They Call Me

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They Call Me

Ramen 6378
This post was updated on .
It's been a relatively long time since I've written something, so I thought that I might as well give a superheroes story a try. This story attempts to take a more gritty, grounded approach to your standard superhero story, or at least I'd like to think so. Starting from the origins of our protagonist, the story explores most of her superhero life. With that, I hope you enjoy!

They Call Me

They call me Sadie, but my real name is Sadist.

I guess you could say that I wasn’t always named Sadist, though. I was born Sadie Fletcher, only daughter of James and Marie Fletcher. My parents were relatively well-off, and once I was able to care for myself, I was sent off to a prestigious boarding school a couple miles away from the city. I adapted pretty quickly to the new environment of the school grounds. The lush trees, sparkling creeks, and grand, soaring architecture of the school itself all appealed to my young schoolgirl mind. I soon made friends with the other girls in my classes, and we all got along well.

Still, the more time I spent with my friends, the more I began to think that I was, in some ways, different from them.
For example, we often played friendly games of hide-and-seek during free time on the grounds. This often took place along the grassy fields and the forest boundaries, with a few teachers patrolling the perimeter to make sure we didn’t get lost. During one of those games, I stepped into a new world of experiences that I had inside of me all along.

It was, by all means, a normal day. The class had just been dismissed for the day, and my gang of friends and I hurried to the forest perimeter to play hide-and-seek. As one of my friends faced the tree trunk and closed her eyes, the rest of the group and I hurriedly ran off into the treeline, the high-pitched “1, 2, 3…” of the countdown fading away as more distance was covered.

I veered away from the rest of my friends and quickly ran towards in a general westerly direction, my scruffy sneakers crunching the dry leaves on the forest ground. After a few minutes of frantic running, I stopped and crouched behind a nearby tree. I wondered, Did she stop counting yet?

Suddenly, as the question floated through my brain, in a flash, I saw a glimpse of the designated counter in my mind’s eye. White veins of light pulsed around the edges of my vision and the world began twisting bizarrely. My friend’s face, morphing and stretching, turned away from the tree trunk, smile on her face, and began walking towards the forest. Her high voice shouted out, “Ready or not, here I come!” The sounds of her voice echoed and rang inside my head, aching my brain.

A rushing sound ran through my ears, and the vision disappeared. Gone was the strange, echoing voice, gone were the flashes of white light around my vision, gone was the otherworldly sight of someone that I shouldn’t have been able to see. In front of me was the tree trunk that I had crouched behind earlier. The forest was silent, save for a bird chirping. No sound of a shouting young schoolgirl reached my ears.

My legs gave, and I sat down heavily on the forest floor. I raised my hand to my forehead, brushing away the dark bangs, and closed my eyes. My ten-year-old mind struggled to comprehend the unnatural event that had just occurred.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of rapid footsteps on the forest floor. Panic and fear of getting caught flooded my mind. I gasped as the white flashes engulfed my vision for the second time in seconds, and the sight of my friend came into view, blurred and grotesquely skewed. But this time, it was different. The visions felt more…developed. I could feel my friend’s emotions. I could feel her eager anticipation at finding the others. I could feel her feet, no, my feet, hitting the dry leaves and crunching them underneath dirty sneakers. We looked to the left quickly scanning the trees, raising a pudgy hand to brush back our blonde bangs against the growing wind. We then glanced to the front of us and noticed several bushes clustered near a thick tree trunk. The suspenseful anticipation in our heart rose as we slowed down as the distance between us and the tree closed. A grin came to our lips as we squinted at the tree and picked out the barest hint of an untied shoelace, white with red stripes, trailing out into the open.

Rushing sounds like roaring waves hitting a rocky shore filled my ears, and the white lights flashed and danced around my vision again. In a final explosion of white, the vision was gone, and I found myself lying on my back, the dry leaves pressing up against my light jacket. I stared up at the tall, waving trees against the cloudy sky, strangely calm. A bird flew across the gray expanse of sky, followed by another. I watched them pass with a steady gaze, thinking that I probably looked like any other schoolgirl lazily enjoying the day. But of course, this wasn’t true.

Suddenly, a small figure jumped into my view. My heart stopped for a second as my mouth let out a small childish scream in surprise. My friend stood over me, a huge grin on her face. “Gotcha!” she said, pointing her finger at me.

I slowly got up, trying to calm my heart down. “Good job,” I said to her, grinning. “How’d you find me?”

