I pull my sleeve back over the spot, my eyes wide and burning with tears. What’s happening to me? I try to take in a breath, but I can’t. Panicked, I look out the window to see the museum—and my Need—get farther and farther away. I gasp again.
The pain is overwhelming, but it’s the cracked flesh that’s scaring me. I feel my fingertips tingle, like there’s no circulation. The museum gets smaller in the distance as the first spots start to come across my vision. My face has gone numb; my lips feel cold. The world tilts.
“Charlotte.” Harlin moves to kneel on the carpeted floor of the car. “You’re turning blue!” I meet his eyes, not responding, not sure I can. I’m almost ready to welcome the dark when I feel him touch my hand.
And suddenly, a short breath enters my lungs. I just need Harlin. I lean forward and hug him, my face buried in his neck. He’s warm and still smells of cologne. I’m only getting air in short bursts, but it doesn’t matter. I cling to him.
“Monroe,” I whisper.
“No.” Harlin shakes his head, but doesn’t let me go. “We’re going to the hospital.”
I can still feel Harlin’s hand in my hair when the world around me fades away. Before I can make sense of the change . . .
I’m on the bridge again, rain pelting me. I know I’m supposed to climb on the metal railing but I take a few steps away from it. Suddenly, gold starts to glow around me and I look down to see my skin running off in flesh-colored streams of water. I clasp my hand over my forearm, trying to keep my skin on. But then I realize it’s just makeup washing away. And underneath, I’m only gold.
Harlin calls my name. My heart bursts in my chest when I see him running toward me, but I quickly cover my face. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let him see the gold.
I feel a tug and bring my hands down, but Harlin is gone. Instead it’s Monroe standing in front of me, yelling. But his words are silent. All I can hear is rain, loud enough to make me wince and want to cover my ears.
But over and over, he mouths, Jump!
I push him back and move against the railing, grabbing it tightly. “No!” I look over the side to the dark, rough waters below. I’m terrified of falling.
Now! he silently screams, but I shake my head. And then my heart stops.
Onika appears from behind Monroe. Her face is beautiful again, not cracked and decayed like that one vision. She’s not getting wet, even though it’s raining. She puts her hand on Monroe’s shoulder, but he doesn’t react. It’s like he doesn’t even know she’s there.
She smiles at me while in the distance sirens blare as flashing lights enter the on-ramp of the bridge.
Monroe’s talking quickly and his eyes are closed as Onika snakes her body around him, whispering in his ear in unison with his mouth moving. It’s as if she’s telling him what to say.
“Stop!” I scream. It’s freaking me out and I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s real anymore.
With nowhere to go, I climb onto the railing and grip the cables, trying to keep my balance. To get away from them. I glance back over my shoulder and look down again at the choppy water.
Then the scene freezes, the rain suspended in the air, making the world around me distorted. I find Monroe as he stands, now alone, with his eyes closed. I’m about to call to him, but then he slowly looks up at me and whispers, “Jump.”
“I think she’s coming around.”
There’s a jolt and I’m awake. I feel disoriented as I glance around at the familiar white walls decorated with posters about STDs. I’m at the clinic.
I close my eyes again. “So I’m not dead?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Even though I know where I am now, I can still feel the rain against my skin. The wind swaying me on the bridge. The word “jump” is still in my ears.
“Hardly,” Monroe says. I’m startled by how close his voice is and I turn to see him sitting next to me in a chair. His eyes are narrowed as he looks me over. “You gave your boyfriend a good scare, though,” he says in a tight voice. “Had to give you a steroid to open up your lungs. Why do you think you had this severe an attack, Charlotte?”
“Stress.” I manage to sit up. Harlin is sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his mouth. He looks terrified.
“Hey,” I call. He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me and blinks back tears. “What?” I ask, and suddenly, I’m scared that he saw my skin, that he knows I’m a freak.
He sniffles and rubs roughly at his face. “You passed out,” he says quietly. “And I couldn’t wake you up. I thought you were dying. I—” He stops and covers his mouth again. Monroe was right—I had scared the crap out of him.
“Come here,” I say, and pat the space next to me on the cot.
“Charlotte,” Monroe begins, but I look at him sharply. He raises his hands like he gives up and stands, backing away. I have plenty to talk to Monroe about, but Harlin comes first. He always comes first.
Harlin walks over, his eyes red and his beautiful face a little blotchy. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he whispers. “You get worse every day.”
And my heart breaks. I fought the Need and it almost killed me, it is killing me. The more I slip away, the more I’ll hurt Harlin. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t think I can let him go.
