Ten | newtmas

fifty one

I'm angry today because apparently moving here messed me up. I tell Alby this as we get our laptops out, and he laughs. I've just gotten back from my appointment with Dr. Rachel, and Alby got here about five minutes ago. It's Monday now, so we had school today. It hasn't been so bad there, but my mind is very much occupied with things I think are a lot more important than nineteenth-century poetry or chemistry.

"How did moving here mess you up?" Alby asks.

"Dr. Rachel said I felt like I was ripped from my home when I was too young and I didn't have a choice," I say reluctantly. She brought up the accent thing too. Thomas really is smart.

"Do you think she's right?" he asks.

I huff. "I don't know. Yeah, I guess."

"There you go, then," Alby says. He then looks up from his laptop. "Where should we start?"

We told our parents we'd be doing homework, which I guess we are in a way. Just not for school. "Probably with WCKD pharmaceuticals," I say.

I talked to another one of my old friends at school today. Clint and Alby were in the hall, so I said hi, which led to Alby grouping me in on their conversation. It was nice to see Clint. He acted like no time went by, and I think I actually prefer that over a retelling of the past couple of years.

When I went to part from them, having reached my class, Alby suggested coming over today. I said yes immediately, but I was anxious about it for the rest of the day. Dr. Rachel helped a bit, and now that Alby is actually here, I'm surprisingly fine. Especially since we're doing something like this.

We get to researching, and immediately, we find a site for WCKD. There's not a ton of information on there. We see that they operate semi-close by, that their 'team of doctors and scientists are all dedicated to finding the most cutting edge treatments', and a few other generic sounding things.

"They seem kinda new, don't they?" I say, scrolling down their 'about' page.

"Very," Alby agrees. "Dude, there's a contact page. Maybe we can ask them about the pill."

"Yeah, that'll go well," I say sarcastically.

I click on another page on the site, and it brings up a picture of a man smiling next to a certificate hanging on the wall. There's nothing particularly special about him, so I go to scroll past, but something keeps me there. He looks familiar.

"What is it?" Alby asks, looking at me.

"I think I've seen this guy before," I say. I think back, searching my memory for any time I might have seen a doctor like this. He's not any of the nurses from TIMI. I think back to my trial, but I don't think that's it either.

"He's pretty plain looking," Alby points out.

"Yeah, but..." I trail off, looking at his clothing. Then, I look back at his face. I try to picture him without the smile, fitting together the two mental images like a puzzle. My eyes widen. "I know who he is."

"Who?" Alby asks.

I sit up more, shaking my head. "I can't believe I didn't remember right away—one day at group, a man walked in and asked Ava Paige to come with him. He said it was an emergency."

"It was this guy?" Alby asks. I nod quickly. "What was the emergency?"

I feel nauseated thinking about it. "Gally. He fought back while they were doing tests on him," I say.

Alby and I go quiet for a few moments. "That's sick, man," Alby eventually says. An understatement.

"I know." This twisted man is not only working with Dr. Paige and making this pill, but he's also directly testing on children and poking them with needles against their will. I want him in jail just as much as I want Ava Paige there now.