonder if there was ever a moment when I wasn’t being watched.

The monitor is still around, but there are no more assessments. No more fear. Dr. Angela Wyatt is partnering with Marie and the FDA, administering Adjustments on a voluntary basis. They all agreed that forced treatment isn’t the answer. They voted for transparency, and because of that, returners come to them in droves, hoping to be cured.

A special counsel has been appointed by Congress, investigating the role of The Program in deaths of returners. Throughout the country, nearly three hundred teens died. Numerous doctors and psychiatrists attribute those crashback deaths to procedures used in The Program. The special counsel found The Program criminally and monetarily liable.

Marie was able to keep me anonymous, and it was decided that she would take credit for creating the pattern that destroyed The Program. They didn’t want to tie it in to Arthur Pritchard or the victims of the grief department—Luther’s advice. Gaining back the public trust wouldn’t be easy.