Good Intentions
by: T.D. Edwards
I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over. The moment the words tumbled from my mouth. I watched horrified as Joseph stared at me.
“What did you just say?” he asked, though he heard me clearly.
I had driven manically and stumbled up the stairs of their front porch, nearly blinded by tears. When my best friend’s husband answered the door, I buried my face in his chest and wrapped my arms tightly around him.
That’s when the words I could never take back left my mouth.
“I’m going to find who did this to her, I swear! I’m not going to let Shelly’s death be in vain!”
I realized too late how peaceful the house looked. How dark it was—as if the inhabitants inside had been sleeping. Yes, it was late, but who could sleep at a time like this? I knew they had to be in as much anguish as I was. The kids, for goodness sake…
This week couldn’t have been any worse. After sitting through the treatments with my grandmother for months, there was nothing more doctors could do. The woman who single-handedly raised me slipped through my fingers. I could still hear her voice telling me, “Everything happens for a reason, Sweet-pea.”
Yet I saw no reason for this. Shelly didn’t deserve this.
Shelly had been my best friend since ninth grade--one of three people I let know my secret. In eleventh grade, I confided in her; the weight that had lifted off my shoulders was a relief unlike any I’d ever experienced. I immediately felt guilty afterwards though. I knew my secret would eventually cause trouble, but I desperately wanted to be accepted for who I was. I felt grateful Shelly didn’t laugh at me or think I was some insane girl making up stories for attention. And most importantly, she believed me, unlike Zack Tinksman in tenth grade. The first boy to capture my heart had also been the first to stomp on it. Telling him had been disastrous.
But perhaps not as disastrous as right now…
I stepped back, removing my arms from around Joseph. Seeing his bewildered expression, I thought about the news report with Shelly’s photo flashing onscreen. It said she’d been murdered in cold blood.
Lights turned on from within the house. I heard the drag of house-slippers across the living room’s polished wooden floor. Shelly peered over Joe’s shoulder, tying her robe around her nightgown.
“Cora?” Shelly said, sounding as confused as Joseph looked. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
My heart landed somewhere in my stomach. Yes, I had made a horrible mistake. All my years of control had gone down the drain when my grandma died. The stress had given me a psychic-cold. I barely knew if I was coming or going these days. I could no longer prevent my visions—and when I had them, I couldn’t distinguish the present from the future…
Standing on the porch, I realized the news report had not happened...
Yet.
Shelly was not dead. Yet.
“What on earth did you just say?” Joseph demanded. His demeanor shifted from confused, to angry, to scared, and back to confused. And who could blame him? No man wanted to be awakened in the middle of the night by someone essentially telling him that his wife was dead, particularly when she was living and breathing safely beside him.
I shook my head, silently praying he wouldn’t tell what just happened. My visions were dangerous; that’s why my grandma had worked so hard on helping me control them—helping me prevent them…
“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, especially when you mess with fate. Changing what is meant-to-be will cause the future to spiral out of control. It doesn’t matter what tragedy you foresee—if you interfere, you’ll see just how much worse things get. Best to avoid seeing them all together. Now come on—clear your mind. Close that inner-eye, Sweet-pea. Keep it closed.”
Grandma’s voice echoed in my head while I watched helplessly as Joseph told Shelly what I had said. If fear had a face, it was that of my best friend’s that very instant. After all these years, she never forgot that I was psychic. Unspoken questions passed between us when we locked eyes.
With impending doom already ahead, how much more damage could my interference really do?
I guess we were about to find out.
“What did you just say?” he asked, though he heard me clearly.
I had driven manically and stumbled up the stairs of their front porch, nearly blinded by tears. When my best friend’s husband answered the door, I buried my face in his chest and wrapped my arms tightly around him.
That’s when the words I could never take back left my mouth.
“I’m going to find who did this to her, I swear! I’m not going to let Shelly’s death be in vain!”
I realized too late how peaceful the house looked. How dark it was—as if the inhabitants inside had been sleeping. Yes, it was late, but who could sleep at a time like this? I knew they had to be in as much anguish as I was. The kids, for goodness sake…
This week couldn’t have been any worse. After sitting through the treatments with my grandmother for months, there was nothing more doctors could do. The woman who single-handedly raised me slipped through my fingers. I could still hear her voice telling me, “Everything happens for a reason, Sweet-pea.”
Yet I saw no reason for this. Shelly didn’t deserve this.
Shelly had been my best friend since ninth grade--one of three people I let know my secret. In eleventh grade, I confided in her; the weight that had lifted off my shoulders was a relief unlike any I’d ever experienced. I immediately felt guilty afterwards though. I knew my secret would eventually cause trouble, but I desperately wanted to be accepted for who I was. I felt grateful Shelly didn’t laugh at me or think I was some insane girl making up stories for attention. And most importantly, she believed me, unlike Zack Tinksman in tenth grade. The first boy to capture my heart had also been the first to stomp on it. Telling him had been disastrous.
But perhaps not as disastrous as right now…
I stepped back, removing my arms from around Joseph. Seeing his bewildered expression, I thought about the news report with Shelly’s photo flashing onscreen. It said she’d been murdered in cold blood.
Lights turned on from within the house. I heard the drag of house-slippers across the living room’s polished wooden floor. Shelly peered over Joe’s shoulder, tying her robe around her nightgown.
“Cora?” Shelly said, sounding as confused as Joseph looked. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
My heart landed somewhere in my stomach. Yes, I had made a horrible mistake. All my years of control had gone down the drain when my grandma died. The stress had given me a psychic-cold. I barely knew if I was coming or going these days. I could no longer prevent my visions—and when I had them, I couldn’t distinguish the present from the future…
Standing on the porch, I realized the news report had not happened...
Yet.
Shelly was not dead. Yet.
“What on earth did you just say?” Joseph demanded. His demeanor shifted from confused, to angry, to scared, and back to confused. And who could blame him? No man wanted to be awakened in the middle of the night by someone essentially telling him that his wife was dead, particularly when she was living and breathing safely beside him.
I shook my head, silently praying he wouldn’t tell what just happened. My visions were dangerous; that’s why my grandma had worked so hard on helping me control them—helping me prevent them…
“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, especially when you mess with fate. Changing what is meant-to-be will cause the future to spiral out of control. It doesn’t matter what tragedy you foresee—if you interfere, you’ll see just how much worse things get. Best to avoid seeing them all together. Now come on—clear your mind. Close that inner-eye, Sweet-pea. Keep it closed.”
Grandma’s voice echoed in my head while I watched helplessly as Joseph told Shelly what I had said. If fear had a face, it was that of my best friend’s that very instant. After all these years, she never forgot that I was psychic. Unspoken questions passed between us when we locked eyes.
With impending doom already ahead, how much more damage could my interference really do?
I guess we were about to find out.
Copyright © T.D. Edwards 2014