She gestured to my shoes. “Your shoelace was untied, and I saw it when I ran over here. You want me to tie it for you?”

I stared down at my shoe. Sure enough, the lace was loose, trailing off from the shoe itself. I glanced behind me. The tree trunk rose high into the air, and a cluster of bushes huddled near it.

“Sadie?”

I looked at my friend, slightly startled. She gestured to my shoe. My heart started beating faster and faster again as my eyes reached the shoe. The shoe was originally a bright white with red highlights, but months of running and playing outside had stained it to be far less bright than it once was. Still, the shoelaces maintained their original colors. White, with red stripes.

“No,” I said quietly. “I’ll tie it myself.”
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Re: They Call Me (Short Story)

Ramen 6378
***

The other eye. That's what I grew to call it over the years. As those years passed, I slowly learned how to refine and use this newfound power to its fullest potential. Oh, the joys of the early years after the discovery. Whenever I wanted to see what the other kids in the school were up to, I just had to think about what they looked like and who they were, and boom, there they were. I became the queen of hide-and-seek since I could see where every kid was, cowering in pathetic hiding spots like rats. I could ace every single test that those boring teachers could dish out since I would periodically check on them and see if they were making the answer key. Hell, I could spy on anyone in the world, just as long as I could envision their faces.

Still, as I was going through high school and acing every single class there was, I couldn't help but feel sort of...detached from the others. And no, this isn't because of some crazy biological change during puberty or anything. Having access to the other eye should've granted me instant popularity, and I should've been well-liked by everyone in the school. Instead, I grew to feel more alone than ever. It certainly wasn't my fault. I had a much better personality than anyone else I knew. And trust me, I knew a lot of people, even if they didn't know me back. I mean, I guess I insulted a few of those pitiful classmates of mine, but what can I say? Nine times out of ten, they deserved it. The other one time, I couldn't help but point out how insanely idiotic they were at everything they did. Well, gods and goddesses have to be separate from the commoners, right? That's how I like to think of it anyway.

Still, even though my life was going fairly well, I needed something more. Something that I haven't been able to feel for anyone, even my family, for many years, ever since I earned the other eye. But one day, I finally discovered my purpose in life, and why the other eye was given to me.

Classes were all done for the day, and I decided to get away from the sheer idiocy of my classmates and haul my nineteen-year-old self out for a leisurely walk. I grabbed a coffee from the nearest street vendor and set out along the college campus.

It was a pleasant enough day, I guess. The sun was shining, but the breeze provided enough cool air to prevent any discomfort. The wind caught the leaves on the ground, sending them fluttering and dancing along the grass and concrete streets, signaling the beginning of fall.

I took a sip of my coffee and let my eyes wander, watching the people go by. Brushing my dark hair back, I decided to amuse myself by letting my other eye wander. It's always fun to see what other people are thinking, especially those as inferior as the people on campus. You have to know every side of a story to fully understand it, right?

I went over to a thick tree trunk in the grass and sat down, stretching out my legs. Placing the coffee cup next to me, I leaned my head back against the trunk, folded my arms, and closed my eyes. Immediately, the image of the last person I saw before closing my eyes swam up into my vision. A teenage female, very close to my own age, with light brown hair and tranquil, serene eyes. She was accompanied by a teenage male, around the same age as well. The white lines of light slowly emerged, growing and growing until almost the entire image was invisible. With a final flash and a rushing sound like waves, the last traces of the face disappeared, and I became one with the girl, experiencing what she thought and felt.

By some strange urge, we glanced to our right. Strange, we thought. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Groups of people were scattered all over the grass, talking and laughing. A few other people were making their way across the campus, bags slung over their shoulders. One lone girl with a coffee cup by her side was sitting by a tree, separate from the others. She seemed to be sleeping.

"Hey, you okay?" A male voice echoed around our ears. The white veins of light pulsed steadily. We turned around to our left and saw a familiar face. He stared at us, concerned. A small burst of happiness filled our chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had this..." We looked towards the grass again, our voice trailing off. "Never mind," we said after a few seconds. "Don't worry about it. It was nothing. But thanks for asking, Nate."

Nate shrugged and smiled. "All right, then." He reached over and put his arm around my shoulders. "So we're still up for that restaurant tonight?"

Our vision blurred and swirled as we stepped over a puddle. "Yeah, definitely," we said, our voice echoing loudly. "You're still up for it, right? Not going to ditch me for some other girl?" We grinned up at him jokingly.

