SEEKER

SEEING IS BELIEVING

I was kinda-sorta blind without my contacts or glasses. I pulled on some black formal slacks and a grey short sleeve shirt. I grabbed my black blazer, picked out my work boots (Slight heel) and made my way downstairs. I was surprised to find Talia in the kitchen... still. She had gotten started on breakfast. By the looks of things, she had been here a while. Please can she have heard nothing. Please.

“Morning,” I said. I could even hear the joy in my voice. “You are cooking?” I raised an eyebrow. I was the cook. It was an unwritten rule. It was rare when she cooked. Happened twice a year, my birthday and mom’s. Oh yeah, it is my birthday. She baked and cooked for a living, so for her to cook out of her own accord, at home even, was a special thing. She loved doing it for everyone else but us.

“Excellent powers of observation. You should be a cop,” she laughed. “Happy Birthday. Yay!”

She was in denim cut-offs and a blue, long sleeve shirt. She offered me a long hug and a cupcake with a candle on it. She was so sweet. I blew it out as she sang happy birthday and ducked when she tried to stuff my face with it.

“Yay," I said dryly. "Very sure it is summer sis. Why the confusion?” I pulled on her shirt. She handed me my tea… I was definitely getting special treatment. Talia would sell me for 2 dollars. I usually make us coffee, so she was being super nice... too nice? She did something and I won't like it. It was just a matter of what.

She laughed. “I was half asleep when I woke up to make this so calm your unappreciative, saggy t**s,” Talia giggled.

She came home a little late so I didn’t have time to ask about her work last night. “How was the meeting with the bankers? Are we expanding?”

She smiled. “Yes. They were giving me issues about suretyship and yesterday, they finally approved.” She handed me my plate. “Bon apple tea bitch.” she handed me my plate.

“What changed their minds about the suretyship?” I asked, snacking on some bacon.

“What do you mean?” she asked, slightly evasive.

“Who stood as surety?” I asked, digging in. “They were giving you problems and then they suddenly changed their minds? You are black and they are banks,” I chuckled. "Did you bang a banker?"

Her expression told me everything I needed to know. It was guilty. I knew right then who stood as surety. That right there is the thing she did that she knew I would not like. Suddenly, breakfast was not so appetizing. “It came from your dad,” I said.

She nodded. Guilt had her wringing her hands on the counter.

He was only a monster to me and my mom. “That was nice of him,” I murmurred. I was sure that this would be the end of this conversation.

“I know you and dad have not exactly mended bridges but he has been asking me to see you. He says you have not answered any of his messages,”

“Don’t have a reason to,” I shrugged. “I’d rather not have this conversation,” I said, outright this time.

She nodded. She began talking about her plans for the bakery. It sounded great. She loved what she did so she was set. Somewhere, she lost me.

My sister had the most enviable afro on Earth. She had nurtured it since she was 16 and today, she had tied it all, the puff still big on the top of her head. She was much shorter than I was. She took after mom. She had bright hazel eyes and full lips, her top lip slightly upturned like mine… a quirk we inherited from our mother. She had petite features. A little bit like a pixie. She was also slender. She loved the gym the way I loved pizza. Neither dark nor light. As a big sister, I thought her stunning.

I was the opposite. I was a lot taller. I took after our dad. I was also darker than she was. I only nurtured my afro from about 5 years ago, so it was not as big as hers. I preferred braids. It was a lot more manageable that way. I had full(er) lips, a longer nose than she did. I had our dad’s face. Only, I had huge eyes, like my mother. They were naturally grey. That was due to my ability. This was where things got weird…

I am a Seeker, born with extreme unnatural discolouration in my eyes. My eyes were sensitive. Extremely sensitive; to extraordinary things. In a sentence, I saw ghosts and when I did, I usually had to lay them to rest by bringing them peace or helping them move on and if necessary, forcibly moving them along. (After the visions of them and how they died came to me) I was “unique.” My grandma had it too. It was a gene in my family and it manifested in every second generation. I didn’t really want to get into it.

