A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(29)

Chapter 11

By the time we got outside the rain had stopped and Harlin dropped me off at the clinic just before six. When I walk in, it’s like Monroe’s been waiting for me. He’s standing in front of a busy room, patients coughing all around us. But his gaze is trained on me.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, stopping in front of him. His white lab coat is wrinkled and he hasn’t shaved. His eyes are unreadable.

Without a word, he turns and begins walking toward the exam room. “We’ll be in the back,” he says to the receptionist before asking me to join him. I suddenly wonder if he’s mad at me too. Did I do something wrong? Does he know about Onika?

I get into the room and climb up on the crinkling paper of the table. Monroe goes to the counter and begins taking out instruments that I can’t see from here. I just hear them clank on the metal tray.

“How’s your skin?” he asks, not turning to look at me. I’m officially freaked out by his behavior. Yesterday he came to find me, and now . . . now he’s acting like I’m a stranger.

“Still falling off. What’s wrong?”

Monroe stops what he’s doing and faces me, his lips tight. He watches me for a long minute and I recognize the expression. I’ve been at this clinic far too long to not know it. It’s his detachment. His way of breaking bad news and shielding himself.

“Are you going to finally explain to me what the Forgotten are?” I ask. “Because I’ve been having a hell of a day, and I’m pretty confused.” I’m feeling defiant, my heart racing in my chest. I want to know everything. He has to tell me everything.

Monroe is silent and grabs the tray before walking over and setting it on the cart next to me. Then he pulls up a stool and sits.

“Take off your sweater, please.” He’s so clinical. Then, as if he didn’t even speak, he reaches over to grab a needle and squeezes the plunger enough to make a thick liquid leak from the tip.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s for your skin.”

My heart skips a beat. “You can fix it?”

His eyes meet mine for only a second. “Your shirt, Charlotte.”

Slightly calmed, I strip down to my bra and he asks me to lay back. He pauses above me, staring down at the huge patch of gold. He smiles, but I have to look away from him. That stupid look of amazement washes over his face again and it makes me feel invisible. Like it doesn’t matter that the gold is a part of me.

“This is a highly concentrated vitamin E extract,” he murmurs, aiming the needle at the surrounding skin. “Hopefully it’ll slow down the peeling process.”

“Does it work?”

He pauses. “For a little while.”

When I feel the first stick of the needle, I gasp. A burning fills the area, like he’s injecting glue into me. “It hurts!” I hiss.

He closes his eyes for a second, composing himself as if he hates the thought of hurting me. But then he sticks the needle in another spot. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

I suffer though four more injections, two needles. Each one just as painful as the one before. All the while, Monroe won’t look me in the eye.

When he’s done, he tells me to get dressed and goes to clean off his tray. My arm feels stiff as I slip my sweater back over my head. I feel so hurt all over. Like there’s nothing about me without pain. I’m wearing out.

“Are you going to talk to me?” I ask finally, ready to scream or hit him. “I need to know the truth about the Forgotten. You have to help me stop this.”

“I’ve told you the truth,” he says quietly. “And I can only help your symptoms. The rest is out of my hands.”

The weight of the world seems to fall on me. “I don’t believe you. I know you can help. Why are you being so cold to me?”

“You’re the Forgotten and I’m your Seer. I can’t intervene.”

“Look at me!”

He flinches and meets my eyes. And there I see his pain, his conflictedness. There I see his absolute devastation. And I know how much he cares about me.

“Don’t let this happen,” I plead.

Monroe reaches out to pat my hand, and then takes the tray back over to the counter. “I can’t let our friendship cloud my judgment,” he says. “You have to fulfill your destiny. It’s the only way.”

Anger gathers inside me. He’s lying. “That’s not what Onika says.”

The tray slips from his hand, banging and vibrating onto the floor so loudly I reach up to cover my ears. My heart races from the jolt, but Monroe doesn’t move. He’s like a statue.

I slowly uncover my ears and stare at the back of his white lab coat. “You know her.”

“She’s found you,” he whispers without looking at me. Slowly he walks to sit on a stool in front of me, a faraway expression on his face. He doesn’t acknowledge what just happened.

Monroe looks up, gazing into my eyes. “You know, Charlotte, the first time I met someone like you, I was a child in London. When I saw the twelve-year-old girl who lived in the flat above me, I knew she was a different kind. Your kind.

“Jacqueline and I used to play in the hallways; tag, hide-and-go-seek. I was drawn to her, even though she was a few years older. It was like we needed to be around each other. She started to run off secretly and I would search for her; I had an intense desire to find her. But she was changing fast, even if neither of us knew what was happening. How she would cry.” He closes his eyes.