Sinbound: Vision

~SINBOUND~

Songs listened to and or referenced during the making of this story.

Finger.State Of My Head...by Shinedown...

Wrong Side Of Heaven...by Five FInger Death Punch...

Not Meant To Be...by Theory Of A Deadman...

Better Than Me...by Hinder...

Wasted On You...by Morgan Wallen...

Blue On Black...by Five Finger Death Punch...

You and Me...by Yellawolf...

Call Me...by Shinedown...

Sidewayz...by Crucifix...

Outside...by Staind...

It's Been A While...by Staind...

Gone Away...by Five Finger Death Punch...

Angel By The Wings...by Sia...

Stay...by Rihanna...

Say Something..by A Great Big World and Cristina Aguilera......

The Fragile...by Nine Inch Nails...

Unsteady...by X Ambassadors...

~2012~

~Garland, Texas~

....Baylor Scott & White Medical Center….

~RYLEE~

DON'T LEAVE AGENT CODY, FOR THERE IS MUCH TO DO. STAY WITH ME, SPECIAL AGENT CODY, OR I'LL DOUBLE MY KILLING BECAUSE OF YOU. DON'T LEAVE, AGENT CODY, OR THOSE YOU LOVE WILL DIE TOO...

The words whispered through my mind, insinuating themselves into the darkness, the void of finality as the unsteady beep of the heart monitor in the operating room became one long tone of death before slowly, it began a rhythmic beat again….

_ _ _ ___ _ ____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

~Three years later~

Garland, Texas

As I gazed at what were at one-time lovely roses surrounding the porch, I couldn't help thinking of how they were nothing more than overgrown thorn bushes now—life long ago leaving them. The porch they had complimented—artistic magnificence, en-captured within greenery and fragrance—was hunched, broken, much like an old man unable to stand tall and sure: dejection written in its sad lines.

An odor of age and decay floated on the breeze from the ranch-style house itself, and the overgrown growth within the yard waved, as if hungry for any attention. The whole image was depressing, and Brice and I were preparing to enter this cavern of neglect. As Crime Scene Investigators, our job was to figure out what had happened to the victims inside; one male, and one female. I knew the exterior of the house well, having passed it every day on my way to school, and I felt saddened at how quickly it had deteriorated in the ten years since it had become abandoned and at its abuse in this manner; a house of death.

With caution, I stepped onto the porch's steps, the rotted boards cracking beneath my boots. In front of me, Brice Rowland, my team leader, was already on the porch, carefully inching his way across what remained of the porch's floor. I could hear the boards breaking beneath his steps as chunks of the decayed wood fell to the dirt beneath them. "Watch your step," he called out. "This shit is like walking on driftwood, it's powdering out beneath my feet."

Besides Brice, there were seven other investigators: me, Jordan Courtney, Rick Tanner, Rihanna Naff, Style Benson, Ethan Blair, and Ashley Rowland—Brice's sister. Every one of us trusted Brice's leadership and would follow him into any situation without hesitation. However, today, there were just the two of us working the scene and I feared he was leading us through Satan's doorway and into the devil's domain, and I grew more and more uncomfortable about what awaited us inside.

Heaving a breath, I eased my way across the porch, and as I entered the house, I took in its interior. The inside was much the same as the outside—neglected. But it wasn't the interiors condition that held my attention—it was the sentences painted on the wall across from the front door. YOU STAYED WITH ME AGENT CODY, SO I DIDN'T HAVE TO DOUBLE MY KILLING BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S TIME TO BE WARY, AGENT CODY, BECAUSE I AM COMING FOR YOU!

Even when I was dying, this fucker would not let me be. He hadn't let the darkness steal me away. No, three years ago, he'd had to mind-fuck me. I'd been put on the ground, bleeding out, and was forced to watch my team member die, unable to do anything to help her—or myself. Then, during surgery to repair the damage I'd suffered, I'd only been allowed a glimpse of the peace death would have brought for a short period, as he'd taken it from me, using his words against me. He'd invaded my mind, pulling me back from the void, ripping me from the painlessness I'd sought, and bringing me screaming toward the light with one goal: his death.

