By Suzanne Young
All of us are looking to be remembered. Charlotte's future is to be forgotten. Charlotte's ally thinks Charlotte could be psychic. Her boyfriend thinks she's dishonest on him. yet Charlotte understands what is quite improper: She is without doubt one of the Forgotten, a type of angel on the earth who feels the Need—a robust, uncontrollable draw to assist an individual, often a stranger. yet Charlotte by no means sought after this accountability. What she desires is to assist her ally, whose lifestyles is spiraling uncontrolled. She desires to lie in her boyfriend's hands endlessly. yet because the desire grows superior, it starts off to take a deadly toll on Charlotte. And who she used to be, is, and should become—her mark in this earth, her very existence—is in jeopardy of disappearing thoroughly. Charlotte can be compelled to decide on: should still she include her destiny as a Forgotten, a destiny that provides to tear her from the lives of these she loves perpetually? Or is she keen to struggle opposed to her destiny—no topic how darkish the results?
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Extra info for A Need So Beautiful
I have to go,” she says, sounding disappointed. ” And it is, because if Mercy were around more I’d have fewer chances to sneak out and see Harlin. ” “We’re going to church on Sunday,” she says like it’s a warning. ” As a family we consider ourselves part-time Catholics. We reserve church for holidays, baptisms, and funerals. It’s not that we aren’t religious; we just prefer to say our prayers before bed instead of in a cathedral full of people. But every so often one of the nuns at St. Vincent’s reminds Mercy that a scholarship is a “gift from God” and that we should give back by attending Mass.
I can’t risk walking past the bathroom and having him stop me. I put one leg at a time over the sill and step out onto the steel grid of the fire escape. I snake my body through the window until I’m out in the dark night, standing above an alleyway. I quickly move down the stairs, buttoning my shirt as I go. I pause once to feel the odd patch of skin on my shoulder, but I’ll have to look it over later. When I’m done. My breathing improves now that I’m moving. My bones begin to warm a little. Just enough to tell me that I’m going the right way.
I almost wince at my own words, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m halfway down the aisle, moving toward Sarah, who looks horrified, when I hear the padding of feet behind me. “Excuse me,” Maureen says, rushing past, not turning to me. She is out the door and into the sunlight by the time I reach Sarah. When I do, she shakes her head. ” Sarah repeats, her right eyebrow raised. ” I laugh and loop my arm through hers, my tense muscles all relaxed, leaving me almost euphoric. I flinch at a sudden burn on my shoulder, but it fades almost instantly.