I touch my stitches softly. “Does it look that bad?”
She shrugs. “If you weren’t blond, it probably wouldn’t be so noticable. But because you are, it looks a bit tragic. Ready?”
“Can I shower first?”
Sarah groans. “Fine, but hurry up. My driver’s waiting outside and he’s a total bastard when I take too long.” She reaches over to grab the greasy Frankie’s bag off my bed and brushes the crumbs into it. And again, I resent the Need. I resent how it controls who I can help. But no matter what it makes me do, this is my life. And I want to get back to living it.
I stand naked and stare into the full-length mirror in my bathroom, horror on my face. All of the skin on my shoulder is gone. There’s no blood. No scab. Just... gold. A golden glow from the spot where Harlin used to kiss me. Massage me.
I fight back the tears but they leak out anyway. I don’t want to believe in the Forgotten, but this, whatever it is, isn’t right. It’s not... human. I cover my mouth with my palm, trying to quiet the sobs.
This can be fixed. I’ll go to Monroe and I’ll demand that he fix it. He’s a doctor. He won’t let this happen to me. Not if I beg. I close my eyes, letting a tiny bit of calm stretch over me.
There’s a knock at the door and I jump.
“Hurry up,” Sarah calls. “Alex just got home from school and he’s starting to piss me off out here.”
“One sec,” I answer automatically. When Sarah’s here, I have to forget about this. I have to cover it up. I’m still Charlotte Cassidy. I’m still me.
I turn on the hot water. I can’t wash where my stitches are, and I’m scared to get water on my... shoulder. So I reach my hand in and grab the washcloth, wetting it and then running it under my arms. I wash myself like this and then use my fingers to comb my hair, trying to work out the dried blood. When I’m finished, I turn off the water. It’s not great, but it’s better.
I finish up with brushing my teeth and then gather the top of my hair into a barrette to cover the stitches. Lip gloss. Earrings. I look almost normal as I slide my arms into my fleece robe, because I certainly can’t walk out in a towel. Not when part of me is missing.
Quietly, I creak open the bathroom door and peer out. Down the hall I can see Sarah’s school uniform, the skirt too short, as she leans against the kitchen counter, bitching at Alex. They’re arguing about whether or not her bag is a knockoff. It’s definitely not. Alex just likes to irritate her.
I tiptoe out and then bolt for my room, closing the door and locking it so I can get dressed. I tear through my closet, needing something thick enough to hide the light. I find a gray wool sweater and slip it over my head. Then I grab some jeans and pull them on before stuffing my feet into a pair of boots. A little overdressed for a semi-warm fall day, but it’ll do.
One more glance in the mirror, and then I make my way to the kitchen. Sarah turns and sees me.
“Jesus, Charlotte. Going hiking on Mount Hood?”
Alex leans over the counter and laughs at Sarah’s joke as I step out of the hallway.
“Oh, shut up,” I say, and grab a piece of toast from Alex’s plate.
“You’re cranky,” he says. “And after I let you sleep in all day. Not very nice. Besides, why were you sneaking out barefoot this morning?”
“What?” Sarah asks, glaring at me.
I stiffen. So he did notice. Well, nice job, Alex. “I think I was still half-asleep,” I say. “I came back and crashed.”
“So mysterious,” Sarah mutters, and straightens up. “By the way, Harlin called me while you were in the shower. Wants to come meet us. But I told him we’d be at my house and he could pick you up later.”
“Harlin?” I suddenly realize that I miss him. Like, ache-in-my-chest miss him.
“Uh, yeah. Harlin. You know, that guy you hook up with all the time? The misunderstood bad-boy type?” She laughs.
Alex joins in the pretend explanation. “He’s hot, sort of moody. Always wears a motorcycle jacket. Any of this ringing a bell?”
I smile. “Sounds vaguely familiar.” I toss the half-eaten toast down on Alex’s plate as he scoffs. “Now, if you two comedians are done?”
“Great, let’s go.” Sarah takes me by the arm as I wave good-bye to Alex. When we’re out in the hallway, Sarah turns to me. “I need your help,” she says.
“With?”
“I want you to go through my closet with me. I’m looking for the perfect screw-you dress to wear to this weekend’s charity ball.”
“Charity ball? Glad you’re going for the right reasons.”
She flashes a devilish smile. “What better reason than revenge?”