He glanced forward, smiling. "How'd you figure it out?"

We came to the end of the grass courtyard. Nate gestured off to the left and said, "We better both get to class. See you tonight?"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

He kissed me lightly and walked away, calling over his back, "Love you!"

"Love you too," we said after him.

Some strange emotion filled our heart, and I involuntarily twitched by the pure strength of it. The white veins of light suddenly began to beat faster and faster, growing out of the corners of our vision. Feeling terribly uneasy, I broke the connection. With the usual roaring sound and the flashes of light, I was back in my own body, still resting by the tree.

I looked down and saw that my hands were shivering. I shook them furiously, but I could still feel that strange chill. Unnerved, I strained my eyes, looking over to the far side of the grass courtyard. I could barely make out the figure of the girl whose body I'd shared just a few seconds ago. She stood still for a moment, then shouldered her bag and walked off.

I gave my hands another good shake. What the hell happened? I thought. I tried to pull back the feeling I felt for that brief moment, concentrating with all my might. Suddenly, a small flicker of the feeling emerged out of the depths of my memory. I flinched in surprise, then furiously tried to hold onto it. But like trying to recall a dream after waking up, I felt the remnant of the feeling quickly slipping away. Soon, I couldn't remember it at all.

I leaned my head back against the tree trunk, closing my eyes tiredly. What exactly was that feeling? It felt so alien, yet I think that I've felt it once, a very long time ago.

I wanted to feel it again. That's the basic premise of it all. I wanted to experience that feeling, whatever it was. Then, a few days after the incident, it hit me. It was love. I finally remembered what it was like to love someone, something that I haven't felt since I was a child. On that day, right by the tree and the grass and the people walking by, I discovered my purpose in life: to find love again.

Over the next few years, I pursued this goal with utmost determination. At first, I thought it would be easy. It would just take a bit of patience, like catching a fish. I had the attractiveness. I had the intelligence, tons of it. I had a great personality. What was there not to like?

But my fish kept on escaping the hook. I couldn't seem to maintain a relationship for more than a month, sometimes even half that. What was wrong with everyone? I was surely every guy's dream girl, yet they couldn't even bear to be with me for that short a time? As much as I hated to say it, I got more and more desperate as the years went on. After one relationship crashed, I would immediately find another within a few days. But within me was always that nagging fear that this one would fail too.

My only solace was that I did experience love again. As night fell, I would go outside into a busy city street and just sit at a table somewhere, usually in a coffee shop or something. I'd scan the crowd for signs of a happy couple, then I'd use the other eye to, hopefully, feel that wonderful feeling. And I did, for those precious few minutes that I could.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. The memories kept slipping away. I could never hold onto the damn things for more than a few seconds! I was tired of trying to squeeze in and try to grab a small piece of the others' love. The others' love, it was too weak. Too pathetic for me.

As time went on, the anger and frustration built within me, both from the failure of the man to keep up the relationship and from the sheer weakness of other couples' love. I had to do something. Because quite simply put, I couldn't bear to live like this anymore. I deserved better.
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Re: They Call Me *Updated 10/11/11*

Ramen 6378
In reply to this post by Ramen 6378
Twenty-four years old today. It's been five years, and still I haven't reached my life's goal. But you know what? I thought to myself as I stared contently up at the bedroom ceiling. Today's not a day to be depressed. I nodded to myself and kicked the covers off, getting out of bed. My shadow rose up against the wall, a black silhouette on the golden morning light. I opened the bedroom door and headed towards the kitchen.

Just as I was pouring myself a glass of orange juice, my cell phone started going off, its ring emanating from the bedroom. I sighed and walked quickly back, leaving my juice on the counter. The phone was vibrating on the bedside table, still spewing out the ringtone. Mental note to self: change that annoying song as soon as possible.

"Hello?"

"Sadie? Hey, it's Mark."

A small smile formed on my face as I went back to get my orange juice. "Hi, Mark."

"Listen, I know that we were supposed to have dinner tonight, but is there any chance that I could see you sooner? Like maybe in thirty minutes or so?"

His voice sounded nervous, tense. A small tendril of suspicion wormed its way through my heart. "Why?"

"No, well, I mean," he stuttered, "it's just your birthday and all, and I guess I was in the mood for us to do some stuff together before the dinner."

