Desires Unleashed (33 page)

Even if they laugh at you, you have to do something. As it is now, everyone is in danger. I know you're scared and unhappy, but you can't run from these visions.”

“If I take my medication again, I'll be okay,” Natasha said stubbornly.

Annette's face flashed with anger. “You got to be kidding me, did I just waste my breath here?! Sure, you can run and hide behind your meds and pretend that you didn't see what you saw. Delude yourself. But you'll always know the truth. Look, it's your choice, Tasha, but I hope you make the right choice even if it's the hardest one,” Annette said. She was angry with her friend, but she could empathize with her. In less than forty-eight hours, Natasha had discovered she's a psychic and had to witness a horrible murder take place
and
through the eyes of the sadistic son of a bitch that committed it. She figured Natasha's world just flipped upside down. But she couldn't accept Natasha letting people die when she could prevent it, or at least try to prevent it, just because she was afraid.

Natasha sat in the leather chair, and reflected on everything her friend had said to her. She thought about everything that had happened to her in the past two days. She wanted to go home, to think. She needed to be alone. She rose from the chair, walked to her friend's bed and gave her a hug. They embraced for a long time; she thanked Annette for the pep talk.

“Think about all of it, Tasha, okay? I love you, be careful, really careful,” Annette said as Natasha closed the door behind her and headed for the elevator. She pressed the lobby button, walking off the elevator when she reached the ground floor. On the train ride home she thought about it, weighed her options. She could take the medicine again now that she knew what it did. Had her parents been thinking about her well being when they gave her the medicine to suppress her dreams or was it because they didn't want to be troubled with a 'special' daughter? She wondered about that as the bus rocked slowly. She walked into her apartment, determining that she needed to talk to her mother. She sat down on the sofa, picked up the telephone and punched in the seven digit number.

She glanced at her watch as she waited for an answer, seeing that the time was 10:05 P.M. She waited for several rings, then came the sound of her mother's voice.

“Hello?” asked her mother.

“Hey, Mom, it's me, Tasha. I need to speak with you,” she said. There was a short silence over the phone, then her mom responded.

“Okay, you know you can talk to me about anything, baby girl. What is it?”

“Mom, why did you and Dad put me on this medication and furthermore, why did you lie to me about it all these years? I've been thinking I'm taking the meds for migraines and I'm not. I can see things, can't I?” she asked, her voice was laced with anger. Anger at presumed betrayal by her parents.

“How did you find out? At the hospital?”

“Yeah, I did, I must have looked like a fool to them,” she said.

“We did it for you; we didn't want to see you suffering. When you were four years old, you started seeing these visions. You would be so confused and terrified. You thought they were nightmares and at first, so did we.” Her mother paused.

“So what happened?”

“You would come up to us in the mornings sometimes, but most of the time it was during the night, you would wake up screaming after you had a dream. And you would tell us what you saw. Like I said, we thought they were only nightmares. But then one day, you came to us and you told us a disturbing dream you had about your best friend Michelle, from next door. You were very upset and you said that she was playing with her father's gun and it went off, then everything went black.” Her mom's voice trailed off to silence.

“Mom, go on, what happened?!” Natasha said urgently.

“She died the next night. She was playing with her father's gun, just like you had said and the safety wasn't on. It went off and the bullet entered her head. She died instantly.” Her mother's voice quaked with tears. Natasha's tears fell freely from her eyes. They trailed down her cheeks. She remembered her friend's funeral. How sad she'd felt that her best friend had died. Her parents never told her how she died. Now, it sickened and angered her to know her friend's death could have been avoided.

“Did you even try to tell her parents what I saw, even if they laughed at you? Did you!!!” She yelled into the phone overcome with anger, sadness and frustration. Annette was right. She wouldn't sit on this ability and let people die, not like Michelle had died twenty years ago. She could hear her mother crying, she felt the sorrow set in. The situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She might have been able to prevent someone from dying. There was no telling how many deaths had happened that she might have foreseen, and possibly changed the fate, if she had known the truth before last night. That woman might still be alive. No one to blame but herself. She would not live with that fact, ever again. She wouldn't be a hypocrite.

“We didn't tell her parents. Natasha, believe me, I have had to live with that all these years! I was too sick at heart to believe you could see the future; I didn't want your little mind to suffer. I couldn't sit there and watch my only child go through all of that mental and emotional anguish, night after night. There was no telling what you would see, how it would have haunted you. You were a baby, how were you to understand what you had. We did what we thought was best for you, to give you a normal life!” Her mother said passionately.

“I haven't been taking the medicine for a few days, Mom. I've seen things. Things I can't let go of. I've seen through the eyes of a murderer, Mother. I don't know how I have the connection, or why, but I do. I've seen him kill someone. And I think it was the murdered woman that was on the news today. I don't know much detail right now but if I get another vision, I will not disregard it or any more in the future. Can you support me?” she asked.

There was a silence over the phone. Then her mother spoke, softly, “If this is what you truly want to do. I will support you. But think about it. You may never be able to stop these visions or control them.”

“I know. First I need to figure out how or why I only see visions of certain people,” she said thoughtfully.

“When we took you to a specialist, he said that you make connections through the personal items that you've touched. With your friend, you had played with her toys, you were the best of friends, your connection was strong. It's a mental bond, or so I was told. The doctor said that the brain waves have to be really active, strong, for you to form the connection. He hinted that you may have a touch of clairvoyance, which accounts for part of the connection.”

