Death in Vision

Chapter 2: A Not-so Average Day

I lock up the shop quickly flipping the sign at front to CLOSED, fully expecting complaints in the morning. I find myself lying on my bed in a haze without hassle, focusing on nothing in particular. What's wrong with me? Am I sick or is there something more, to him? Fiddling with a silver ring I had worn as a part of the costume at my shop (which I've clearly forgotten to take off) I stare blankly at the ceiling. Was it him or me? I ultimately find myself asking after a while. The pure silver ring shines in the glowing orange light raining from the window. Slipping it back onto one of my fingers I shift to my side and sigh with the sunset facing my back. Replaying the scene again and again in my head. Why hadn't I seen anything? Are my powers finally going to stop? No. It can't be, do I want it to be? Argh, I'm turning into a mess over just one incident. I need to prove that it was just a fluke. Logic is telling me it's just a fluke so I jump up springing a sudden plan into action.

With no time to think this out I make my way across the hall to knock furiously on my neighbour's door. I am left waiting for a few painful seconds as I find my heart racing faster and faster, pounding hard against my rib cage with anxiety. I grip my fist about to knock again before the door slowly creaks open, revealing Granny Annie's tired expression. Meaning I had just woken her from her routine afternoon nap. Crap, I didn't have an excuse for waking her, quick think of something Amity!
     "Urm... please Granny, let me take out the trash for you," I plead playing the Good Samaritan act, grabbing hold of her shriveled shaking hands. As soon as that contact is made her face turns into that same green monster and I'm taken to her kitchen where she lies close to death on the floor as her little Pomeranian –which I have nicknamed Devil- gnaws at her flesh and bones thinking only of his own stomach. White little pills lie knocked beside her fleeting body. The putrid scent and the gore of it all sends me in a spin before I'm snapped back to reality with weak knees. I don't know how many times I've seen that little footage, but at least now I know the incident before was in fact just a fluke. Then what happened?
     From the scene I've witnessed, and like countless other times I already know I'll never be able to like or accept her little mutt of whom she adores to no end. At least she's got two years or so; the accuracy of the time in my visions become lesser the further into the future it delves. Maybe because whatever divine thing doesn't want me to have too many spoilers or something.
     "Sure dear. I'll just go grab it then," she replies waddling back inside her glowing apartment smelling of old person.
     I can't help but wonder if all nice old ladies call people "dear." Well it beats me. I feel something soft nuzzle at my feet breaking my train of thought, and before I even look at it I click my tongue to see the stupid mutt Devil trying to act cute.
     "Back off dog, I don't intend to be your chew toy as well!" I whisper shooing it away with the tip of my foot.
Granny Annie finally makes it back and I make sure to avoid touching her again, carrying the black plastic bag from a completely different section entirely. Sure, I don't mind taking out her trash but I already know she's not going to die from it, so it's not like it's out of good will. I'm just glad that the thing before with detective what's-his-face really was just a fluke after all. I let out a sigh smiling down the stairs on my way to the dumpsters. I don't know what caused the fluke but I'm just, what, glad? That I've still got this curse... Maybe I just got freaked out earlier because it's all I've ever known. It was probably because I was just feeling sick, maybe. Yeah, that's got to be it, I mean I even got a bloody nose during the affair so I could be feeling under the weather or something. Right... or something.

The day has already heated to a fairly comfortable temperature from the morning, making outside actually kind of peaceful. After hoisting the somewhat heavy bag into the dumpster I find myself dusting my hands clean from a job well-done. Waltzing away I suddenly feel an emptiness on one of my fingers and my stomach sinks. My eyes widen in fear as my mind wants to run from this sudden reality. I've dropped my silver ring! It's like a glass shatters and my heart stops sharply. I don't want to face the truth. My face twists to a cringe as I turn my head around, and every fibre of my being is telling me the worst. There is no way I dropped it when talking to Granny Annie, so, it has to be... Damnit! Damnit! Damnit all!
     "I really was cursed..." I whimper in fear of what's to come. One of the things that I really cannot handle well is smell, and boy did that thing smell awful; like something had died in there toppled with a thousand off cheese burgers and fish all wrapped up in used toilet paper with rotten eggs ditched at it and a dressing of sour milk. Well, you get the point. Inching closer and hesitantly I feel like crying. I need it for work I keep on trying to assure myself. It cost a lot of money, with my fingers twitching I pull over a pile of junk to use as a step ladder and first try to scan the crime scene keeping all body parts away. I'll use it as collateral if anything were to happen to the store. The smell intensifies, oh the appalling, atrocious, monstrous odour that it omits. I never thought anything this evil lived so close to where I lived. Biting my lip I take in a deep breath and dive in one hand at a time. I keep my search area to only about where I had tossed Granny Annie's rubbish, and after about five minutes of hopeless sifting I feel like giving up. All hope almost all gone. There were squishy things, hairy things, sticky things, slimy things; take that how you will but I was trying my best not to faint. I need it for work I need it for work I need it for work I need it for work I need it for work, I kept on thinking to pull me through. I have seen countless deaths in a variety of different gruesome ways over the years, all being very vivid and morbid, but this, this was getting to me.
     "Screw it I'll buy a new one!" I yell slamming my hand one last time into the trash. This time hitting something cold as I see myself in an alleyway watching some girl being attacked. It's in the dead of night with rain washing away most of her screams and the rest of the audio. He pushes her into a window panel sitting beside some junk. This innocent looking and beautiful, brunette teenage girl who is trembling with bruises all over pleads for him to stop. With the rain cascading down, her voice is muffled but even a deaf person could tell what she was saying, "Please, stop. No more. Why me? Somebody help me. Oh god. Stop!" The amount of fear she shared in her eyes reflected in her horrific scream that pierced the sounds of water as the figure in a trench coat picked up a large shard of the now shattered glass, ramming it right into her eyes. Eventually he dug deep enough to silence the last cries as he began to pull out a gun, shooting the already dead girl's body. I am frozen waiting for the vision to be over with when the man paces back and forth deliberating his next move. I can't see any features about him, everything besides his coat is darkened out as if in a dramatic detective movie. This is definitely a first. Usually everything would be in explicit detail, leaving no nook or cranny untouched. And usually, once the victim is dead, the vision ends.
     Thunder strikes the background but the man before me takes no notice, switching up a blade from another pocket. He bends down to the lifeless girl and begins carving her skin. Drawing some weird symbols I think. They don't appear to be satanic, but then again I'm not well-versed in such subjects. And then as if he changed his mind he begins scratching them out, leaving her fresh reddish pink flesh exposed to the growing rain. Puddles soon become red and were forced down drains with only the sound of heavy water hitting hard surfaces being heard.
     "Haven't you done enough?" I yell desperately with the rainwater soaking me and muting my useless voice. It's pointless. I expected him to go on, finish the vision but then he, stops. My brain sharply stings in the last second. He turns his head directly towards my frightened body.

