Dangerous Intuition - Tasha Kessler (romance book recommendations txt) 📗

What was happening around me just kept on getting more and more unreal. Things that I thought could only happen in fiction. Horror movie material derived from my real life. Everything I thought was stable was shaking beneath me, crumbling out from under me like broken glass. What had he meant when he said that mine was the first thoughts he had read? How could that be when we only just met?

I had mulled all this over in my mind nonstop for the past two weeks. I needed to find some answers- but the only way to get them was to ask the one person I didn’t want anything to do with. There had to be another way. If this thing was genetic, and not a freak accident that had happened to only me like I had thought, then there must be others out there. There must be someone, besides my father and I, that was like me. Someone that could do the same things that I could do. There had to be others, but I didn’t know how to find them.

I had called as many psychic as I could find, hoping to find someone who was real. Something tangible aside from myself that could do the things I could do, finding nothing but a large bill linked to my hotel room that I knew I couldn’t pay. My time and money were running out. My vision would come true at some point this fall. This I knew as fact. It was late August, and I didn’t have much time left until fall. I needed to find out who or what I was. I needed to know who I was looking for and why. More importantly I needed to know what I could do and how to control it. Before this fall.

Time to Google. I got out my laptop and began my search. I was going to find out whatever I could and avoid my father at all costs. I didn’t like him. There wasn’t anything that he could ever do to change that. I started my search in Google, looking under the key word psychic, getting at first only the normal every day garbage about crystal balls and magic along with a few porn sights. Getting equally as far searching the word telepathic. All the pages on the world wide web and only one word caught my attention. Twins.

I would have been a twin had my mother not had an abortion. One that resulted in only one of us living, and only accidentally at that. This was the only trigger or connection to me I could find, and most of the websites connected to twins and telepathy were still mostly mumbo jumbo theories. Theories linking twins to each others mind waves but nothing linking twins to having a generic telepathic power outside of that genetic link. Looking at pictures of psychic hands and horoscope signs wasn’t helping me. Not even close. The only thing that this was giving me was a headache. I was going to have to find something more substantial than all of this.

Time Benders? Is that what he called us? I Googled ‘Time Bending’ and got back a host of science and scientific research ranging from Einstein’s theories to actual successful tests with small particles and objects in time travel. Was this my source then? I went on digging deeper into the depths that was the internet searching for any link I could find that went beyond scientific theory and into what I did the other night. I switched to ‘Time freezing’ and went right back to the bunk I had found with my earlier searches on psychics and telepathy, only adding Harry Potter to the mix of crapola that’s out there. I went over my conversations with my mother and my father from that night taking apart everything I could to come up with my own answers.

Something had been bothering me for the past 2 days. A connection that I had made and almost immediately ignored. It woke me up that night. Origins. They had both said it to me. Both speaking of my family. They had both used the word, with the same accent, one heavier than the other, caressing the word with such tender affection to its underlying worth. One was speaking of my father, and the other was my father. They had both given me the creeps. Both set off my ‘warning signals’ as my father had put it, letting me know they were dangerous. I couldn’t ignore this connection. It was too strong.

I wasn’t going to go to my father. I was angry and confused and stubborn. It would take an act of God to make me go willingly to him for anything. But my curiosity at the connection and my lack of a connection anywhere else had me pointing my steps in the very direction I had run from. As much as I tried to talk myself out of this my feet kept walking in the direction of the one place I had been willing to die to escape.

It would take an act of God to get me to go to my father, but I would walk willingly into hell to get the answers I craved. I was going to walk right back into my own personal hell and ask the Devil himself.
Dr. Argyros

I stood for what must have been hours outside the driveway to the mental hospital, just outside of view from the front doors. I couldn’t make myself go any farther. I was deathly afraid that if I went back in they wouldn’t let me out again. Especially considering what I was planning on going in there for. I had waited there until it started to get dark outside and was in the middle of debating on whether or not to go in or turn tail and run back to my hotel room before it got too late, when the Devil himself walked out of the hospital and started for his car. Last chance.

“Dr. Argyros!” I yelled out, jogging over to his car to catch him before he got in and drove way. Had I startled him? He was pressing his back against his car as if I were a wild dog running up to attack him or something. “Megan….?” He greeted me with a confused furrow in his brow and his back ramrod straight against his car. Did he think I was some delusional ex-patient that was stocking him or something? “It’s good to see you.” I lied. In fact those warning signals were sounding more and more fiercely in my head by the minute. He said nothing, just stood there waiting for me to continue. “Can I ask you a few questions?” best to get straight to the point, right? “What’s this concerning?” He seemed like he was more afraid of me than I was of him…. Than I was of anything. “Quite a lot actually? Can we go someplace to talk?” His fear was doing strange things to me. I liked it. I was enjoying the face that now, with me outside of those confining hospital walls, he was the one that was afraid and not me.

Another part of my brain kicked in just then and reminded me that I needed for him to not be afraid of me. I wasn’t really some creepy stalker, and I just needed some answers. I needed him to go with me to talk, but in order for him to do that he needed to trust me. Right. Make him feel safe… “Anywhere is fine. You pick?” I said. This seemed to put him more at ease, but not by much. He nodded in agreement. All I need is answers. All I need is answers. I chanted this to myself to keep from yelling ‘BOO!’ at him and falling over in hysteric laughter. He was afraid of Me. STOP IT! I yelled at myself. Geez, maybe I am crazy. All I need is answers.

“I don’t have a car so…..” I waited for him to offer me a ride, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen tonight so I continued with: “So I guess I’ll meet you there. Where’re we going?” So much for hoping he was a gentleman. “Can we not go into my office?” Ugh. Why did I tell him to pick. I glanced nervously between him and the building and the direction of my hotel room and back again. He must have caught on to my reluctance because then he opened the car door for me gesturing me into his car and said “I understand. I’m sorry. We can go someplace else.” Wait… he was a nice guy? No. 'Trap! Trap!' my head screamed out at me. “That’s ok…. I’ll walk. Just tell me where…” I said backing away from the open car door. “There’s a gas station about two blocks down. It has a few picnic tables outside by the side of the building…?” I nodded and started to walk off in the direction he pointed me in.

About fifteen minutes later I walked up to a well lit gas station that had a decent amount of people wandering about. The tables were far enough away from everybody that we could have a private conversation, but close enough where neither one of us could do anything to the other one that wouldn’t be seen by the people walking to and from the gas pumps. I ran in and got myself a bottle of water and a bag of chips before settling down at the table he had been waiting at when I got there.

“So.” I didn’t know what to ask him, or how to even start. What was I even doing? Why don’t I ever think things thought before hand? “You said you needed to talk to me?” He said taking a sip of his coffee. Who drinks coffee at this time of night anyway? “Yes. I was locked in that hospital for two years, why did you let me go? Right after trying to kill myself at that. I don’t understand.” That’s not what I had been planning to ask him. In fact that wasn’t even on my list. It’s just the first thing that came out, but now that I’ve asked it, I really wanted to know. It’s seemed like a pretty good place to start. “I didn’t let you go. Not really. Your father, he is a very influential man.” So he did know my father. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why ask me all those questions about my father, and my family origins, if you knew?” This question made him uncomfortable. He looked around like he was checking to see if we were being watched. “And what is it that you know, young one?” Young