I couldn't help but notice a bit of false enthusiasm at the end. In a nonchalant voice, I said, "Sure, why not? I'll meet you in front of the diner in half an hour, okay?"

"Great," he said, sounding relieved. "That'll be great, Sadie. See you in a bit."

I hung up and downed the last of my juice. Sighing resignedly, I went over to the sofa and sat down, resting my head in the soft cushions. I pulled up an image of Mark in my head. Immediately, honed through years of use, the familiar white veins of bright light emerged from the edges of the image, quickly drowning out every trace of the face. Within seconds, with rushing waves filling my ears, I was suddenly behind Mark's eyes, seeing what he saw, feeling what he felt.

The room swirled bizarrely as we placed the phone back on its stand. Our bare feet padded silently on the carpeted floor of the apartment as we made our way through a hallway, morning light spilling out from a nearby window. We came up to a closed door at the end of the hallway. Raising a hand and turning the doorknob quietly, we opened the door. It was a bedroom, with white walls and a long window covered by closed blinds. A ceiling fan whirred quietly, the soft breeze keeping our skin cool. The bed was relatively large, with a comfortable-looking mattress with a bedside table ornamenting the sides. Clothes were strewn around the floor. We glanced up at the bed and noticed a stirring figure, concealed underneath the covers. Still, a bit of long light-brown hair was visible, along with a thin, feminine arm hanging lazily off the side of the bed. A pair of bare legs emerged partially out of the covers as the figure stretched.

As our eyes traveled over the woman in the bed, we couldn't help but feel immense love and affection. Our lips twitched in the resemblance of a smile. Suddenly, our mind conjured up images of the other woman in our life, Sadie. Love was tainted by guilt, and regret. We sighed tiredly, wondering how we were going to break it to her, that we couldn't seem to love her anymore.

The white veins gave out a spasm, pulsing more visibly. Temptation filled me, the temptation to use my other eye to affect his mind and change it to thinking that he still loved me. As usual, I pushed it down back into the depths of my being. It struggled, then finally subsided. It seemed to get more difficult every time to push the temptation away.

As we closed the bedroom door, I was assaulted with another wave of regret. I quickly broke the connection and opened my eyes, finding myself back in my apartment. Suddenly, tears formed at the corners of my eyes as I thought about Mark. I wiped them away with a shaking hand, but my mind refused to retreat. Memories of the past few months filled my head. The job interview room where we first met. The ocean stretching out before me on our first date, and the firm wood flooring of the pier underneath my feet. The moments where we would just sit and think, a comfortable quiet filling the air.

I rested my head on the cushions and gave up the fight, letting my emotions well over. I lay there for a few minutes, tears leaking out. Suddenly, as if my mind decided that enough was enough, cold logic took over. The tears stopped, and my vision became free of blurriness. I took a deep breath and looked at the clock. It was nearly time for my meeting with Mark. I grabbed my jacket and wiped the last of the tears from my eyes. Logic's never failed me before. I just had to do what I did countless times before. Seriously, it was almost becoming routine right about now.

***

The diner. Oh, how many hours I've spent here. Located next to a well-used series of roads and streets along with a prestigious university, this old place received many customers, mainly college students, as it was the closest place to get a quick, but still decent meal.

I leaned forward in the cool seat, reaching for my coffee. The wind began to pick up, sending a cold breeze out. It really was becoming fall, I guess.

I glanced at my watch. Mark was running a bit late today. Probably explaining to his new girl where he was going. Smirking cynically to myself, I took a sip of the warm coffee, scanning the busy street in front of the diner.

Suddenly, I saw Mark across the street. He was wearing his familiar brown jacket and jeans, his dark hair becoming tousled in the growing breeze. I waved to him, putting a smile on my face. He waved back, forcing on an obviously fake smile. He never was a really good liar. The cars continued to zoom back and forth between us.

It was nearly time. I put the coffee back on the table and laid back comfortably in my seat. The white veins of light encompassed my vision as I closed my eyes. This time, flashes of perspectives filled my sight, drenching me with different feelings and emotions. I maneuvered through the overwhelming wealth of people until I found the one I wanted, the driver of a car who was stopped by the now-red traffic light.

We turned our head every which way, looking for the fastest route to work. Glancing up at the red traffic light, we cursed. Our boss is going to kill us now. We slammed our hand in frustration on the wheel. People began to walk across the street as the stream of cars on the road stopped. There was a diner on one side of the street, and a series of cafes and street vendors on the other. We squinted at the traffic light again. It was still red. We sighed resignedly.

