Joel is looking at me, tears slipping down his cheeks slowly. He leans into my touch, forcing a smile as though trying to comfort me. Behind us, I can hear a voice, gravelly and thick, but anxious. I don't see a face. Just Joel's. I don't know where we are, or why I'm with him, but it's hard to focus on the details.

There's a gun pressed against the back of my head.

"PULL THE TRIGGER OR I WILL, VIOLET!"

My hands are shaking, fingers loosely hanging onto a pistol of my own as the man's voice rings through the room.

"It's okay, Vi," Joel whispers. "Just make it quick, and you'll walk out of here."

I'm sobbing, beside myself as I refuse him. Whatever I feel for him is strong, choking me at the mere thought of losing him. "No. I won't—"

In this world, I'm in love with him. I seem to love him a hell of a lot.

"You have to," he says, attempting to stay strong for me. "Just do it. I love you. I love you so much."

Those words are the last thing I process before a gun goes off.

As quickly as I was taken away, I'm back in the moment with unanswered questions. I don't know if it was me who killed him, if it was my finger that pulled the trigger. But it could be, and it's jarring.

I could be a murderer. I could kill this innocent man in the near future, and I don't know why or where or who is holding a gun to the back of my head when I do it.

"Carrigan?" Chief asks. "Carrigan?"

My vision is blurring, and my head is caving in as I step forward, my legs moving out from under me like they're made of slippery jello. I try to keep a hold on myself, to calm my breathing down but it fails. I fall forward, my body buckling.

The only thing I hear before I pass out is someone saying my name.

Someone catches me before I hit the ground.

***

When I come to, I'm sitting in the back of a police van as Chief Conrad kneels in front of me. The nausea that overcame me is gone, and all I'm left with is paranoia. What I saw was real, completely real.

I don't know what to do about the vision. For once in my life, I don't know how to respond.

I've never played a direct part before, not like this.

Everything has changed in the matter of one premonition.

"Damn," Joel remarks. "I've never had a girl pass out just from looking at me."

"Don't flatter yourself," I grumble under my breath. "I just get sick sometimes. Must be a mix of exhaustion and dehydration."

"Med student?" he guesses.

"Criminology," I deadpan. It's not like he needs to know anyway. "I need to get home. I've got a test to study for."

No one points out that it's past three o'clock in the morning, and it's not really prime time for homework. I'll admit, it's not one of my better lies, but I'm eager to leave and searching for any excuse.

Joel gets up immediately, blocking my path. "Shouldn't you get checked out by a doctor first?"

"Can you please have the newbie detective back off?" I snap, hoping the chief will help.

Chief shrugs indifferently. "He's got a point. At the very least I need a word with you before you go. Would you excuse us, Reed?"

Joel smiles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather coat. I catch a glimpse of his teeth beneath his smirk as he walks away. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. See you at work tomorrow."

When he's out of earshot, I avoid Chief's eyes. I know what he's going to ask. He knows I wasn't sick, and that it wasn't a fluke. I can't confess the truth.

To protect myself, I lie.

"Car accident," I say. "It's so grisly. The whole thing— he flies right through the window and gets carved up."

"Got it," Chief interjects. "You've never reacted like that before. What makes this one so different?"

Because I'm meant to be a killer. "Because watching his head get cut off by his windshield was pretty nasty. Plus it's early in the morning and I haven't been feeling well."

I borrowed this false tale of Joel's death from an individual I encountered on the street a while back. There have been worse deaths, far more violent than a car crash, but I don't feel a need to share that with the chief. If he needs to think I'm easily spooked, so be it.

The way I figure it, I know what will happen to Joel, which means I can just stay away from him and keep myself out of his life. By the looks of the vision, he was in love with me, and I was in love with him. All I have to do is stay away, and nothing can come of it.

I tell myself this to stay sane. I've never been incorrect about the future before, but I cling to hope. I'm not going to be responsible, not if I can help it. I'm going to avoid Joel Reed as much as humanly possible.

"We're going to finalize a report tomorrow afternoon," Chief tells me, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to take a call. "Will I see you after your test?"

I nod, but I'm not sure he notices that I confirmed it because he's already moving away to speak to someone on the other end of the line. I guess he has the assurance I'll be there anyway.

I wonder if he knows I'm lying about Joel's death.

I keep playing the vision over and over in my mind as I ride home, my skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat. I can still feel the weight of the gun in my hands like it was real. Like it was actually happening in real-time. It's unshakeable.

By the time I get back to my apartment, I'm so sick thinking about the vision that I make a beeline for the toilet and puke up what little I have in my stomach. My palms are pressed against the sides of the porcelain, cold as I wretch into the bowl.

My whole body hurts.

"I have to stop this," I whisper, wiping my mouth on a piece of toilet paper. "I can stop this."

But I've never been wrong. Deep down I know that fate has a funny way of working out.

All I have to do is stay away from him.

Shouldn't be that hard, right? Right?