The Complication (The Program #6)(63)

Marie yelps and falls back a step. She turns around to see what happened and then looks at Nicole, who’s holding up the empty syringe. Marie glances from her to the needle tip.

“Damn it,” Marie says, almost expectantly. She doesn’t try to run—although with the amount of medication in the syringe, I’m not sure how far she’d get anyway. She walks over to the exam table and leans against it. After a moment, I watch as her muscles sag, and Deacon comes over to help her sit on the table. Marie relaxes back languidly on her arms.

“Now I want the truth,” Nicole says. “And not your version of it, Marie. The real fucking truth.”

Marie rubs her back hip where the needle stabbed her, and when she lifts her head, her eyes are glassy. She smiles sadly.

“He was proud of you,” Marie says wistfully, and behind Nicole, Deacon turns away. Of all the words she could have chosen, they react like these are the cruelest.

“Don’t try to manipulate my emotions,” Nicole says strongly, but her response proves Marie knows exactly which buttons to press.

“He remembered,” Marie says. “Of course he remembered. You were his world. In his last moments, all he wanted was you. But I told him no.”

Nicole presses her palm over her mouth as she holds back her cry. When she can, she lowers her arm, blinking back tears. “Why would you do that?” she asks Marie.

“Because he would have jeopardized everything.”

“And what’s everything?” Nicole asks.

Before answering, Marie’s eyes drift to me. “Tatum,” she says. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Nicole looks at me, taking in my appearance before turning back to Marie. “She stays,” she tells her. “Now, what’s going on? Why didn’t my father want me to know him?”

“You’re well,” she says as if it’s the explanation. “Don’t you see, both of you?” She indicates me. “You’re well. The problem the doctors never mentioned with The Program is the accepted compromise. The benefit-harm balance. They have it with every drug—a company takes an accepted loss. When a patient starts on a new medication, they’re told of the side effects. They’re briefly told of the long-term effects. But it’s more than that.

“As doctors,” Marie continues, “we understand that to cure one aspect of the body, we essentially cut off another, sometimes killing it. To cure what they thought were emotional triggers for depressive thoughts, they killed memories—removed them. That removal formed cracks in perception. Hairline fractures throughout. And now, returners are crashing back. They will all have complications.”

“You’re telling me that all of the patients from The Program are going to . . . have meltdowns?” Nicole asks, horrified.

“Yes. All of them.”

I fall back a step, realizing this includes me, and Marie looks over to me dreamily. The medication has clearly kicked in.

“You don’t have to worry, Tatum,” she calls. “You aren’t affected the same. And Wes will be fine due to his reset.” She turns back to Nicole.

“We’re curing returners,” Marie says. “That’s what we’re doing here. We plan to save them. But we haven’t quite figured out how. The brain is a fascinating organ, completely mysterious in so many ways. But we’re close this time.” She pauses. “I’m close.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve lied to us for the past five years,” Deacon says, his voice loud in the small room and echoing off the walls. “Why did you tell us Tom had his memory wiped? What purpose did that serve, other than to hurt Nic even more?”

Nicole rolls her shoulders, the words themselves causing her tension. Marie’s face tightens, and I can visibly see her fighting to not talk. For a moment, I don’t think she will—sure this secret is buried deeper than any medication can get to.

“We were trying to keep you away from The Program. From Arthur Pritchard. And . . . your father didn’t want you to know,” Marie says finally. She closes her eyes, and then her entire body moves in a wave, and she looks up again. “He didn’t want you to know that you’re not the only one.”

“Not the only what?” Nicole asks.

“You’re not the only replacement.”





CHAPTER TWELVE


DEACON SHOOTS FORWARD AND TAKES Nicole’s arm. I look over and realize she’s swaying, her eyes fluttering. “What do you mean?” Nicole asks Marie, her voice horrified. I don’t understand what they’re talking about, what “replacements” are.

Tears form and spill over onto Marie’s cheeks, but she keeps talking. Her words are soft and dreamlike. “The grief department has secrets,” she whispers. “And Tom—he knew you wouldn’t forgive them.” She looks at Deacon. “Either of you.”

“Tell me what you did,” Nicole demands.

“I will,” Marie breathes out. “But first, you have to understand—what we’ve seen, your father and I . . . the depths of grief. The absolute misery of loss.” She puts her hand over her heart. “We knew what it meant to lose everything. We only wanted to stop it.”

“What did you do?” Nicole asks, louder.

“The grieving families,” Marie starts, “the parents . . . sometimes they didn’t want to give the closers back. Especially the young ones.”