“Oh shit,” I say. Every drop of blood freezes while I continue to watch the report. Goosebumps prickle my skin as my eyes frantically read every word on the screen, and look at the photo simultaneously.
I saw her. I saw her get shot. The guy has a scar on his face and she knew him.
She knew him. She damn well knew him!
My heart’s furiously beating, my head is spinning and every word in the English language is stuck behind the barrier in my throat.
Tears sting my eyes, and within seconds they spill over. “Lexi,” Mom says as she grabs onto my upper arm. I shake my head at her, unable to say a single word. “Sweetheart.” Her tone is brimming with worry. “What’s happening?”
The more I look at the TV the more I’m thrust back into the nightmare of seeing her get shot. I could’ve saved her. I could’ve said something. I could’ve done something . . . anything.
The turmoil in my head makes the room start to spin. My breathing increases and I feel my heart pounding desperately inside my chest. A huge lump sits at the base of my throat as my stomach flips, then flops, then twists painfully.
Tiny black spots quickly increase in size, and soon, a curtain sheaths my vision, and my legs give out from beneath me.
I should’ve said something . . . saved her. I saw it, I saw it all.
I could’ve told her and I could’ve saved her life.
What have I done?
“Guess who’s coming home this weekend?”
“Who?”
“Jeremy!”
“He can get time off work?”
“I guess he can.” The woman chuckles giddily.
Opening my eyes, I see Doris and another nurse standing over my bed talking to one another while they check my vitals. Not Doris, but the other one goes to feel my hand and I quickly snatch it away.
“Alexa, how are you feeling?” Doris’s head snaps at the rapid speed with which I move my hand.
“I’m okay. What happened?” I ask as I look between the two nurses and search out my Mom who jumps to her feet and makes her way over to the side of my bed.
“You passed out. We went for a walk and you passed out. Dr. Smith thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard and the pain may have caused you to pass out.”
I shake my head and look to Doris. The image of Hayley floods back into my head. Everything about her. “There was a nurse here, Hayley, she was shot?”
“She was such a lovely young girl. Really a beautiful nurse who was all about the patients.” She lets out a breathy sigh as her shoulders sink.
“She was shot? Not last night, the night before.”
Doris looks to the other nurse with a perplexed look in her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“It was on the news. Did they catch who did it?” The guy with the scar down his face.
“The police are looking into someone,” she says. “How did you know Hayley?” She swallows hard, her piercing eyes looking at me with suspicion.
Shit. I can’t tell them what I know. I wouldn’t believe me. And what do I say? ‘Hey, I saw a vision of her getting shot. By the way, I knew Jeremy was coming home before you did.’ Even in my head that sounds mad. They’d admit me to the loony bin and throw away the key. Forever.
Panic slowly creeps through my blood. A cold shiver rips up my spine, and I shudder in response to the ice blanketing my body. “I um . . .” Crap, come up with something, Lexi, and fast. “ . . . I um . . . She was nice to me when I came out of surgery, and I remember her.”
Relief floods both my Mom’s and Doris’s face. “Oh,” Doris breathes. “She was one of the sweetest people,” her tone plunges as she looks away from me. When I notice the tears sparkling in her eyes, I feel like kicking myself because I’ve made her emotional. But I also need to know.
“She was very nice to me.”
“Wait, is she the nurse who came out to get me?” Mom looks to me then Doris. I nod my head. “Oh shit,” Mom says. “She was shot?” Doris nods, and I’m a second off saying who killed her.
“Have the police said who they think it is?” I push Doris, hoping she’ll tell me it’s the guy with the scar.
Doris shakes her head. “We aren’t privy to such information.”
“Did they say anything at all?” Maybe I should tell them what I saw. Damn it, I can’t. There’s no way they’ll believe me. Ugh, this is so frustrating. “Is it a guy or girl they’re after?” Shit, should I say something?
“They haven’t said anything.” Doris shakes her head slowly.
Come on, Lexi, tell her.
