My heart races in my chest. I’m worried that he doesn’t care about what I have to say. I shouldn’t be here. “Forget it,” I tell him, sounding exhausted. “This is dumb.”
“Where were you tonight? I texted.”
I meet his eyes. “I know. I went to the Wellness Center with Lacey. And something . . . happened.” His shoulders tense, and I go on. “That guy Liam? He killed himself. He took QuikDeath, but not before saying that he and I used to date, calling me empty for not remembering. He said that his cousin committed suicide yesterday at the age of twenty-one. Liam says the epidemic is evolving—”
“You saw Liam die?” James asks, ignoring the rest.
I nod. “And I talked to my dad earlier,” I say. “He’s drinking; he and my mother are fighting. Everything’s falling apart at home, but I finally asked him about my brother.” Tears trickle over my cheeks. “Realm was telling the truth. Brady did kill himself.” I’m consumed with grief, absolutely consumed.
“I’m sorry,” James says.
I shake my head. “And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. You made it pretty clear that you’re not interested in finding out about the past. I—”
“No,” James says coolly. “I’m not interested in your love life. I am, however, interested in finding out what happened to your brother, and how I fit into it.”
My face stings, and I turn fiercely toward him. “Why do you do that?” I ask. “Why do you say things that you know will hurt my feelings?”
He flinches, but then fixes me with an annoyed look. “Hurt your feelings? Sloane, I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t even remember how we know each other. So whatever fantasy you’ve built up in your imagination, it’s not real. Things weren’t pretty before The Program, so let’s not start pretending they were. Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”
The pain in my head suddenly explodes, and I cry out, leaning forward against the steering wheel. It’s as if a hammer has just been smashed into my forehead.
“Are you okay?” James touches my shoulder, sounding scared.
“Just get out.” I close my eyes against the pain. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but it’s intense. When I can straighten, James is trying to talk, but I don’t listen. “Get out of the Goddamn car, James!”
He waits long enough for me to wonder if he will. When the interior lights come on, I know he’s leaving. The door slams, but I can’t move for a minute, waiting for the pain in my head to pass. It doesn’t. And now a cracking sensation rips inside my chest.
Your brain is like fine china.
I open my eyes, squinting as I look out the windshield. I have to find Realm. Something is wrong with me. I think I’m breaking.
• • •
It’s dark as I drive up Realm’s long driveway, my headache finally resolving into a bearable throbbing. It started raining the minute I pulled away from James’s house—a sign of things to come, I guess. Now the pattering on my windshield comes harder. I hope Realm’s home. He has to be.
I knock impatiently on the door, soaked from the walk to his porch. My shirt clings to me, and my pulse is loud in my ears as the headache continues, making me weak all over. When I hear the locks click, I practically push my way in.
“Sloane?” Realm stands there, rubbing at his hair, wearing just pajama pants and a terrified expression. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
“I’m falling apart,” I tell him, sounding desperate. “I’m completely falling apart.”
“Sweetness.” Realm hugs me, and I put my cheek against the warm skin of his chest. “Sit down,” he says, leading me to the couch. Outside, thunder booms in the sky, but Realm’s living room is warm with the remains of a fire burning out. He sits next to me as I continue to shake, my wet clothes uncomfortable. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Headache,” I say. “And pain in my chest as if my heart is being torn out. It’s overwhelming. I don’t think I can survive it.”
“Shh . . . ,” Realm says. “Of course you can. You survived The Program, didn’t you?” He pauses, letting out a harsh breath. “Is this because of what I told you about Brady? Did I cause this?”
“No. It’s not your fault. I asked my dad, and he confirmed that my brother killed himself.” I close my eyes, hating saying the words out loud. “And then I went to the Wellness Center, and this guy said I was nothing without my memories.” I look up to meet Realm’s gaze. “Am I nothing?”
“No. You’ve just been cured.”
Cured. There was a time when I felt lucky to have been spared from the epidemic. But now it’s left me a bundled mess, lost in my own life. “That guy from the center,” I say. “He died in front of me tonight—QuikDeath. Afterward I went to tell James, but he was so cruel. Distant. And I don’t know why, but it crushes me, the way James acts sometimes.” I pause. “That’s when the headache got worse, and the pain in my chest started. God, Realm. It’s like I’m losing my mind.”
Realm stares into his lap, his brow furrowed as if he’s thinking. When he doesn’t say anything, I take his hand. “Why do I hurt so badly?” I ask. “I haven’t seen this in any other returners. I think I need my memories back.”
“You don’t,” he says. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
I look at his downcast dark eyes, his scarred neck. I think about how he loves me, how he saved me in The Program too many times to count. My head pounds, my body aches, but I think that in this moment, maybe what I need is for someone to care about me.
So I lean forward and kiss him, ignoring the sharp guilt that attacks my conscience. I push it away and let my mouth capture Realm’s. It takes a second for him to react, and then he’s kissing me, his hand around my waist as he pulls me onto his lap, peeling off my wet shirt.
I want to forget about everything. I want to forget about James.
My chest fills again with jagged pain, but then Realm rolls me off the couch, getting on top of me as we lie on the carpet. He’s kissing my neck, his hands searching my body as I try to feel him. Feel what it would be like to be with him.
But I’m a million miles away, and all I feel is lost and abandoned. I’m alone.