Suzanne Young - The Treatment

“And the other girl?” Evelyn asks, crossing her arms over her chest. I can’t read her expression, whether she’s all business or truly pissed.

“Dallas is one of us,” James says. “But she’s been violated. I don’t think she’s okay, no matter what she looks like on the outside. Realm thought you might be able to help her, too.”

“Michael Realm seems to think a lot of things,” Evelyn says. “Please, go on.” She’s definitely pissed. I’m happy the Thorazine has begun to fade, or maybe my adrenaline is working it through my system quicker, because I half-expect the doctor to kick us out.

“The plan was to get Sloane and Dallas out and head here,” James says. “Realm’s known your location for a long time—said it’s why he’s been staying in Oregon, to be closer to you. He’d been waiting for the right moment to show up at your door. I guess this was it.”

Evelyn is quiet, and in the silence, I glance around at what must be her bedroom. The light is dim, but it’s quaint. There are pictures on the walls—landscapes of forests in clumpy oil paints, and the sheets of the bed are a deep green. It’s humble here, and it occurs to me that we’ve just shattered what was left of her life. She’s harboring fugitives.

“I knew my time would come,” she says solemnly. “And if I can save a few more kids on my way out, so be it. Once The Program learns of my location, you can expect them to converge on this place. You can’t stay long.”

“But if you talk to Kellan,” James says, leaning toward her, “you can tell him your story. We can take down The Program. Realm thought you’d know how.”

Evelyn smiles briefly, tugging her red sweater closed around her. “Michael always did think too highly of me. Truth is, The Program will eliminate me long before the government can offer me any protection. And I’m too old to run any longer. Too tired. I have a lot of secrets in my head. Ones I’ll never forget.” She tilts her head, looking over James. “I suspect you’re the same?”

In the craziness of escape, I’d forgotten. James has taken The Treatment—he knows everything about us, about himself. Oh my God. What does James know?

“I wasn’t a doctor,” he says. “My secrets are small compared to yours, I’m sure.”

Evelyn leans forward, looking concerned. “Are you well?” she asks quietly. “Were you able to hold off the depression?”

James shifts uncomfortably. “I had help,” he says. “Between Realm and medication, I was able to fight off the worst of it. I stayed focused on Sloane and making sure she was safe. But it wasn’t easy. I think I’m past the worst of it though.”

Evelyn nods. “Not everyone was so lucky,” she says solemnly. “You’ll have to be prepared. The memories will continue; some may be harder to take.”

“I understand the risks. But right now we don’t have time to dwell. You were kind to let us in, but I need to know, Evelyn, can you end The Program?”

The doctor rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, like she’s trying to stop tears from slipping out. “I don’t think Michael’s left me another choice. And I have no delusions about how far The Program will go to keep me quiet.” She sniffles hard and then leans back in her chair, crossing her legs.

“Did you know I never had any children of my own?” she asks. “When the epidemic began, I didn’t have the same investment as some of the other doctors. That’s not to say I wasn’t horrified—I was. But as much as I researched, I couldn’t find the source of the outbreak.

“The closest I got was a small school outside of  Washington, where three girls poisoned themselves at a sleepover. They were among the first, and other than being friends, there were no genetic markers or links. One of the girls—sixteen—had been on antidepressants since she was nine. She’d been diagnosed with a myriad of conditions, and was prescribed medications to help her function at school. In the end, I believe the medication cocktail is what led to her suicidal thoughts. Now, what she said to her friends, how they came to want to die—that’s the real mystery. Because after that day, the outbreak pushed outward.

“News stories, articles, copycats. It all happened so quickly that it no longer became the focus of why teens wanted to kill themselves, just how to stop them. It was a worldwide psychosis. At least, that’s what I believe. There are other scientists with different theories, of course. All seems moot now—now we have The Program,” she says with a flourish of her hands. “And wouldn’t that just save us all.”

I’m absorbing all of Evelyn’s words, putting them together with what I’ve seen and experienced. I can’t say I completely buy into her notions—I won’t downplay the outbreak to a fad. But maybe there are some kernels of truth in there.

“I took a shine to Michael,” she says nostalgically. “He has such a good heart, such a fighter. But he can also be cruel and manipulative—and that was after he’d been stripped of his memories. The Program didn’t save him—it made him worse. I knew then it wasn’t the answer. I began playing with formulas and came up with a way to return the memories. I gave The Treatment to Michael, Kevin, Roger, and Peter.” Her eyelids blink quickly as she fights back the start of tears.

“Peter didn’t make it. Despite everything I did to get him through, he didn’t make it.” Her voice chokes up, and I have to look away. “He would have survived if I hadn’t given him The Treatment. I killed him. I vowed to never take that chance again.

“But . . .,” she says, shrugging sadly. “The Program learned about The Treatment, and my contract was up. I wasn’t about to stick around for a lobotomy, but I did what I could to protect my patients. I destroyed the files, the formula. There are no pills other than the one Realm kept. I don’t suppose he told you who it belonged to?”

“No,” I say. The doctor scoffs softly, ready to continue, and it strikes me whose pill Realm stole. Roger—all this time, Roger was looking for his Treatment, and it was with Realm. He must have figured it out.

“Can you make more?” I ask. I think of Dallas, wondering if her past would help or hurt her.

Evelyn shakes her head slowly. “Oh, I would never do that. Bringing back all those dark thoughts at once? I may as well kill them myself. Arthur Pritchard had that idea, and I told him it was a mistake, The Treatment was a mistake. He didn’t believe me.”

Arthur Pritchard, alone in a gray room. “They lobotomized him,” I say quietly, earning a look from James. “I saw him in the Program.”

Evelyn’s shoulders sag slightly. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I truly am. But the fact remains, The Treatment won’t save everybody. It was the testing of a naive scientist, when all along, I should have been preventing The Program from erasing memories in the first place.

“You asked me if I knew how to stop them”—Evelyn levels her gaze on James—“and the answer is no—I don’t know how to make the world believe. But if your reporter can find the studies The Program buried, I believe he’ll have his answers. The Program is the reason the epidemic is spreading. The pressure, the attention—it’s causing a whole new outbreak it hopes to contain by resetting the world. The Program is breeding suicide.”

IT’S LATE BY THE TIME Evelyn finishes talking, and she tells us we can stay in her room to rest while she checks on Dallas and the others. It feels sort of creepy to be lying in her bed, but at the same time, with James next to me, I just want to sleep for a few hours. We don’t say much, just a few relieved murmurs about being back together. I have so much to ask him, but with all I’ve learned in the past few hours, I don’t think I can contain another thought.