My head twists and twirls as a typhoon of thoughts keep plaguing me. I really should do the right thing, but I can’t risk people thinking I’m losing my mind either. Tell them! My conscience screams at me. Tell them now.
I run my hand through my unwashed hair and let out a pained sigh. “Are you okay?” Mom asks.
The sigh is hiding the turmoil consuming me. “I’m okay.” Tell them, I scream at myself again.
If I tell them and they don’t believe me, then they’re going to make me take psychological tests. I’ll be prodded and interrogated like I’m a species from another planet. But if I tell them and they do believe me, they’ll want to know how I know who the guy is. They’ll put me through more tests and I’ll be on display like an animal.
I don’t know what to do.
Defeated by my own brain, and my own reasoning, I decide not to say anything at all. I can’t put myself in a position where I won’t be believed.
Relaxing my shoulders, I try and push the feeling of conflict as far down as I possibly can. My parents have always taught me that if I can help someone, I should.
But in this case, if I help Hayley, I’m opening myself up to all types of scrutiny. Pain shoots through my heart, and a sorrow takes me over.
She’s dead, because of me.
I’ve been home for just over a week, and my body is healing nicely. I haven’t returned to school yet, because the doctor told my parents the wound needs to be cared for longer than a normal appendectomy.
I feel good though. And I’m so thankful those stupid vision things I was suffering from have totally disappeared.
Mom and Dad have doted on me. I appreciate it, despite feeling fairly isolated at home. Mom went to the mall, and she refused to let me go with her in case someone knocked into me and opened up my stitches.
But it’s okay. I know she’s just being protective.
Now I’m getting ready to go back to school. I never thought I’d say this, but, man, I miss school so much.
Dallas Riley is my best friend in the world. She hasn’t been able to come and see me, because she’s been studying like crazy for exams. Because of that, I’ve felt even more secluded being stuck at home. We text and call at least a million times a day, but it’s not the same.
“You ready?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
I slide my laptop into my school bag and grab my phone from the charger. “Coming,” I respond as I look around my room, checking to make sure I haven’t left anything behind. I quickly glance at myself in the mirror and smile. I feel like I’m the new girl at school. My nerves rattle with tension and my palms sweat from nervousness. It’s an endless cycle.
I’m so happy to be able to get back to school to see Dallas and my other friends.
“Hurry up, Lexi,” Mom calls more loudly.
As I approach the kitchen, Mom’s head is down while she’s rummaging through her bag, flustered at something. I sneak up behind her and lean close into her ear. “No need to shout,” I say loudly.
Mom jumps back, clutching her chest. “Jesus, you scared me half to death.” She playfully smacks me on the arm. “I think you aged me by about ten years.”
“Aging you is okay, as long as you didn’t soil yourself in the process.”
Mom looks at me and draws her brows together. “You may be a head taller than me, but I can still whoop your butt, young lady.”
Leaning down, I plant a kis
s on her cheek. Immediately she softens and graces me with a smile. “I know you can,” I say, placating her.
“You bet I can. Now hurry up, before we’re late.” She heads toward the door and waits for me. “You okay?” she asks, concern ringing in every word. “You can stay home for another week, just to make sure everything is completely healed.”
“No!” I enthusiastically shout. “I can’t stay here anymore. There’s really only so much I can watch on Netflix.” Rolling my eyes, I dramatize just how boring it is to stay at home. “I’ll be fine. Anyway, if it gets to be too much I’ll call you, and you or Dad can come pick me up.”
Mom’s a judge in the local court, and Dad’s a bailiff. Their hours aren’t always the same, because Mom tends to work late while Dad’s home fairly early. But she’s arranged to start later in the morning and finish earlier than usual for the next few weeks, because she wants to make sure I’m okay.
“Come on.” She checks the expensive watch on her wrist and opens the front door. “But if anything happens, you call me straight away.”
“I will, Mom.”
“Anything.”
“Yes, Mom.” I roll my eyes once I’m past her so she can’t see.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she snaps.
