Viewer, Walker, Whisperer Chapter 3

**Warning: This chapter is still under severe editing; the base of this chapter can change at any time without warning**

I wrapped my arms tightly around my legs in a huddle, shivering uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. Everything was changing. My whole world was falling apart, literally! And I couldn’t do anything about it!
I thought back to this morning; I’d woken up as per normal, prepped myself for school, but just as I was about to walk downstairs, it started.
The visions. They kept coming to me, blocking my sight. I paused in the middle of the doorway. It was as if I had suddenly been transported into another world, instead of my own, comfortable one. The images wrapped themselves around my head so that they were all I could see.
Huge ice bears and men riding on stallions. Charging pixies and elves with pointed ears. All of them seemed to be at war with each other; spears were drawn and swords were wielded. Magical shields protected magical soldiers. And each one of them wore the same, identical metallic sheen over their torso, something I’d thought resembled a bullet-proof ensemble.
Then, to add to the commotion, the ones with the pointed ears started playing a lute—a lute that I had never once seen in my life before. But I couldn’t hear anything; albeit I could see. The lute sent out dangerous ripples that instantly killed everyone else except those with the sheens—whom I’d supposed belonged to the same opposition.
Just when I’d thought everything was over, another army started marching in and took the place of all those that were destroyed by the lute. The commando of the opposition—the one in purple, sitting on the scary-looking ice bear—started instructing his troops, though I couldn’t quite confirm what he was shouting about in the sleeting wind and ice for I could only see, but couldn’t hear.
All of a sudden, I was shaken back to reality by my mother; she was staring at me with concerned, brown eyes. “Honey, are you alright?” I blinked; no more ice bears, magical lutes and metallic sheens could be seen, only her. I looked up at her and felt suddenly alone.
I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t possibly explain to her all that I saw that I was sure others couldn’t see. Not only would she not believe me, I would also have laid my burden upon her frail shoulders. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. She wouldn’t be able to handle the fact that her only child could see the impossible. She wouldn’t. I couldn’t make her.
So I’d coughed and wheezed and tried my very best to look faint. “Mother,” an empty cough, “I think I’m sick,” a lying wheeze, “Can I not go to school today?” Another fake cough to complete my ‘I’m sick’ image.
She led me to my bed and I laid down on it gently, as if I were dizzy. She tucked me in and sat down next to me. In that instant, she looked twice her age with all the stress and responsibility she had to take on.
I suddenly felt guilty. Maybe I should have just told her that I was fine and continued on my way to school, like I did back when I first had the visions when I was ten. But a part of me argued: ‘You know that’s wrong, Katie. Everything’s not fine, and you have no right to pretend that everything’s fine.’ I sighed quietly as my mother kissed my forehead and went out of the room, closing the door behind her.
That was what had happened. That was why I was lying here on my bed instead of having lunch in school. That was why I was so afraid.
I put a hand over my face. Why was I having all these visions? Why did I have to be only one who sees everything that happened only in fantasies? Why couldn’t I just be normal?
**
It was six in the evening when my mother returned back from work. I heard the front door creak open and shut silently; mother must’ve thought I was asleep and didn’t want to wake me up.
I smiled at that thought. Mother took so much care of me, even though I reminded her of father so much. She’d said that before, back when I was a little kid and father was still alive.
I still remembered her exact words. “You look just like your father, Thomas, you know that?” She said lovingly, pinching my nose. I squirmed and squealed and her face lit up.
Oh, how I missed those days. I wished that my father was still alive, that everything would go back to normal and that this was all just a terrifying nightmare.
But I knew—with everything in me—that that wouldn’t happen. Father was dead, killed by a ruthless hit-and-run; Mother was weak and aging; I was seeing things, hallucinating. None of that would change, as much as I wanted them to.
Suddenly, the door opened slightly and my heart gave a shocked squeeze. I immediately closed my eyes; Mother walked towards me. She sat down, and gently shook me. I let out a tiny snore to make my ‘sleeping’ more believable. But my mother shook me a little harder.
I yawned and my eyelids fluttered open; if mother hadn’t been so experienced at parenthood, she probably would have fallen for my ‘sleeping’ act. When she saw that I had ‘woken up’, she wrinkled her nose and smirked a little bit. I rolled my eyes and sat up.
