I open the box and see a woman laying on her couch drifting in and out of consciousness. Kim Samuels has visions into the future. She has had them for as long as she can remember. They almost always end in pain and suffering.

—

I haven’t been sleeping. Every time I close my eyes, I hear it again, that sharp, hollow crack, like the world splitting open. Then a woman screams, and everything goes quiet.

It’s been happening for weeks. Always the same sound, the same echo. It rattles around in my head until I start believing it’s not a dream at all.

Tonight, I was half-asleep on the couch, an old Traveling Wilburys shirt twisted around me, some forgettable 90s movie droning on the TV. My phone said 7:20 PM.

That’s when it hit me. This one wasn’t in my head.

I could see it. Not just hear it, see it, like a film spooling behind my eyes. Sarah’s apartment. Steam fogging her bathroom mirror. Her humming under her breath, off-key.

She has a pink towel wrapped around her as she exits the bathroom and turns toward her bedroom.

The figure with no face moves down the hallway, wearing a red ball cap.

And then, two sounds. Two. The first sharp and immediate, the second smaller, delayed.

Like an echo, but not.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t just her.

I shot upright. Grabbed my phone. Shoes, in the bedroom down the hall, no time. My keys on the coffee table. My coat over the chair. I grabbed both and ran.

I don’t even remember locking the door. Just the slap of my socks on the stairs, the freezing wind in my face as I bolted across the parking lot.

Sarah’s place was three minutes away, four if the lights hated me. The clock on my dash read 7:22.

I called her once. Straight to voicemail. Again. Nothing. By the third call I was screaming into the phone, begging her to answer.

7:23. I swerved around a car and ran a red light. Someone yelled after me, but I couldn't make out what they said.

7:25. My stomach was full of glass. I turned onto her street, clipped a trash can, threw the car into park without killing the engine.

The building looked normal. It always did. Ten stories, brick front, flickering light above the entry. I ran for it, heart hammering, lungs burning.

7:26.

Inside, the lobby smelled like dust and carpet cleaner. I jabbed the elevator button with shaking fingers. It opened like it was waking from a nap.

I slipped in, slammed the button for the ninth floor. The doors started to close.

That’s when I saw him.

Just a flash through the narrowing gap: his coat, the tilt of his red ball cap.

The way he moved punched a hole straight through me.

I was looking at a murderer.

Then his face lifted just enough for the lobby light to catch it.

The vision came crashing in again, but this time the face under the red ball cap was clear.

Oh my God.

Devin. Sarah’s ex. The one she left last month.

He didn’t see me, his eyes were locked straight ahead as he pushed through the stairwell door.

The doors shut, and my stomach dropped clean out of me.

By the time I reached her floor, my pulse was so loud I could barely hear the ding. I ran down the hall, slammed my fist against her door.

Apartment 929.

“Sarah! Open up!”

Nothing. I could hear music playing faintly inside, some pop song through bathroom steam.

I hit the door again. “Sarah, please, it’s Kim!”

The lock turned. She opened it halfway, pink towel wrapped around her, hair dripping. “Kim? What the hell?”

I shoved the door shut behind me. “Lock it. Right now.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s coming,” I said. “I saw him downstairs.”

Her brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Devin. He’s here. I saw it. He is going to kill you!”

“You saw it? In one of your visions?”

I looked at the bedside clock.

7:29.

“Yes! He is coming right now!”

“I didn't think he would take the news well, but this?”

“What do you mean?” I said breathlessly.

“I'm pregnant, he is the father.”

Sarah's eyes went wide, blood draining from her face. The towel slipped a little, but she didn’t notice.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Devin… he…”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

She looked toward the door, voice breaking.

“He still has a key.”

We were standing just inside her bedroom door when a small squeak came from the front of the apartment.

I whispered and stared at the bedroom door. “He's here.”

Sarah ran to the other side of the bedroom and ducked behind the bed.

I leaned against the bedroom door, pressing my ear to it. My hand went to the lock, and the knob turned under my palm.

I screamed, “Get out!” as the door burst open, throwing me to the side.

Crack!

The shot was deafening, exploded in the room, followed by a heavy slump.

Crack.

A second explosion, quieter, not as sharp, but still thundering through the apartment.

An unfamiliar but sharp metallic smell filled the bedroom.

I screamed, “No! Sarah!” as tears streamed down my face.

I rolled over, expecting to see Devin standing over me.

Instead, a pair of dark shoes came into view.

I scrambled up and saw Sarah standing across the room. The pink towel had fallen, but both hands were still gripping the black pistol, smoke curling from the barrel.

“He fell,” Sarah said, her lips trembling. “His gun went off when he fell. He was really going to kill me.”

I rushed to her, taking the gun from her grip and holding her close. She folded into me, sobbing uncontrollably.

“You saved my life,” she said to me through the tears.

I held her tighter, “You saved us both.”

—

Kim changed the fate of Sarah and her unborn child. I could feel her relief as the box closed and swallowed them back up.

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