Dark Sight

Chapter 1

My legs shake beneath me, threatening to collapse. I gulp down a ragged breath as I focus my attention on the ground in front of me and ignore the pain surging through my chest. A clamp crushes my heart, making me lurch forward.

"Watch where you're going," the man I bumped into spits at me.

"Sorry," I mumble as I drop my gaze to the ground, tearing it away from the dark shadow lurking around ten metres away from the man, and pull my hand away from him.

The instant my hand loses contact with his bare skinned arm, the pain rescinds, and I choke down a lungful of fresh air, bracing myself for the next instance of death. In the last hour alone I've experienced at least three heart attacks, and each time the pain is just as intense.

"Are you okay?" Harper, the 20-year-old production assistant -- also known as my full-time babysitter -- hisses from behind me. I give a small nod, the only gesture I can make that guarantees my quivering legs won't fall out from beneath me, and continue pushing through the crowd waiting for the exhibition hall to open. Asher will be pissed if I can't find him one bloody death that he can exploit and try to 'prevent' to prove he is a damn psychic.

I stumble forward -- part on purpose, part because I'm trying to stay on my feet -- and knock into a woman, my hand coming into contact with hers. Flesh brushes against flesh and all the air is sucked from my lungs as the sound of a crackling fire fills my ears. I try to breathe, but I gag on the invisible smoke surrounding me.

"Are you okay?" The woman grabs my wrist and steadies my balance.

I inch my gaze up, freezing on the shadow standing a few feet behind where the woman is standing. Ignoring the murky darkness, I force a shaky smile and nod. "I guess I just lost my balance," I say in a weak, hoarse voice that ends in a gagging cough.

The woman wears a red dress that extends past her knees and strands of her long brown hair blow across her face as she glances down at me.

"I think you should sit down." She starts to lead me out of the crowd, her grasp not loosening on my arm.

I want to tell her I'll be better once she lets go, but I'm finding it hard enough to breathe let alone get any words to pass my scorched throat. Black dots dance in my vision as I grasp for oxygen I know is there but can't reach my lungs. Every movement I make sends intense waves of pain surging through my body, but I still force my head up to look at the woman.

"Can I call anyone?" Concern tinges her voice as she tightens her grip on my wrist and leads me away from the crowd.

Heat rushes up my body, and I have to bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming as imaginary flames spit at my skin. My vision swims as I fight to stay conscious.

"Oh, there you are," Harper's worried voice breaks through my cloudy mind.

"Do you know this girl?" The woman turns her gaze to where Harper is pushing through the crowd.

"She's my sister, and she's a diabetic. The silly girl was in such a rush for the performance that she left the house without her insulin today. I'll make sure she is okay now, thanks."

"Are you sure?" The woman drops my wrist and steps away.

The moment I feel the grip release the pain starts subsiding and a breath of icy air rush down my burning throat.

"Yes, thank you for taking care of her. Um, may I ask your name?"

"Oh, sorry. It's Rebecca," the woman, Rebecca, says. "I hope your sister will be alright."

"Thank you, Rebecca. She will be now. Can I ask if you're here to watch the show?" Harper gives a small smile as she positions herself between me and Rebecca.