“So, how have you been?” She asked. Her voice sounded tired; it must’ve been a busy day at the office.
“I’ve been good, what about you?” I replied. She sighed and looked down at her hands. I frowned.
“Is something wrong, mother?” She shook her head.
“No, no, just tired, that’s all. Work was,” she paused, searching for the right word, “busy.”
After that, we lapsed into an awkward silence. None of us knew—or dared—what to say. It hadn’t been like this before. We used to talk about life, all our problems; we used to be so close. But ever since I turned ten and started hallucinating—for lack of a better word—we grew distant. I wouldn’t talk about what was wrong, and after a while, she just gave up, resigning to the only possibility that her daughter has grown up.
Which, in fact, she hasn’t. Well, not yet, anyway. Mother got up and left the room, muttering a simple ‘dinner’s ready’ before she closed the door behind her. I sighed. What could I ever do to get us closer again?
**
I walked downstairs after another five minutes of staring into blank space, thinking about nothing, sprawled out on my bed with sea-blue sheets. Seating myself at the dining table, I noticed that mother hadn’t bothered to cook today. Instead, several take-out cartons of noodles sat waiting on the table, reeking of extra salt and oil.
My nose crinkled a tiny bit—but I knew mother noticed; she always did—and I scooped out the noodles onto my plate. I hadn’t eaten anything throughout the entire day—I had just been lying down in my bedroom, pondering over possible causes for my ‘visions’—and so I was ravenous. After dishing out two portions for myself—and ignoring my mother’s arched eyebrow—I dug in.
Halfway through my meal, mother cleared her throat, like she always did when she wanted to get people’s attention. I looked up at her, a noodle strand dangling down the side of my mouth. She stared back at me with her wrinkled face.
“Katie, I just wanted to tell you that your cousins will be coming.” I gaped at her, open-mouthed. My cousins?
“You mean, Keri and Kevin?” My voice sounded droopy and old, even older than my mother’s.
“Yes,” I could see that she was being careful with me on this subject. After all, I wasn’t actually fond of my cousins—my mother’s nephew and niece. But I couldn’t care less about my liking—or rather, disliking—for them right now.
The most important issue that I had to deal with was my visions. What if I had a vision while they were over? Wouldn’t they think I was a freak? And I’ll probably just embarrass mother!
That firmed up my decision and I spoke with precision, “I’ll be in my room on that day.” She put her hand over her face, sighing.
“Katie, please, don’t be so difficult.” My eyes narrowed. Difficult? I wasn’t stopping her from inviting my cousins over. Just that I wouldn’t be a part of it, that’s all.
She could tell what I was thinking from the look on my face. “They will be flying over to Hawaii for year-end holidays. That’s a week from now and tomorrow’s the only day I’m free for them to come over.” Wait, tomorrow?
“I just want to see them before they go to Hawaii, Katie. We used to do this, remember? They would always come to visit us before flying off.” I knew that. I could remember so clearly. The last time they’d come to visit was two years ago. The year they’d broke my dresser. The year I’d gotten my visions. How could I ever forget?
I simply continued staring, open-mouthed. I had no idea what to say. My mother could sense that, for she took my hand in both of hers and cradled it.
“Katie, just be accommodating this one time. Keri and Kevin will be up with you in your room while the three of us are downstairs. They don’t yet know about this whole thing. Aunty Suzanne is planning to tell them while they’re over. It’s meant to be a surprise, so you’re not supposed to tell them.” She stressed the last few words and I found myself nodding. If it meant so much to her, why shouldn’t I do it?
“Fine, but it’s only because you asked me. And if they break another one of my dressers, I’m not going to care anymore, got that?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t take it back. She sighed and let go of my hand, leaning back on her seat. “Okay.”
I got up to wash the plates, all the while processing what my mother had just told me. Keri and Kevin were coming over, and neither of them had any idea that they would be going on a surprise holiday to Hawaii. And I wouldn’t be the one to break the news to them either.
They were going to be up in my room, and we were going to playing or talking or whatever they planned to do—except play with my stuff. Just thinking about it made me want to rush back into my bedroom and lock and bolt the door shut.
But I’d already made a verbal promise to my mother, and Katie Owen never makes empty promises. Just before I made my way upstairs to go to bed, I heard my mother say something along the lines of ‘they’re coming tomorrow’. Ugh.

--Viewer, Walker, Whisperer