Death in Vision

Chapter 3: A bad-luck day

"You've got to be shitting me!" I find myself screaming, tugging tightly to the cold metal bars. Should have kept my mouth shut my internal voice bickers furiously. I close my eyes firmly drawing in a long deep breath as I try to figure out the situation I've put myself in. I swear to God the next time I see that smug little detective's face I'm going to punch out his teeth and use them as skipping stones across a pool of his own blood, all the while I strangle him using his intestines before I feed him to Devil as a chew toy! Well... that was a bit more graphic than intended and doesn't make much sense, but growing up seeing people constantly die, kind of messes a person up a bit you know; and well, you get the point. My whole body tenses in frustration. How did this even happen? Only a matter of moments ago I found myself sitting comfortably on my couch having a –eh, civil- conversation with him before he suddenly slapped some cuffs around my wrists (no vision by the way) and booked me down into this cell with a bunch of weirdos.

     "I didn't do it, you've got the wrong person!" I yell at the guy in uniform sitting casually at a desk facing away from me. The guard keeping watch appears to take no notice of me whatsoever and continues to check notifications on his phone. Latest model of Apple I might add.
     "Sit back down and be quiet," a grouchy voice calls from behind. I whip my head around out of instinct and find an old man staring back; I say 'old' but he looks late thirties or maybe early forties with a clear beer gut and appears to be balding at the top.
     "Relax, you weren't actually arrested, you're in a detainment cell until further notice; like the rest of us so calm down princess." Another voice grumbles from within the small room. The voice belongs to a creepy man pressed into one of the corners, covering himself with a woolen brown blanket and hiding in the shadows, deeming it almost impossible to make his features out. Not that I exactly want to.
     "A-all of you b-b-be quiet," squeaks another. This guy is younger looking and has a full set of hair, maybe a bit too long that it covers his face, and if it wasn't for his voice, he would have easily been mistaken for a woman. He's a bit on the shaggy side but other than that looks pretty normal to me. Actually, a bit pale too with sagged eyes and he's scrawny as all hell, but hey, who am I to judge? Come to think of it, this whole cell is a muddle of strange misfits and unfamiliar scents covered in the musky smell of god knows what was contained in these isolating walls. I try not to pay much attention to the contents of this grayed brick cell but there are also about two others walloping in their own misery.
     "Why? I'm innocent I swear," I finally reply after a long-winded pause.
     "Keep saying that and when you're called out they might believe you." Chuckles the blanket man.
     "I swear I didn't murder that girl!"
     "Wait... y-you're in here for murder?" Scrawny guy yelps moving further away as I catch the others' attentions as well. I guess to these hardened criminals murder is still at the top of the dangerous list.
     "I didn't do it! Besides, what are all you in here for?"
     "None of yer business." Mutters the old man clearly taking me for a murderer without a single doubt. Just because they are all guilty for their crimes doesn't mean they should cast me with the same eyes. For all I know they could have done much worse. Maybe there's an unspoken rule between criminals not to ask what they did because it ruins their story? I don't know.
     "Listen, I know this may seem crazy but I'm a psychic and that's how I kne-" my explanation is suddenly cut off by an outburst of uncontrollable laughter from the three and an extra in the background. I was not expecting that from these people out of anything. I'm taken aback by their sheer insolence. This insult is out of nowhere, how dare they? I puff out in anger and raise my voice in irritation, "It's true!"
     "Sure it is love, along with ghosts and aliens?" taunts the scrubby looking guy.
     "I-I can prove it!" I stutter in frustration glaring at them all, trying not to stamp my foot like a child.
     "Ooh I'm so scared," laughs the bag of bones suddenly and ironically growing a backbone of his own, waving his hands in the air as I stomp towards him.
     "Give me your hand then." I grunt with creased eyebrows. He reaches out with his left hand then as if changing his mind because of something dirty, he switches to his right. This would be a terrible time for my power to decide to stop working again. Please, if there is a God out there, don't let me down. The weak man smiles condescendingly as I connect our hands. The face turns into the green monster this time dripping with orange drool as I find myself standing in a pig-sty. Dirty clothes, take-away wrappers and almost empty containers and bottles are scattered everywhere, staining brown the carpet, which is a rare sight in this scene. There is a sweet and intoxicating smell whirling in the air as the man lies still on the couch with his head cocked back and white with foam dripping from his mouth. There are about five others all passing around a plastic bag with reddening eyes and laughing their heads off while chatting about the most random things.
     Just before the vision ends the friend sitting to his left giggles, "Hey, hey Jo... heh heh so how is the thing- the you know thing ha ha! I mean is it good for sales or something? Hey Jo why are you looking at me that way... You good bro? Hey, hey hello ha! Jo you know what Jessica said before..." her voice trails before I pull my hand away in the detainment cell.
     In the dragged out silence I stare into his dull eyes trying to piece my thoughts together as they wait for my reaction. "Your name is Jo. You do drugs and will die from it if you try the new shipment coming in a couple of days. You know a Jessica and have about five friends who you regularly smoke with. McDonalds is your usual to-go food and you don't care for cleaning much. Sound about right?" I finish off smiling as the humour has completely drained from his face. Nailed it I think to myself. There were a few random guesses in there.
     "H-how did you d-do th-th-that?" He stutters falling back against the wall.
     "I told you-"
     "You must be a stalker!" He shouts in conclusion.
     "N-no you're wrong I'm-"
     "G-G-Get away f-f-from me f-freak!" I try to calm him down but he jumps away trying desperately to create distance. I see the fear in the other guys' eyes too as I helplessly look to them for help. I never thought that telling the truth would scare people so bad, I mean it feels pretty damn good to tell the truth every once in a while. Man this brings back memories. Ones I'd long since forgotten for a reason.