Stephen Moss walked into public areas and shot. He opened fire in the public library and the train station before he was caught. It didn’t take much… he didn’t hide his identity, so catching him was easy. He was 24 years old. Ordinary citizen of a socially awkward, paranoid, delusional, angry white boy school club. He made it onto the front paper. I just closed Eli Granger’s case. That was one of the last cases I would work on until IA finished up with the investigation on Stephen Moss. I had mandatory therapy sessions for the discharge of weapons for the next 3 weeks. I killed him. IA was investigating the necessity thereof. I am on administrative leave because of that. It happened about a week ago. This was the second week into this work break.

Okay, suspension.

My head started tingling. Nothing I couldn’t handle but it felt like … I massaged my temples… it felt like a vision. I once had a vision in front of Talia and it was a particularly cruel death. She was so devastated that I could not…. I would not ever put her through that again. Not even the ones where they died in their sleep. I had about 10 minutes to clear myself out. The head pain calmed.

“By the way…” I finished up breakfast and kept my voice light, answering her jab about how loud I was while having sex.. “I am very glad the sound carries because it will inspire you to pressure your fumigators into a quicker job.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Gurl please, you know you love me.”

“I’d sell you to Satan for a quarter,” I laughed.

“Oh my God Zoey,” She laughed.

I laughed. “Thank you for breakfast,” I ran upstairs and got my badge. I strapped my back-up piece (All black Walther RPK) onto my ankle. The action had me winded. Triggered. I had to pause and assess myself, trying to move, but I couldn’t move. I was back at the scene and aiming my gun at him… I took the shot over and over again. Panick prickled my skin and I had to toss it back into its drawer. Guess that was what the psychologist was talking about… latent or delayed reaction to the event. My heart slowed and stopped thundering in my ears. I stopped seeing stars. Besides, I did not have time. I had to get to the car so I could have the impeding vision. My eyes were started to buzz.

My standard issued gun was being withheld whilst investigating Stephen Moss. I sighed heavily as I left the gun where it was and made my way out. “Enjoy your day.” She said as I left. "Love you,"

"Love you too babe,"

***

I fell sick the moment I was in the car. My eyes rolled back. My scene changed. I was not in an undercover parking anymore. I was now somewhere downtown. Then the place changed to a warehouse... then a room... so many places. I could not tell anymore. Then I was back downtown.

There were police sirens not too far away. I was in an apartment... One bedroom. No, it was a house, this was the main bedroom. Shabby. Dilapidated. Unkempt. I saw pictures of people hanging on the walls. An old lady. White. Grey haired. Smiling. She was holding a young child. A small, brunette kid with big green eyes. She was a cute child. I looked away from the picture on the dresser and stared at the room. Taking in as much as I could. A brown couch with a few stains. I was not sure I wanted to investigate. A bong was on the square table with center piece on it. There was a flatscreen on the TV stand. DVD player beneath it. I caught sight of myself (the victim). There was a knife in my/her chest. OMG. I looked out the window. I recognised a board outside. I was in Washington Heights. The scene changed again. I was in a tenement building basement now. Someone came up behind me and blinded me. I could hear muffled voices. Children’s voices screaming. The odours were strong. It was a dusty house. Smelt of some freesia. I could also smell cigarette smoke. I didn’t know how many people were in there with me. I smelt a fire too. But the flickers were so fast. The place was on fire. It was so hot. I heard multiple footsteps but not enough to discern how many people were in there. Felt my head start to throb and blood slide down my neck but before I could register how that had happened, I was out like a light. Fumes got to me…Regaining consciousness threw off my senses. I was no longer the first lady. This felt like someone else. a different terror. I was restrained. Tightly. Could not move my wrists and could not move my legs. I was on a chair. Why was everything so slow? Was she drugged?“Why did you let it happen to her?” person one asked. It was a rasp. Felt something on my cheek. I was crying but I could’t make a sound. He gave me a minute to reply but when I said nothing, he placed the burning bit of the cigarette onto my wrist. I did not know what he wanted. I heard an ear-splitting screech of pain. Even if it took too long to register the pain as my own. Another burn was inflicted on my cheek. Something cold plunged into my mouth. I used my tongue to feel it. Circular. Hole. Hard. Metal…. Gun.“If you do not talk. I will kill you,” I could smell the cigarettes off of him. “Does it look like I have the time to deal with this bullshit!! You useless b***h! Did you know?”He shouted. “How much did you tell them? Did you tell the truth? You were supposed to protect her!” he tried again. There were so many questions. Others I did not quite catch. I didn’t reply. Something hard hit my other cheek. I felt a tooth in my mouth. I spat it out with half the blood that was circulating in my mouth. I was dying anyay. The knife in my chest. It was not that deep. A great deal was sticking out if I remembered correctly. After a while, another one came. Softer touch. Softer hands. Female I think. She smelt of Chinese food. “Please just do it, honey. Don’t make him hurt you,” her voice was off… crackly. “Remember what you said?” Sounded like a forced high- pitched, like a child. Something sharp and cold touched my inner left leg… sharp pain and before I knew it I was bleeding.“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I wept. “Who are you?”They repeated the questions in different voices. All female, all on the brink of death. “I am sorry,” I kept sobbing. “I don’t know,”“Not yet, you’re not,” My right leg was next.. I screeched in agony. They asked again. They systematically sliced my forearm, below the wrist. Another animalistic shriek from me. Pulling at the restraints to protect myself… cover myself. They asked again. My other arm. I finally lost my voice. I could not make a sound, I was in so much pain. I was losing blood quickly. Consciousness was close behind.“Shut the b***h up,” the chain smoker said. I felt something sharp against my neck and one sweep, I was choking on blood. A deep enough cut to kill me but shallow, because it did not kill me quickly. All I could hear were the gargles of blood. The pain. I could barely describe or process it in my head, it was unbearable... excruciating to say the least. My heart slowing to a stop… darkness overwhelming me… death. Peace.

