I Who Killed Me-Chapter II

I+Who+Killed+Me-Chapter+II

AKA Xueyun, Contributing Writer

Chapter II

-Blind Percipience-

The door opened, his glasses nearly falling from his face as he stared at me with wide eyes. “When I said for you to call me, I didn’t expect to see you show up,” Martial said with a concerned smile, though I could tell he was glad to see me. 

I looked at him with heavy eyes, struggling to keep myself upright in the doorway. “We need to talk.” I pushed past him, into his office and straight to his coffee machine. His office was more spacious than other offices I had seen in the building. Unlike me, Martial had a stable job and income. In the last four years he had been working here, he always maintained the high status of assistant director of the FBI, which was why I most of the time could walk in after showing his card. 

“Well, come on in, I guess,” he sighed and closed the door. “Did something happen last night? You look like you haven’t slept a wink.” I could feel sleep catching up on me, but I couldn’t sleep now that I had some suspicions. 

Before I responded, I downed half a cup of cold coffee. “I was researching those recent murders.”

Martial sat down behind his desk, his expression hardening. I could tell he holding back another sigh. 

I sat down across from him, fiddling with the mug in my hands. “I’ve been having these sorts of..dreams, but they feel real. I just,” I paused, glancing into his eyes with hesitance. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him, remembering the newspapers I brought. “Hold on.” I set the newspapers on the desk so that he could see them. There were dramatic headlines and pictures such as Moon’s Fall After Heart Attack and Brazilian Forests No Longer Safe.

Pointing to the article about Charlotte Moon, I elaborated, “This singer recently died, right? When they looked into how she died, she had a heart attack. My head hurt for a second and then my arm. Then for some reason, when her autopsy came back, she had needle punctures in her arm.”

Shuffling the paper aside, I pointed to the one about Aemilio Fontes. “Then, when I heard on the news about this guy, he also had a heart attack, but he was knocked unconscious. I felt that way then too, call it deja vu. As for how I reacted…well, you know what happened.”

I looked at him, waiting for him to say something. He stared at the papers, dumbfounded, before looking up at me. He leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses. I lost him. 

“Lennon,” he started with that same mixed tone of scolding and disappointment. “Do you know what you sound like right now?”

“I know, just hear me out–”

“No.” His eyebrows knitted together. “This is not what I meant by doing something other than work.”

“Just listen to me for a second.” I picked up one of the papers, a picture of Aemilio. “When I saw his face on the news, it felt like someone hit me on the side of the head and a needle inserted into my neck. Later, when I searched up the autopsy, he got knocked out by a baseball bat and had puncture wounds in the side of his neck.  He was running away from his murderer-”

“Wait, wait,” he shook his head, motioning towards the papers I brought. “You’re saying that you believe you felt what that Brazilian man did when he was being murdered?”

I thought over his words. Was that what I was saying? Now that he said it aloud, it made me feel closer to being insane. I nodded slowly, before looking him in the eyes. “I’ve been having these dreams too. The last dream I had was–”

I looked at him, waiting for him to stop me again and say something, but he didn’t. “I had a dream that I was running through the rainforests. I was being chased by something, but I don’t remember what. The last thing I remember was being knocked to the floor and a voice saying, “It’s a shame you didn’t get to enjoy the waterfalls.”

Martial nodded with a skeptical raise of his brow, standing up and waving a hand for me to give them to him. 

I obliged and watched him move around his desk. 

“Now, what you need to do is go outside.”

I nodded.

“Walk yourself back home.”

I frowned. 

“And think about what you just told me because you’re sounding awfully crazy right now, Lennon. All of this that you’re saying about these murders,” he sighed. “People have heart attacks all the time, they OD, and they get murdered.”

“I get what you’re saying, but something feels wrong about all this. Two different people in two different places, but they’re killed more or less the same and I feel that I’m somehow connected to them-”

“Okay, hold on. Are you saying that this is the same murderer too?”

I thought for a moment, then nodded. “The dream that I had before I heard about Aemilio’s death can’t just be a coincidence. He was killed in the rainforest after being chased by his murderer, then knocked unconscious and given something that caused his heart attack.”

Martial turned, muttering under his breath, “After all these years of being in law enforcement, this has got to be the most insane testimony.” He turned back to me, handing the papers back. “Please go back home and rest. And please don’t look into this anymore. I can tell by the tone of your voice that you’re serious, and that’s what concerns me the most.”

Anger swelled up in my chest, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to be called insane, but maybe I was. 

