I shake my head. No, Mercy. I never really got to know Georgia, not the way I should have. And I guarantee she doesn’t know me.
“Huh. Okay then, let me show you to your room so that you can get settled,” Mercy says and puts her hand on my shoulder. I can’t even speak as I follow behind her down the hall. When we stop in front of my doorway she turns to me. “You’ve already put your stuff in here,” she says, surprised. “Well, I’m glad. This is your home now, Charlotte.”
I’m surprised to see that my belongings are still here and I wonder what happens when I’m gone. I take another look around and notice one thing missing. All of my photos.
The pictures of Sarah and me that were taped to the vanity mirror are gone, although a faint outline of them still remains. The prom picture on my side table of Harlin and me is now just an empty frame. I miss him, miss everyone so much, but Mercy walks over and pulls me tight to her.
“Oh, honey,” she whispers in her thick accent. “You must have been through something.”
I’m pressed against her white uniform and the smell of detergent that I know so well, but she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know me at all. I cling to her, my last touch of my mother. When I pull back I look at her.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for everything, Ma.”
She smiles. “You’re sweet. And honey, I haven’t even started taking care of you yet.”
I nod, and then motion to the bed. “I think I’m going to lie down for a little bit, if that’s okay?”
“’Course,” she whispers supportively. “Your first night in a new place is always the scariest.”
If only she could remember that this isn’t my first night with her. Or my second. I’ve been with her since I was six. She is my only mother. I run to my bed and lie down and the minute I hear Mercy close the bedroom door, I sob. Cry harder than I ever have in my life. Because I just became an orphan. Again.
Chapter 24
I t’s dark when a stabbing sensation tears through me. I groan and fold over in bed, clutching and shaking. Oh God. It hurts!
I try to focus through the pain, but it’s hard. It creeps through my gut and settles in my chest. It’s as if someone is sitting on me, restricting my breathing. It’s like my body is imploding on itself. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
Get up, I tell myself. Slowly I drag my legs over the side of my bed, touching at the floor. “I can do this,” I murmur. I’m being pulled somewhere, and wherever it is, I’ll go gladly. This is unlike any pain the Need has ever given me. My school shoes are in front of my closet and I slip my feet into them, then absently grab the green jacket Sarah bought for me.
Then the pain suddenly disappears. I’m left with a tingling, an almost pleasant feeling. What’s going on? I look around the room, unsure of what to do, when I see my phone vibrating on my side table. Cautiously, I move over and glance down. I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” I ask, looking at the clock. It’s three thirty-three.
“Hi, Charlotte,” the female voice says. It’s soft, the smallest hint of a Russian accent. “Feels better, right?” When I don’t answer, she laughs.
“I’ll see you at the bridge in twenty minutes,” she continues. “I’ll be waiting. See you soon, darling.”
She hangs up and the minute she does, the pain comes back with a force, knocking me off my feet, ravaging my body. I clutch the sheets of my bed, falling to my knees. I lift the bottom of my shirt to look at my stomach and the sight terrifies me. In the gold there is a small half-moon slit, about the size of a fingernail. It seems to go all the way inside me and from it emanates a glowing white light.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m not ready.” And then just like that, the pain eases enough for me to stand. I wrap my jacket tightly around myself and grab my phone. This is the end, and Onika is waiting for me. I’ll have to face her, even if I’m terrified.
The Rose City Bridge is only fifteen minutes away from my apartment building, and with the streets empty, it doesn’t take long for the bus to get there.
I’m sure that my makeup has rubbed off, because people are staring at me. They’re turned around in their seats, watching me in frozen amazement. They don’t speak at all. When we reach my stop and I walk past them, a couple murmur prayers.
As the bus pulls away, I look at the windows and see that everyone has gone back to what they were doing before. As if they’ve forgotten me already.
There is a thumping in my head, beating in time with my heart as I walk down the middle of the deserted street toward the bridge. The streetlights are a dim, glowing orange in the dark, starless night. Heavy clouds have gathered above to block out the moon.
I walk, my shoes tapping the pavement with a calming rhythm. There’s a loneliness in my chest and I know who it’s for. I slip my phone out of my pocket and look at it. No missed calls.
I almost left Mercy a note, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. It would fade. Seems that only a Seer can write about the Forgotten. Maybe Monroe will find a way to tell her about me. I try him at the clinic, but Rhonda won’t put me through, even when I tell her it’s an emergency. She takes a message. It could be hours before he gets it.
I’m ready to make my peace with the end. I have nothing left and I’m just happy to be almost done with this life. With no one remembering me, I feel like a ghost anyway.
There’s only one regret. Not seeing Harlin one last time. If anything will follow me into the light, it’s that.
I lower the phone to my side as I get to the middle of the bridge and look around. No one’s here. I walk to the iron railing and peer over, the water below looking miles away. It’s windy up here, and the thunder booms overhead, startling me. I look at my phone again.
I love you, I type to Harlin, and hit Send. Even if he doesn’t know who I am, at least I said what I needed to. At least I can give him that. I wait, but nothing comes back. He probably thinks it’s a prank, if he got it at all.
“Loverboy not answering?”
I jump and look up to see Onika standing beside me, leaning her back against the railing. She’s got on her makeup, her long blond hair flowing over one shoulder. Her black jacket is tied at the waist; her leather-gloved fingers tap on the steel.
“I told you I’m not going with you,” I say. “I’m ready for the light.” And I mean it. There’s nothing here for me anymore.