A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(32)

I’m pushed as my eyes fly open and I move toward his light. I hear the shuffle of the old lady who was in front of me in line, but I can’t see her. I can only see Miles, glowing from behind the counter. Sweat begins to gather on my forehead and above my lip. He has the medication now. Tonight he’s going to kill himself.

Invisible vines try pulling me forward, but I hold my spot in line, not wanting to draw attention. Behind the counter, Miles’s light pulsates. If I don’t stop him he’ll be dead by the end of the night.

The woman in front of me turns around and asks if I’m okay and it takes all of my concentration to tell her in a nearly normal voice that I am. But when she looks away, I cover my face with my hands. I don’t want this. Every Need makes me worse—brings me closer to disappearing forever.

Miles calls for the next person in line and the woman shuffles ahead. They talk as his fingers click on the computer, but their voices sound far away. Behind my eyes I can see Miles. How he’ll gag from the pills. How he’ll mix them with alcohol for a lethal combination. And how he’ll lie crying on his bed, twisting in agony before he dies.

“Next.”

I hear it but I don’t move. I almost can’t. But the Need is there, forcing me to do this. I gasp and step forward, keeping my eyes toward the ground.

“How can I help you?” Miles asks, but his tone is cautious. I wonder if I look like an addict. With incredible effort I lift my gaze and stare at him, his light.

“Don’t do it,” I murmur. A new pain burns into my back and I wonder if the skin there is peeling off. It makes me whimper.

“Excuse me?” Miles says. “Look, do I need to call the cops?”

Cops? My fists ball up and I feel angry. The Need puts me in these situations, makes me do these things. I’m not a drug addict and I’m not the one planning to kill myself tonight. So he can save his judgments for somebody else. Somebody who’s not melting away because she has to help him.

I lean in, my mouth tight. “I know what you’re planning to do, Miles. I know about you and Gillian. And about the pills you have stuffed in your pocket.”

And suddenly, unlike my usual Needs, who move away, staring and freaking out, Miles reaches to grab my arm and pulls me toward him. He twists my wrist at an odd angle and I fear he’s going to snap it as he hisses in my ear.

“Was it you? Are you the one who told my wife?”

“Let go,” I say, my head swimming, trying to find the words that’ll get through to him. “You need help.”

He drops my hand and steps back from me. His features are tense, scared. “Get out of here,” he says. But nothing has changed and I know I can’t leave yet.

“Please,” I start to say, when a new person walks into my line of sight. She’s illuminated slightly, just enough so that I can see her. The redhead from my vision. She’s working in between the rows of pills, a clipboard in her hand. She glances at me and I gape at her in surprise.

“Get out,” Miles says again, more forcefully.

“Gillian,” I call. My Need zooms in. My knowledge of Miles fades away and I see that Gillian doesn’t know what he’s planning to do. She thought she was doing what was right by breaking it off with him. She was trying to protect his family.

“Yes?” she asks, stepping toward me.

“Don’t,” Miles orders, waving her away. But she’s watching me, like she’s sensed something was wrong all along.

“Gillian,” I say, outstretching my hand to her. “He has pills in his pocket that he’s planning to take tonight. He’s going to take all of them!”

Miles shouts that I’m crazy, that he’s calling the police, but Gillian looks at the back of his white coat. When she glances at me, I see the widening of her eyes and I’m sure they’re glazing over with the knowledge. She’s listening to me.

“Miles?” she asks. She knew something was off. She’s felt suspicious because while she was taking stock, she’d noticed the missing pill bottle. The light around her starts to fade and my sight returns.

Miles turns to glare at her, the phone at his ear. “She’s some psycho, Gill,” he says. “Probably a junkie. Let me handle it.”

“Do you have pills in your pocket?” she asks, her voice weak. Just then another pharmacy worker comes over, catching the end of the conversation.

Gillian touches her lips like she’s figured it out. The man she had loved was going to kill himself tonight. Partly because of her. The other pharmacist takes the phone from Miles and begins asking him questions.

Gillian looks up at me and I expect a thank-you. But as I stand in front of her, I watch the recognition drain away.

“Sorry, miss,” she says to me. “We have a situation. You’ll have to come back later.”

Suddenly the tension releases and I’m struck by a wave of euphoria. My eyes roll back in my head for a second and I stumble over to clutch on to a shelf of decongestants. And then just as quickly, I’m exhausted, wiped out. I glance up again to see Miles with his head in his hands. Gillian is wiping her eyes while the other pharmacist is on the phone. I saved him. The Need saved him.

But it hadn’t taken long for Gillian to forget me, and that bothers me. Is it getting worse, or am I just noticing it more? I close my eyes and wait for the room to stop spinning. It feels like I’m missing more skin, but I don’t have the strength to look. When I feel steady enough, I move down the aisle.