I gasped awake, feeling my whole body restart, heart thundering, blood was pumping through my veins and the adrenaline dizzied me. Life filling itself in me with no seconds left to process it. Just the overwhelming rush of everything starting again, suffocating me some. I couldn't be in the car anymore, rushing out as the thundering continued in my ears and heart. I took great big gulps of air, ensuring that I was alive. Even though the air did not feel like it was enough. Choking on my sobs, I coughed with nausea. I took a few seconds, just listening to myself breathe, just to calm down.

I slowly slid down the side of the car as I lost more power over my body, barely registering the shaking. I sunk into a fetal position and tucked my head between my knees. I hated this part of my gift. I hated it so much.

The thundering of my heart hammered in my ears. Once my panicked heart calmed down and realised that it wasn’t me who had actually experienced that, I was able to think, breathe- hell, even see.

Vision. It was a vision. It was not me. I am alive. I am alive. I kept chanting until my stomach eased and the blankness in my brain dissipated. Hot, fat tears dripped down my face. This one was pretty bad as far as deaths went. My brain finally decided to make an appearance and kicked into gear.

There was not just one victim. There were many. I could not keep count with the way the vision was so muddled up. This has only happened once before. The blood, the gore, the knife, the choking on blood... all of it made a nauseating return. I needed Kellan. Once I got steady on my feet, I reached for my phone.

"f**k," I cursed when she appeared in front of me and dropped my phone. "Don't do that,"

I took in the spirit before me. White. Brunette. Long flowy hair. Bright green eyes. Captivating… more because they were bloodshot and not because of their colour. Spotting the burn mark on her cheek, I was sure to have a mark reminiscent of it on mine. All of those marks on her would be on me in some form or other. Thank God I am black because I would probably look like a victim of violence had I been anyone else.

The woman looked like a zombie. She was in a waitress's outfit I recognized. Freddy’s bar. Downtown. Same as the sign I saw in the vision. She was not wearing that in the vision, so why was she in it now?

I looked in the rearview to pull off. I half expected her to be there but she was not. They always did that f*****g jump scare s**t. She was, however, in the front of my car. "Stop it, for f**k's sake. I can't help if you keep scaring me," No matter how many times they did that, it still got to me. The thundering of my heart started again. I knew better than to drive away. That pissed them off. Her face twisted into a scowl. Just when I thought she could not look any scarier.

