Shattered: A Psychic Visions Novel (2 page)

A light flashed on overhead, covering her in soft white as she stood in the center of the glow.

She closed her eyes.

And waited for whatever fate was about to hit her with.

*

No. Not there.
Don’t go there. You don’t understand. That’s not what I wanted. Not what I intended.

Why did you go there?

You were supposed to keep driving.

Away to safety.

This man will hurt you.

You must hurt him before then.

Attack then run away.

All men are killers.

All men are bad.

All men will hurt you.

Run child run.

Oh, it’s
his house.
Wow
. Okay that was smart. I already tried to kill this one once. Maybe you can succeed where I failed.

*

As days went
this was one of the worst. Stefan had been working with several patients at the hospital. Newly admitted, desperately in need of help. His kind of help. And Trevor’s help. Then Dr. Trevor Johnson had been the one who’d called him in.

One of the patients had attacked without warning and caught both men off guard. The patient hadn’t shown any violent behavior up until then. Yet it had erupted from one second to the next and sideswiped the men. He knew to back off and rebalance before attempting more work, but the trigger had startled other patients and it took everything he had to control the situation.

Plus he’d had to go to the children’s ward to see several patients. He’d gotten his center of balance back before arriving – the energy of the ward demanded he be in the right place mentally before he could enter.

He’d found one little girl more distant, colder than ever. They’d been making such great progress with Anita. There was something wrong inside. He was sure it was a possession issue. Maddy had been making progress, but not enough, and the child was fading before their eyes. Yet she’d had a violent outburst today as well. Completely out of the blue, she’d lashed out at him with her plastic knife and fork. It had been a mere scratch, but still… Depressed at the continuous lack of progress and afraid they were in danger of losing Anita, he’d come home in a rare mood.

Not wanting to taint Mina with his negativity and frustration, he’d gone directly to his art studio. But his beloved Mina always understood his moods and needs and brought her harp to play quietly beside him.

Now hours later, his tensions and frustrations eased as he worked. He studied the painting in front of him and shook his head. “This one is garbage.”

Mina gently reached out to him. “If it eased your demons – it’s never a waste.”

He laughed. “True enough.” He threw down the paintbrush, wondering what insight this mess was to give him with the multiple headaches. He could see some kind of headscarfed old woman but over that were slashes of red and black – he narrowed his gaze, his mind twisting and turning on the possibilities, mayb–

A cry for help reached him on the ethers. The same person who’d called the last time. He’d been sending responses but hadn’t received an answer yet.

Just as an insight, one that had been sitting just outside his consciousness, was breaking into his brain, someone pounded on the door. Someone believing he was hurting her…but what was it…?

He was dragged from one reality to another.

And this one was so much worse.

*

Hannah stood at
the front door of the stranger’s house. Some
thing
was pushing her to stay. Some
one
else was telling her to run. She wavered on her feet. Then the door opened.

Slowly, carefully.

“Hannah?”

And she knew her worst fears had come true. Her feet, the betrayers, hadn’t understood and had led her to the worst place possible.

She opened her eyes and stared at the beautiful man in front of her.

“No,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.”

“What’s not possible?” said the man standing in front of her, his voice so soft and caring she wanted to cry. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head as he gently grabbed her arm and tugged her closer.

“You’re dead,” she said, her voice choking up. “I know you are. You have to be,” she cried out as the last of her strength drained out of her toes. It was over. Whatever fight she’d been involved in. Whatever struggle she’d been working toward – she’d lost. She didn’t even know why.

“Why do I have to be dead?” he asked, leading her to the front door.

She stared at him, trying to sort through the muddle in her head, but couldn’t. There was only one thing clear. “You have to be because I stabbed you.”

And she collapsed into his arms.

The man she knew deep inside – with as much certainty as she had ever felt in her life – she’d tried to kill once already. A man that she’d try to kill again if she had the chance.

But she didn’t. And wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

He’d won after all.

H
annah opened her
eyes and winced. So much damn white. If she had a choice she’d never see that color on a wall again. Surely she’d spent her whole life in rooms like this one. White ceilings, white walls, white curtains. Was it supposed to be healing or some such nonsense? Because she was sure the constant purity was making her a little sick. Maybe she’d go to hell for her thoughts, but there was a lot to be said for living a little and splashing all that whiteness with wild color.

She rolled over for the tenth time wishing her legs and ribs would stop aching. Somehow she’d hurt herself again and enough to end up in a hospital. Now, if only she could stop the hospital from contacting her family. But she was pretty sure her father already had everyone on full alert for when she showed up at the next medical facility. Not
if
she showed up but
when
. He was nothing if not thorough.

That she had no idea what had happened was going to be more ammunition for him to push her back on drugs, and if not to save herself then to save her fellow man.

Before she did something serious.

She stared down at her hands and had to wonder if it wasn’t already too late. She’d been bleeding heavily earlier, yet there didn’t appear to be a scratch on her arms or hands. She didn’t get it. But neither was she going to ask. If she wasn’t connected to so many tubes she’d get up and trek to the bathroom to take a look. As it were she felt fine, other than her legs and ribs – and if she ignored the pounding behind her eyeballs. She’d spent enough time in the hospital to learn to be closemouthed. They freaked out if you asked questions like,
What happened to me?
Or,
How did I get here?

These questions burned at the tip of her tongue, but she had no intention of letting them out. Her episodes were legendary in her family. She’d spent the last ten years dodging her father’s caring, cosseting…okay let’s be honest…suffocating version of love. He wanted her locked up in cotton batting, and she wanted to run wild and free.

Every time she’d tried though, she’d ended up in the exact same place. A hospital. Within days she’d be transferred to the private hospital under Dr. Bronson’s watchful eye, and he’d offer that tiny lip twitch of a smile that never matched his eyes and let her know how happy he was to see her safe and sound and back under his care. Then they’d go through the same dance again where he evaluated her actions, her mindset and her emotional stability, and she’d lie through her teeth. After weeks of this routine and unable to find anything wrong with her, he’d be forced to release her into her father’s care. There she’d stay until her father and his ugly henchmen let their guard down and she found a way to escape.

She knew one of these days her father would refuse to give her an opening to squeak out, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying.

She needed her freedom. Even if she flew and crashed – like she did every damn time – it was still better than lying locked up in a cage and never tasting the fresh air of experience.

She’d even started her own business on the sly. Without Tasha, her manager, she’d have gone under a long time ago. This was Hannah’s third episode since Tasha had started to work for her. Hannah wished there was a way to keep her in the loop, but there wasn’t. Not unless she could anticipate when the blackouts would happen. Based on the previous sessions, Tasha would be contacting her shortly.

In reality Hannah needed to call her store manager, not the other way around.

Except, where was her phone? She glanced around but couldn’t see one. Which meant Hannah would need to get yet another one. What was that – her third already this year? Then again with her faulty memory who knew – it could have been a half dozen. Brooding, Hannah stared at the damn white sheets and wondered – what kind of excuse could she make up this time?

*

“You have no
idea who she is?” Dr. Trevor Johnson asked, a knot of quiet humor lifting the corner of his mouth. “Wow, he who knows everything is stumped.”

“Blocked would be the correct term here,” Stefan Kronos said blandly. “If you’re going to insult me, then do so correctly.”

Trevor laughed. “Good enough.”