The pain was worse than usual that day. Her head felt foggy; she saw flashes – a quilt lying rumpled across the edge of the bed, one shiny nude stiletto kicked across the creamy white carpeting. The victim focused on the quilt for an unusually long amount of time and wiggled the toes of her bare foot. They were cold.
A man stood above her. She couldn’t make out much but the black jacket and baggy jeans. There was no distinctive logo, nothing to give even a hint as to who he was or where the victim was located. Her wrists hurt more by the second. The throbbing intensified – there was so much blood. The victim was drugged, and Alyssa wished like anything for some sort of gift. For someone to speak, for a name to be said, for anything. She leaned back against the bathroom wall at Juilliard and clasped her hands together, resting her head between her knees.
“No one ever tell you not to take drinks from a stranger?”
His voice was raspy and low. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Hurry up, you’re dying. Give me something.
“Mark?” Her voice was weak.
A name. Finally, a name. Show me his face. Please.
“Got a present for you, honey.” His voice was so disturbing. He spoke as if he had never been happier than he was in this instant. “We all know how much you love your own pretty face.”
Something shimmered in the dark room. A bedside lamp was switched on. The victim was mere moments away from death, and Alyssa was running out of time.
The sound of footsteps drew nearer until he was but a foot away. His hand, large and impossibly strong, gripped her bicep. “No one would even suspect that the hottest bitch at Juilliard would be so sad as to slit her dainty little wrists.”
Here? She went here? Alyssa froze.
“Open your eyes, Bianca.”
No, no, no. Deaths were never this close. Not on campus. Not in this poor girl’s dorm.
Suddenly, the man held up a mirror. Alyssa let out a shriek.
Bianca Taylor, her hair blonde and eyes blue and skin as fair as porcelain, stared back. Alyssa watched as the light drained from her classmate’s eyes.
“Any news?” Alyssa sat with the bath towel wrapped around her body, her cell phone in hand. Her mother was on the other end, worried sick and rightly so. Alyssa knew she’d spilled too many details for the police to give up that easily. All thanks to her and her moment of crazed insanity.
“The FBI has been hounding me. They’re sure I’m lying to protect you.”
Alyssa sighed. “Mom, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened.”
“Honey, I can’t blame you one bit. I can’t imagine what it takes to get through the day with all of that on your shoulders. No wonder you did what you did.”
“Did you try explaining?” She chewed on her lip. “You know, about my…”
“Abilities?” her mother finished for her. “Yes. But, sweetie, I’m not going to lie. I know the truth but it sounds crazy when you say it out loud. You’re a suspect until they decide to look into your claims. You knew stuff only they should know.” Her mother snorted. “Hell, they have half a mind to throw me in the loony bin for believing in all this.”
Alyssa lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I miss you, Mom.”
“I miss you too, sweetie. Listen, call me back tonight. This burner is about to die. Oh, and take care.”
“You too.”
It was raining again in London. Alyssa stared through the windows of the coffee shop, the tables barren. It was a slow day and she missed New York. She had done so well to get into Juilliard only to ditch it all by escaping to the UK. She had gone from dreams of musical careers to working as a barista, scrubbing sugary coffee stains off of the bar. She would never tell another soul about that fucking curse.
She started out humming as she cleaned, and then it turned into full-blown singing. Between living in a flat with thin walls and a roommate and this shitty job, there was barely any time to let go. She burst into a rendition of “Valerie” by Amy Winehouse only to stop at the sound of a feminine voice squealing from behind her.
She spun quickly, embarrassed, and found a girl with large brown eyes, perfect brunette waves, and a smile that could light up a room plastered on her face.
“You!” the girl said, nodding as if answering a question that had never been spoken aloud. “You’ll definitely do.”