A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(31)

“The Need?” he whispers to himself, as if he likes the term.

“Make it stop,” I growl, pushing my forehead down into the table as I continue to writhe. “Make it stop.”

He’s at my ear. “Don’t fight it. It’ll destroy you.”

“It’s destroying me anyway!” There’s another painful turn, this time at my side, and I scream.

I’m compelled to leave. My body feels like it’s on fire and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop myself from going. I still have so many questions. But I can’t stay. The Need won’t let me.

I straighten up as best I can and back away. I feel like a puppet, only instead of strings, I’m guided by ribbons of heat that tear through my flesh. There’s a file set in the plastic basket on the back of the door and I have to reach for it.

Monroe says nothing as I yank the folder out and flip it open, the pages blurring in front of me. I’m pushing through the papers, waiting for something to come into focus. And then it does. It’s the name of a pharmacy. Dell’s Drugs. Dell’s is just a block or two away, and all at once I know that someone is there waiting for me. Waiting right now.

My feelings fade but I don’t move. I don’t want to go. “What happens if I don’t fulfill the Need?” I ask without turning around.

“You must. It’s your destiny.”

“What happens if I don’t?” I ask again louder.

“Then the light will be lost. The people you’re meant to save will lose hope because they won’t feel that love. That acceptance.”

I laugh bitterly, the cruelty of it too much. “So I just have to sacrifice myself? Dissolve?” My hand clasps the doorknob. My body is pulling me out the door, but I have to hear him out. I want him to tell me I don’t have to go.

Monroe walks over and hugs me, resting his cheek on the top of my head. But I don’t squeeze back. Instead I feel the binding of his journal in his coat pocket.

“It’s truly beautiful,” he whispers. “A burst of bright light like nothing you can imagine. It’ll fill the world with a moment of unconditional love. Everyone you’ve touched will have peace.”

“And then I’m gone?” I slowly snake my fingers into his outside pocket and wrap them around the leather-bound pages. It feels like old skin.

“Released back into the universe,” he murmurs. “Sent home.”

“Well,” I say to him, sliding the journal under my sweater before backing up. I meet his eyes. “I think that destiny sucks.”

Without waiting for a reply, I slip out of the exam room and through the white-floored lobby. I’ll find a way to beat this. But right now I have somewhere else I need to be.

Chapter 12

Dell’s Drugs is on the bottom floor of an apartment building on the corner of Eighteenth Street. It’s in an old brick structure, but inside, Dell’s is as antiseptic as can be. White walls, white tiled floors—even the shelves are white. As I enter, the Need continues to burn me. Tearing me up from the inside.

The cashier glances at me, but doesn’t say anything. She pops her gum and goes back to reading the latest issue of Seventeen. Toward the back I see the sign for the pharmacy and a rush of air blows past me. I reach out to hold on to the nearest shelf.

“You okay?” I hear. I nod and look up, seeing the cashier staring at me. She shrugs and flips the page of her magazine.

I reach in my pocket and touch the journal, comforted by its existence. Monroe said he’s been documenting the Forgotten. If Onika’s like me, she must be in here. And it’ll say how she fought the crossover.

I slowly start to make my way down the aisle, feeling the pain increase as I go, but wanting to get out of the cashier’s line of vision. There is a searing pain in my shoulder, radiating under my arm and starting across my chest. I know it’s my skin. I wonder if the injection Monroe gave me can keep it from peeling off.

Holding on to a cool metal shelf, I look ahead to the small waiting area next to the pharmacy counter. Sitting in the chairs is an old couple—the woman looking very frail. And next to them a mother, holding a wiggling toddler on her lap.

Nothing about them strikes me, so I walk ahead, looking for my Need. Strong cramps turn my gut and I stumble a few more steps until I can see the counter.

And then a rush of wind goes through me. Standing there is the pharmacist. He’s maybe thirty, thinning dark hair, glasses. He looks completely average until a violent pain in my head starts to blot out my vision. And again, I am blind. Then in my mind, I see him.

Miles Rodan is in bed, moving beneath the sheets. The red-haired woman with him isn’t his wife. The scene changes and Miles is home, a pretty dark-haired woman is yelling at him, threatening to leave. Planning to take the kids. He begs her to stay, but she doesn’t. She knows he was having an affair.

The vision changes and I feel sorrow, as if I am Miles. I’m sitting alone in the kitchen, bottles of medication in front of me. I’m filled with despair and the most isolating loneliness I’ve ever known. It’s like drowning in a deep, dark lake.

And then I see Miles again. He pops a few pills into his mouth and chases it with a sip of Jack Daniels. His wife is gone, and so is the mistress. Everyone’s miserable. He holds the prescription bottle in his hand and shakes out a few more pills. It’s all his fault. It feels like my fault. He takes a few more. . . .