Pricila O

  Knowing

I woke up from yet another dream. This one involved me getting into a physical fight at school. It left me a bit shaken up, I definitely didn’t want to actually fight anyone at school, especially a guy. Quickly I shook it off and got ready for school. As I was getting ready I noticed the pit in my stomach wasn't going away. I recalled back to the dream and thought hard about who this person punching me was, yet to no avail all I could see was his fist. His fist looked extremely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. 

“Enough,”  I muttered to myself while looking for clothes for the day. Enough of this overthinking garbage. I knew that if I didn’t cut my own thoughts off they would go on forever and getting stuff done just wouldn’t be in my philosophy. For example, right now I’m rambling to myself when I should be getting ready for school. 

I was finally done getting ready and to be honest sometimes I hated myself for how much effort I put into looking descent for school. I was just so ugly that if I didn’t put some sort of effort into my appearance I would ruin everyone's day. Here I go rambling again. Finally I gathered my stuff and started to make my way to school, not knowing what was ahead of me. The daunting thought of the dream I had the night before continued to linger in the back of my head. Nothing seemed to be on my mind other than last night, and honestly I didn’t want to think about it any longer but my mind couldn’t help but go there. I wandered off and began to think of different things, for example how badly I needed to do an assignment for this class. 

Finally stepping into school I noticed a sense of déjà vu come over me; as if I had already done this at some point in my life. Ignoring it I continued on my way to school. I looked to my side and had totally forgotten that my younger sister was walking beside me. 

“Mom said she’s picking us up first after school so be ready to go immediately after class.” I told her, knowing how slow she can sometimes be. Nodding, she agreed to be quick and I went the other way to put my gym clothes into the locker. Along the way I heard a familiar voice let out a breathy “oomph”. I turn back and notice it’s my sister, she was pushed aside by a senior boy in my class. He was your typical dbag, never did anything for anyone and thought he was hot shit just because he could throw a ball. Upon noticing he shoved my sister, I immediately became livid. No one messes with my family. I turn around and march right over to him. 

“Say sorry,” I tell him in a stern voice that I only ever hear my mother use. 

“Why should I? She was in the way.” I stand there in utter shock, he really had the audacity to say that. I can feel my blood boiling and the frown on my forehead deepening. I close the space between us and get right up to him. I was at eye level with with his chest, but this didn’t intimidate me, if not it only fueled me. I tilted my head upwards so that I looked right at his arrogant face. His eyes are daring me to say anything. And oh buddy are you going to regret that challenge. Because I don’t back up from a challenge. Especially if it involves my family. 

“You f’ing  heard me. Say you’re sorry before this escalates.” I don’t think I’ve ever been angrier.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” he scoffs, not knowing my adrenaline is so high I can feel it in my veins and pulsing to my head. He then reached for my backpack and grabbed a hold of it in an attempt to move me. Quickly I shrugged it off and go to punch his abdomen. He engulfs my fist into his hand and tosses me aside. Smirking I go for a left hook but end up throwing a right hook. A simple and easy punch that is certain to hurt. He looks surprised, just what I wanted, and then before long his face is scrunched up into one of agony. Then before I know it his fist was on my face. 

“F” I muttered as I felt my cheekbone become increasingly swollen, and I felt the blood dripping down by face. This caused me to swing at his neck, don’t ask me why, but I did. That brought his 6’3 figure down to the ground. He laid on the floor gasping for air and clawed at his throat. Seeing his figure on the ground actually makes me feel bad, and not at all accomplished. I regret ever doing this and felt awful at the fact that I had caused him so much pain. As soon as realization set in I grabbed my backpack and made my way through the crowd that had formed around us. Picking up the pace I exited the school building. My heart rate is high, adrenaline wearing off, and my breath quickened. I ran two blocks, three, and keep going until my shins felt as if they were being peeled off layer by layer. I arrived at my house and ran up the stairs not bothering to answer my moms yelling. I reached my room and threw my stuff aside and lay on top of my giant, fluffy bean bag. 

I’d now been staring at the ceiling for way too long. I closed my eyes as they begin to twitch from looking at one spot for too long. When I closed my eyes and I saw something, I saw myself standing in front of my house, my back against the front door. But why? I look up and there he is. Brian. The kid I beat up. He’s standing there with a gun pointed at my face. 

Gasping I stood up and was so scared I was convinced I might pee my pants. I whipped my head to the side as I heard my bedroom door open. It was my mom. I breathed a sigh of relief as she comes to sit next to me. 

“I’m not mad, your sister told me everything.” I hugged my mom quickly. I was so thankful for having such an understanding mom. 

“Mom, can I tell you something?” she nodded, encouraging me to go on, “I had a vision? That I would fight him, and now I had another one where he is pointing a gun at me.” My mom visibly frowns and nods her head.

“I know hun, it runs in the family, I have them too.” I lay there stunned. What do I do now? Then the panic set in. If what I see comes true, then how am I about to deal with what I saw?