"Beth, you're late today," Sadie called as she breezed into the bookstore, the bell ringing as the door shut, giving the place a quaint air which was reinforced by the age of the building. Sadie began to follow her into the back room, but a pointed look from the intense face halted her before she had even taken one step.

Flopping on the couch, Beth breathed a sigh of relief. She was alone and she was safe. The brisk ten-minute walk to the bookstore was almost more than Beth could bear without being completely inundated by visions of horror. The nameless faces that she passed, people so sure that they'd live forever. But Beth knew differently.

Murder, rape, theft, assault, abuse. She could see it all happening, she could hear the screams of terror, smell the stench of fear. When connecting to the future victim, Beth would witness their death, uncensored and very real. The burden of her future-sight was only made heavier when emotional attachments were made. So she avoided contact with most people.

Sadie was guarded somehow. When she had first encountered her, Beth hadn't felt the instant sensation of foreboding that was usual when she met people for the first time. Beth had never connected with her, a fact of which cemented their friendship. Beth wasn't afraid to become emotionally attached because she wasn't afraid that one day, the echoes of terror that would fill her ears would be Sadie's.

"Beth, tell me what's going on in that head of yours," Sadie asked gently. Beth looked up, and there she was, standing in the doorway.

"Green eyes. I saw green eyes," she answered. Standing up, Beth began to pace around the room.

"What do you mean, green eyes?"

"His friend has green eyes. I saw them...last night. I'm being given the pieces, and I have to put them together. I have to help him somehow and the way to do that is to put all the pieces together," Beth said nervously.

"And you think that you can find him because his friend has green eyes? Beth, do you know how many people in the world have green eyes?" Sadie demanded. Beth turned around to face Sadie, stone-faced.

"Don't destroy my hope."

"Oh Beth, it's just that there are so many people and to find just one person, it's going to take a miracle," Sadie explained.

"How do you explain what I see, how I connect?" Beth asked simply. Sadie sighed, surrendering.

"I hope you find him," Sadie relented.

"So do I."

Flicking her pen nervously against her clipboard, she quickly surveyed the shelves, trying to decipher what the store needed stocked. Everyone else had left early, leaving Beth the run of the store. She wasn't happy about it, but to her relief, it was almost closing time.

And in your head do you feel
What you're not supposed to feel
You take what you want
But you won't get if for free

The tedious task did nothing to occupy her thoughts, and she kept having to recount, forgetting the numbers she had just stated aloud to herself. Sighing, she moved onto the next section when she froze. The familiar tingling between her eyebrows, up into her forehead was there. The tingling intensified into an ache, burning. She then was wrenched away from herself. In the heat of pain, she screamed and her knees buckled beneath her.

He was stone. Solid and strong. I have to be strong for them now. They need me to be strong. He was desperately clinging to the chant inside his head. Over and over again, determined to remain stolid.

Inside, very deep inside, to the little corner within himself that he had hidden the overwhelming flow of grief, it was screaming with pain. So many questions, so much anger. Why did this happen? What did he do to deserve this? Something had died within him. He felt it everyday of his life, and never noticed it. But it's absence was slowing destroying him.

The silent hush of the assembled group was shattered by a shrill shriek. Whipping around, he could see the only other person that could understand his pain. She was screaming, crying, pounding on the solid, cold wood that was a barrier between the living and the dead.

"I won't let you go! Not without me!" she shrieked, pounding on the coffin lid, eager to break it and see inside. Desperate to discover that the pain was all a lie. That he hadn't left them.

Rushing forward, hoping to help, hoping to at the same time to ease his own heaviness, holding the crying woman.

"He's in a better place. He didn't leave you, he was taken away," he tried to reassure. But it wasn't helping. It was taking all his strength not to scream along with her at the unfairness of it all. The deep sickness of sorrow was tearing away at his barrier.

"Why would someone take him away from me? I can't live without him!"

The shrill scream reverberated, echoed long after the connection was cut. She could hear the terror, the grief in that sound. It was tearing her apart, listening to what would be, unable to help him.

You need more time
Cos your thoughts and words won't last forever more
But I'm not sure if it ever works out right

They weren't always bad. Most of the connections left her shattered, scared, horrified with the cruelty of her race. But with him, they were so happy. A glimpse of the other end of the extreme. A happy life with nothing to fear. Joy, so clear and unadulterated. Tender moments with family, amusing moments with friends. It was a warmth, a light, that enveloped his life and left her with faith in the human race.

For someone who knew just how evil people are, Beth couldn't trust and she couldn't love. She was different; she saw everything that everyone else turned a blind eye to. No one wanted to admit that there were bad things out there. That it could happen to them. They would shut it out and focus on only the pleasant, completely ignorant. Unwilling to stand against it. To fight it.

Beth could not turn a blind eye. Her entire being was forced to face the horrid truth. People are evil. They like to kill one another. They like to cause pain, to smell the fear that they caused. To feel the power as they feel the life of another drain away.

The only relief that Beth had in her solitary life, full of fear, pain and helplessness, was him. He restored her faith and her trust, every time she connected with him. She could feel, with him, what she couldn't with herself. The wonderment of looking into his lover's eyes and knowing that he is loved, the safety and comfort from his family, the laughter and happiness from his friends. She lived only when they connected.

And to know that it would all end, to know that her only source of joy in her meagre existence, was about to be snuffed out, tore her apart. Still shaking and crying as the last faint echo of human pain faded from her ears, the connection was thankfully broken, Beth pulled herself up.

But it's okay. It's all right.

The friendly, quaint ring of the bell of the door warned Beth that someone had entered the store. Quickly, she took a deep breath to try to calm her shaking hands, wiped her eyes, and walked towards the cash area.

"Are you closed?" a tentative voice asked. A man was standing before her, just in front of the door. Bracing herself, Beth stepped out of the shadows and found her voice.

"No, you still have ten minutes," she said, trying to smile a little.

"Great! I promised my girlfriend I'd pick something up for her, and if I had forgotten, it would have been trouble," he said, smiling. He then headed off towards the fiction section, and Beth walked behind the cash counter. Quickly selecting what it was he needed to pick up, he walked over to her, and handed her the book. Their fingers brushed lightly, and Beth found herself looking into his eyes. Expecting a connection to occur, she flinched slightly, waiting for it. And it didn't happen. A little flustered, she hurriedly rang in his purchase. She couldn't read him, and for once, instead of a blessing, it was a burden. It was compelling, a stranger that she couldn't connect with.

"Are you okay, you look a little...upset?" he asked. She just shook her head in shock.

"I'm fine, thank you. Here you go, sir. Have a nice day," she said, handing him a plastic bag.

"Thanks," he said, and then left.