I reach out my hand to him and he takes it, before sitting down next to me. He gathers me in his arms, and rests his cheek on the top of my head. I close my eyes, listening to his slow heartbeat. I relax.
Monroe leaves but I can feel him glaring as he does. When I hear the door shut, Harlin exhales. “Monroe is pissing me off,” he says quietly.
I prop myself up on my arms and look Harlin in the eyes. “Why?”
“Because he’s lying too.”
I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”
Harlin scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re both lying to me, Charlotte. How stupid do you think I am? I know what asthma is. And I know that you shouldn’t be having attacks every day and nearly dying. And when I ask him . . . he’s like you. He’s hiding something.”
His face hardens in anger. And I don’t know what I can tell him. I have to keep lying. “It’s asthma.”
“Shut up.” Harlin moves away, turning his back on me. “Don’t bother talking if you’re not going to tell me the truth.”
“Harlin.” He’s being harsh, and it’s making my chest feel raw, hurt. He doesn’t answer and I wrap myself around him from behind. I put my face against his warm neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me.”
Without a second’s hesitation, Harlin turns into me and cups my face with his hands. “I’m not leaving you, Charlotte,” he says. “I’m trying to keep you.”
His hands are rough on my face. I lean in and press my mouth to his, kissing him softly, the way he usually kisses me. But instead of responding the way I expect, he pushes me back down on the cot and kisses me hard. Desperately.
I suddenly wonder if it means something more. I wonder if he’s saying good-bye. But he continues to kiss me with an urgency I haven’t felt before. And when we’re out of breath, he buries his face in my hair and holds me tight to him.
“Wait,” I gasp, looking around the room. “Sarah?”
“She’s okay.”
“Where is she?” I try to remember the last time I saw her. She was lying on the seat of the town car, unconscious.
Harlin’s throat clicks as he swallows. “Monroe called Sarah’s father the minute he saw her. He said he couldn’t treat her without her dad’s consent.”
I gasp and pull away. “But he treats me all the time!”
“No offense, Charlotte,” Harlin says, “but Mercy doesn’t own half the city. Monroe has to cover himself.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
A booming voice echoes from the waiting room and Harlin and I exchange a glance. Sarah’s father is here.
“I have to go out there.” I climb off the cot but Harlin catches my arm.
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Let’s stay out of it.”
“No.” I pull away from him and start walking to the door when I feel the Need come back, slowing creeping inside my chest. But it’s changed somehow. Not as overwhelming, and almost . . . irritating. It puts me on edge.
Harlin follows as I make my way out into the lobby. Sarah’s parents are there, still in their formal wear. Her mother’s hair is red, but she doesn’t have the same spirit as her daughter. Maybe she did once, but now she’s not much more than a trophy wife with a Botoxed forehead and plastic boobs.
I pause at the thought, surprised at how cruel I sound. I’d never really disliked her before, but right now, I feel unexplainable hatred. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the feeling, but when we come into view, Sarah’s father turns. His dark eyes bore into me as they narrow.
“You,” he says, pointing. “What did you do to her?”
“Me?”
“You said she was in the bathroom. Where was she? What did you give her?”
“Why would I give her anything?” I’m confused by his accusation. “I had nothing to do with this!”
A look of disgust crosses his face. “I should have known better than to let her hang around with you. No good—”
But then Harlin is there, standing in front like he’s taking a bullet for me.
“I suggest you shut up. Charlotte is your daughter’s friend. Her only friend. I think maybe you owe her an apology.”
“I will do no such thing!” he yells.
“You’re such a prick,” Harlin says to him, and then turns away, putting his arm protectively around me.
My mouth twitches with a smile. My boyfriend is so eloquent. For a second, I wonder if Sarah’s dad is going to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead he storms over to the receptionist.
“I want her released now,” he says, pounding on the desk. “I’m taking her to a real hospital.”
Rhonda sucks at her teeth and types something into the computer as the door to the back opens. Monroe walks out, pushing Sarah in a wheelchair. “Don’t bother, Rhonda,” he says toward the front desk. “I’ve already taken care of it.”
Sarah looks terrible. Her mascara has run under her eyes and her hair is matted and tangled. Her lips are red and smudged. She glances up to meet my eyes and gives me a little shrug before she’s surrounded by her parents.
I listen to Monroe talk to them. He tells them that she has a mild case of alcohol poisoning but that he gave her charcoal to vomit it up. That she needs fluids and rest. Monroe finishes by putting a steady hand on her shoulder and telling them she’ll be okay, physically. He doesn’t know that her father has driven her to this. And that I didn’t stop her from drinking. I wish I had.
