Her skull was pounding. A violent pulse, throbbing, quaking at the beat of a metronome.

Tick… tock… tick… tock…

Everything was warping. The walls bled, the colors drained; reality was fading. The universe was losing meaning.

Her throat was raw and her stomach was empty. Her mind was blank. All that was left was hunger.

She hadn't eaten in days. 'Food' held no satisfaction anymore; it made her sick. The thing inside crawled with its presence, writhing within. It twisted and roared and clawed at her flesh from beneath, and she couldn't take it. She felt sinister and inhuman enough as it was, hungry all the time, ravenous; she couldn't take actually feeling it inside. But she refused to give it what it wanted. She'd tried everything, anything else, but, just as stubborn, it refused to take what she was offering. Substitutions were unacceptable. So, she stopped eating—period. No food, no people; nothing.

That made it angry. For a while, the rage was even worse than the sickness, roiling, searing, trying to burn her out, but, after a certain point, the hunger made it weak. Even though it killed her to think that she was coming to terms with it, accepting it, she was learning. If she could hold off just long enough, everything stopped. The haze of static dissonance, the constant war over her body, dissipated and the beast receded, as if weary, wounded, and the hunger ceased. Extreme starvation brought tentative moments of bliss, when the monster was weak and lifeless, unable to fight any longer. There were moments of tumultuous chaos when a pang of hunger would overcome her, when it had remained still and silent just long enough to reserve the strength for an uprising, roaring in her with such intensity that she felt faint—but she could deal with pangs.

It was the pangs that evolved into wrenching, aching spasms that she couldn't handle. The wracking contractions, convulsions of deprivation, felt like symptoms of a withdrawal. Her entire body hurt. The walls bled, the colors drained; the whole world screamed. Nothing else existed. But she couldn't let go. She held on to the last traces of her humanity with all she had. She couldn't kill anyone else… even if it hurt.

Even if Collin would hate her for the rest of his life, at least he would live… She wouldn't leave her room. He would go to the address she'd given him, and he would stay for half an hour, optimistic, waiting, and then he would realize that she wasn't going to show up, and he would be angry and he would curse her name, and she would still stay, breathing, restraining, starving, in her room, just to save him; to save her soul—if she still had one. She would fast through the 'episode', as if it was a disease. It would pass. If she only held out long enough, if she waited it out, it would pass…

Besides, fasting was religious; maybe God would help her…? Then again, maybe He wouldn't. Maybe, by then, He had turned away and forgotten all about poor little Jennifer Check. And why shouldn't He, after all she'd done? But if even He wouldn't help… who would?

Needy would. Jennifer knew that without a doubt. Needy would help keep her human… Needy would hold her hand and stroke her hair and rub her back like she did whenever she got a cold or a flu. She would lay in bed with her and make jokes about the cartoons on TV that she was too tired to open her eyes for, and Jennifer would fall asleep to the melody of her voice and the subtle music of her laughter. She would listen to her heartbeat and wonder if her own was beating to match it, if they beat together… She would whisper her name, and those blue eyes would turn to her with a question she could never find the courage to answer out loud.

Needy… If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell her, honey and vanilla and flowers on the breath of a winter night…

The dripping universe changed tides, washing over her in a wave of heat, a surge of warmth. The scent pooled in her mouth, on her tongue, liquid, as if she could drink it in. Pins and needles crept up her spine. A chill slipped through the open window and rose on her flesh. With her eyes closed, she could smell Needy in the wind, and it sunk into her skin like a fever, like molten wax. The pulse of her hunger intensified, beating harder and harder until her whole body shook with it. Her very nerves trembled with anticipation. She swallowed convulsively. Needy would taste so good…

Panic settled in. Thinking about Needy at random was bad enough; the mere memory of her scent, the thought of her skin, made her hungry. Thinking about Needy when she was already hungry was worse. Her body fought to leave the bed, raging inside, wrestling for control. It wanted Needy. She wanted Needy… badly. She wanted to stop imagining and actually taste her. It had been so long since she had…

"Your eyes kinda look like the sky, you know…"

Needy dropped her gaze, surprised. From her place below, reclining, with her head in Needy's lap, Jennifer smiled. She loved the way her cheeks turned just the slightest shade of pink, offsetting the blue of her eyes and the golden hue of her hair in just the perfect way. To Jennifer, there was no sight more captivating. Needy was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, the best person she had ever known.

Though she had been caught off guard, the blonde above composed herself. She nudged Jennifer's shoulder half-heartedly. "Cut it out, Jen."

Jennifer caught her hand. "No, I'm serious." She laced their fingers together and let their hands fall to rest on her chest, just below the BFF pendant she wore for her, just above her heart. "From down here, I just noticed…" In truth, she'd noticed ten minutes ago, when she first started staring up at her, but she'd only gotten the nerve to say it just then. Hoping for courage, she took a breath and smiled. "They're beautiful."

