Some Called Her Crazy

"Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

Let us begin."

The fake leather of the couch squeaked and protested under her as she moved anxiously to avoid the questions. This wasn't the first time she had been supine, divulging her secrets to a stranger in hopes of redemption and salvation, and not the first time she had paid for it. She was beginning to lose hope that anything they could do or say would actually help her.

She was doomed.

Not so bad a sentence if she concentrated on it. Knowing and accepting your fate was better than the ignorant bliss most people blindly followed. Most seemed to think not knowing would prevent the catastrophes on the horizon. She knew better.

Just laying here now, staring at the good doctor behind the desk, him waiting patiently for her to begin, she could see his fate. An aneurysm, she could see it feel it now, deep behind his left temple, tucked away for another three years and two months until it ruptures, instantly sending this man to his grave.

She'd gladly trade her fate for his...