It was Natasha's turn to be silent. She remained quiet for a few minutes, then she spoke softly, “I can't believe you knew all of this for all of these years, and never told me.”

“What parent wants their child to suffer?”

“Certainly not the parents of the people I could have saved, Mom.” Natasha felt the anger boil up again. She knew her mother meant well, but she would have wanted the choice. She understood she was being unduly harsh, but the past seventy-two hours had been hard on her, and she was having difficulty controlling her emotions.

“I was afraid that you would go insane from what you would see. I didn't want that. Are you sure you want to stop taking the medication?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes, Mom. You know, Annette said this was a blessing and now I see why. I can't throw it away, nor can I hide. Mom, I realize why you and Dad did what you did, and I forgive you. I know that I've been a bit harsh, I find myself criticizing you for having the very same thoughts that I had earlier. I'm wrong for that and I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go. I love you, both. Tell Dad, I said 'hi'.”

“I love you, too, honey. I'll talk with you later.” They finished their “goodbyes” and Natasha hung up the phone. She lay down on the sofa, slowly. She knew now that going to sleep would mean something entirely different from the norm. Sleep would never be rest for her ever again. She stared at the ceiling, and pondered the “cross” she was preparing to carry. She slowly closed her eyes, praying for the vision again. Soon she drifted away from the busy sounds of the street. The constant car honking, people screaming, sirens, all of it faded into silence. Then there was nothing.

She sat down on a black, dust covered chair. Her long, thick, muscular legs stretched before her. Thick, strong fingers were laced together and resting on her stomach. She was looking at a man lying stretched out on a metal table, naked. He was scared, this man. He begged for his life, eyes brimming with tears, his body was covered in sweat. His wrist and ankles were bound to the four corners of the table. A stream of urine trickled to the floor from the table, forming a small puddle. She laughed at the man, her tongue running over her lips. A large, thick bulge grew between her legs. Her left hand trailed down her denim jeans to caress the bulge making her moan slightly. Her eyes closed for a moment to savor the sensations.

“Stop playing with yourself,” a sexy, sensuous, feminine voice said. A tall woman had entered the room, wearing a red leather bustier, revealing the cleavage of her tightly pressed breasts, causing them to rise high on her chest. The shorts she wore were of the same skintight, red leather as her top. The shorts barely covered the pale curve of her buttocks. Her red high-heeled boots click-clacked on the concrete floor as she walked closer to the male form on the table. Her blue eyes peered curiously into the man's pleading face; she smiled as her gaze shifted towards the man whose vision Natasha was seeing.

The woman's right hand played in her own hair, fingers twirling the black locks between them as her smile became more seductive.

“Why don't
you
come over here, and play with me,” the male voice said. It was deep and husky, thick. It came from Natasha's throat, this man's voice. The man continued to massage his groin, fingers reached for the zipper, digging into the opening of the jeans, and freeing the bulge. Thick fingers massaged the hardness. Natasha could feel every sensation the fingers were creating and knew how much this man was enjoying himself. The sensations sent tremors down his spine. His back arched in the chair and a low animal sound came from his throat, a growl would best describe it.

“Should we save him for tomorrow night, or feast on him now?” asked the beautiful lady.

“Let's save him for tomorrow night. He's strong and he definitely looks tasty. But right now, I have other things on my mind. I want you on my mind,” the male voice said as fingers pointed at the hardness. The female threw her head back and laughed. She looked at the form sitting in the dusty chair and walked over to him, sitting in his lap. Her hips began to grind on the hardness, causing a deep, masculine moan to escape his mouth. Thick hands gripped the slender hips of the beautiful woman. His face leaned forward, Natasha felt as if her own tongue licked along the neckline of the woman, sending shivers through her own body, her back arching. The male form on the metal table began to scream for help. The woman turned around and looked at him, both of them laughed at him, before continuing their lovemaking. Through this man's eyes, Natasha could see the emptiness of the room. The windows were blocked with thick boards. The floor was covered with several layers of dust and grime. There was no electricity in the room, only a few candles burned around the prone man.

The male victim screamed until he was hoarse, despair starting to sink in. He began to cry again and pray. The beautiful woman began to undress, revealing two perfectly creamy breasts, her pink nipples erect. Natasha could feel the man's mouth closing around one of her nipples, his tongue licking them hard, and knew what this woman tasted like, she now knew her scent. She could feel the softness of the other breast in his left hand, his fingers groping the tender flesh. She could feel the woman's hotness between her legs over his erect groin.

Natasha opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as she lay still, gathering her thoughts. She remembered where she was, who she was. She knew she had seen things through the eyes of a man, knew they planned to kill the male victim on the next night. She knew she had a time limit. She sat up on the sofa and looked around the room, wiping her eyes to help clear her sight. She looked at her watch, seeing that the time was 5 A.M. She rose from the sofa, grabbing her coat from the rack and ran down the block, catching a bus before it pulled away from the curb. When she finished paying, she sat down in the back of the bus, until she reached her stop. Switching from the bus to the train, she rode the train until it arrived at Jackson Street, where she got off. The police station was just a few blocks away.

The white and tan building took up a full square block including the parking lot. She was a little nervous about what she was going to do. She hoped that they wouldn't laugh at her or call her names. She hoped that they would take her seriously. She walked into the huge station and looked around. The main lobby had several gray benches where a few dozen people sat quietly, waiting to be seen. The floor was light gray, cemented tiled squares. Florescent lights illuminated the huge room, adding a certain glow. Uniformed officers walked by, decked out in black pants and black zippered jackets with enough pockets to store all kinds of things.