The pink of Needy's cheeks darkened. She shook her head. "You have blue eyes too, Jen." She shrugged. "Yours are way prettier."

Jennifer pushed herself from the ground, letting the grass and the leaves fall away carelessly. She turned to face Needy, pulling one leg up to lean against her. She reclaimed her hand and studied the pink polish she'd spent last Tuesday afternoon painting onto the blonde's nails. "Mine are too dark. Pretty for a second, but if you look too long, you realize there's nothing there… You have the kind of eyes that I could stare into for hours and hours and never get bored…" Raising her eyes, she fought to keep her cool. "If I were a boy, I'd make you my girlfriend…"

She didn't know what possessed her to say it. She'd felt that way for a long time by then, but she'd never thought of telling her. People could never know those kinds of things… The façade of Jennifer Check wouldn't allow it. High school had solidified the rules she'd been writing, and even though they were only freshmen, she couldn't break them now. Jennifer Check dated quarterbacks and basketball players and lead singers in indie bands. She fell for meatheads with muscles or musical talent. Those were the rules—and if she broke the rules, she broke herself.

But that didn't stop her from feeling the way she did for Needy. No amount of rationalization or argument could stop it or change it. She had been in love with Needy since the first grade, and the older they got, the feelings only got harder to hide, harder to fight, harder to ignore…

The color drained from Needy's face. She licked her lips like she did when she was nervous, and it appeared as though she was going to say something, but she shook her head abruptly. When she spoke, there was a strange sadness in her tone, as if Jennifer's words had hurt her. "You could have anybody, Jen. You don't want me." She avoided the brunette's eyes, gazing at their intertwined fingers, playing with them idly.

Though she knew there was a big chance she'd regret it, in some cosmic way, as if karma would haunt her for the rest of her life and throw it in her face every chance it got, Jennifer couldn't stand to see Needy sad; she had to tell her the truth. She might never get another chance to. She grasped Needy's hand tighter, pulling it closer toward her so that she would look up. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"But I do," she said, willing Needy to believe her. She held her eyes intently. "You're my one and only, Needs. My biff." She took a deep breath and restrained herself from squeezing the other girl's hand. A moment that felt more like an eternity passed before she could make herself continue. "I'll be your boyfriend if you'll be my girlfriend…"

They both knew it wasn't real, because Jennifer could never be Needy's boyfriend, but neither of them cared.

Needy nodded, and Jennifer leaned forward…

She'd tasted like strawberry ice cream and cherry soda. Her lips had been warm and soft and tentative, everything she loved about her; and she'd smelled a little more like flowers than usual, like she always did in the Fall. When she ran her fingers through her hair, it slipped between them like silk; her skin was warm beneath her sweater, like cotton fresh out of the dryer. It was safe; it was real. For a moment, the world didn't exist. 'Jennifer Check' and 'Anita Lesnicky' didn't exist. It was just them, just Jen and Needy, warm, soft, and tentative, and it was perfect.

Jennifer gripped the sheets beneath her tightly. Her desire for Needy was heightening her hunger. She needed to stop. She was so deep into her thoughts that her mind was playing tricks on her—or maybe it was her body, using her senses against her. Needy's scent seemed to be getting stronger, thicker and thicker in the air, until there was no distinction between the two. She breathed it in desperately, as if it were her own personal brand of oxygen. It burned down her throat, dense and inescapable, liquid fire, molten lava that pooled low in her stomach and seeped into every tissue of her body. The scent seemed to caress her, teasing, rousing, inciting the beast inside until, furious that it was being restrained, it began to thrash for control. Her body shook with internal warfare. It hadn't been so hard to fight since the very first time…

A knock sounded on her door. The urge to lurch from the bed, tear the door off its hinges, and maul whoever was on the other side washed over her, but she remained still. She closed her eyes and ignored the knock. If she didn't answer, her mother would convince herself that she was sleeping and leave her alone. If she didn't give in, the hunger would pass… Nothing lasted forever.

If she could only get Needy's scent off her mind, out of her mouth, out of her skin…

Her ears detected the first inner mechanisms of the door handle turning. She willed whoever it was to go away.

If she could only taste her, just one more time; just one more perfect moment, and she'd be okay…

The door opened slowly, inch by painstaking inch. She could hear the wood just grazing the carpet.

Whoever it was—

"Jen?"

Atomic collision occurred. Fire met ice. Time stopped, the universe itself seemed to combust, and everything changed. She knew that voice anywhere. It echoed in her dreams, circulated in her veins, ran marathons through her mind, beat in her heart…

She didn't even have to see her.

Needy.

Uh-oh. Where's this going? Tension, tension.

I'm starting to feel really bad for Jennifer. She really is trying.

My apologies for the gap in posting, by the way. Since this chapter is a bit longer than the others and completely original, I'd hoped that you might forgive me. You should all review and tell me you're not mad. Heck, review even if you are mad. Let me know!

Now, who wants to see Jennifer and Needy in very, very close proximity? ;]