Whispers in the Ashes

Chapter 5

                                                                                  * * * Miranda* * *

"You're not making sense MJ."

"Isn't that the story of my life?" I huffed. Nothing about my life made any real sense.

I had always struggled with dreams. Of course, when you are small, no one really listens to you. They mark them off as consequences of eating too much sugar or watching scary movies. No one wants to confront the idea that your four year could actually be predicting deaths, divorces, and other major events.

When I was five, my mother found me sleeping in a pallet in the closet. When I explained it was to stay safe from the wind that came every night she chalked it up to a remake of the Wizard of Oz that was on television. I was just dreaming about what I saw.

When a tornado hit our neighborhood three months later and threw a wooden fence post through my window everyone called it a miracle that I had been asleep in the closet.

When I was six, I managed to predict the death of Mr. Weatherford, the city's mayor. Not an overtly strange occurrence except Mr.Weatherford had been in his thirties, the picture of health. And of course I had never met the man. After he appeared on the local news one night, I mentioned to my father that he looked better without his mustache and that he should be much more careful on his hikes.

Three days later, he was found dead by another hiker from an apparent snake bite. His wife had discussed how her last conversation with him was that morning as he was shaving and getting ready to go out.

After that, my parents started fighting. I went and stayed with Grandma for a bit while they worked on things. 

Oddly, the dreams took a hiatus while I lived there.

After a year, my parents decided to make the split permanent and "share" custody. In reality that just meant that I was juggled between whichever parent felt like dealing with me. I never got to visit Grandma's again. The dreams visited me from time to time but I learned to ignore them and keep them to myself. Which is what I needed to do now.

Shaking myself from the memories, I looked over to Andrew. Fuck. He looked like one of those majestic princes in children's books. Dark hair, olive skin and a perfect jaw line that was currently tense with concern. Or maybe annoyance, I couldn't always tell. Seriously, out of everyone who could witness my crazy, why did it have to be him?

"Wait. How are you here right now?" I asked him. My adrenaline was pumping from the fear and the reality that the situation with my dreams was escalating. A reality I desperately didn't want to face.

"I did half the renovations on this place before you moved in and I watered the plants when you and Susanna went to that conference over in Houston," he deadpanned. "Quit avoiding the question."

It was at that moment I realized the predicament I was in. I could confess and attempt to explain that I had suffered from strange precognitive dreams since I was little. That for some reason said dreams had started to get even stranger and that I was now experiencing physical effects from them as if I was there.

Of course the likelihood that Andrew would believe me and not have me committed was very slim.

No. Instead I would have to do my best to hide whatever this was. Especially since I myself had no real idea what this was.

"Oh. Well."

Shit I had nothing.

It was also then I realized how underdressed I was.

Double shit.

"The pills I took must have set off the nightmares. Made them worse. So really this is your fault if you think about it. Did you even graduate medical school? Who gave you a license to even practice? Aren't you supposed to solve the problem not make it 1,000 times worse? I really think...."

I was rambling, I knew this. It was a force of habit that usually worked to my advantage. Sadly it didn't seem to be working tonight.

Andrew leaned over me, trapping his hand over my mouth.

"I swear to god MJ if one more thing comes out of your lips that isn't an explanation of how your hands got this burnt up I promise you, you will regret it."

Those gold eyes held a challenge. And holy hell did I want to defy him to see if I could call his bluff. I could practically feel the tension vibrating between us. My body felt like it was on fire and it suddenly had nothing to do with the dream I was having. Did I mention I hated this man?

I hated liars. In fact, honesty was one of the qualities that I prided myself most on. I told the truth. Always. Abrasively sometimes. But I didn't see any option here that wouldn't lead to me gaining a fancy new self-hug jacket. I was going to have to lie.

Andrew's hand loosened as I nodded my head.

"Earlier maybe when I was cooking. I fried chicken for dinner. I must have burned my hands then. The pills are kind of making everything foggy."

Avoid eye contact Miranda. Find something to do. Don't look guilty.

His face looked suspicious but since it seemed like a logical event he was forced to believe me.

"I think I keep some burn cream in my apartment. I swear I have never met a clumsier person and I work in the medical field. Go splash some water on your face and I'll be back."

I nodded in acceptance, watching him quickly exit the room like he was the one on fire.

What the hell was I going to do now?