The Program Page 0,71

and leads me toward the doorway, saying nothing. When we get there, Nurse Kell shoots Realm a worried glance.

“It’s fine,” he says. Then quieter, “Can you please send the meds directly to her room? Now.”

She nods, and then Realm pulls me into the hall. But instead of going to my room, he takes the turn toward his. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, his grip tight on my wrist.

“What are we doing?” I ask, wondering if I should be scared of him. That maybe he could be as dangerous as Roger.

“They can’t listen here,” he mumbles, and brings us inside. Realm backs me against the door as he closes it, standing with his head bent by my ear. “I know you heard,” he whispers, “and please believe me, I really am your friend.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He puts his hands against the door on either side of my head. If anyone were to look in on us, they might think we were in some romantic against-the-door moment. “I’m a special sort of handler,” he continues. “I’m embedded with the other patients but was assigned specifically to you because you’re . . . difficult.”

A pain rips across my chest as he confirms my worst fear: that my only friend in the world, the only one I can remember, isn’t real. I’ve been manipulated, and I feel violated and ravaged. Realm moves closer, sliding one arm behind me as if in an embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Sloane,” he says, his mouth touching my ear. “But I promise you, I’m only trying to help. If I didn’t intervene, they were going to dig deeper. Do you know what that means?” he asks. “You could have been lobotomized.”

I start to feel weak in his arms and I want to lie down, but he holds me fast. “You can’t fall apart now,” he soothes. “They’re going to know something is wrong.”

I look up at him then, at the scar on his neck. “I don’t understand,” I say, my chest aching. “You’re one of us.”

He nods. “I was in The Program last year”—he motions to his neck—“for an unfortunate incident with a serrated knife. But then I got here, got better. About halfway through, Dr. Warren pulled me aside and asked what I planned to do when I got out.

“I had nothing to go back for. My parents died a long time ago, and I couldn’t remember any of my friends. I had nothing. So Dr. Warren offered me a job—a future within The Program to rehabilitate patients. I signed a contract.”

“What do you do to us?”

He cringes, as if knowing I won’t like the answer. “Form healthy relationships; reestablish connections so that subjects aren’t shell-shocked when they leave. We were having relapses and meltdowns, and they determined it was from the trauma of reassimilating. Emotions are like raw nerve endings, and without some sort of preparation, it’s like sending back an exposed wire.”

“So you weren’t just pretending to be my friend?” I challenge. “You didn’t betray me and tell them the things we talked about? Things I can’t even remember anymore.”

“Of course I had to tell them,” he says. “I had to make sure the therapy was taking. And believe me, sweetness, you wouldn’t want to walk around with half memories anyway. You could go crazy.”

I yank my hands from his and push him back. “And kissing me? Was that part of my rehabilitation?” I’m embarrassed saying it, feeling cheated somehow. Used.

Realm shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Then why did you?”

Realm lowers his eyes. “I care about you. I’m lonely too. Just because I’m not a patient doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the same isolation you guys do. I’ve been here five weeks, Sloane. I want to leave. And I want to take you with me.”

I push him again, backing him to the bed. He doesn’t try and protect himself. The thought that Realm could have left at any point while I was held against my will makes me hate him. “Roger?” I ask suddenly. “Was he a part of this too?”

“No,” Realm says. “I mean, he used to be. But not anymore. He had no right to do the things he did. I didn’t know, I swear—”

“Yes, because your word means so much now.”

“I didn’t, Sloane. I would have done anything to protect you.”

“Is that before or after you helped them erase my life? Do you think I can forgive that? Do you think I can ever get over that?”

“I