Through the man's eyes, I could spot Mark, walking with the others across the street. The white veins began pulsing faster, as if building up to the moment. Waves of temptation crashed against my mind, and for the first time in months, I succumbed to them.

The driver's mind suddenly went dark, dormant, as if it had just gone to sleep. I swooped in, assuming direct control of his body. There was no we anymore. It was just me.

I stepped on the gas, gripping the wheel tightly. The tires spun quickly with a loud screech, and the car vaulted forward from its resting position in front of the traffic light. My vision narrowed, and the white tendrils slowly crept closer and closer to the center of my sight, nearly obscuring everything except for what was directly in front of me. The engine gave a great roar as the vehicle sped towards the cluster of people crossing the street.

Twenty feet. I could feel the anticipation growing in my heart.

Fifteen feet. People were turning around to face the sudden screeching of the tires and roaring of the engine.

Ten feet. The first screams had begun, but they echoed around in my ears, like they were underwater.

Five feet. The first of the crowd had begun to run frantically away. Still, most of them still stood there, dumbstruck.

Zero feet.

The car made impact. The dull thuds of soft bodies hitting the hard metal reverberated through the wheel. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Bodies flew upwards, sliding up the hood of the car. Several others flipped towards the sides, slowly twisting and turning in the air. Some were pushed underneath the car, the vehicle shuddering as they found their way under the tires. Screams pierced the air.

I broke the connection. The veins slithered out of my vision slowly as I regained the use of my own body. With a stoic expression on my face, I looked over at the street in front of the diner. People were everywhere, panicking, screaming, lying dead on the road. The car had vaulted upwards due to the collision and was now lying on its side, windows cracked and paint scratched. Blood was splattered on the once-pristine hood.

I squinted at the crash site, trying to make out Mark. I was sure that I hit him. Oh, sure enough, he was lying on the street, facedown, staying perfectly still. A pool of blood was coming from him, mixing with the other unlucky ones on the road.

I took a sip of my coffee and gathered my things. As I was walking back to my apartment, I couldn't help but feel that familiar sense of accomplishment. There was absolutely no doubt that Mark would've cheated on that new girl of his. I was just saving her the pain of losing him, the same pain that I'd suffered so many countless times. It always ends the same, you see. I fall for someone, then they betray me in some way. Of course I had to kill them, one way or another.

You can't live without love. So I did them the favor of saving them from a life without true love. Call me committed, or even altruistic, but hey, that's just the way I am.
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Re: They Call Me *Updated 10/11/11*

Ramen 6378
In reply to this post by Ramen 6378
I'm going to die. Not by some heroic sacrifice, not by trying to save an innocent person, not by something that I could fight and rebel against. No, I'm going to die by a brain tumor. A brain tumor! Seriously? That's not even a worthy death for someone of my caliber.

I found out at my regular appointment at the hospital a few days ago. Apparently, the tumor had been in my head for quite a long time, first developing when I was around ten years old. But it sat there in my brain, dormant, until recently. Around my early twenties, the doctor said, a deeply regretful expression on his face. That's when it became dangerous. Apparently, I only have a bit of time left to live. Around a year, at most.

I have to admit, I have been feeling terrible lately. The white veins keep on pulsing constantly around the edges of my vision, never going away. The veins seem, well, stronger, if that's the right word to use. They pulse more rhythmically, with more of an emphasis on the individual beats. Sometimes, I'm randomly transported to someone else's mind. Just for an instant, and then I'm back in my own body again. Let me tell you, that led to some pretty embarrassing stumbles and falls.

It worries me. I've never had something that I couldn't fight, and the other eye's always been my greatest asset in fighting the opposition, whoever that may be. But now, it's like I'm helpless to do anything. The other eye can't help with this.

In fact, I think it's making it worse. I've been getting these awful headaches whenever I walk around, and whenever I feel the slightest bit sick, the white veins seem to grow bigger, encompassing more of my vision.

What the hell am I talking about? The other eye's always been my greatest asset, like I said before. It's ridiculous to think that my own body is deliberately trying to kill me.

Such a ridiculous idea.

That's not to say that getting over Mark's unfortunate death was an easy thing to do. Out of respect to what he once was, I've spent a little less than a month "grieving," which is far more than the other men received. But he'd want me to move on, to continue to try to find happiness. So, to respect his wishes, I've effectively forgotten him, or at least put him deep in the back of my mind, to let his memory gather dust.

