The Sinner Program

by B L Teschner

  “It’s a simple procedure, really. We’re going to damage your brain tissue and shut down the neurological connections which are responsible for your unacceptable behavior.”

  My body trembled against the restraints. “Martha, please…”

  She clasped her hands together behind her back and walked away, going over to her brother who was grumbling while cleaning the instruments I had knocked onto the floor. “You know,” Martha went on, “back in the old days they used to hammer ice picks around the eye sockets to try and cure all sorts of mental illnesses. In fact, those procedures were performed in this very room back when my family first opened this hospital. Today it is a much more elegant procedure using a small needle.”

  “That needle wasn’t small,” I corrected, letting out a desperate sob.

  “For our modern day procedure,” she went on, “we’ll hold your eyelids open with an ophthalmic speculum and insert the needle into your brain through your eye socket.”

  “No,” I sobbed. I tried desperately to break free from the restraints but my energy was fleeing. “Please don’t do that to me.”

  I could hear the sound of my name being called. “Toby!” It was Layla, screaming and pounding on her door from down the hall. “Toby! No!”

  “Layla help me!” I pleaded for her, wishing there was a way she would actually be able to come to my rescue.

  “Yes, the lobotomy was such a wonderful form of treatment,” Martha said with a smile in her voice. She let out a sigh. “But unfortunately the patients were permanent zombies after it was performed, and nowadays it’s frowned upon for obvious reasons. Fortunately, my family is full of geniuses.” She spun around and came back to my side. “That’s why this procedure is so wonderful! It leaves absolutely no evidence behind. The needle is extremely thin; it’s like it never even penetrated your body. And my brother knows exactly where to insert it so it will remedy your destructive behavior. You won’t even be a zombie afterward! Well, not for too long, anyway. And better yet, any form of manipulation doesn’t show up on a CAT scan.”

  “You’re sick,” I spat with disgust.

  She leaned over me. “No, dear. I’m a genius.”

  “Ready!” Dr. Sigtile chirped with a newfound enthusiasm. He spun around holding the tray of freshly-sanitized instruments. “Better put the other restraints on now.”

  Steven stood beside me and reached over my stomach, grabbing a belt from the other side of the operating table and pulling it back over, fastening it tightly down against me.

  “You don’t have to do this!” I yelled desperately in the confines of the small room.

  “Get his chest and head too,” Dr. Sigtile ordered.

  Steven worked at securing another belt down around my chest which held my shoulders against the table. When he forced my head down and placed another belt across my forehead, I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. “Steven, come on, man, you don’t have to be a part of this. You can help me get out of here.”

  “Should I wake Dominic?” he said down at me.

  “Probably best,” the doctor replied.

  He left my view and I stared up at the bright surgical light above me, listening to the sound of Steven’s heavy steps leave the room as Layla continued to scream my name in the background. Was this a dream? It had to be. Maybe I had died and the light I was staring at was the entrance to heaven. Was I supposed to go to it? Please someone tell me if I should go to it. My eyes moved away from the light and focused on the ceiling above me. I wondered where Millie was at that very moment. Maybe her room was two stories above mine; maybe she was sleeping safely in her bed right above where I was strapped to the operating table. I imagined floating up to her and wrapping my arms around her, telling her how much she meant to me. Telling her I loved her one last time.

  Martha’s head intruded my clouded vision. “The doctor is ready now.” Her cold fingers patted my arm. “Don’t worry, we’re going to fix you right up; we promise. Now, you will feel everything while it’s happening, but you won’t remember a thing after you fully wake up from it.”

  Dr. Sigtile came around to my other side, wearing a blue paper doctor’s mask that concealed his mouth. I could see my reflection in his glasses mirroring back at me: I was bathed in the brightness of the surgical lamp that was poised above, my head strapped down to the table and a petrified look on my face. What was about to happen to me? He raised his gloved hand and hovered it above my face, his fingers gripping onto a small metal clamp. “Now open your eyes wide. This is going to hurt.”

  * * *

  “You… never again… desire to… drugs, legal or illegal… or recreational purposes. You will never… sexually assault… or… romantic interest… Millie Charles…”

  I knew that voice. It was slow and distorted, but it was familiar.

  “You… friends, and you played basketball and… in the pool.”

  There it was again. Where am I? Why can’t I open my eyes?

  “… were fed delightful meals. You did not… of abuse, nor did… wheelchairs. You will not… grate or the basement, or the… locked in rooms. Those… erased from your memory. Permanently.”

  I’m dying; I have to be. I can’t feel anything. I don’t even feel pain, I just feel lifeless. No… wait. Now I’m being lifted. Are they sitting me in something? Is that Layla calling my name? Layla, what’s wrong?

  “Where’s Troy?” a woman’s voice rang out. “Tell him to hurry… hoist. Get the harness… so I can get back to bed already.”

  Harness?

  “Dominic, did… of… Charles?”

  “Yes, Toby will no longer…”

  I will no longer what? Something metal clanked somewhere above me. Am I hallucinating? Why can’t I just open my eyes!

