The Treatment (The Program #2)(45)

I’d have left you too.”

James wouldn’t be friends with a girl who was in love with him, not if it hurt me. I’m ashamed of my behavior. Ashamed I wasn’t mature enough to have more respect for my boyfriend.

I’m embarrassed that even Dallas can see it.

“Can I ask you something?” Dallas starts tentatively. “What are you going to do with The Treatment?”

The question catches me off-guard, and it takes me a second too long to answer. “I honestly don’t know,” I say eventually. “It’s a lot of pressure. What . . . What would you do?”

“If it were me, I’d have taken it right away. I wouldn’t care about Pritchard or the others. But if I were you”—she shrugs—

“I would have given it to James.” She glances over at me and smiles. “Can I be real for a second? Your boyfriend is superhot.

Seriously, James really does it for me. I just thought you should know.”

I laugh, tossing my head back. Above us the pipes rattle and there’s the whine of a turning faucet before the water shuts off. Talking to Dallas has given me some perspective, but more surprisingly, I can see she’s a good person. I haven’t given her nearly enough credit. I climb to my feet, hoping Cas didn’t really use up all the hot water.

“Thanks for the talk.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dallas responds, her tone dismissive as if she’s not taking away the same bonding experience as I am.

“Hey, if you see Cas, let him know I’d like to knife fight later.”

“Uh . . . okay.”

Dallas takes out her phone, and her change in demeanor bothers me slightly, but this could just be what she does to avoid getting hurt. I can’t expect her to trust me, not yet. I start for the stairs but pause to look back at her. Dallas waves her hand in acknowledgment, a smile on her lips, and swipes her thumbs over her keypad, shutting me out.

Cas is in his room by the time I get upstairs, and I walk into the steamy bathroom, running my hand across the fog in the mirror. I study my reflection, noting that the healthy glow I had after leaving The Program is now replaced with dark circles, pale skin. I’ve thinned, and I wonder what my parents would think if they saw me now.

They’d probably think I was sick. They’d probably call The Program to come get me. I wonder for a moment about how it happened, but I quickly block it out. It’s too horrific to imag-180

ine. Would I want to feel what it’s like for my own parents to betray me?

I blow out a hard breath, trying to clear my head, and go over to turn on the shower. The bathroom is old, with a black-and-white tiles floor and a claw-foot tub with standing shower.

I don’t have any soap, but I find an unopened bar underneath the sink. The minute I stand beneath the rushing hot water, I’m grateful Cas didn’t use it all. My muscles, stiff from the car ride and lack of good sleep, begin to loosen, my mind slowly unraveling the past few weeks.

I start with Lacey—a place I haven’t let myself go since she left. Dallas said she was back in The Program, and my only way to deal with that was to stop thinking about her. But now I can see her, both before and after her spiral. I see the note: Miller.

Can I think of the memory of Miller? Will it spur new memories and drive me crazy? The water is beginning to cool as I close my eyes and pretend James is here with me in the shower.

He says he’s sorry for leaving. I say I’m sorry for lying. We’re both so sorry. We’re always sorry.

I work the bar of soap through my wet hair, but suddenly there’s a sharp pain in my temples, a swift blow of memories smashing through the surface.

The tile floor is ice-cold under my bare feet. I fumble with the door handle. Just as I get it open, I see the stark white corridor of The Program. Realm stalks toward the nurse’s station, where Roger is standing, laughing. My wrists are sore from when the handler had me strapped down, but I’m so scared for Realm. I’m so scared of what he’ll do.

Realm’s fist connects with Roger’s face, sending him over the desk and the nurse screams. I try to make my way closer, to tell Realm to stop before they take him away, but I’m so foggy. Roger drugged me.

“Which arm?” Realm snarls.

“Don’t do this, Michael,” Roger says. “You’ll expose us all.” Realm punches him hard in the face again, breaking his nose, sending blood in a splatter on the white wall. “Which arm did you touch her with?” Realm demands. When Roger doesn’t answer, Realm grabs the handler’s right arm and twists it behind his back until it snaps, sending Roger into a fit of howls. Realm only steps back, enraged, but oddly calm.

Security comes rushing up, but instead of wrestling Realm to the floor, they whisper to him until he agrees, letting them lead him away. But not before he looks back over his shoulder at me, nodding, as if we have an agreement. A secret between us.

I gasp and stumble sideways, catching the wall with my hand before I fall out of the tub. Secrets—how many do Realm and I have together? How many of them have I forgotten?

It’s all too much, everything piled on breaks me, and I start to sob. I lower myself down into the tub, filled with loss and devastation. I cry under the ice-cold water, shivering but unable to get up. I’m not weak, I know I’m not . . . but this is too much. I have to let it go because it’s too damn much.