Still, it's always a good thing to look towards the bright side of things. And the bright side of this particular situation is that I have a shorter time to live, so I have to be more dedicated to my life goal. Speaking of that life goal, I truly believe that I've found, to put it in a cliché, the one. I had a date today. A man called Thomas Balfour. Apparently, he occupied quite a respectable position here in the city. Head detective of the police department, if I remember correctly. Amazing, how much a good job can make someone that much more alluring.

As I was dressing for the occasion, the white light leaped out at me again, blinding my vision and inflaming my headache tenfold. I vaguely felt my knees hitting the carpeted floor, my hands scrabbling at the ground, trying to ward off the veins. With the sound of screaming wind, my vision flashed, again and again, transporting me into the minds of countless people, each only for a fraction of a second, before jumping sporadically to the next host. A crashing sound filled my ears, and with a burst of will, I forced myself out of the vision.

Slowly, as the rushing wind faded away, I opened my eyes. The bedroom, oriented sideways, greeted me. Trembling, I got up, sitting on the carpet. I massaged my forehead wearily to get rid of the dazed feeling and looked around aimlessly, my mind numb. My eyes vaguely registered the sight of a broken vase on the ground, the blue and white pieces scattered everywhere.

Weariness of an unbelievable magnitude filled me, and I laboriously slid over to the bedroom wall, where I leant back against and rested my head against the cool, firm material. My eyes wandered over to the broken pieces of the vase, and inadvertently, tears began to leak out of my eyes. My rational, impartial, even cold side tried to stop them, but each time I saw the bits and pieces, the tears just kept on coming out faster and faster. I succumbed to my depression and threw down my head into my arms, crying into my sleeves.

What's happening to me?

The white veins of light, ever persistent even in the darkness of my closed eyes, pulsed slowly at the edges of my vision, as if in response.

***

I walked down the street confidently towards the restaurant where I'd meet the detective. I'd regained control of my troublesome emotions a while back, pulling the tears and uncalled-for sadness back to the attic of my mind, where they belonged. Emotions had no place in a situation like this, especially those of depression. I was finally going to accomplish my life goal, for goodness' sake!

And really? Tears? Really?

I glanced up at the sky. Gray clouds rolled across the endless expanse, obscuring the sun. It looked like it was about to rain. Ah, well, whatever. The most comfortable environments are created when it rains, anyway.

Soon, I was at the restaurant. It was a well-known restaurant in the area, primarily known for its steak. I was looking forward to the meal, to say the least. It's been too long since I've eaten anything worthwhile. This date was going off to a good start, in my extremely educated opinion.

I decided to wait by the door of the restaurant for a few minutes, just on a whim. I sat down on a nearby bench and watched everyone go by. Cars zoomed past, only stopping for traffic. Pedestrians walked on the sidewalks, some of them halting by the traffic light to cross the busy street. Several of them glanced up at the sky worriedly, quickly stepping up their pace.

I glanced at my watch. 1:46 PM. I'd arrived way too early. Still, better to be early than to be late, I suppose. About fifteen minutes to kill.

I decided to pass the time by engaging in my favorite pastime. I got myself comfortable on the bench and closed my eyes, letting the white veins obscure my vision. In no time, I was in the shoes of a young woman, carrying a small baby. A strange feeling filled our heart, and we glanced over our shoulder. Oddly, there was nothing out-of-place to explain this feeling. Just the restaurant that we'd eaten at a few minutes ago, along with other people walking on the sidewalk. Some of them looked at us strangely and quickly moved on. A lone woman was sitting on the bench near the restaurant, head lowered. Still slightly unnerved, we turned our attention back to the street, waiting for the light to stop the wave of cars so we could cross. A small hand touched ours, and we looked down lovingly at our baby.

I quickly grew bored and exited the woman's being. I jumped around from person to person, seeing if they had anything interesting going on in their heads. Newspaper reporter, pizza delivery man, restaurant waiter, a mother pushing a stroller, a truck driver, a young boy holding his father's hand, a teenager with a group of friends

Suddenly, a feeling of apprehension hit me. I hastily cycled back through the list of people, trying to search for a past mind. After a few moments, I found him. The truck driver. Still following that strange feeling of intuition, I dived into his mind.