Her mother holds Sarah’s arm as she stands up, and her dad brushes back her hair. And for a second, I see a different side of them. Like maybe they love her. And to be honest, I’m jealous that she has a family to care about her. I have Mercy and Alex, but what about my real family?
Again I shake away the strange thoughts popping in my head. Mercy is my mom and I’ve never doubted her love. What is going on? I don’t feel like myself.
Harlin’s hand slips into mine and I’m suddenly comforted. He’s always there when I need him. He’s my steady heartbeat.
Sarah and her parents pass by, her father staring straight ahead like I’m not worth his time. But Sarah glances over and offers a sad, small smile. She looks humiliated.
“Sarah,” I start to say, but suddenly Monroe is in front of me, a stern expression on his face.
“We need to chat,” he says.
“No.” Harlin wraps his arm around me. “You’re done with her. She’s had a long night and—”
“Harlin,” Monroe says, looking at him patiently. “This is about Charlotte. You can wait out here if you like, but I need to speak to my patient. Now.” Then Monroe glares at me like I should agree.
But if I agree now, my boyfriend will be furious with me. He already doesn’t trust me. I straighten and look at Monroe.
“I’m sorry, but—” I start to say, just as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out the black journal, but doesn’t mention it. Monroe’s right. We do need to talk.
I turn to Harlin. “I have to see him,” I whisper. “I promise it won’t—”
His face clouds over quickly. “Of course you do, Charlotte. Don’t let me stand in the way of your secrets.” Harlin breaks away from me and I’m devastated as I watch him leave. But at the last second he pauses at the glass door. He looks over his shoulder at me, his face drawn. Tired.
“I love you, Charlotte,” he says simply. And then he’s gone.
As the door closes I wipe at the tears that have spilled over onto my cheeks. I’m ruining everything by lying to him about the Need.
Monroe shifts uncomfortably. “Help me stop this,” I hiss. He glances cautiously at Rhonda, who’s watching us, before reaching out to grab me by the arm.
“Get in my office. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
I sit across from him as he opens his desk and puts the journal in there, locking it. He pulls a small bottle from his pocket and swallows a pill quickly from it. Then he looks up at me, his blue eyes narrowed. “You stole from me.”
“I had to. You wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I told you what you needed to know.”
“Where are the final pages?”
“They’re not your concern.”
“The hell they’re not!”
Monroe exhales hard, and then studies me for a second with a look of disgust. “Take off your shirt,” he says.
I’m startled. “No.”
He tsks. “Don’t be difficult, Charlotte. I want to see what you’ve done to yourself. Show me your skin.”
He knows. Somehow he knows about my dying flesh, and suddenly I don’t want to show him. Anger wells up inside me.
“Come on,” he says impatiently.
“Go to hell.”
“It’s there, isn’t it?” he asks. “You feel the shadows on your soul, don’t you?”
My eyes snap to his and I nod slowly. “It’s hate,” I say. “I feel hate.”
“Let me see.” He walks around his desk to stand in front of me, his mouth a thin line of concern.
Slowly I unbutton the navy jacket, biting hard on my lip as I slide it off my shoulder. Monroe gasps. I turn to look where he’s staring. My gold—it’s nearly gone. The glow is replaced with something horrible. An unthinkable gray, so cracked and dead, like it’s sucking the life out of me—splintering the skin as I watch.
“What’s happening?” I cry out, truly afraid.
“What have you done?” Monroe stumbles back, knocking into his desk.
“The Need hit at the event, but I didn’t go to it. I helped Sarah instead. I thought that if I fought the impulses, this would all go away. That I could beat it like Onika did.”
“You’re fighting it?” he asks in a hollow voice.
“I don’t want to disappear, Monroe. I’m not ready to go.” I start to sob. “People are forgetting me sooner. Even Alex and Georgia. Even Mercy. I’m fading. And I’m not ready to go.” My voice breaks and I pull my jacket on and wrap my arms around myself.
“I can’t watch it again,” he says, almost to himself. “I can’t.”
I sniffle and look up at him. “Watch me dissolve?”
“No,” he says, like I’m confused. “Watch you fight to live. You don’t understand, Charlotte. You can’t stay here.”
“But I want to.” I sound like a begging child.
“It’s not possible. And if you fight . . . it’s horrible. It’s so horrible.”
“Is this what happened to Onika? Did the Need do this to her?” Was Onika dead underneath the beauty that I saw, like in my vision? Was the real her this grotesque?