-⏳-

After leaving Martial’s office, I sat at a bus stop, trying to go over what to do. I thought over what I said, but there was no other way to word it: I’m insane. I groaned, holding my head in my hands. 

“Lennon?” a familiar voice called. 

I lifted my head, meeting with Phoebe. 

“What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t take the bus,” she started, looking around. “And aren’t you supposed to be at home resting? You shouldn’t be out here in your state.”

She was right. I could feel the cold bite at my muscles through my thin sweater. I had left my house in such a rush that I had completely forgotten to dress for the weather. 

Phoebe sat down next to me, her breath appearing in a puff of hot air in front of her. “Are you feeling better compared to yesterday?”

That was a hard question to answer. “I don’t know,” I responded, looking back to the road where cars drove past, sending her scarf flying every time. 

“Well,” she held a small paper bag out to me, “I have some donut holes if you want some.” 

The mention of food reminded my stomach that it was empty. “Thanks.” I took a couple, paying attention to the sweetness to avoid thinking about it more. I usually didn’t like sweet things, but a pastry to lift my mood would be better than contemplation. 

“You never called me after yesterday. If it weren’t for Martial calling me, I would have stormed down to your apartment and kicked down your door to demand answers,” she laughed, trying to lift the mood.

I kept quiet. I didn’t want to share what I just told Martial and be told I was insane twice. 

“Did the clinic tell you what happened?” she started again, dismissing the small talk. 

“Just said I need to rest.”

“What’re you doing outside then?” she continued, even though she knew I was annoyed.

“Just taking a walk.”

“Without a coat?” 

I didn’t respond. 

Phoebe stood up, handing me the paper bag. “You can have the rest. Now go home and rest up. I bet you got into a disagreement or something with Martial or your mom, so I won’t ask more.” 

Before I could say more, she began to walk away with her hands tucked in her coat. I watched as she left until she was too far away to discern the passerby. Looking back at the bag of donut holes, I sighed.

I stood up, folded the bag and carried on back home. It doesn’t matter if no one believes me , I know I’m not crazy. 

-⏳-

Sitting down on my couch now seemed to be a trigger to that sense of deja vu. I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until I got to a news station. Today seemed to just be about the daily occurrences of Leavenworth. There was no talk of murder, much to my disappointment. 

I wanted more answers to what happened to Charlotte Moon and Aemilio Fontes, but it didn’t seem the police were letting out any more information on purpose. If I were to go about delving deeper into those cases, I might as well become a lunatic before my vacation is over. 

I took in a deep breath. What could I do to avoid thinking about the unthinkable? I continued to flip through the channels, hoping to find some advertisement or interesting show. Having so much free time made me feel useless, which was why I never had many interests.

After a while of useless screen time, I gave up and turned the TV off. I still hadn’t eaten since the day before; I head over to my kitchen to make something to eat. I doubted there would be anything of use in the fridge, so I didn’t bother and check. 

Just after I set a tray of microwavable food in the microwave, my doorbell rang. I glanced at my clock. 14:29. There was no reason for mail to be delivered at this time of day. 

The doorbell rang again, making me jump in surprise. The person was still there. I took careful steps towards my door and leaned into the peephole. No one was there. Instead, there was a slip of paper stuck into my mail slot. 

I took the paper from the slot, eyeing it with suspicion. It was a brochure for a vacation spot. 

You are the winner! You are invited to Cairo Egypt for seven days at The Purple Lotus! Please call 2XX-X7X-XX0 to confirm your stay.

Winner? Egypt? Seven days? What is the meaning of this?

I flipped through the booklet, pictures of sightseeing places within it, but nothing out of the ordinary. But I didn’t apply to some lottery, at least not within the last year or two. So how did I get this?

My phone rang, startling me again. I rushed over to my phone and picked it up. It was Martial. I turned it to my ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Lennon, how did you know that Aemilio was being chased?” he questioned me immediately, his tone serious.

“What? What are you..?” I thought for a moment, remembering my dream. 

“How did you know he was being chased?” Martial asked again, impatient. 

I shook my head, kneading my temples and trying to remember. “It..It was in my dream.”

“Bull crap.”

Before I could question him more, he started up again in a dispute, “That’s impossible for you to know. That information was never open to the public.”

Was this proof I truly had a link? Now it really did sound like I was crazy. “No, really. I just remembered it from my dream.”

“Yeah, sure. Just..” he sighed, “Don’t tell anyone else about what you know, alright? Could make things more complicated for you.” 

The line cut off before I could respond. I turned my phone, looking at his name on my screen before turning it off. I looked back to the booklet. Maybe this could be another lead.