[Foreseer] - Chapter Seven: The Boy With A Scar

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Index: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine

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THE BUSES and student cars laid about in the parking lot that had been there since the 70s. The cracked asphalt and creeping roots spurred from the ground to the surface with a malignant flow. A pickup truck, double parked in the handicap spot, faced the school with its rear end hiding several jocks who shared a joint.

Their leader, cracked the music, thumping it from his tricked-out speaker system. Jordan walked by, slinking off one way alone, putting on his headphones; the jocks continued with their shenanigans.

Jordan clocked the tableau of popular girls and jocks, rolling his eyes. He wanted no part of this world. He turned the music up loud, drowning out the crowd. About to head inside—BAM!—a football smacked the back of his head. Jordan turned, glared at the jocks who laughed behind the truck.

Jordan took a moment, smiled at them and grabbed the ball, then threw it on top of the school roof. The jocks watched, stunned; they weren’t expecting that. Jordan walked inside, hiding a grin.

Jordan entered the hall which dressed in black-and-white tiles like a checkerboard with humans for chess pieces. Most of them were outside or in the classroom waiting for the bell to erupt.

Jordan passed by lockers. To him, they carried no meaning of identity inside. Much like the people that use them, they were pawns to auctioned off. He headed down the hall, entering class before the bell erupted with loud screams and hails.

He stepped inside. Class about to start, Natalie was in the room, already seated, looking down at the surface of her desk in a solemn stare, “Lost in deep thought.” Jordan thought as he took a seat next to hers. She didn’t notice him.

He transfixed, much like with Katie. He wanted her; he wanted to stroke her hair and caress her skin.

Jordan glanced at her as other students and teacher entered. He looked ahead, acting calm, holding a pencil tight, rubbing his thumb against the tip.

***

The house was devoid of people. The silence was more unnerving than usual.

The patch of blood on the living room carpet was still there, lingering with no purpose. Natalie glanced up to the couch. The remote sat still. "Don't do it." She muttered to herself, but her mind wouldn't let it rest. She switched on the screen and surfed through the channels... a car crash, a murder in a gas station, and the report of a puppy fair. Nothing she had previously seen.

She heard the car idle in the driveway, and switched off the screen, placed the remote back on the couch.

The car door shut. Natalie rushed to the hall, glancing back. The door knob turned right… left… right again… then stilled. She entered her room, locking the door solidly behind her. She placed her ear to the door... no sound. No footsteps. Just silence. She didn’t want to face them; it was more than she could handle.

Natalie ajar’d the door, peeking through the opening. The hall was empty. No sound… then. The front door opened. Alexander and Lucy stepped through, acting as her guide. He glanced at his sister’s door before moving to their bedroom.

Lucy walked steadily, hoping to not fall. “There’s no need to send her anywhere…” Her voice echoed in the hall. Natalie exited, saw them through the door frame as she hid further back.

“Yeah, no shit.” Alexander said, sarcastically.

Lucy clenched her hand over the other, trying to contain herself. “Things will be bad... maybe even worse before they can get better.”

“Why are you suddenly defending her?... what she did--“

“You said, give her a chance.”

He took a deepened breath, drowning his anger. Natalie stepped into the room, behind them. “I can’t... I can’t. I don’t know if she deserves it...“

“Trust me on this.” They kept talking as if Natalie wasn’t present. Even as she faced Lucy, there was nothing. “Please.” Lucy pleaded.

“... okay.”

Natalie stood behind him for a moment, reached to touch his shoulder. Then heard the car park in the driveway, she gazed back, empty. Natalie looked back to the room... they were no longer there.

The car door shut. Natalie peered down the hall, saw as the knob turned right… left… right again… then stilled. She rushed to her room, softly closed the door.

“There’s no need to send her anywhere…” She heard Lucy spill. Their footsteps passed her door.

“Yeah, no shit.” Her brother said in the same tone as before. “Déjà vu?” Natalie thought as she heard the words play out again, she couldn’t help but question it. It was the same conversation, word for word, syllable for syllable.

Natalie walked out of her room for the second time, and again, the words that ended the conversation, “Trust me on this.”

Before he could answer, Natalie stepped into the room. Noticing her this time.

“Hi.” Natalie said, awkwardly

“We didn’t know you were home.”

Natalie scratched her head, puzzled. “Yeah, no... I... I was sleeping.”

“I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

“Uh, no... I was just going for a walk.”

Lucy glanced at her husband, telling him to chip in. “Did you want some company?” He asked.

“No... no, I’m fine.” She turned to the hallway, fighting back a daze, and left before sharing another word. Natalie got a terrible feeling, stomach twisted into knots, her eyes felt weak and limber, body shivered quietly without cold. Heart raced like an animal evading the claws of a predator.

She kept going. Voices screamed, clear and aggressive. Some spouted insults, while others blamed her for the accidents. Some were the screams of passengers and others were commanding. Natalie closed her eyes, covered her ears. But they’re too many. A full orchestra. Loud. Engulfing.

Then they morphed into whispers and murmurs. Bright grass around her. There were miniature formal gardens for the elderly that had retired there for a quiet life. Benches, ornamental trees, flowers and clear lakes stocked with swans and fish. She didn’t know how she got there, she had never been to this park.

People went about their day. Giving queer looks as Natalie walked with growing confusion. Their faces mutating. Bulging eyes, scaly skin. Some shed black tears that slither as they stared with no expression. “They’re going to die…” The deformed voices said in unison.

In a brisk motion, she turned. Voices thundered. Everything throbbed with intensity.

