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"Bye guys," I said, not looking in Simon's direction. It would kill me to see his lack of interest at my departure. "Again, great show. See you later."
After we exchanged goodbyes, Sarah and I collected our coats from coat check and walked home, where we indulged in ice cream and watched reruns of terrible sitcoms. It was exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Her chest heaved in pain as she struggled to draw in breaths of air as she ran as fast as she could down the path. The crunching of footsteps on the gravel as she was pursued relentlessly was like a primal drumbeat, filling my ears along with the gasps of her breath.
Run, I screamed inside my head. Run!!
She was going to make it. She had to make it. I willed her to make it, trying to give her my breaths through sheer power of will.
She glanced behind her, her face twisted in horror as if she was looking at the face of pure evil. I wanted to scream at her to not waste any precious time or energy looking behind her, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears.
She ran fast, but her pursuer was still in chase, their strides almost becoming synchronized. I couldn't see who was hunting her, but I could hear their ragged breaths and footsteps alongside hers.
Just as I thought there might be a chance, she tripped over a branch on the path, falling face forward with her arms outstretched to break her fall. She turned around, propelling herself with her hands and legs like she was a crab, scrambling back as her pursuer approached her.
I first saw the hands raise in the air, then I saw the flat piece of plywood swing down, cracking heavily on her head. She screamed as rivulets of blood started pouring down her face where she had been hit.
"Please!" she cried, holding her hands above her head, attempting to shield herself. "Please! I don't understand! I don't understand what's happening!! Who are you?? How-"
Her plea was cut off as the piece of plywood lifted and ruthlessly came down again, slamming against her head.
She groaned and crumpled so she lay completely prone, semi-conscious. Her face was covered with blood, her once blonde hair now a crimson red. A pool of blood was rapidly growing by her head. I wailed as I saw the piece of plywood lift and come crashing down on her again and again, past the point of where the life had left her body. As if the attacker was enraged, wanting to ensure that any chance of life was eradicated.
The attacker dropped the piece of plywood next to her body and then there was nothing but silence.
I struggled to surface, praying to break free from this grisly vision. "Please," I begged, not sure who I was pleading to. "Please."
I woke up with a gasp, tears streaming down my face. I rolled to my side and started sobbing, trying to erase the brutal images from my mind. This was one of the worst. All my visions were violent, but the worst ones showed a brutal killing. This had been one of the more detailed ones. I could see the pain and fear glazing over her grey eyes. I was desperate to help but in my visions I felt as if I was trapped in an invisible box, immobilized, where no one could hear my screams and warnings, but I was privy to every grunt and whimper of pain. It was like watching a horrific movie that I didn't know how to turn off.
I struggled to catch my breath, my pillow beneath me soaked with my tears. The luminescent glow of my alarm clock showed that it was three-thirty in the morning. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths, holding them for ten counts and then exhaling slowly. Regulating my breath helped to slow down my racing heart.
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When the feeling of suffocation had passed, I sat up, swinging my legs onto the cold wooden floor, and walked to the bathroom. I flicked on the light and looked at myself, wincing as my puffy red eyes stared back at me. I felt a helpless fury rise in me. Why? Why were they coming back? It seemed cruel after the reprieve of last year. It had given me the false hope that I could live a normal life.
I ran cold water from the tap and washed my face. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep now. I knew the moment I closed my eyes I would see her anguished face.
I padded softly to the living room, not wanting to wake Sarah, and turned on the TV with the sound barely audible. I channel surfed until I found an infomercial for a pasta maker. I had spent many restless nights watching infomercials, unable to go back to sleep after a vision. It had gotten to the point where there were no infomercials that I hadn't seen so I would watch the same ones over and over again. There was something comforting about the canned responses, the staged oohs and aahs from the crowd as they showed the latest invention on how to hard boil an egg, sharpen knives, or make a smoothie in under twenty seconds. There were no surprises in infomercials. All the reactions were planned and everyone's world was made happy by the solutions the inventions provided. To the people in the infomercials, life was complete now that they could store twenty coats under their bed in a vacuum sealed container.
I stared at the demonstrator cranking out pasta from the machine's extruder, thinking about the aftermath of the vision. Now I would be on edge, knowing that I would see the girl in my vision in real life. It could be tomorrow, it could be a month from now. But it was inevitable. I wondered if she was a student at Maxwell. She had looked about my age.
I shook my head, trying not to obsess about where I would meet her. I could drive myself crazy trying to guess how and when it would happen. The frequency of my visions before I met the actual person varied drastically. I could just have one vision before I met them, like Simon, or I could see the vision multiple times before I met them.
My brain scattered as I thought of Simon. Although I felt a modicum of relief that I hadn't seen his vision tonight, it was a small comfort after the brutality I had just witnessed. I just had to keep telling myself that it didn't matter when or where I would see the girl. Meeting her would give me a nasty jolt, but I wasn't foreseeing her death. My mind was just warped somehow. Maybe I was somewhat psychic, my mind being able to show me people in my future. Except some wires had been crossed, and my mind showed them in the context of death and violence.
I watched the demonstrator enthusiastically showing all the pasta shapes that the machine could make. Ziti, linguine, angel hair, even lasagna noodles. Maybe there was something to this pasta maker. That thought made me wonder if I was going crazy.
I spent the next few hours watching infomercial after infomercial until it lightened outside, the sun slowly rising and blanketing the room in a hazy glow. It was an eerie light, on the threshold of light and darkness, tipping from one extreme to the other. I wondered if my mind was on the threshold, fearing that it was tipping towards darkness.
**********
I returned to my room just after dawn broke, attempting to get some reading done for my marketing class. The familiar fatigue of getting no sleep after a vision was settling in, but I had a lot of practice functioning on a few hours of sleep.
By the time I left my room, it was eleven in the morning. Sarah was in the living room, watching some makeover show and eating cereal. She turned when she heard me approaching.
"I was starting to worry that you were sick since you never sleep so-" she broke off when she got a look at my face.
