Would You Go?

Would you run away if I tell you I can read your thoughts? That I know when, where, and why you will die? That I can tell everything about you by looking at you? Would you?

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1. Prologue

     I glance at the young boy with bruises up his arms, his bleach blond hair in a tangled mess, and the worn out clothes, seeking a story that will explain his appearance. A wave of pity washes over me as the images come to my mind.

      The first one is of a man and his fist, the next a crying boy in the corner, blood gushing from his nose. I hear him thinking Don’t make me go home today. Let me stay here forever. And finally: 10/10/2013 pops into my mind. The date of his death. He is going to die because his father will stab his small stomach, in his living room, to let him slowly bleed to death.

       A shudder shakes my whole body as I think about calling the police, for the 10th of October was only two days away, but that might blow my cover, for I have no proof other than the images that race through my head when I look at people.

      There has yet to be a day where I don't think about my odd talent, if you could call it that. I have only told my mother once, in kindergarden, who told me to ignore it, that it would leave, and that it was just my imagination. But I know it's not. I look at innocent people, and images fill my head. Images about their life, about their death. I looked at a thirty year old woman and saw a car hitting her as she walked across the street: how she dies the next day. Sure enough, in the paper two days later, I saw her face and a headline "Woman Hit By Car Visiting Grandmother."

     Everyday I look at people and their deaths that come haunt me in my sleep. Everyday I look at people and see their lives, whether they're good or bad. Everyday I can't help thinking that I was cursed when I was born. And everyday I wonder, why me?

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