(Some of the names used in this story have been modified to ensure privacy)
I can read people's futures, among other things. I never really believed in it I kept telling myself it was coincidence, an overactive imagination or that my mind was filling in the blanks in my memory of my vision to make it seem more accurate that it actually was. So, I decided to test it. I did a reading of every one of my friends at school and recorded them in a notebook. Most of them were of their deaths or some traumatic even, all in graphic detail. I apologize, but I cannot bear to rewrite them here. I can hardly even write about them without tears coming to my eyes.
Several months past and I forgot completely about that notebook. I was more preoccupied with getting my high school thesis finalized. The excitement was building as we were going to be our school's first graduating class in history, at least that's what the founder, Dr. Grey, was excited about. We seniors just wanted to get out of there.
After prom, just days before the graduation ceremony, Nick had a heart attack. In a flood of dread the memory of the notebook came back to me, Nick was the third entry. I scrambled to find that book before we left to the hospital. I grabbed it and we went straight to the hospital. I read the vision entry, fearing the worst. I looked at every detail, seeking to disprove my foresight.
The room numbers matched, my heart sunk, but I told myself, "Just wait and see." "He will pull through." "The number is just a coincidence." I told no one of the entry. I kept silent among Nick's throng of friends. The doctor said there was a slim chance he would live. His brain had been deprived of blood flow and oxygen too long, even if he lived he would be brain dead. But I held hope, sitting in the conference room at the ICU, piles of junk food and soda on the table, I held on to hope. "This psychic babble can't be true." I said to myself. It was a few hours before I entered Nick's room, despite the warnings of his other friends and family I had to see if the vision were true. I looked at the numbers on his machines, the layout of the room, the lone cobweb in the corner, the faces of the others standing there. It all fit. Down to the letter, it all fit. I couldn't help but cry, not only for Nick, but for all of my other friends whose deaths and tragedies would now and forever be etched into my mind. Nick died at 4:20 AM. I've yet to do another reading since.
Any suggestions on how to deal with such knowledge?