5

Either my eyes are deceiving me, or Mr. Atwell from the dry cleaning shop on 5th is coming through the door and straight towards me. The deranged girl continues to babble and bark, but his attention seems to be solely focused on me at the moment.

"What am I doing here? What is this all about?"

"Pipe down, you little prick, and I might let you die quickly."

I fade in and out of consciousness, knowing that I have no means to fight him. The metallic stench of blood assaults my senses as he deliberately gouges inside my abdomen for the fatal blow.

"Son, are you ok? "

"Jon, can you hear us? Snap out of it. You're safe, and we need to know what you saw."

My mouth is dry, and I reach out for the cup of water that Detective Muller is extending. The room is whirling along with my thoughts. Blessed, or perhaps cursed, with the gift of heightened remote viewing partnered with traits of a die hard empath, I had just relived the last moments of the serial killer's latest victim. The scene wouldn't stop replaying in my mind. My leg and chest even hurt, shadowing the victim's pain.

"Son, did you see his face? Can you tell us who we're looking for?"

"Nn-no... I'm sorry. ", I lie before breaking into tears.