The Faultless Victim [teaser]

A Feeling

She could feel it. Physically feel it. The excitement in the room, the sense of anticipation and desire from all the other people in that small book store... in her mind, she knew it was there.

Sam had a knack for that. All her life, she was told she was different. Abnormal. Though it worked in her favor, she knew that those naysayers were correct. Once, she was called a witch. That was when she was thirteen - an entire decade ago. Just because she could feel what other people were thinking... she would never call herself psychic. Not by a long shot. But there was something inside her that was different to all the others.

Her mother, God bless her soul, could feel it too. So could her granny. Her late mother attributed her marriage dissolving to her psychic ability. One day, when Sam's father got home from work, she felt the guilt oozing off of him, and that was when she knew her husband was having an affair. Perhaps life would've been easier, had she never known. Had she assumed those late nights at the office were for work, not for getting his dick wet. But the easy life wasn't something that the women in the Hardy family knew.

"And that is how I sold my first book," the writer said. Yeah, Samantha thought to herself. It's just that easy. Samantha was living on the money that came through from her mothers will. It was a large stipend, and granted her the house. The house had been in the family for generations, and Sam's mom had been unlucky enough to only ever have one child, and that was a girl. A little girl dressed all in pink for her first day out of the hospital, a little girl who was cursed, or perhaps blessed, with forever knowing how others felt.

The man next to her accidentally nudged Sam's arm as he was jotting down notes. She glanced over, and the first thing she'd noticed was his thick black hair slicked back. Sam stared for a moment... knowing there was something wrong. She couldn't feel his emotions, she couldn't sense any excitement or anxiety... just calmness. He must have realized she was staring at him, and he turned his head and smiled, his bright blue eyes dazzling in the fluorescent lights above.

"Hi," he said. His voice was unexpectedly high pitched.

"Oh, hi."

"Do you know this writer? I... I can't say I ever heard of her before this."

"No, I don't know who she is, I was only here because I wanted to write a book. Silly, right?"

He looked down at his notepad and then put his pen down. "I think everyone is here because they want to write their first book."

She laughed and looked away, trying to ignore the rush of emotions she could sense. Being in public, in such a small and crowded room, was unbelievably overwhelming. The sensations didn't hit her like a painting. No... rather, she simply felt a persons uneasiness or joy or sorrow or guilt. It was something the police valued greatly — the little money she made for herself was primarily through odd jobs at the station. It seemed that they didn't want to believe her, but her abilities made their work load easier... even when they didn't want it to be.

As people started to leave the store, she stood up at roughly the same time the man next to her did. He turned and held a hand out, looking her dead in the eyes.

"My name's Thomas. Pleased to meet you."

She gripped his hand firmly and smiled. "I'm Samantha. People call me Sammy, usually."

He laughed a little and then placed his pen into his pocket, clutching the notebook with his free hand. "It's been lovely meeting you, are you a writer, also?" The way he spoke was smooth, his words flowed together nicely, despite his odd choice of phrasing.

"Well, I want to be, I haven't... haven't finished anything yet. Have you?"

"I published a few books, nothing successful, though." She'd shaken hands with a writer, someone who could help give her guidance. Writing her own books would give her a sense of freedom and openness, she could share a part of her life with the whole world and nobody need know it was her. "Perhaps I could help you, if you'd like that."