Damn it, I hate how she always knows what I’m thinking or doing. “I didn’t.” I did. I smile.
“I know you think I’m being overprotective.” Yep. “But I’m just worried.”
I sink into the passenger seat once Mom unlocks her car with the fob. She’s right, she’s just being herself. She might be a hard-ass in the court room, but at home she’s Mom. I know she loves me and would do anything to protect me.
“I know,” I say in a low voice.
Mom pulls out of the driveway and heads toward school. A call comes through on the Bluetooth in the car, and she answers it. It’s not unusual for Mom’s phone to be continuously ringing, or for her laptop to ding with emails coming through. It’s how it’s been ever since I can remember: Mom at work and Dad being the primary caregiver. Don’t get me wrong, when Mom’s needed, she drops everything to make sure Dad and I safe.
She once tried a criminal matter, where the guy being accused was some type of mafia kingpin. That’s all she said to me. The only reason she told me was because she hired a body guard for me. Crazy, I know, but she said she had to do it for her peace of mind. That was a few years ago when she was in a more demanding role. She slowed down quite a bit since then.
I stick my headphones on and tune out to the conversation by listening to music. Looking out the window, I watch as the roads lead to school. When we get there, Mom pulls up to the curb. “I’ll pick you up,” Mom says to me.
“Do you mind if Dallas brings me home?” I ask.
Mom’s jaw jumps as she scrunches her mouth together. “As long as you come home after school and don’t go anywhere.”
“Okay. I’ll message you if anything changes, cool?” I ask.
“If you feel any pain . . . or discomfort, or anything at all. Call me, and I’ll come to pick you up.” Yes, I know, Mom.
“Okay.”
Mom leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
My face instantly floods with embarrassment. “Oh, my God, Mom. Why did you do that?” I wipe her kiss away and look around to make sure no one saw that.
“Oh, sorry.” Mom can never hide her feelings. And right now, I see the hurt splashed deeply across her pretty, older face. And now I feel like a bitch. “If I don’t hear from you then I’ll assume Dallas will bring you home.” She turns forward and slides her sunglasses down.
Damn it. “Thanks for everything, Mom.” I lean over and give her a kiss.
Her face lifts with a happy smile. “Thank you,” she says. “Have a good first day back at school, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mom.” I get out and close the door. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I head inside to where I know Dallas will be. This time of the morning, she’s usually in one of the science rooms, dissecting something or practicing a new formula she’s working on.
First thing I do is go to my locker so I can slide my bag in, making sure to take my laptop out for the first classes of the day. With my laptop tucked under my arm, I head over to the science rooms. The corridors are unusually quiet, but it could be because I’m here slightly earlier than normal.
A handful of people walk past me. They’re either on their phones, or they look half asleep, like they don’t want to be here. As I approach the science lab, I can see the back of Dallas’s vibrant purple hair as she’s hunched over something. She runs her hand through her hair, and takes a deep breath.
I can’t help but smile. She loves purple. Like hardcore loves the stupid color. Even her shoes are purple. Hell, she has purple pens. She has purple hair, a nose ring, several ear rings, and wears purple in everything she owns. Her parents bought her a car for her seventeenth birthday, and it was purple. Her outside doesn’t match her insides, though. Her exterior is hard and loud, but she’s quiet and super smart. Out of the two of us, she’s the one who doesn’t need to study, but does.
My parents love her, just like her parents love me. We’ve been best friends since we were in grade school. She’s shy and the sweetest person ever, and I’m known as ‘Judge Murphy’s daughter,’ which means I’m always invited to parties and people are extra nice to me. I can see through their façade, but it doesn’t bother me. Dallas and I are super close, and we have a few other friends we hang out with who are cool too.
As soon as I get to the room, I notice the door is open. “For fuck’s sake, will you just work?” Dallas grumbles to herself. “Stupid formula, who wrote this anyway? That’s right, I did.” She slams her hand on the metal counter and huffs in frustration.