  I must have slipped away for some time again, because I could tell I was somewhere else. Distorted voices filtered back into my head, and I realized I was strapped into something that wrapped tightly under my armpits. Strong hands pulled me along the floor. Something was attached to me; it left my body and clanked loudly against metal. I was lifeless, picked up and carried like a ragdoll until I was sat down once again. But the chair they sat me in was moving. The chair was moving. The chair was moving.

  Sixteen

  Millie

  My eyes were blurry; I hadn’t stopped crying all night. All I did was lie awake in my bed and stare at the ceiling, feeling my tears pour down my cheeks and soak into my hair and the pillow beneath my head. They took Toby, and it was my fault. They took Layla, which was also my fault. And Dwayne. I was responsible for them taking all of my friends away from me. I wiped a stray tear away from my cheek. I wouldn’t be responsible for them taking Connor.

  The others were waking up. A girl across from me hopped out of bed and began undressing as if it were a brand-new day and she was going to make it her own. She had been taken a couple of days back, and had already snapped out of her comatose state. No more wheelchair; no more bad attitude. And seemingly no recollection at all of ever being put down below.

  “Lily,” I called out to her.

  She smiled as she pulled a shirt on over her head. “Good morning!”

  My body quivered as I scooted up in my bed. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  Her smile widened. “Great!”

  “Come here,” I said, leaning forward and patting the foot of my mattress.

  She happily obliged and came over, plopping down by my blanket-covered feet. “What’s up?”

  “I, I just really want to know how you are.”

  “I’m great!”

  I leaned closer to her. “Lily, do you remember being in a wheelchair?”

  Her eyebrows knitted together. “Wheelchair?” she laughed. “No. You must have the wrong person.”

  I pointed over at a girl sitting on her bed across the way from us. “Do you remember her being in a wheelchair?” I pointed to another. “And her?” My finger fell on one more. “And her?”

  Now she was looking at me
like I was crazy. “Millie, no one has been in a wheelchair since I’ve been here. I mean, at least not that I’ve seen.” Her head cocked to the side with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I sighed. “But, just tell me this: Why are you here?”

  “Why am I here?” she repeated. “To get help for my drug problem.”

  “And did you get help?”

  “Of course!” she grinned. “I have no desire to ever participate in any kind of drug activity again in my life!”

  “And why do you think that is?” I urged.

  “Because of the program.”

  “And what did they do to you here? They took you to the basement, don’t you remember that?”

  “What?” Her grin fell to a normal smile. “There’s no basement here, Millie.”

  “Yes there is!”

  Her smile disappeared completely; I was clearly making her uncomfortable. She stood up from my bed and nervously twiddled her fingers in front of her stomach. “You’re scaring me, Millie. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you need to get some more help.”

  I threw back the covers and stood up. “If you didn’t go to the basement, then how did you get cured?”

  Her smile appeared once again. “The program cured me. The counselors here are wonderful.” She spun around and hurried away to the bathrooms, leaving me standing by myself in a room full of girls who had already been cured of their sins. Everyone except for me.

  * * *

  How could everyone slide back into their former groups of friends and not remember anything? Most of the tables in the cafeteria were full of chattering teenagers, excitedly making plans to visit each other once the program was over. It was like nothing weird had ever happened here. They had forgotten the images of their friends in vegetative states with drool hanging from their lips; they had forgotten the nights of crying and desperation, the feeling of the taser gun against their bodies as they tried to break out windows and fight the guards just days ago.

  There were only two boys left in the entire program who hadn’t been taken yet, besides Connor. They were sitting at the table with us. None of us had touched our food. We didn’t even talk to each other; just shifty-eyed looks were exchanged as we listened to the happy patients around us.

  “Toby wasn’t in his bed this morning,” Connor said.

  My eyes darted around the room. “I know; they took him last night.”

  “Today has to be the day,” one of the boys sitting with us said down at the table. “We’re the only ones left, and the program’s almost over.”

  “I’m gonna throw up,” the other one said, and he jumped up from the table and flew out of the cafeteria as fast as he could. The cook watched him intently as he left.

  “I, I better go check on him,” the other boy said, standing up and hurrying off.

  I looked across the table at Connor. His head was down, his eyes focused on his lap. “It’s gonna be okay,” I promised him. I leaned forward. “Hey, look at me.”

  His head lifted slowly. When his eyes met with mine, they were glossed over and void of emotion, as if he had already been taken down below. “I’m scared,” he easily confessed.

  “I am too.” I slid the keys from my pocket and palmed them, sticking them beneath the table. “Put your hand under the table.”

  He obeyed immediately, and after a second I felt his cold hand touch mine; I transferred him the keys. “One of those keys is to the front door,” I told him quietly. “We tried it last night; it worked. Whatever happens, you try to get out of here and away from these people. Do you understand?”

  He nodded swiftly and pulled his hand away from mine, sticking the keys in his pocket careful enough not to be noticed. “What about you?” he asked.

  I thought about my promise to Toby, to escape with Connor. But I also remembered the promises I made to our friends and the other teens beneath our feet. “I promised our friends I’d get them out.”

  “Then let me help you.”

