Psychic

Part 1; Chapter 1

"Nova!" I startle to come to my professor standing in front of me. "Care to explain why you've been sleeping?" Mr. Miller has always been a nagging at the back of my head. One of those kinds of people. "Uh, yes sir, I'm sorry, I must've dosed off becau-" I begin only to be interrupted "I see, so you were partying last night?" he accuses me. "No Mr. Miller, you must understand-" I start again but am once more cut off, "Miss. Shay, I don't assume you'd like me to inform your RA of this little incident would you," he asks as he furrows his eyebrows. He's actually an atractive man if he wasn't such an ass 24/7. Dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes, strong build. Only in his early 30's but he acts like he's got 70 years on him. I mean, maybe he does, what do I know? "No, sir, I apologize. It won't happen again," I say with false hope. Even though I had a valid reason, He's the type of person who could make someone believe anything just to do it, trust me I have quite a bit of experience. "Thank you, now as I was saying, the eighth brightest star in our known solar system is, Procyon, it is in the Canis Minor constellation and-" I turn on my recorder and tune him out. I really should be listening, I am afterall getting a double-major one in astronomy, and the second in philosophy. I'm also getting minor in parapsychology. I have 45 minutes and I'm out of this class. I'll listen to my recording, to help with the finals. Mr. Miller doesn't allow students to sleep, but he allows recorders? That's okay, I'll just record it and listen to it when I feel like it.

Ever since early childhood I've always had a hint of Hell. My life has been about 7 years of a full, head-on collision with the ground. Like the universe is trying to drag me down. Someone told me once, 'that the toughest battles are for the strongest people', well, years ago that worked, now its like the world really does hate me. I haven't died but I've come pretty damn close.

Actually, after this class I plan on driving to the hospital to see my brother, Osirius. He's only 22 and was struck with lightning. Hah, what are the odds? He's been in the hospital, out of it for almost 2 1/2 weeks. The doctors have been contemplating what they have to do. Not what they want to do, what they may have to. To measure someone's life with life support is pretty awful. It's one thing if they have no chance. But when there's hope they may come to, the freaking world should understand that limiting someone's life is not doing the right thing for someone else that needs sonething. Wait in the queue, we were here first. I don't really give a damn if someone else needs the machinery he has right now. You can wait. I need my brother. Need him for me. Need him for a role model. Need him to drink with. To laugh with. To love with, or hate with, or anything in between. I need my brother and some fucking doctor isn't gonna take his life for any reason. I don't care what injuries affected what. I want him. I know that its not the doctors that ultimately decide that. I know its awful to say this when he may not even be there. It may not even be him. Maybe some person will wake up and wonder why are all these random people staring at me. I also know that his brain his disenigrating and there's not much left of him anyways. I know he may wake up and not even know what up and down mean. Still I don't care, or maybe I do, I don't know. I just want him back.

Osirius got into drugs in his adolescence, and only stopped because my mom was there to help him and he found motivation in me. As kids we never had a great relationship. We had some really great ones but they are less compared to the whole. Since the accident, the bad times have been more prominent then the good ones. Why was I always such a bitch? Why did I bash on him, he only acted out because of my father. Why was I always so hateful when all he ever wanted was love. I know its awful to do this to myself, but I do it, and others deal with it or they just get the hell away. This is me. The traumatized, hated, anxious, only loved by one, struggling girl who has never liked life for much anyway. The one who thinks the worst and ends up almost predicting the outcome. Now thats a goddamn curse of you ask me.

My father's never been much of any help, He's always been an awful dad. From the get-go he was always an ass, it's never changed, it probably never will. He signed off ages ago, and has never been on since. He abused me in my childhood. He hurt my brother endless times. He's never been there when we need him, and yet we've kept chasing after his love for most of our lives. What's amazing is that, both my brother and I have always tried to have him, have the dad we've dreamt of but we knew we'd never really get him. He's never really loved us, never really cared, never even tried all that much.

My mom on the other hand is quite beside herself with the whole event. She loves both of her kids to the moon and back times the tenth. In a lot of ways my mom and brother are the only reasons I'm living. She believes that this accident is her fault and it in no way is. She was talking to him on the phone and once it happened she thought that maybe if she hadn't been talking to him, he would be fine. Not the case. She thinks how I think, worst of the worst, pessimesism rules over all else.

Well that's what tragedy does to healthy people, right? Makes you think the worst outcome and the worst of yourself. I should know, my life has been full of them.
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(Main supernatural stuff begins in next part)