Monroe squeezes his eyes shut. “No. The Need didn’t do this to her. The Shadows did.”
I stare at him, goose bumps rising on my arms. “What are you talking about? There was nothing in your journal about Shadows.”
My skin begins to itch, like a slow crawl stretching over me. It’s the spot. It’s growing. “What happened to Onika?” I ask. “I have to know now.”
He winces at the sound of her name, then takes in a deep breath. “I loved her so much. And like you, she wanted to fight it. But it ruined her.”
“What happened?”
“When she had first started losing her skin, we tried to cover it with makeup. But every day a little more of her was gone. Soon, no one could remember her anymore—except me.”
“How did you try to stop it?” Hope wells up in my chest. There could be something, a small detail, a piece of the puzzle that could cure me. If I figure out where he went wrong, I might have a chance.
“I tried a medical approach, combination of pills, toxins even. Anything that I thought could help. And when she started to hold back her compulsions, she told me it was working.” He looks at me. “But she was keeping secrets. Terrible secrets.”
His words make me think of Harlin and how he knows that I’m keeping something from him. “What sort of secrets?”
“That the Shadows had come for her, trying to tempt her away.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. What is a Shadow?”
“A place devoid of light. A soul devoid of light. It will eat your glow and turn you into one of them. Walking Shadows.”
I want to rip my nails through my flesh and scrape off the gray.
“You know how you help people, Charlotte? How you save them? The Shadows are the opposite. They drain the light from the universe. They’re evil. They spread evil.”
“Then why? Why would anyone go into the Shadows?”
“To be remembered. After Onika turned toward the Shadows, people didn’t forget her anymore, and she was so beautiful. A showstopper.” He glances away as if lost in a memory. “I thought that maybe she’d done the right thing.”
“Then what happened?”
“You can’t hide from the universe, not in a human form. The body will wear away eventually. Onika found that if she gave into her evil impulses, she could keep her form—make herself stronger. It turned her into a monster, and when I wanted her to stop, she disappeared into the darkness.”
“So . . . she wants me to become like her?”
“She needs you to. She wants your light, Charlotte. She has to do terrible things to stay here, and that includes destroying the good. If you let her win, you’ll be a Shadow and you’ll have to hunt for Forgotten too. You’ll have to change them.”
“Why would she think I’d go along with that? It’s crazy. It’s—”
“Onika gave up the light for me, to stay with me. Maybe she thinks you’d do the same for Harlin?” He tilts his head like he’s considering the answer to his question.
“I won’t. But maybe there’s another way to—”
“No,” he says loudly. “There is no other way. You must transform, otherwise you’ll be bound here, Charlotte. Forever.”
My shoulder starts to throb under my hand, and I try to push away the small voice that’s telling me that forever-bound sounds a lot better than forever-gone.
“When’s the last time you saw Onika?” Monroe asks, turning away from me to go back behind his desk.
“Yesterday, maybe? Or the day before. She comes to me in my visions, mostly, so it’s hard to really remember.”
“Interesting. I wonder if she appears in visions because they’re easier to manipulate than real life.”
“I’m not sure.”
Monroe sits down on his chair and rests his elbows on the cluttered top of his desk. He looks exhausted. “I’m so sorry it’s happening like this,” he says. “I’ve really tried to keep an eye on you all this time. I didn’t want the Shadows to find you too soon. And I’d hoped you wouldn’t meet anyone—a boy. I didn’t want you to have to make a choice.”
“Oh, thanks.” So Monroe wanted to take away my own will? How is that fair? How is that love?
“It would have been easier,” he says. “It wouldn’t hurt this much. You’re special, sweetheart. You have to believe in that.”
“I don’t want to be special. And I definitely don’t want to be a freaking burst of light. I want to live, Monroe. I want to live here, with Harlin. Like we’d planned.” I have to close my eyes as the tears roll out. I miss him so much it’s making me ill.
“I can’t help you fight it,” Monroe whispers to me. “I love you too much to do that. But I can help you fill the Need. Stay in the light.”
“You really can’t stop it?” I ask. Please. Please.
Monroe’s eyes glass over as he stares back at me. “No.”
Inside I’m flooded with grief. Absolute, miserable grief. I get up from the chair, my body feeling heavy and slow. “I have to leave,” I say.
“I’ll remember you,” Monroe says. “It’s near the end, and from here on out, it’s going to be hard. Your family and friends will start to forget.”
I offer him a sad little smile. “They already have.” Then I walk to the office door, wanting to call Harlin, but remembering that I have to go back to the museum first. I have a Need to fill.