Underweight
Please describe your physical, mental, and emotional state as pertains to this clinical trial.
Anxious. Conflicted. Liable to kill. I have been for weeks, but especially after what Saito said last night. The choice is mine. But how could I ever give up Obexity? My life before the treatment was barely worth living. I can’t go back to that. Monstera owns me now.
That was yesterday, before I found what I found and everything started to make sense.
My weight loss, the trial, maybe even me being selected for it—he orchestrated all of it. The one person I vowed would never control me, or my eating, ever again.
I may still be anxious—definitely murderous—but no part of me is uncertain about what I need to do.
Hank, if you’re reading this: I’m coming for you.
If you’re reading this: I’M GOING TO FUCKING EAT YOU ALIVE.
CHAPTER 50
Emmett submitted the health journal on his phone, then called Lizette. Though still furious he had turned their apartment into a cannibalistic murder dungeon, she admitted that Bio-Clean had left the place unrecognizable and agreed to come get him. He dropped a pin and braced for her reaction when she arrived half an hour later. According to Hank’s bathroom scale, the overdose of EmaC-8 had devoured an unfathomable twenty-four pounds of him. He felt nauseous, weak, sensitive to sun. His clothes hung off him like elephant skin.
“What thefuck?” she shouted as he opened the passenger door and tossed his suitcase into the backseat.
“Glad you like the new look.”
“I’m saying it right now: I amnotsewing you another wardrobe. GORDITA doesn’t do extra small.”
He reached for the seat belt. “Have you considered starting a line of clothes for thin people? I hear you can make a killing.”
He searched the center console for a pair of sunglasses as they drove off. “I need you to take me to the museum.”
“Didn’t they fire you?”
Lizette wouldn’t understand: He wasn’t going there to work. He was going to look atPortrait of a Man-eater, a print of which hung in the house he’d just left. He had a sneaking suspicion that the original held a clue to Hank’s involvement in Obexity.
Emmett’s phone rang. He saw his mom’s name with a feeling of relief. As little as he wanted to admit it, she was exactly what he needed right now.
“Hi, Mom,” he answered.
“Jesus, honey, where the fuck have you been? I’ve been—”
“I know, I know. I got caught up.”
Lizette acknowledged the gross understatement with a purse-lipped look.
“The drug, honey,” Joanna cooed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Oh, honey… Where are you now?”
“In the car with Lizette.”
