Prologue:
We all die. I know we do. I've understood that concept of life since I was 7, when I watched my own parents be murdered, as I huddled in the shadows of my closet, watching the gory scene through the slats in the door.
But there's something else that I understand about death, something no one else does.
I know when you're going to die.
My name is Hayley Karr, and I see you're expiration date.
Part One:
I scanned the busy intersection, leaning back in the passenger seat of the Tahoe. My partner of two years, Blake Hend, glanced at me. "Anything yet, Hales?" My eyes darted to a girl walking down the street. Her aura . . . Slightly blue? No, just a really light version of black. I shook my head as I leaned back into the padded, luxurious seat that surrounded me. A stray piece of my dark curls fell over my ear, tickling it. It reminded me of my mother, how she used to twirl the strand through her fingers as I leaned on her soft shoulder while she read to me.
Men and women walking up and down the streets, crossing the roads, and stopping on sidewalks to chat or read a sign, filled my line of vision. Very rarely did a blue aura come to me, but when they did, our reaction was always instantaneous. Blake shifted in his seat to take a better look at me, or possibly glance out my window. "I think Carmen and I are breaking up." He said suddenly. His love life, which seemed to always be filled with various women, had never interested me. But for once, I looked up.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I thought you two were really happy together. You said she was different. What happened?" I was comfortable enough around Blake to ask these probing questions. He didn't always answer, like for this instant. I watched his shoulders, with his black suit jacket draping off of his body in a way that only Blake could pull off, go up then back down. He wasn't talking. "Okay, fine. Don't tell me, you're best friend. The entire reason you still have a job. Seriously, it's all good." I teased, smiling at him. He didn't seem interested in my jokes. I leaned back again, checking the scene in front of me. Same streets. Same older couple sitting on a bench at the opposite corner. A dash of blue . . . then it was gone.
My back straightened out immediately. "Blake, I just saw one." He sat up too, seemingly excited about the new project at hand. "It was a young girl, running. She was scared. Blonde, green eyes, tan skin, blue shirt. Cut off shorts. About 4'6". Probably eleven or twelve. Not much of a figure." I recited from my memory. It was amazing how once I saw an aura, I'd remember the way they looked forever. "She went down 6th, I lost her from there."
"Two guys just ran down there, do you think it was related?" Blake looked at me, eyes frantic as he started the car. I shrugged, with a look on my face that clearly said, 'Doesn't matter, just drive!' He nodded and revved the engine. We pulled out quickly from our side street spot, and sped towards 6th. I looked out the windshield, waiting for the dash of blue to appear again. I happened to turn to the right when I saw it - and the two goons.
"There! Stop!" I yelled, unbuckling as the car shrieked to a stop. I jumped out, grabbing my pistol. I pointed it, and yelled. "Put your hands where I can see them! NOW!" The commotion in front of me didn't stop. I realized then, that one of the two burly men who had blown me off for whatever they were doing to that little girl had today's date. He was going to die today, his aura, black. I looked at the gun in my hand. I'd never killed anyone before . . . Never been responsible for a death . . . I wasn't sure that the date could be correct. Maybe I was reading it wrong. Maybe the floating white numbers above his head was just mistaken.
Then again, when it came to death, there was no mistakes.
Two shots rang out, scaring me half to death. One man fell to the ground, unmoving, a small trickle of blood staining the cement. The other looked up, then back at his fallen partner. He reached for the sky, with a knowing look of defeat. The little girl remained curled up on the ground, and I noticed they had been beating her. She whimpered, and the living man flinched. I stepped forward, grabbing for my handcuffs. I realized I had no clue where they were, and I looked at Blake with a frantic expression. He read me clearly, and nodded towards the gun in my hands. I held it back up to the man, using it not to kill him, but to merely subdue him while Blake approached and cuffed him.
Backup showed up moments later, where they hauled the criminal's butt to the jailhouse, where he'd be kept overnight. Blake stepped right over the dead body to help the little girl up. He seemed slightly awkward with her. I would've smiled normally, but I couldn't. I could only stare back at those glazed eyes of the man my partner had killed.
The night of my seventh birthday flashed through my mind. It was a happy scene, I was laughing with my mother as my father video taped us singing and me blowing out the candles. We went upstairs after a night of movies and cake, when two men broke in. They came up to my room, where my father stood protectively in front of his wife, who had stowed me away in the closet. Silent tears flowed down my cheeks nonstop as the next 45 minutes ensued. I watched as they beat my mother, and slammed my father against the wall multiple times, until finally - the two final shots sounded. The two men, who still walked this earth as free citizens, left as if they had just visited a friend.
Two green eyes, filled with terror and tears, looked up at me. Blake's hand was touching her shoulder, but the other was lifting my chin up from the gore. He looked at me. "You okay?" he whispered. "Sierra here wants to thank you for being brave." he mentioned, gesturing to the little girl. I stared down at her, my face unmoving from it's stone form. I saw her, but nothing registered. I hadn't seen or smelled or even thought of death until this day - nearly eighteen years later. I took a step back, feeling my own stomach churning.
"I'm sorry. I have to go." I said, turning, running away from everything.
Blake showed up on my doorstep later that night. He walked in and sat by me on the couch. I didn't speak, move, look at him. "I know that you probably are really messed up right now. I mean. You've never killed a person before. But it was for justice. He wanted to do horrible things to her. I interrogated him. You gotta understand. I killed him for the good of the world. He'd done it to hundreds of little girls. Terrorized them, stalked them . . ."
I'd nearly forgotten that Blake didn't know about my parents. He knew nearly everything else about me, just not that day of my life. "Blake. I'm not mad at you because you did that. It's just . . . I haven't thought of death, smelled it, seen it, since I was seven. My parents were murdered. And I watched the entire thing. The guys who did it are still walking free today. It just brought back bad memories. I'm sorry I bailed."
"Geeze, Hales." He whispered as he lunged for me, taking me up in his arms. Normally, I shied away from touch. I didn't like physical contact, but for once, I didn't mind. I just sat in stone cold silence, my memories filling my mind as he held me for what seemed like hours.
