The Program [Book Two of The Test]

Chapter Sixteen

The Program

Chapter Sixteen

The program is dying.

Every hour since Riley's own death I can see this computer program getting darker, gloomier. The look of it makes my stomach turn, nausea taking over as the thought of causing this enters my mind again. I did it, all of it.

Even Riley's death was my fault. 

Riley. My mind keeps going back to her. Thinking of the first time I met her, pretending to be cautious of our situation, faking. And also how she had been there that day, when Jack almost died at the lake. Perhaps Reid made her sacrifice herself, as some way to save Jack from the beast. 

Little things like that were the things that kept showing me how true Riley's words probably were, Reid did all to protect his family.

And Reid was so sure about Jack's safety when Riley had taken me, and Luke had hurt Jack. Reid knew Jack was okay because he was saving his son. But he wanted me dead.

Why, i'll never know. Just like i'll probably never know why disrupting is something Reid fears, or why in the world the test has a significance to human survival. I guess some things are better left unsaid.

What shouldn't go unsaid, though, is who Reid's boss is. Riley said I hated this woman, and that this woman knew it.

But I prefer not to think about it, hoping my suspicions aren't true. Hoping that this 'she' isn't who I think it is.

So instead I lay down on the ground, beside the picture I once drew of Jack in the dirt, under the memory wipe tree, and I try to fall asleep and forget about my problems for the moment.

❒❒❒❒

My eyes shot open, only for me to see that I was lying on a wooden floor, unlike the very white one from the dream i've been having. But my clothes were white, me now in a thin dress that hung on me, seeming even more baggy as I lifted myself from the ground and heard a creak from the next room over.

I found myself going forward, reaching for the handle and entering. I saw a table, a man and a woman sitting at it and eating. Moments later, a little boy with a smile plastered on his face, one that was contagious and found its way to me as well, went to the table. He had black hair that matched the older woman.

"Mommy, can I have ice cream now?" He asked her, flashing a bigger grin. She did a quick laugh, as did the man.

She then asked, "Have you finished your dinner?" Her voice was soft and instantly comforting, the tone any mother would posses.

"No." He answered matter a factly, pulling his plate toward him and quickly hiding it under the table.

"Well," She chuckled again. "At least I raised an honest kid."