Visions of lifeless faces overwhelmed me, as they flipped through my mind like a morbid photo album, hundreds of faces of every color, young and old, slender and plump. Many faces with closed eyes, a few open, clouded, blind in death. Several appeared asleep. Others unmistakably dead, with flesh torn or decayed, skulls exposed, and one, inches from decapitation. Even with all the faces flashing past for an instant one leapt out, a face very familiar to me, mine.

How could I see these things? Because of my “gift.”

You see, I'm a clairvoyant. Whenever my metaphysical shields, an impregnable invisible barrier between the world and my skin, falls, anything I touch triggers visions. Visions of the past, visions of the present, and on rare occasions, visions of the future invade my mind. Without my shields, touching people allows me to reveal their thoughts. If I focus, I possess the ability to explore their minds for detailed information.

The visions prohibited a normal childhood. While a toddler, I failed to understand that normal people couldn’t view others thoughts. No one wanted near me, my parents even kept their distance. When they discovered touch induced the visions, my mother donned medical gloves whenever she needed to touch my skin but she nonetheless touched me. My father refused to come anywhere near me. He couldn’t handle the unique problems that accompanied my gift. Naturally, people who wish to conceal pieces of their lives don’t want near a psychic.

He arrived home late from work one night. I rested, curled in my mom’s lap while we watched television. My father bent down to kiss Mom goodnight, and he accidentally brushed against me. A vision of a young blond female against scarlet sheets flashed in my mind. My father kissed her, his naked body shrouded hers.

I asked him, “Who was that naked woman?” My fathers face distorted as his glare fixated on me. His face turned beet-red, and he held his breath for a moment. That expression never crossed his face before. The man in front of me no longer resembled my father. Even at the age of four, I knew something terrible occurred. I knew I asked something he wanted hidden.

My mother calmly rose from the couch without a word, picked me up, and carried me to my bedroom. She ignored my father. She tucked me in and kissed me goodnight. I caught a glimpse into her head. Her thoughts darted through the nights my father claimed he worked late. Coming home smelling of perfume, clothes wrinkled, hair ruffled. She knew he cheated and I became her proof.

Lying in bed, I heard everything. He apologized to my mother repeatedly, saying he wouldn’t cheat again and that he loved her. She never responded. I listened to the sound of drawers opening and closing, the scrape of metal hangers on the rod in the closet. He eventually said, “This is all Marissa’s fault, if she were normal this wouldn’t be happening.”

“How dare you. You will not stand there and blame your cheating on our daughter,” she screamed.

I dozed off while they continued to shout at one another. Sometime in the night, he left. I never saw him again. After that night, my mother never doubted my abilities and sought outside assistance to teach me how to control my gift, how to use it and shield it.

The faces continued flashing in my mind. I needed them to stop. My shields prevented images from bombarding me. Nothing penetrated them without me permitting it. With just a little concentration, my shields popped into place.

Once the images broke off, my eyes shot open, but I discovered only total darkness. I shivered against the frigid air drifting over my body. I raised my arms and struck a solid metallic surface above me. My hand trailed across the smooth ceiling six inches from my nose, the width not much wider than my body. Too snug. Too small. Too hard to breathe. No gaps. No openings. An encapsulating pitch-black metal chamber.

I pressed and kicked at the ceiling and walls. Nothing broke. No air. No light. No escape. Before the scream that built up in my throat burst forth, a distant sound reached in from outside the box, it startled me into silence. A faint thump-thump like a heartbeat and gentle steady tapping of dress shoes on linoleum came nearer.

The whish of the automatic door caused me to jump and the strides became louder when somebody stepped into the room. I sensed a tingling sensation along my body, as though a low electrical charge passed over me. Somebody possessed psychic talents of their own. They caressed my aura, sensing me within the box.

The door latch along the exterior of the box clicked and the door above my head swung soundlessly opened. I closed my eyes against the intense brightness that engulfed the enclosure. I lay motionless, terrified that whoever placed me in the box returned to harm me.

An elegant masculine voice, strong, deep, and soothing, with a faint English accent said, “It is all right. I am here now. You may open your eyes.”

Not recognizing the voice, and still frightened, I didn’t know what reaction to give, play dead, or open my eyes. I couldn't very well remain here in the box. I opened my eyes, blinking against the barrage of light. The man materialized before me. I saw the blurred outline of his face surrounded by thick dark chestnut hair dangling past his shoulders first. Then his eyes, a shade of blue like the oceans in the Mediterranean lined by white sandy beaches. As he smiled down at me, I took in the rest of his handsome face, his strong square jaw, high cheekbones, and smooth unblemished skin, except for a tiny scar bisecting his right eyebrow. His rugged handsomeness revealed him every bit a real man.

