“How do you know everything?” I ask. “How are you so connected?”
“Because I’ve been here since the beginning,” he says. “I was one of the first in The Program. I was given the Treatment. I’m sure I still have an experiment or two left in me. I’ve made mistakes, Tatum. Huge ones. But I always try to set things right where I can. I’m trying to be a better person.” He smiles at me, knowing that I’ve been trying to do the same. His words remind me of the first conversation we had, and I narrow my eyes.
“The Treatment?” I say. “Are you the ‘friend’ who remembers everything? The cursed one?”
“I’m not the only one who remembers,” he says, rubbing absently at the scar on his neck. “But yes—I’m definitely the cursed one.”
I want to tell him not to talk like that, but when he glances at me again, something is wrong. There’s a splotch of red on the white part of his right eye.
“Your eye is bleeding,” I say, pointing.
“What?” Realm swipes one finger under the lid, checking for blood. Wes looks up curiously.
“No, not like, crying blood,” I say. “Broken blood vessels or something. It wasn’t there a minute ago.” My stomach twists, and dread pours in. “Realm,” I say, truly concerned. “I think we should take you to a doctor.”
He laughs. “God, I hate those words,” he says. His color has paled, and now that I’m really looking, I note the bluish tint to his lips.
He closes his eyes, as if fighting back a pain, and then shakes it off. He pours more sugar into his coffee and stirs it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Wes asks flatly.
Realm smiles sadly and picks up his cup. “I’m dying, Wes,” he says. “I’m fucking dying.”
CHAPTER TEN
REALM SITS IN THE BACKSEATof the car while I drive. He had Marie’s address, just like she promised he would. Although he admits that she moves often—part of staying off the grid when she can.
“I make it my business to always know where Marie Devoroux is,” Realm says, staring out the window. “My insurance policy in case I need her.”
He shakes once like he’s trying to hold back a cough. That’s probably a good idea considering he coughed up blood before we left the restaurant. He didn’t elaborate on why he’s dying, what exactly is wrong with him. But he refused to go to the hospital, refused to let me call my grandmother. He said she couldn’t help him anyway.
“We have to stop somewhere first,” Realm says, settling back in the seat before leaning the side of his head against the window, eyes closed.
“Not to point out the obvious,” Wes says, glancing back at him, “but it’s probably not the best time to run errands. Take it from someone who’s bled from his ears before: Get to the doctor.”
Realm smiles but doesn’t open his eyes. “Trust me,” he says. “This errand is worth it.”
I glance in the rearview mirror at Realm, pained to see him in this condition. I don’t remember being his friend, but I don’t doubt that I was.
“Realm,” I ask. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you stay to help Marie?”
He looks at me, head still resting on the window. His reflection is alarming, the way his right eye is dark with blood—completely black in the low light.
“Look, I love Marie,” Realm says. “I honestly do. Everyone does. But Marie will fuck up your life—she asks too much of people. I wasn’t a fan of placing Jana Simms in Nathan’s life, but despite my objections, they went ahead with it anyway. And she still wanted more. That’s Marie—the never-ending ask.
“So even though I needed this cure,” he continues, “I decided to leave. I went back to finishing up my own personal business, setting up meetings with former patients to give them some of what I helped take out. I was doing just that when the flag went out on you.”
Realm pauses, closing his eyes for a moment as if he’s waiting for a pain to pass. “But I’m getting worse. And although I hate her methods, the only person who has a shot in hell of helping me is Marie Devoroux. She’s in control here—is always in control. Right now, I hope that’s truer than ever. She gets shit done.”
“What did she want from you?” I ask. “You say she always wants too much—what did she ask of you?”
Realm opens his eyes, finding mine in the mirror. The quiet goes on too long, and Wes puts his chin on his shoulder and looks back at him.
“She wanted me to pull a Jana Simms,” Realm says. “After you left school with Wes the day he returned, she wanted me to intervene, embed. She wanted me to break the two of you up. No offense, but I wasn’t interested.”
Wes turns back around, gently touching his shoulder as if checking for range of motion. Checking in case he has to use a little muscle, I guess. When he sees me noticing, he smiles sheepishly.
“I’m glad you realized it was a lost cause,” I say, glancing at Realm. He laughs.