A feeling of wooziness swept over us as we grasped the wheel of the cumbersome, heavy vehicle. Our mind fought to keep the truck steady as our vision whirled and twisted around us. [i]Damn,[/i] we thought in a slurred voice. I really shouldn't be drinking so much. Our blurry eyes managed to distinguish the sight of a traffic light up ahead. Great, we thought. I can give myself a rest once that light turns red.

Suddenly, the truck began to speed up. We vaguely registered the feeling of our foot pressing down heavily on the pedal. We struggled to keep ourselves from falling unconscious and to lessen the pressure on the pedal, but these two simple tasks proved to be too great for our tired body. With a final groan of protest, we fell into a deep slumber, our body only keeping the wheel steady from muscle memory.

I pulled out of the driver's mind quickly. With a jerk, I opened my own eyes, and the veins of light retracted back into the edges of my vision. I hurriedly stood up and glanced up and down the street. Sure enough, I could spot the truck in the far distance, rapidly coming closer. My peripheral vision glimpsed a sudden change in color in the traffic lights on the street in front of me. The lights had turned red. Most of the cars hadn't been stopped by the light, managing to get through just in time. The incoming truck would be the first to be faced with the red light. And with the driver unconscious at the wheel, I don't think it would stop.

Pedestrians had begun to cross the street. Strangely enough, no one thought to take notice of the approaching truck. Or maybe they thought that it, like all the other cars, would stop to let them pass and obey the rules of the road. The woman with the small baby, whose mind I'd occupied just a few minutes ago, was one of the people crossing the street.

My feet stepped forward automatically, but then something held me back. Feelings of confusion filled me as I wavered uncertainly there on the sidewalk.

Why am I not warning them?

Why should you? They're idiotic enough to not see the truck heading towards them.

But I can do something to save them.

But should you? That's the real question. Is someone of your caliber, someone of your prowess, really low enough to stoop down to their level of idiocy and help save their worthless lives?


The white lights pulsed as if in agreement. I stood still for a moment. The truck approached quickly. Some of the pedestrians on the sidewalk began to glance curiously at the speeding vehicle.

Through the conflicts and battles happening within my mind, I suddenly remembered the memory of the mother with her small child. The waving of the child's hand, and the looking down onto its smiling, innocent face. And the love. The intense feeling of love that the mother had felt for the child. I wasn't part of that love. Who was I kidding, for all this time? Every single time I've intruded into another person's being and felt love, I've been saying to myself, no, lying to myself that that was my love as well.

I was nothing more than a parasite, feeding off their own feelings that should belong to them alone.

My mind flashed and brought up the memory of the men I've dated in the past in my search for my own love. The thoughts of their hopes and dreams, that they too would find the same thing I was searching for one day. The images of their mangled, dead bodies rose up hauntingly. I recoiled from them, regret filling my heart. Not the shallow excuse for regret that I'd come up with earlier. True, sorrowful regret for wasting the lives that they could've had, if it wasn't for me.

I glanced over at the woman with the baby and back at the moving truck, breaking out of my reverie. Now was the chance to redeem myself. I'd listened to the other eye for far too long.

With a burst of will, I forced myself to run towards the group of pedestrians. Most of them were already out of the path of the truck, either at the end of their crossing or at the beginning. But the woman was right in the middle, the only obstacle in the truck's way. I sprinted towards the woman, trying desperately to clear my vision as the white veins of light crept from the edges of my sight, obscuring my eyesight. They pulsed rapidly and grew thicker, as if trying to hinder me. Still, my legs carried me swiftly to the street. I vaguely registered my shoes beating down on the firm concrete of the road.

With a cry, I pushed the woman out of the way, sending her quickly to the edge of the street. Out of the edge of my eye, I could vaguely discern her from the white lights, stumbling to a halt, clutching her baby, and staring at me strangely. I turned away from her to face the incoming truck, catching a glimpse of her horrified face as she registered what was happening.

My ears caught screaming coming from all sides of the street as the truck came closer and closer. I closed my eyes and waited.

It was quick. Within a fraction of a second, I was thrown up into the air, my broken body soaring upwards. The redness of blood mixed with the fading white lights as I slowly looked across the sky in a dreamlike state. As the veins slowly disappeared, I could finally see clearly for the first time in many years. The first, and last, thing that my newfound eyes saw was the disappearance of the gray, stormy clouds and, finally, a sudden ray of bright sunlight shining down.

They call me Sadist, but my real name is Sadie.
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