“Marissa?”

After clearing my throat several times, I croaked, “Yes?” Confused how he knew my name.

“My name is William. I am here to help you. I realize you have numerous questions and you have no grounds to trust me. However, I require you to listen and do as I state, so we may remove you from here. I likewise know you are thirsty right now and I have something that will assist you.”

“What is it?” Though my voice still crackled from my dry throat, I couldn’t conceal my suspicion. Did he place me in the metal box, or was he here to rescue me?

He raised his left arm above my face. I remained unmoving, afraid to react, afraid of his intentions. When his wrist neared to my mouth, I attempted to move my head out of the way and seized his arm. He ignored my feeble attempt to move his arm and he restrained my head with his other hand. His wrist brushed my lips, if I attempted to speak now, it would fill my mouth. I didn't move. What the hell did he want me to do?

“Bite my wrist.”

Why would I bite him? That wouldn't cure my thirst. I simply needed water.

“It will make you feel better. The sooner you drink, the sooner we can get you away from here and to a safe place where I will answer all your questions.”

I shook my head, moving millimeters side to side with him controlling it. I detested him touching me. I’d always avoided physical contact with strangers. I despised it when my abilities showed me glimpses into someone's mind when my concentration slipped and my shields fell accidentally.

“We don't have time for this. We must finish before the attendant returns,” he said as he brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down. The blood welled up in the puncture marks and dribbled down his wrist. He held it over my mouth, hovering above my lips. As I opened my mouth to scream, the blood dripped between my lips, landing on my tongue. All conscious thought ceased as my lips sealed around the wound. With my hands still on his arm, I drew him closer rather than pushing away. My teeth buried into his flesh and I drank. The delectable rich metallic liquid filled my mouth and made me feel better than ever before, and I savored the warmth it granted me.

I drank like a junkie finding a fix, a cloud lifted from my eyes. I knew what stood before me, and why his blood tasted like the sweetest wine. I gazed past him into the room, to the polished metal tables, trays with bowls and instruments on them, the bone saw dangling from the ceiling, drains in the floor and bodies covered by sheets on carts. I knew I lay in the morgue. I died. I turned into a vampire.

Even as the horror of this hit me and I discovered his colorless complexion and fangs peaking between his lips, I couldn’t stop drinking. I don’t know how I overlooked seeing fangs.

With each swallow, I saw the smallest details more clearly and picked up sounds like never before. The rats skittering along the building outside seemed merely inches from me. The conversations of the night shift crew, floors above us, sounded as though they stood in the same room.

Glancing around, I found every miniscule hole in the tiled ceiling, and detected the slightest variety in color of the atrocious chartreuse walls. As I absorbed everything, I listened to the voices. One conversation stood out, louder and nearer than the others.

“Well, John, my break's over. I need to get back downstairs and get cracking on that girl who came in today.”

A different male voice asked, “That the Jane Doe who arrived with her clothes ripped to shreds?”

“Yeah.”

“I helped Fred bring her in. It looked like she got in a fight with a pair of scissors and lost. Have fun with that one.”

“Well, I better get down there and find out who she is and what happened to her. Come get me in a couple hours so I don't lose track of time again.” The man laughed. The automatic doors swished open, he exhaled the last of his cigarette, and the doors closed again.

An abrupt piercing pain filled my chest. With my mouth locked on William's wrist, my back arched a foot off the table and I stifled a shriek. With each swallow, the pain receded to a blunt ache. Once muted enough for me stop writhing on the drawer, I discovered a second heartbeat, echoing Williams. Blood flowed through my veins, sluggish initially. With each swallow, the blood filled me. It coursed through me like never before. With each pulse, it struggled through my arms and legs, into my hands and feet, into every vein in my body. With each drop, a sense of calmness and wellbeing washed over me. William felt like a trusted friend even though we never met before. 

Peering up at him, he nodded his head. I withdrew from his wrist, licking the last of blood from my lips. Rubbing my tongue across my teeth, I found my fangs. 

“Your heart now beats for the first time in several days. However, did you hear the conversation,” he asked, “about the man returning to perform an autopsy on a female?”

“Yes,” I whispered, breathless from the pain still noticeable in my chest, but my voice sounded normal.

