A Need So Beautiful

“What? How did you . . . who are you?” Her lips begin to tremble and I can see the familiar glazed look in her eyes. The same look they all get when the knowledge hits them.
I smile softly, the tension in my body fading, releasing me. She’ll go, right now; she’ll leave and go to the doctor. There’s something wrong with her baby. And because I was here, she’ll be okay. It makes me feel good.
“I’m sorry,” I say, bowing my head. “I didn’t mean to bother you.” My body has returned to normal and I know I can walk away. There is no tug to be in this church anymore. I’m free

cause she once saw me help a chaperone on a ninth-grade field trip find a lost hiker. She even thinks my visions trigger the asthma attacks.
I’ve considered that maybe I am psychic. But from everything I’ve read about them, they seem like scam artists. And sure, I see visions of people’s future. But it’s not just that. I can see their past. Their feelings. Their . . . souls

I used to be able to pull off the Needs with minimum effort, but now they’re harder to hide. Sarah’s convinced herself that I’m partly clairvoyant, like a human Magic 8 Ball

It’s not true. I’ve never taken any asthma medication, but I told him that to keep the cover believable. I don’t want him to know about the Need. I don’t want anyone to know. I’m still hoping it’ll just go away on its own. But every day—with each Need—it looks more and more unlikely. I don’t know what to do anymore

shaking vibrations that seem to run through my veins. They fill me up, take me over. Oh God. Not now.
“You okay?” Sarah’s voice is far away, and when I turn to her, her eyes widen. “Again?”
Before I can answer, Harlin is next to me, pulling open my backpack. “Do you have your inhaler?”
I don’t have asthma. It’s just easier to pretend that I do. How else can I explain these episodes? No one would ever believe the truth.
Harlin shakes my inhaler and holds it to my lips. My eyes meet his, and he watches as I make a good show of taking the medicine even though the inhaler’s empty.
The bells stop ringing and the humming inside me eases up, giving me time to catch my breath. My body is pulling me toward the cathedral doors, every inch of my skin aching to be inside. I don’t know why. I never do. Not until I’m there. But right now I have to get inside that church.
Harlin puts the inhaler back into my bag, his jaw tight with concern

There are prickles of heat searing my skin. The throbbing will build slowly until I do what I’m supposed to. Resisting isn’t an option.
“You scared me.” Harlin looks away like he’s over it, but I can tell he’s still anxious. We’ve been through this before, but we both know that I’m getting worse. It’s happening more often.
The Need.
I’ve been having these episodes since I was seven years old. An intense compulsion to go somewhere, see someone, do something. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world, but I can’t stop myself—like I have no choice. It used to happen only once a year, me telling a kid in my class not to steal, or stopping an old lady from taking the wrong medication. But then it became twice a year. Three times. Each Need becoming more intense. And lately, the compulsions have been coming on once a week. Sometimes once a day. But I’ve told no one. I’m not sure how