  “No,” I urged quietly. “You can help me by getting out of here so I don’t have to worry about them taking you.”

  After a few moments of considering what I had said, he nodded and looked back down at his lap. And that was when the cafeteria doors opened. His head snapped behind him as my eyes darted over to them. The first thing that came into view were two dark-blue jean-covered knees. My eyes closed; the jeans Toby was wearing last were dark blue. It was a bad dream. No it was worse: It was a nightmare. The further in they pushed the wheelchair, the more I recognized the boy who held my heart in the palm of his hand.

  I jumped up from the table and rushed over to him. “Toby!” I yelled, tears pooling in my eyes.

  Troy continued to push him past me. “Don’t worry; I know where he sits.” I followed them back to our table as Troy pushed him to the end that Connor was sitting at. He locked the breaks and walked away without another word.

  Connor’s eyes were brimming with horror and his posture was stiff. “T… Toby?” he called over quietly to him.

  I quickly sat down on the edge of my seat beside Toby and went into action, trying to console the shell of a human that was sitting in the wheelchair before us with his chin to his chest. “Toby?” I cooed while running my hand over the top of his light-blonde hair. “Toby? Can you hear me?” He didn’t say a word. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and scooted even closer to him. “Toby I need you to look at me.”

  “His eyes are open,” Connor pointed out, his voice a shaky whisper.

  My lips trembled as I curled them in, trying to stifle a cry. “Toby, talk to me,” I softly urged him.

  Nothing.

  My hands gravitated to his cheeks and I lifted his head. His blue eyes rolled around, unable to focus on anything; his lips were wet with saliva that had been leaking onto his shirt. “I know you’re in there,” I said firmly. His neck made an involuntary swallowing motion. My chest tightened; it was too much to see. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m the reason you’re like this.”

  “Don’t say that,” Connor said.

  I looked over at him. “But it’s true.”

  “It would have happened to him eventually, whether you had anything to do with it or not.”

  My focus went back to Toby’s deadpan face. “I’m gonna get Connor out of here safe. I promise.” Leaning forward, I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. My lips lingered against his warm skin for a moment as I mourned for the loss of a dear friend who was becoming so much more to me. Even though I knew he would come out of it, I didn’t know how much of the real Toby would be left behind. In a way, it was a death. I pulled back and placed my forehead to his. In that moment, I imagined our hearts were pumping in unison, acknowledging each other’s beats as their own. “Please remember me,” I quietly begged him. “Remember me when you wake up; remember what we had. Tell me we’ll always remember each other.” I drew my head back and gazed at him. “I love you, Toby Red.” Guiding his chin to fall gently back to his chest, I let him go and turned to Connor. “It’s time.”

  He visibly panicked. “What? Now?”

  “Yes. Now.”

  “But it’s daytime.”

  “You heard what that kid said; there’s not many of us left. They’ll be taking us at any time. You need to get out while there’s still a chance for you.”

  “But I don’t want to go without you!”

  “Shh!” I leaned forward and reached my hand across the table; he lifted his hand up and laced his fingers together with mine. “You can’t let anyone hear what we’re talking about.”

  “B… but I don’t know what to do! I’ll need your help!”

  My eyes went to the windows. “The storm finally passed. There’s no more rain or heavy wind, so it won’t be as scary out there.” I looked back at him. “Try to stay out of sight and figure out where the staff is. Once the coast is clear, sneak over to the door and use the key.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry we didn’t escape s
ooner when we had the chance. I should have gotten you out long before now.”

  “What if they changed the locks?”

  “Trust me, they didn’t. Martha doesn’t like change.”

  He digested my words. “But, we had a pact; we were all leaving together.”

  I managed a small smile. “That’s right. And now it seems as though things have changed. But that doesn’t mean we all have to go through whatever it is they’re doing to us.”

  “But what about you?”

  “Like I said before, I promised our friends I would get them out. I owe it to them to keep that promise.” With a sigh, I looked over at Toby and leaned toward him, brushing my fingers over the top of his soft hair. “He made me promise I would run if something happened to him. But, I can’t leave him now; not like this. He wouldn’t leave me.”

  “You’re a good friend, Millie.”

  “And so are you.” I focused back on him, my hand leaving Toby. “And I will remember you always.”

  His body trembled. “What do I do when I get past the front door?”

  “You run. You run faster than you ever have in your entire life.”

  “They’ll find me.”

  “They have alarms on the property; you’re going to trigger them. But listen to me: You may be small, but you’re fast, Connor. You’re faster than they are.”

  “But where do I run?”

  I remembered Toby’s instructions. “Past the cemetery, through the tall yellow grass. Once you’re far enough away, lay down and crawl if you need to. Just try to stay hidden until you get to the tree line.”

  “But that’s so far.”

  “But it’s not unattainable.”

  A tear trailed away from his eye. “What if they get me, and, and when I wake up, it makes me forget that I want to be a firefighter?”

  I was at a loss for words. What a tragic question for a thirteen-year-old boy to ask. Connor wasn’t even supposed to be here. He was too pure of heart; too innocent. And now he was worried that they were going to take his dreams away.