I reached for my phone and called Kellan. She reached out for me, grasping at the air, gargling on her open neck wound, aiming for my throat. If I let them touch me, I go through that all over again…

She was still a very bitter spirit. Angry. Upset. Stuck. The lights in the car park went crazy as she walked through my car. Three lightbulbs exploded the closer she got. He answered after two rings.

“You can’t be booty calling me while I am at work babe,” his cheery voice stopped everything. Instantaneous. Relief winded me so much, my throat closed up. “What do you need birthday girl?”

I couldn't speak. I just needed to hear him as my body released the shock of the vision so I just started up the car and drove. “Love?” He said. Concern snuck into his tone. I had to drive with him on the phone to ensure that the apparition stayed gone.

“Hi,” I tried to be cheery. I was still a little out of it. “No booty calls? Even on my birthday?” my voice cracked. s**t!

“What's wrong, Zoey?” he asked.

Oh wow. Government name and all. I don’t get called by name unless it is serious.

“Zoey,” Firm.

My cheeks burnt, feeling like a wayward child. Everytime he did that with me, I just youth-ed up in an instant. “I saw one,” I said unevenly and held my chest, trying to calm my heart as it twisted in my chest.

“One what?” Sounding oblivious at first. His voice dropped. No, stay happy! "You saw a ghost?" he continued.

“Yes.” I trembled, sniffing my way through it. Talking about it made it very real. Way too real. It took me right back. I had to shake it off. What I forgot to mention earlier was when I saw these people, I had a way of experiencing their death. I feel it first hand like it was me. Very sure you gathered that though.

“You okay?” his voice pulled me out of that rut.

“Not really. I just had the vision. I am a little shaken up. Bullshit about absolutely anything please.”

“What happened?”

"I don't know. It was like there were many victims at once. This only happens when I find victims of a serial killer."

"Like a representative dream?"

"Yeah, I experience everything but for all of them at once,"

"How bad was the death?"

"Bad. Really bad," I sniffed.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked softly.

“No,"

"Are you sure?" He asked. "Your voice is trembling, babe,"

“You will end up in an early grave with all that worrying. I just need you to bullshit about something,” I muttered. "I don't want to think about it,"

He sighed first, contemplating whether to push me or not. He never does. “I am due for an early grave anyway.” he reluctantly chuckled. “Coffee was absolute crap. Need a new machine,” he muttered.

“You have been saying that for a while,” I whispered.

“Well, it is s**t coffee.”

“You keep forgetting to get a new machine so it can not be that bad,” I said.

“Imagine if that was my last drink?” he chuckled. "With my last meal,"

I didn’t answer. Relive someone’s death or bother my boyfriend. The choice was almost too easy. I summoned all my strength to tease him.

“That would be sad, dying and your last meal was me," I murmured. "At least it's your favorite,"

He laughed out loud, surprised I went there. “You have issues baby," he sighed. "Before you, breakfast meant pancakes, bacon and eggs.” His voice dropped. “You are very right that,” his tone darkened in the way that made my stomach twist and core heat up. “As a matter of fact, I can still taste my breakfast.” he teased. Distracting me. Lightening my mood. It always worked. Like he was some panacea to all my sicknesses.

Trust McCarty to always flirt back. Always. “Would you like more?” It was working though, I was feeling better.

He chuckled. “For someone who taps out as much as you do, you sure do love provoking me," His voice dark and gravelly. I heard a door open on his end. “Do you want me to come by? Have a quick lunch later?” He changed his tone of voice. Completely innocent to anyone else, I knew he meant a quickie… that was what we called our quickies … the ones during lunch anyway.

“That would be nice but you have all night to have your fill and you also had your fill this morning,” I reminded him.

“I thought you were well acquainted with my appetite. I love to eat,” he said. The ‘you’ was silent. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” I smiled.

“Good,” he said. "You at work?"

I looked at the time. It was 07:50. I was nearly at work. “Almost. Baby, I love you,”

“I know. And I you,”

“Kellan?”

“Yes, my love?”

I glowed inside. “Thank you,” I murmurred. I didn’t know why (nor had I actually endeavoured to find out), but I never saw anything when I was with him. Never! If I heard his voice or saw him, whatever apparition or vision I would be having would halt immediately. It was useful right now.