“I wouldn’t worry,” she says. “We read through all those brochures a thousand times and watched a marathon’s worth of post-op videos and everyone seems fine.”

“Yeah, but they probably wouldn’t show us the patients who have to be spoon-fed for the rest of their lives.” I fake a grin for her. I’m tired of faking, which is ridiculous considering the circumstances about to unfold. But at least I won’t know I’m faking, and that’s honest enough for me.

Genevieve looks behind me and immediately tears up. I turn. Dr. Castle is standing by the door. Her sunken-in sea-green eyes are always kind of comforting, even now as she stares at me, but her tousled mass of red-orange hair reminds me of living flames. I fight back panic. She probably hasn’t announced herself so I could have a few more minutes with Genevieve—maybe even myself.

I pick up Genevieve by her waist and spin her around a couple of times. Getting dizzy before someone plays with my brain is stupid, I know. Before I can ask, Genevieve holds my hand and says, “I’ll walk with you.”

The closer we get to Dr. Castle, the more it feels like I’m marching to my death, and I know I sort of am, at least the part of me everyone is better off without. The panic melts away.

“I’m ready,” I tell Dr. Castle with zero doubts.

I turn back to Genevieve and while I’m kissing the girl who has been keeping my secret without knowing it, I wonder again if maybe she’s known all along. We’ve never gone as far as saying we love each other in the year we’ve been together. It’s simple, I know, but she’s smart enough to never admit loving someone who can’t love her back.

I never thought I would say anything like this to her, that I would rather hold this secret in my tight fist until the day I die, but I go ahead.

“I know you know about me, Gen. I won’t be like that tomorrow, okay? We’re going to be happy together, for real.”

She’s speechless, so I kiss her one last time and she weakly waves to me, probably saying bye to the person she found a way to love despite that wall I’m about to knock down.

I quickly turn around and head through the door, sick that all my lies and chaos have brought me to this breaking point. I know it’s what has to happen. I can’t be like Collin who can pretend like nothing ever happened between us and who can fucking forget everything that did. I no longer have to be ruined by another guy. I no longer have to hurt the girl who thinks I love her.

At the threshold, Dr. Castle places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Remember that this is for your own good,” she reminds in her light English accent.

“I think we both know that remembering doesn’t really do anyone good around here,” I half joke, and she smiles.

I won’t remember that this is for my own good, because I won’t remember why I came here in the first place. Leteo will make me forget my relationship with Collin. My insides can stop burning me alive with how much I miss him. I won’t ever get jumped on the train again for liking another guy. My friends will stop being suspicious of what I’m doing when I’m not hanging with them. We’re going to kill that part of me that’s ruined everything. I’m going to be straight, just like how my father would’ve wanted.

This procedure isn’t a promise I’ll stop being you-know-what, but using science against nature is my best shot.

I’m stretched across a narrow bed with wires sealed to my forehead and heart. I’ve lost count of how many needles they’ve stabbed into my veins and how many times someone has asked me if I’m comfortable, and if I’m positive I want to do this. I’ve said yes and yes and yes a lot.

Some doctors and technicians are running around and setting up monitors; others are typing away on computers and doing analytical stuff with blueprints of my brain. Dr. Castle has stayed by my side the entire time. She fills up a glass of water from a small basin, drops two blue pills in, and hands it to me.

I stare at the pills, but don’t drink yet. “Do you think I’ll be okay, Doc?”

“Absolutely painless, kiddo,” she says.

“And my dreams will be altered too, right?” Some dreams are unwanted flashbacks; others are nightmares, like the one last night where Collin put me on a bike, even though I wasn’t ready, and pushed me down the steepest hill, laughing at me as he walked away.

“To avoid our work being unwound, yes,” Dr. Castle says. “This wouldn’t be an issue if we could simply erase memories without consequence, but memory manipulation is far less of a risk. When we put you under, you won’t even have to relive the memories—that would be cruel. It’ll feel like a long, long sleep.”

“Sounds a lot like dying.”

“Think of us less as reapers and more like genies.”

“And I won’t suspect anything when you come around?”

“We’ll manipulate your memories so you believe I’m an old babysitter. The few people who know about your procedure will be clued in to this,” she explains. But I know this already; it’s been drilled into me and repeated a dozen different ways in the forms I’ve read and videos I’ve seen. The Leteo employees disguise themselves with permission all the time so they can check in on post-procedure patients without raising suspicion.

I won’t have anything to remember Collin by. No memories, no treasures. I threw away his bad drawings, gag gifts, and an X-Men sweater he gave me. I burned funny notes over the stove as if I could forget what they said once they were ashes piling up in the pot.

Dr. Castle fluffs my pillow. I wonder if she cares for all her patients like this. “May I ask you something, Aaron? Completely off the books?”

“Sure.”

She averts her eyes and whatever she’s about to ask, it’s clear she’s reconsidering. “I hope I’m not out of line. From the moment your case was brought to my attention, I understood the struggles you must’ve been going through. But I can’t help but be curious . . . Would you still carry on with this procedure if your sexuality weren’t an issue? Would you want to change being gay?”

Lucky for me, I’ve thought about this even before my father went and killed himself. “It’s not a matter of what I want. I need to do this.”

A technician approaches. “Ready when you and the patient are, Dr. Castle.”

I down the entire glass of water and hand it back to her. “Battle.”

One doctor fits a mask around me while a technician turns some dials on the monitor. The sleeping gas hits. It is fresh and crisp and tastes like fiery metal in the back of my throat. It’s so hard to stay awake. Evangeline isn’t tugging at her sleeve, but I know she’s nervous too. My eyes are shutting and I remember something. I pull off the mask, take a deep breath, and say, “Before I forget, thank you.”