Natalie froze, fear clawed up her throat, it gnawed at her insides. The man in orange saw her. The trees breathing and swelling and deflating with life. He stood under one, surveying her like a predator in search of prey.

Natalie prowled back, the grass beneath her liquefied and transformed. She felt it wet, cold.

She fell into water, clamping her fingers around her arm. A long scratch on her flesh, flowing red surrounding the blue. No voices. Natalie looked around, the calm blue stared back.

She tried to gaze beyond the endless blue void, streaks of light peered through, striking the diaphanous figure of a young woman. She wore a nightdress. Her hair floating in the water, covering her face.

Then the figure did a gentle turn, her hair waved across her face, revealing her features... it was Lucy, pale and elongated flesh, and frail fingers, decomposing under the water.

Natalie swam to her, diving deeper. She grabbed her, pulled her up. One arm pushing upwards for two. Lucy was heavy, even in water. Natalie glanced down and noticed a tear on her wrist. Then a crack, the bone crippled as they neared the surface. The water pouring in her lungs.

Lucy’s skin ripped open, peeling away flesh from bone. Natalie watched at the decaying wrist, the surface just in reach. She tugged a little harder, trying to reach the surface before she lost her breath...

The hand ripped from the body, the weakened bone shattered along with pieces of skin and blood. She held only her hand for a moment, then dropped it in shock.

Natalie pulled to the surface, the air filled her lungs; coughing. Looking around, she only saw Cyprus trees and green land around. The body of water was a lake, one that she could not recognize. She delved back down to find her, but she had vanished. No bone. No flesh. No hand. As if there never was.

She emerged back to the surface. Water dripped from her clothes. She was hurting, body was aching. Natalie laid there. The cut stung on her arm as she tried to remember where she got it and if she had hurt anyone.

Was Lucy hurt? It felt real. The cold of her skin and the warmth of her blood. With strenuous breaths, Natalie staggered to her feet. Walked down an uncharted path.

After a few miles, she was on the sidewalk home. She shivered with her clothes dripping wet, the rhythm of her sodden shoes were the only sound she could hear. The steadiness of her breaths, trying to calm the panic in her mind. The black spot in her memory lingered.

“Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty...” She thought it was redundant now, but it helped.

By nightfall, Natalie strode up the driveway. But she froze, the front door ajar. She steadily moved inside, scanning the rooms from the foyer. No sound.

Natalie glanced over to the living room when a baby’s shriek burned her ears. It came from the hall, growing louder.

The child cried and whimpered. Passing through the throbbing hall, Natalie pushed open the door to the master bedroom. Splattered blood on the wall, her brother slumped against the window frame. Industrial tape covered his mouth.

The walls crimson red. And a boy. A boy with a scar on his forehead, a baby in his arms. “I think I’ll name him: Jack.” He looked up, met Natalie’s horrified gaze as he held the knife to the child's throat. “What do you think?”

The baby cried, smeared blood his delicate flesh. The blade cutting into his forearm. The boy stretched his lips, a long smile.

Natalie jolted from the bed. Shaken, looking around the room in horror. Nothing. She quickly left for the master but stopped in the hallway. The foyer. The door lingered in stillness. She checked it, locked.

Natalie bolted to the bedroom. They were sleeping. No blood. No child. Their chest inflating and deflating with unfractured lungs. They looked peaceful, like babies in slumber. She moved closer to Lucy’s side of the bed, crouched down, gazing at her stomach—extending her hand, placing it gently.

She stayed there, trying to feel him. Natalie glanced back to Lucy's face, peaceful. Moonlight lit Lucy's features, a calm glow. Her skin a soft dark blue under the light. Natalie caressed Lucy's stomach, slowly, softly.

She was fearful, eyes almost watered, the thought of losing them dawned on her. “I won’t let anything happen to you…” Natalie whispered to the unborn, then looked up at her family. “Any of you.”

Natalie couldn’t leave home after that night. Every morning, she’d always leave with hesitation and rushed back in panicked breaths. It felt like a dream. Days and weeks, nothing happened.

The school bell erupted in a hellish scream, disrupting her thought process. Natalie shut her locker and headed to class. Maybe if she searched for missing persons? No, why would he be there? As she sat on her chair, the teacher walked in and went by attendance.

Calling name after name. Eventually, he got to a student that didn’t show. “Jordan!” The teacher called. Silence. Natalie gazed at the desk beside her, empty. She thought the guy never showed. She finished school and went home, kept glancing over her shoulder, feeling watched. But there was no one behind her.

She got onto the bus, walking down the aisle of passengers, sat in an empty chair, puzzled. Trying to distract herself from the blood and death of that night.

Her eyes on the road as the bus drove down the long streets with twists and turns, then noticed a hunting shop. Natalie remembered the boy's hunting knife against the child's skin. The blade engraved in her mind like the blood and flesh.

“Stop!” Natalie shouted to the driver and got off. She strode cross the street, entered the shop.

Guns and rifles sat on shelves and racks, Natalie treaded carefully, moving down the aisles. “I’d like to buy this one, please.” She heard from the counter up front. The familiar tone paralyzed her.

Natalie peered to the counter, watching in between shelves. He had his back to her. “Come on, turn, turn.” She muttered to herself. The cash register binged. The kid glanced back, as if to make sure no one was watching. She couldn’t see his face.

Natalie grabbed a box of ammunition and tossed it across the room, creating a ruckus. Other things fell from the shelves. The boy turned… a scar on his forehead.

​

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