Broken Visions

Chapter 25

It’s hard for me to pinpoint the exact time, simply because I was unemotional for part of the vision and that time in my life is hard to remember. It always felt like nothing was happening, because nothing was. I had a broken soul, no connection to humanity; I was just a ghost roaming the world.

But I manage to get us to that time and place, dropping us safely into the middle of the campus yard where I had been observing people. The sunlight is trickling through the trees, the air is cool, and in the middle of it all is a sad looking violet eyed girl, sitting on a bench, looking lost, out of it, almost like a zombie.

“My eyes look so empty,” I note, crossing the yard to get a closer look. Alex is still holding my hand and follows me, gripping onto me tightly.

“They do,” he agrees. “But in just a few minutes you won’t.”

I wait, watching the vision form of myself sit there staring at people until finally she gives up and gets up to leave. She strolls across the campus yard, with no real direction or purpose, her bag over her shoulder, as she gazes into nothingness. And then she reaches the parking lot, drops her keys, picks them up, and start glancing around with a perplexed look on her face.

The moment that changed my life forever.

“I remember this part,” I whisper. “It felt like someone was watching me.”

“I was,” Alex says then points over to his cherry red 1969 Camaro parked toward the back beneath the trees. The vision form of himself is standing by the front of the car with his hands tucked into his pockets, looking nonchalant at first glance, but upon further assessment…

“You look nervous,” I say.

“I was,” he replies, his eyes not on himself, but on me—the real me. “Because I was about to do something really wrong.”

“You mean get close to me?” I ask as his thumb gently grazes the inside of my wrist.

He shakes his head once, eyes forward, jaw set tight. “I mean, let your soul heal and let you be emotional again.”

“But you didn’t know it was going to happen.” I watch as the vision form of me touches the back of her neck. It’s about to happen. My emotions are going to rush back to me and I’m going to start crying for the first time in my life.

“Yeah, I did.” He utters it so quietly his voice nearly gets carried away in the wind. He lifts his hand and points it at the vision form of himself, which is still in front of the car, but now his lips are moving.

“What are you saying?” I ask as I watch the vision form of myself feel the rush of emotion and tears pour out of her eyes. I want to cry with her, bawl my eyes out because I can still remember the emotional pain that I didn’t understand at the time.

“Stuff I can’t share with you yet, because it might break you again,” he says, glancing at me from the corner of my eye and I swear to God it feels like my stomach lurches up my throat. “I was told by a Foreseer I could help you return to… well, you. The emotional you that you should have been all along.”

“But you were so against me feeling things all the time. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s because I was conflicted.” He faces me, taking both of my hands in his. “I kept having these dreams of you drowning and I was just watching you, not helping. It kept happening for years and finally I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went and sought help.” He glances over at the vision form of himself again. “Afterward, I felt like I’d done something wrong, but at the same time right… I was really confused.”

I stare at him for a moment and can tell he’s avoiding eye contact with me, not because he’s lying but because he’s putting himself out there and is vulnerable. I look over at the vision form of him, watching the vision form of me on the ground, crying, drowning in emotions.

“I wanted to go to you,” he whispers. “I debated it over and over again in my head, but the bad side of me won.”

“I don’t think there was a bad side of you in this moment,” I tell him. “Or now.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting go of my hands, and raking his fingers through his hair. “Well, I’m glad you think so.” The vision form of him drives off and the vision me gets to her feet, before he speaks again. “We should go back,” he says quietly. “I just wanted you to know the truth.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, choking back an emotion fighting to be revealed. “Not just for telling me the truth, but for giving me back my soul and emotions.”

The corners of his lips tug upward, but it’s barely a smile. “Don’t thank me. They never should have been stolen to begin with.”