“Poor counter,” I say as I stand at the door.
Dallas turns her head in a flash, her mouth open with a huge smile curving her lips up. Her eyes widen as she stands with so much force the stool tips over. She runs at me at and slams her body into mine, hugging and squeezing me.
And suddenly, I’m no longer at school. I’m at the mall, walking beside Dallas and a vision copy of me. “He’s cute,” she says as she stares at the guy walking toward us.
He doesn’t look at her though. His eyes are glued to the other version of me. “What’s going on?” I ask. I look at my other self, and look at Dallas, desperately trying to get a grasp on reality.
“He’s checking you out.” Dallas shoulders me.
I watch myself reply, “He’s pretty cute.”
The guy slows his pace. He’s wearing a nicely fitted suit, and is only a little bit older than us, maybe early to mid-twenties. He’s clean shaven, with a strong, square jawline, and the most dangerous, dark eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, my God, you didn’t tell me you were coming back today,” Dallas says as she pulls out of the hug.
I blink like crazy and try to get my bearings right before I say anything to her. Blankly, I look around and realize I’m out of the damn vision.
“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” I say to Dallas and walk as fast as I can to the nearest restroom. When I push the door open, I’m alone. Locking the door behind me, I steady my laptop on top of the hand dryer and go over to the sink to splash water on my face.
I haven’t seen anything since I’ve been home. What the hell is going on? I scoop cold water from the faucet into my cupped hand and splash again. I don’t get it. Steadying myself against the basin, I stare at my reflection in the graffiti-covered mirror. “No!” No, it can’t be real. It was a hallucination from the drugs they’d given me.
There’s a pounding at the door and my head snaps to the side. Suddenly I go into panic mode. Crap, this can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Wake up, Lexi. Wake up from the nightmare you’re stuck in. Pinching myself, I don’t wake. This is real.
Thump. Thump.
I look again at the door and will for myself to wake up.
“Lexi, are you okay
? Open the door,” Dallas’s voice is laced with anguish and fear.
“I’m okay,” I call, though the words don’t match my stressed tone. I clear my throat and try it again. “I’m okay.” It sounds the same, if not worse than my first attempt. Tears begin to well, and my breath flutters erratically.
Calm down, I mentally will myself. I can’t open the door like this, she’ll know something isn’t right and I can’t let anyone suspect. I just can’t. I don’t even know what this is yet, so how can I explain it to anyone else?
I sink against the cool tiled wall and close my eyes. Counting to ten in my head, I take deep breaths.
The continuous hammering on the door is doing nothing to help me settle my frantic nerves. I can’t stay in here forever, I have to go out at some stage.
“Lexi, open the door or I’m going to have to call your dad.” She’s not threatening me, I’ve known Dallas long enough to know she’s saying this because she’s worried. “Did you rip your stitches open?”
Pushing off from the wall, my body and mind are finally in a much calmer state. Walking over to the door, I flick the lock. She bursts in and comes straight at me. “I’m okay,” I say as I step backward so I can get space between us.
“What happened? Are you okay? Are you in pain?” She steps forward again, her eyes carefully assessing me.
“I’m okay, I just . . .” Shit, what do I say? “ . . . you know. I think I just got nervous.” Man, I’m clutching at straws.
“You went white and you freaked out. What have you got to be nervous about?” She steps closer and attempts to hug me.
I can’t back away from her again. She’ll think I’m avoiding her. In this instance, it’s a case of it’s me not her. But I can’t say anything. She probably won’t believe me.
Dallas steps closer and pulls me into her arms. The hug is supposed to be innocent and sweet, a touch between best friends. But instead, it’s my nightmare.
I’m pulled right back to the mall. Dallas and I are walking together, and Dallas says, “He’s cute.” I watch Dallas and my vision self and the guy in the expensive, fitted suit walking toward us. “He’s checking you out.” This time she doesn’t shoulder into me but I notice her smirk, and the way she looks between us both.
The Gift: The Butterfly Effect, Book 1. Page 3