The Program Page 0,55
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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN THE TEARS HAVE DRIED, I’M IN MY BED, LYING under the covers. I know it won’t be long before they come looking for me, wondering where I am. But I can’t go back to the dining hall because my body won’t stop shaking.
I take the pill out of my pocket and stare at it. It might not even work, but I have to try. I have to fight. This is my last chance to keep from losing everything.
I put the pill in my mouth and swallow it dry, coughing once when it gets stuck, but then getting it down. I know what I have to remember. It’s not romantic. It’s not something cherished. But I hope it’ll lead to some answers when I get out. Next pill, I’ll capture a perfect memory with James.
For now, I imagine the picture of him and Brady, the ring. The things I hid in my mattress so that I could find them when I got back. I know now that everything that happened at my house that day will be erased from my memory, so I might never look for the items. This is the only way.
I focus on the picture: James’s face, his chest bare, as his arm is carelessly around my brother’s shoulders. Brady’s laugh and the river rolling through the background. The ring—the purple, sparkly, heart-shaped ring—that James gave me, even if I can’t remember when. But I used to wear it all the time, so it must have been special.
They’re all in the mattress, these things that will lead us back together. So I hold the memory tightly to me as I close my eyes.
Only a few minutes have passed when I’m suddenly ravaged by pain. I cry out, feeling like a hammer just hit me in the back of the head. I lean forward and vomit over the side of the bed, my stomach twisting and my throat burning. I press my hands to my head as if it can stop the throbbing there.
The room spins, and I lie back against the pillow, my eyes squeezed shut. I try to control my breathing, and once again think of the ring and the picture hidden in my bed. It feels like a lifetime of agony, but it’s probably been less than five minutes when I’m finally able to open my eyes again. My stomach is twisted, and I know I’ll have to clean up the puke before Nurse Kell