While Deacon keeps watch in the hall, Nicole and I creep past the closed door of Marie’s office. I lead Nicole into the treatment room where the Adjustments are performed.
As we enter, I see Nicole take it all in, seeing it for the first time and looking horrified. There’s a large machine, computers and files, and various instruments ranging from sci-fi-looking to archaic. From a distance, the entire room is dangerous. I wish I’d seen it that way before.
I glance at the door, scared Marie will walk in. Nicole rushes across the room and starts going through the drawers of the cabinet. I don’t know exactly where Marie keeps the syringes; they were always in her pocket. But I assume they keep some in the treatment room.
Toward the back, I pull open a drawer underneath a set of cabinets and find a few syringes in blue plastic bags. I grab one and turn to Nicole. “I got it,” I say. She comes to take it from me.
“Perfect,” she says. “Now we need to find the drugs.”
Nicole goes to a white cabinet set against the back wall. She opens one side and finds folded paper gowns on the shelf. When she opens the other side of the cabinet, she pauses. There are rows of small glass bottles, neatly lined up. She turns a few with her fingertips to read the labels until she gets to the last row and snatches one out.
“That it?” I ask.
“Yep.” She closes the cabinet and sets the bottle on the counter.
The label indicates it’s the truth serum Marie uses. I watch as Nicole opens the syringe, pulling apart the plastic, and then picks up the bottle. She sticks the needle into the rubber top, and pulls out a dose... or two. I flick my eyes to her to see if she’ll acknowledge how much medication she withdrew, but she doesn’t look at me. I’m suddenly worried how far this will go. What is her intention here?
Nicole slips the bottle into her pocket and turns to me. There’s a flicker of hesitation in her expression, but then Deacon’s voice echoes through the hallway.
“Who were you talking to, Marie?” he asks loudly. “Didn’t sound like you were making funeral arrangements.”
Nicole curses and takes me by the arm, moving us into the center of the room, close to the exam table.
“Get out of my way,” Marie says sternly, and then the door flies open. Marie sees us standing there, waiting for her, and she quickly glances around the room.
“What are you doing in here?” she demands. Deacon dashes inside and skids to a stop as he takes in the scene.
Nicole keeps her hand holding the needle behind my back, positioned as if she’s comforting me.
“I wanted to see where you did it,” Nicole says. “Where you’ve ruined lives. Like you learned nothing from what you did to me.”
Marie flinches at the statement and lets down her guard. “That’s not true,” she says. “We only wanted to protect you.” Marie takes a step closer. “We love you.”
With her hand still hidden, I hear the sniffle, and Nicole starts to cry. I can’t even tell if she’s pretending.
“If only that were true,” she says, her voice sheer pain. It breaksmyheart.
“It is true, baby,” Marie says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. I look between her and Nicole. I don’t understand their relationship, how they’re even connected, but Marie nearly crumbled at the appearance of Nicole upset. She reaches for her and wraps her arms around Nicole like a confidant. Like a mother.
I watch as Nicole brings her arms around to hug her back, and then, with sudden fierceness, she jabs the syringe needle into Marie’s backside and injects her.
Marie yelps and falls back a step. She turns around to see what happened and then looks at Nicole, who’s holding up the empty syringe. Marie glances from her to the needle tip.
“Damn it,” Marie says, almost expectantly. She doesn’t try to run—although with the amount of medication in the syringe, I’m not sure how far she’d get anyway. She walks over to the exam table and leans against it. After a moment, I watch as her muscles sag, and Deacon comes over to help her sit on the table. Marie relaxes back languidly on her arms.
“Now I want the truth,” Nicole says. “And not your version of it, Marie. The real fucking truth.”
Marie rubs her back hip where the needle stabbed her, and when she lifts her head, her eyes are glassy. She smiles sadly.
“He was proud of you,” Marie says wistfully, and behind Nicole, Deacon turns away. Of all the words she could have chosen, they react like these are the cruelest.
“Don’t try to manipulate my emotions,” Nicole says strongly, but her response proves Marie knows exactly which buttons to press.
“He remembered,” Marie says. “Of coursehe remembered. You were his world. In his last moments, all he wanted was you. But I told him no.”
Nicole presses her palm over her mouth as she holds back her cry. When she can, she lowers her arm, blinking back tears. “Why would you do that?” she asks Marie.
“Because he would have jeopardized everything.”