“He spoke of you. You are the young woman they brought in today. Fortunately, for you, they have not had time to perform the autopsy. It would have killed you. I was indisposed and could not come for you sooner. At least now, you are able to walk out and we will not receive too many looks. I brought garments for you, only we must hasten if we are to escape prior to his return,” he pulled the drawer the rest of the way out.

He assisted me to sit. Nude except for the sheet across me, I clutched it and drew it around my breasts like a large bath towel. William didn't appear to notice, but helped me stand.

He replaced the drawer as he found it and we rushed out of the morgue and down the hall. Hearing the elevator descend, William forced me into the closest doorway.

“Hey, watch the shoving,” I cried, almost falling into the room.

“Quiet,” he commanded, shutting the door behind us. He pinned me to the door, half-shielding me, half holding the door shut. My short stature prevented him from confining me with his arms, however he held me immobile with his body, his firmness pressed against my stomach.

His scent crawled over my skin, a mixture of lavender scented bath products, and an indescribable scent of him. My body tingled excitedly. His eyes expressed nothing to indicate the arousal of his body.

The elevator doors opened and we listened to the squeak of tennis shoes as the attendant walked down the hall and into the morgue. We heard him rummage through cabinets while he hummed a little tune to himself, he didn’t open my drawer immediately.

“Here, I hope they're to your liking,” William said, as he pulled back from me, passing me a bag I hadn't noticed before.

I drew out each item, everything black.

“I sense a theme here,” I said scrutinizing them.

      “Black is the simplest color for us to wear. It does not reveal stains and it is effortless to hide in the dark.”

“How do you know they'll even fit me?”

He smiled, flashing a hint of fangs. “I have had years to analyze women. I can differentiate each measurement is by observing a woman. You are five foot two, one hundred and twenty-five pounds, and a size six.

My mouth fell open. “Well, that was rude. Don't you know you should never discuss a woman's weight?”

“You have my apologies, I will not make that mistake again,” he said with a distinct smirk. “Now if you will dress, we can depart.”

“Fine,” I hissed. “Can you turn around and give me some privacy?”

“But of course, my lady,” he teased. With a slight bow, he turned his back to me.

I slipped the clothes on and pleasantly discovered everything fit. I combed my fingers through my waist-length hair. It felt grimy and tangled. I put the hood up on the shirt to cover it.

When finished, I turned and caught a good look of William for the first time. At six foot, his broad shouldered and athletic body suggested he worked hard all his life, not the mere lifting of weights. His black tailored suit fit perfectly and the blue collar of his shirt, showing above the jacket, matched his eyes. He appeared only a few years older than I did.

“Are you decent now?” William asked as he turned toward me.

“Unfortunately as good as I'm going to get without a shower,” I said as I attempted to force more hair under the hood of the shirt.

“We can rectify that as soon as we arrive someplace secure,” he whispered as he opened the door and headed down the hallway.

“Where would that be?” I whispered back, keeping up with him silently in my tennis shoes.

“My place, of course,” he said.

We departed the morgue without incident, taking full advantage of our exceptional hearing. As we exited the building and headed to the parking lot, the attendant’s curses about my missing body reached our ears. I regretted his involvement in my disappearance.

The night air smelled of earth after a spring shower. The cool wind ruffled the leaves on the dogwoods dotting the parking lot. A few stars broke through the clouds overhead. Typically, you don’t see many stars in the city, but, when the clouds pulled away, and with my enhanced vision, a vast array of twinkling stars littered the night sky. A perfect spring night like this, occurred rarely in Columbus.

The lights near the parking lot illuminated everything sharper, brighter, and clearer than ever before, even in the daylight.

A four-door black Audi sedan gleamed under the brilliance of the lights. William pressed a button on his keychain. The car lights flashed, the alarm beeped once, and a gunshot thundered through the night, reverberating against the buildings. William thrust me to the ground, and covered me with his body.

Another shot and a bullet smashed through the backseat window on the driver's side. The shattered glass rained down, sounding like tiny bells as it landed on the leather seats. I lay beneath William, waiting for him to move, his weight preventing me from running away screaming as my body urged.

Another shot rang out and metal groaned as the bullet ripped a hole in the trunk. We waited for more shots, but none followed. Risking a glance over the car, we attempted to see where the shots came from. We saw a dark gray Honda Civic squeal out of the adjacent

parking lot.

“Are you alright?” William asked, assisting me to my feet.

“What the hell was that?” My ears still rang with the sound of the gunshots.

“It appears someone shot at us.”

“No shit, why?”

“I do not know, but if you would be quiet and get in the car we can attempt to catch him.”