A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(10)
Author: Suzanne Young

I’m not looking forward to being poked and prodded, especially since I have a fear of needles, and of doctors in general. Side effect of watching my mother slowly die in a hospital, I guess.

I wake up my sister and wait for her to get dressed. I’m only three sips into my glass of juice when I hear Lucy’s ballet flats tapping on the tile floor of the kitchen.

“Ready?” she asks, her hair spiked up in a stylish short Mohawk.

“That was fast,” I say, dumping the rest of my glass down the sink. “You’re leaving the house without makeup on?” I honestly can’t remember the last time that happened.

“Figured I’d show off my natural beauty instead.”

“Modesty is such an attractive quality,” I say, and snatch my purse from the counter. It may be an overcast morning, but it’s still close to eighty degrees out, and she’s wearing a dark gray hoodie.

“You cold?” I ask.

“It’s that damn ice water in my veins. Keeps me cool in the summer.” She grins and then goes to the front door, motioning for me to walk out first.

The doctor’s office is just on the outskirts of Thistle in a small adobe-style building. Lucy stays in the waiting room, flipping through an old copy of Family Circle when I head to the back. The doctor listens as I tell her about the hallucination, the memory. I’m not entirely sure she believes me, though. Instead she orders blood work and then checks over my arm, saying that the scratches don’t look infected and should heal up quickly.

After a visit to the office lab, the doctor tells me my vitamin D is significantly low. The symptoms of that include weakness, fatigue, and tingling. That does cover a lot of what is wrong with me, but I think it’s too simple of an explanation. Even so, the doctor says we should rule it out before ordering a brain MRI, which just sounds frightening. I leave with a large-dose prescription in hand, and make Lucy stop by the pharmacy to fill it.

As we’re waiting in the chairs at Walgreens for them to call my number, my sister checks her phone. “This is taking way too long,” she says, sounding impatient. I look sideways at her, unamused.

“I had to get blood drawn. I think I’m the one who should be whining.”

Lucy sighs. “Sorry. I just have to be somewhere.”

“Where? It’s nine a.m.?”

“I’m meeting friends for coffee,” she says. “And I’m—” My sister pauses, closing her eyes as if she’s struck with pain. I reach out to touch her arm and she jumps. “Sorry,” she says. “I should probably see the doctor about my cramping. It’s been intense lately.”

“I can see that. Have you told Dad? He’s worried about you.”

She smiles softly. “I know he is. But like you, Elise, I’m not down for being a science experiment for doctors. You saw what they did to Mom. I don’t want anyone testing their theories on me.”

I furrow my brow. “About cramping?”

She looks over at me. “About anything.” Lucy stands up, slightly bent as if compensating for her stomach pain. “I’m going to grab some products. You’ll wait here?” she asks.

I nod, concern rushing through me. I watch her leave to head down the aisle, and just then the pharmacist calls my name. As I stand at the register, the guy clicking numbers into his computer, I start to feel it. A vibration in my fingers, slowly crawling up my arms. I close my eyes, hot sensations racing over my skin.

“You’ll want to take these with food,” the pharmacist explains. But I’m starting to shake, unable to respond. Instead, I look behind him and catch my reflection in the mirrored cabinet.

I’m nearly struck down with fear.

The person in my image is someone else. She’s wearing a Catholic school uniform, long blond hair behind her ears. My mouth parts with a gasp, but as I watch, the reflection starts to change. Her skin starts turning gold.

I cry out and stumble backward, bumping into the person in line behind me. The woman reaches to steady me, but I fall past her, nearly pulling her down with me. The back of my head hits the linoleum, and I roll onto my side. There are a few startled screams and it takes a minute for the pain to ease off enough for me to sit up. The pharmacist runs from around the counter to kneel in front of me, asking if I’m okay. I tell him that I am. But I’m not.

When he helps me to my feet, amid the stares of concerned customers, I crane my neck to peer around him—to find the girl in the mirror again. But it’s just me, standing in a Walgreens, pale as the dead. The pharmacist asks if I’d like some water, but I can’t answer. Instead I stare at my reflection, my dark hair, my blue eyes—and suddenly I think . . . I look wrong.

* * *

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy says, holding my arm as she leads us to the parking lot. “I had to buy tampons. I didn’t think you were going to have a seizure in the middle of the store.”

“I didn’t have a seizure,” I tell her, still rubbing at the back of my head. After I’d gotten up, the staff made me drink a glass of water, asking repeatedly if I wanted an ambulance. But I was fine, other than a headache. And the fact that I’m suffering from hallucinations.

Lucy starts the car, her sleeves pulled down over her hands, her thumb poking out where she cut a hole in the cuff. She glances sideways at me, her lips pressed tightly together. “You sure you’re okay?” She sounds concerned.

I lower my head. “Yeah. I saw something and it freaked me out.”

My sister cranks up the air-conditioning and checks over her shoulder before pulling out into the street. “What was it?”

“A reflection. Only it wasn’t mine. I looked like someone else.”

Lucy’s back straightens. “Seriously? Who?”

“I don’t know. I can’t really remember her face. But strange things keep happening,” I say. “First the parking lot with that old woman, then . . . other things. There’s no way this is a result of a vitamin deficiency.” I notice Lucy’s knuckles turning white as she grips the steering wheel.

“That sounds like a plausible enough explanation,” she says.

My heart beats quickly in my chest as I hear the catch in my sister’s voice. “Do you see things too?” I ask.

“What? No.” She looks at me, a surprised expression on her face. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Elise, I’m very well-adjusted.”

We both smile, but when she turns to the road, she gasps and slams on the brakes. I fly forward before my seat belt catches me, yanking me back. “Ouch!” I say, rubbing at where the belt has probably bruised my neck.