I'm back in the dumpster more than freaked out as I find water trickling down my face. I'm crying? Wasting no time I complete the picture by parting the trash from the decomposing girl. That was the smell, I conclude in my head trying to detach myself once again. Her body being an exact copy of the vision, only last night. At 11:35 to be exact. I don't necessarily see the time in my visions, I just kind of, know I suppose. As I mentioned before, the sooner it is, the more precise it is. I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and as if on perfect cue another guy who I've seen around the building wanders down carrying trays of half empty drinks.
     The sight of me takes him aback as I ask, "you have any water?"

From there I washed my hands and asked him to call the cops, and he did, he screamed, but he did it. I gave him the details (not of the vision) on how I discovered the body and went back up to my apartment to take a shower. Night had fallen when I heard the knock on my door. Brushing my teeth with the steam from my shower still fogging the mirror and obscuring my reflection.
     "I'll be thr in a sheck," I yell in mumbled English with the foamed toothpaste preventing normal sentences.
Finishing up I use the towel to dry up my sodden hair a bit as I open the door. I threw on very casual clothes, being shorts and an old top with 'Totally Unimpressed' written across the chest in big, bold, black block writing. I gradually make my way to the door and open it, closing my eyes and rubbing my neck with the towel as I brace myself for the grill of the police.
     Instead, I hear an all too familiar voice introduce himself, "Good evening, I'm detective Devin O'Conner."
My eyes shoot open as he reaches out his hand for a handshake. His expression says it all: he doesn't recognise me in the slightest. To be honest, I can't say I blame him, I don't even recognise myself sometimes when I'm in that get-up. Here's my chance! I think to myself grabbing up his hand eagerly. I suddenly see a static vision of flashes, snippets of scenes if anything. So many versions... Is that why I didn't see anything earlier? Is this man so close to death every time that- but no that makes no sense right? No one can fight fate. If that's true my whole philosophy is wrong. That we can change our ending. I realise how corny that sounds but if that's the case then I've been living my life... wrong? It can't be. There should be only one chosen path for everyone... why does he have so many?
     "H-hi, I assume you're here about the body?" I ask putting on a lighter voice and shaking off my brazen philosophy breakdown. I try to dodge my name, since if I can remember correctly, I already gave him that at the shop. I don't want to lie to the law, but I don't particularly want to give away my identity just yet. I don't why. Maybe a trust issue. I show him in and perch myself on the couch, waiting for him to follow suit; which he doesn't. Instead he wanders around inspecting my home. Irritating, yes. I have nothing to hide but the examination still makes me a little tense.
     "Oh yeah, I believe you lost this at the crime scene," he exclaims chucking a small object that I barely manage to catch. Opening my clutched hands reveal my silver ring, all cleaned up which means that they had suspected me. Of course that's understandable but still annoying. Don't get me wrong I love the law, but it can also get under my skin at times.
     "Listen I didn't-"
     "Yeah I know, but I'm here to ask if you heard anything last night at around... nine pm."
     "Don't you mean eleven-thir-" I stop myself from finishing the words coming out of my mouth as it has just made me an open target for suspicion. He stares at me questionably for a few seconds more before I can mutter a "never mind." It is followed by further awkward silence and I feel like I'm just about to die before his phone rings and he immediately shoots me a glance as someone on the other side feeds him information. Shit he found out. I uncomfortably shift my gaze away to the wooden coffee table. No, he couldn't have. Maybe it's even a family call and I'm just being paranoid. But he is being very quiet... when he hits a button on his phone I tense in anxiety. A sudden crash against the table forces my eyes to his hand which caused the loud bang.
     "How did you know?" He almost yells.
     "Know what?" I try to feign innocent even though that most likely will blow up my face as I try to act calm.
     "How did you know the time of death? Surely you know what that phone call I just received was about."
Silence.
     I finally find a reply, still with no eye contact as I examine the rugged details of his right hand, slight scars scattered across. "Assuming things is not evidence, or truth, especially in the eye of the law sir."
     "Cut the crap!" I sharply snap my head up to look at his completely different demeanour. His composure is off and tense, he is one octave below a shout.
     "I didn't do anything so you can cut the attitude!" I growl. I don't do well under intimidation and biting my tongue really is a habit I need to adopt.
     "Tell me how you know," he grumbles squinting his ash brown eyes in coercion.
     "Say please," a phrase I would soon learn to forget as he closes his eyes and clenches his fists.
     "Then I'm placing you under arrest as a suspect for the murder of Jane Brown."