Death In Her Eyes - Erin Bedford Page 0,1

know when exactly it would happen. My visions didn’t work like that. But I could speculate based on what I saw, the weather, the clothing she wore. Usually, I push my visions to a special place in the back of my mind that I like to keep locked tight, but not hers. Hers, I had gone over a thousand times. Was there anything I could do to stop it? No. Could I have told her not to go out that day? Yes, I could have, and she would give me one of those looks. The kind she always gave me when I tried to change the future.

“You can’t save everyone Elle, somethings are just meant to be,” she’d say.

Then I would have crossed my arms and scowled at her. “What is the point of having visions if I can’t do anything about it?”

She’d give me this little smile, like I was silly for asking, then say, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Laughing as if it was some kind of private joke and go back to whatever it was she was doing, leaving my question unanswered.

Now, I would never know.

I took a deep breath in, then let it out in one rush. Pulling myself up off the wall, I lifted my head, and straightened my back. Enough self-pity, there were things to do.

I walked to the desk in our small living room and tried not to look at the walls. The floral print always made me a little nauseous. I pulled open the dark wood drawer and I searched for the folder that mom always kept in case something like this happened.

Grabbing the folder marked ‘In Case of Emergency’ and I flipped the vanilla cover open. I scanned over the first few pages, ticking them off as I go. Will. Funeral Home. Logins. There. Call List. Looking over the list of friends and relatives that needed to be notified I stopped when I saw the name at the bottom of the list. The one name I wasn’t sure what to do with.

Bart Richmond. Dad.

I sat heavily into the chair near the desk and stared down at his name. Should I call him? Would he even answer? He wasn’t the most reliable man in the world. I hadn't seen him since my thirteenth birthday and that was five years ago. It wasn’t unusual for him to be gone. But when he did happen to turn up, he was usually distant, only ever saying a few words to me before he has ‘a work emergency.’

Mom told me he was a big shot adviser for a multi-million dollar corporate head. If she was here, she’d say he loves us and would be here if he could. I don’t buy it. What important advice could he give that would cause him to only visit every few years? No, if he wanted to be here, he would. Tucking the loose strands of blonde hair behind my ear, I grabbed the cordless phone from the top of the desk. Let someone else call him.

I glanced back at the top of the list. Aunt Sue. Mom’s, too intuitive for her own good, younger sister. She would know what to do next, but she would also be able to tell if I didn’t sound surprised. Upset. None of us ever told her about my gift, but somehow, I think she had always suspected.

“Your eyes are so old.” She’d say with a bewildered look in her eyes.

If she had to see death and carnage all the time, she'd come out scarred too. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. If she found out I knew she’ll want to know why I didn’t stop it from happening. She wouldn’t understand.

I need to sound devastated. I looked down at my hands and watched the tremors that start to envelope them. I really didn’t want to do this.

The door in the back of my mind was hard steel. The cold silver metal was closed shut with a heavy steel lock, a key tight in its opening. I inhaled deeply and twisted the key in the hole where it lived. A resounding click rung throughout my mind and for a second, I hesitated. But then with one sweep of my mind’s hand the doors flew open and I was engulfed.

The images that poured out almost caused me to forget myself. The crunch of bodies smashing against the pavement. Blood spilling out of fresh cuts. Gun shots fired. The sharp