6 Chapter 6

"Great," Thomas says enthusiastically. "But you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I reply, hardening a little. "What do I have to do?"

The next few hours are spent coming up with a solid plan. It's around 7:00 in the morning when we finish and I realize I was up all night. "Okay, that's everything," Thomas says, yawning. "You're sure you're ready?"

I nod, "See ya later." He waves at me and I hop back on my bike and ride into town, stopping at my house. I stroll across the manicured lawn and up the pristine steps, taking my time. I don't want to face my parents just yet, but I take a deep breath and let myself inside, immediately bombarded by my parents. "Quinn, where were you?" my mom asks, frantic. "This is just the thing that will give us a bad reputation! You should know better than this, running off in the dead of night. What will everyone say?"

I notice they aren't worrying about me, asking if I'm okay. They're just worried about their reputation and being perfect. Just like everyone else in this messed-up city. My dad cuts in on her ranting, "We're going downtown. Get in the car. Now."

I know better than to protest, so I meekly follow them out the door and into the car. "Why are we going downtown?" I ask nonchalantly.

They exchange glances from the front seats, and my mom finally says, "We're... worried... about you. You haven't been yourself lately, so we're taking you to..."

"We're taking you to the doctor," my dad intervenes. "He specializes in the abnormalities, especially in kids your age. Don't worry, he's very experienced."

This 'doctor' must be one of the brainwashing specialists Thomas told me about, the ones who fix the kids that act out. He continues, "It's just a simple procedure; it'll make things easier for you."

The next fifteen minutes are complete silence except for the quiet hum of the engine. Once we arrive, a tall skyscraper looms above us, and I crane my neck back to see the top. We walk together inside the building and to the perfectly organized front desk. A blonde secretary greets us with a smile, and my dad strolls over to her. "We need to see Dr. Miller for a procedure," he says, gesturing at me.

She nods, clicking away on her computer, "He'll be with you in a moment. Please, have a seat."

He thanks her and immediately walks over to the comfortable looking black armchairs. My mom and I follow, arranging ourselves silently. A few awkward moments later, the secretary stands up, walking over and saying, "Dr. Miller's ready to see you now. If you'll please follow me, I'll escort you to his office."

We follow her through a sterile, winding hallway and into a small room with three chairs, a table, and several advanced looking machines. One of the chairs is occupied by a balding man, who must be Dr. Miller. "Quinn!" he exclaims, standing with a smile. "How nice to meet you. If you sit up here, we can start," he says, gesturing to the table and then turning to my parents. "You two can sit, if you'd like to stay for the first part."

They thank him, taking a quick seat and I hop up onto the table. The secretary nods at the doctor, leaving and closing the door behind her. I can hear her heels clicking down the hall and gradually fading out.

I resume my attention on Dr. Miller, who's flipping through papers, "Well, Quinn, looks like you're an average 14 year old girl. Straight A's, an excellent pianist, excelling on the soccer field... you're all in order!" He turns to my parents, "I don't see what the problem is!"

My mom straightens, "Quinn has been acting... strange. She arrived home from school late yesterday, and went missing last night."

He nods, a grave expression appearing on his face. "Should I do the standard procedure?"

Dad cuts in, "That won't be enough. Do Procedure 250."

Dr. Miller gave him a strange look, "You're sure then? Alright, I'll have to ask you two to leave." My parents nod, silently filing out of the room as the doctor turns to me. "Quinn..." he sighs, "I'm obligated by law to inform you that this procedure has only been performed three times under dire circumstances. The first patient died, the second went insane, and the third... backfired. You, on the other hand, are a special case. The child of two government workers; the odds will surely turn out in your favor. We were much more careful with you when..." he stops.

"When you what?" I ask quietly.

"Nothing," he replies quickly. "Should we begin?" I nod nervously, and he pushes me down on the table as he fiddles with a needle. I take a deep breath and reassure myself that it'll be alright, Thomas said it would be okay. That's the last thing I think before Dr. Miller, hovering above me, stabs my arm with a large needle.