I couldn’t stop seeing it.
Denny’s body, limp in that alley. Blood pooling around him. His lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
The vision had hit me like a punch to the chest, and now it wouldn’t let go. No matter how many times I told myself it was just a possibility, not a certainty, it felt real. Too real.
I wanted to confront him. Shake him and demand he tell me what he’d gotten himself into. But another part of me, the part that had learned the hard way to stay out of other people’s lives, wanted to stay far away.
Still, his voice echoed in my mind. You shouldn’t get too close to people like me.
Maybe he was right.
The hospital was buzzing the next morning. When I got to the ICU, I saw the elderly man from the day before sitting up in his bed, color returning to his pale skin. Relief flooded through me.
“He’s doing better,” the nurse said with a smile as she adjusted his IV.
I nodded, trying to hide my emotions. My note had worked. The treatment was saving his life. But that small triumph was short-lived when I spotted Dr. Sinclair at the nurses’ station, holding the patient’s chart and frowning.
He flipped through the pages, then turned to the staff. “Who made this note?” he asked, tapping the diagnosis I’d written.
The nurse shook her head. “No idea, Doctor. It wasn’t me.”
Dr. Sinclair’s eyes narrowed, his gaze scanning the room. “It’s too precise to be a guess. Whoever wrote this saw something the rest of us didn’t.”
My stomach twisted as I stepped closer to the patient’s bed, trying to avoid Sinclair’s line of sight. I could feel his suspicion like a weight on my back, and I silently prayed he wouldn’t ask me anything.
But of course, he did.
“Dr. Deneuve,” he said sharply. “What do you think about this case? Did anything stand out to you yesterday?”
I turned slowly, forcing a neutral expression onto my face. “No, sir. Nothing stood out to me. I was just observing.”
His blue eyes locked onto mine, scrutinizing me like he could see straight through my lie. “Hmm,” was all he said before turning back to the chart.
I exhaled quietly and left the ICU as fast as I could without drawing more attention to myself.
Later that day, I was in the ER, helping a young woman with a sprained ankle. She looked to be in her early twenties, her long blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She smiled nervously as I wrapped her ankle.
“Thanks, Doc,” she said. “I was in such a rush this morning, I wasn’t paying attention. Fell down the stairs. Classic me.”
“No problem,” I said. “Just be careful next time.”
She laughed softly, her cheeks flushing.
Then, she glanced up, and our eyes met.
The vision slammed into me.
A car. A violent crash. Her body thrown against the windshield. Blood. Shattered glass everywhere.
I jerked back, my hands trembling. The bandage slipped from my grip, and I had to steady myself on the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” she asked, frowning.
“I’m fine,” I lied, quickly finishing the wrap. “Just… tired.”
She tilted her head, but thankfully didn’t press me. She smiled again, oblivious to what I’d just seen. “Thanks again, Doc. Guess I should head out before I make myself more of a mess.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Take care of yourself.”
I watched her walk away, my heart pounding in my chest. Should I stop her? Warn her? But how could I explain what I’d seen without sounding insane?
My feet felt rooted to the floor as she disappeared down the hallway.
I was still shaken that evening when my phone buzzed. Denny’s name lit up the screen, and my stomach dropped.
For a moment, I debated ignoring it. But something in me knew better.
“What do you want, Denny?” I asked as soon as I answered.
“Calla, I need your help,” he said, his voice urgent and low.
I closed my eyes, already regretting picking up. “With what?”
“There are people after me,” he said. “And I can’t do this alone. Please, Calla.”
His tone pulled at something deep inside me. I didn’t trust him. But I couldn’t ignore him either.
“Where are you?” I asked.
He hesitated before giving me an address. “Meet me in the parking garage. Don’t tell anyone.”
I hung up and grabbed my jacket, every step out of my apartment heavy with doubt.
The parking garage was dimly lit and eerily quiet. My footsteps echoed as I scanned the rows of parked cars.
“Denny?” I called, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls.
No response.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I rounded a corner. Denny was slumped against the wall, blood pooling around him.