Why couldn’t I have saved my own mom?
Something’s been bothering me and I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can talk to about it. Not my dad. Not Tracy. Not even Noah. I can’t understand, now that I’m starting to understand these things, why, of all the people I see, I mean, really see, why I couldn’t see enough of what was going to happen to my mom and my sister to save them? I mean, I saved Noah. And I barely knew him. So why couldn’t I have saved my own mom from a serial killer?
I knew something was going to happen. I just had this weird feeling. I even talked to my sister Zoey about it. I was going to tell my mom and dad about the stuff I was seeing, the way I can tell when someone’s in danger, but I didn’t know how. I especially didn’t know how to tell my dad. I still don’t.
What would I tell him? “I knew there was a serial killer hanging out, but I got distracted. And it was my birthday. And I was only five.” That sounds pretty selfish in retrospect. If I had known… If I had known it was going to be that bad… If I had known it was going to end that way, I’d have said something. But I never got the chance.
Since then, I’ve never gotten around to telling my dad that I see things. I don’t think he’ll approve of it. He knew that my mom had the same “gift,” or whatever you wanna call it. But he never liked it. He thought it was illogical and dangerous. After she died, I didn’t want to burden him with that while he was still so sad. And then, it just got to be easier to avoid having the conversation. Now, I feel like it’s been way too long. So I just keep my mouth shut, no matter how guilty I feel.