I knew the malevolence behind the words written on the wall. I'd been dealing with the evilness of their owner since I was fifteen. When I'd received my first vision from him, I'd thought I'd been having a migraine. The pain was so intense, I'd become sick to my stomach. Then, little shards of jagged light had overtaken the iris of my eyes, blocking out the room around me, and through what had remained of my sight, I had witnessed my first murder. I'd never told anyone then, nor had I told anyone of the numerous visions he'd given me since.

He had forced me into becoming an unwanted voyeur of his sickness over the years. However, this time, he hadn't handed me his victims. Nevertheless, as we had pulled up in front of the house, I'd felt him. I'd known the victims inside were his, and when we'd entered the interior, I'd felt the madness that poured out of him like water. However, now, as I gazed at the words on the wall, I felt a victim for the first time, and turning, I bolted out of the house and vomited. My telepathic enforcer had just upgraded the game. He'd just made it clear I was a target.

###

~TWELVE HOURS LATER~

As I stood beside Brice's pickup, quietly closing the passenger door behind me, I peered through the evening gloom at my home, feeling a shudder run down my back as an unwelcoming chill emitted from within it. I'd been staying and sleeping in the partially completed living room of the house and working on it, as well as the rest of the place in my spare time. But as I gazed at its exterior now, I second-guessed my decision. The house sat deep in the woods, no homes or paved roads near it for several miles, and when I had bought the place, I'd thought it to be my ideal home: away from the hustle and bustle of city life. The two-story structure had come with a shallow stream that ran just to the backside and trees that shrouded the west side, giving it plenty of shade in the evenings: a place I had thought would bring peace. I'd pictured hanging a swing from the outstretched limb of the tree nearest the drive and spending what quiet evenings my job allowed, either exploring the sandbars of the stream or slowly drifting back and forth on the swing, drawing in the healing spirit of the area. However, now, all that was gone, instead, in its place was the knowledge this location was a place of vulnerability. A place open for a killer to find his prey. He had done this to me! He had once again taken from me. And now, for God only knew how long, I would stay with Brice until we could get control of the situation. However, I would carry on as if he, the owner of those words, hadn't just shaken the hell out of me.

With a breath, I continued forward, Brice leading the way before me. After crossing the porch, he opened the door to my home and stepped inside. Then, reaching to the left, he flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. Again, he flipped the switch but gained the same result:; nothing. Our guns still in hand, we stepped forward. I needed clothing and some personal items, and though Brice, and the unit chief, had pitched a fit, I insisted I go home to gather them. I now wished I hadn't. My home didn't feel like my home anymore, it felt as if something evil had taken over, and reaching up, I tapped Brice on the shoulder, then shaking my head, I whispered, "Never mind, something isn't right. Let's go."

I received no argument from him, and turning, we reversed our steps but at a faster pace and with Brice behind me instead of leading. As we reached the front of his pickup, I veered off and headed toward the passenger side, but Brice grabbed my arm, stopping me. Then, steering me toward the driver's side, he continued shielding my body with his as opening the door, he crowded me, wrapping his hands around my waist as lifting me into the pickup, his larger body practically draped over mine when he climbed in on my ass. Afterward, with his hands still wrapped around my waist he twisted me until we sat hip to hip. Finally, removing his hands, he reached up and shoved my face into my lap, growling, "Keep your head down until we're clear of here."

Head between my knees, I muttered in a complaint, "Really, Brice, is this necessary?"

Starting the pickup, he put it in reverse and began backing out of the drive before speaking. "Damn right it is. The bastard threatened you, and I'm not taking any chances. We both know something didn't feel right inside your house. For all we know, he could have been in there, and I'm fucking trying to protect you, Ry."

I found myself melting at the nickname. Brice hadn't called me that since I'd been in high school. Specifically, he hadn't called me by that name since he'd caught wind of Danny Green spreading around that I was like butter—easy to spread; I'd been on one date with Danny, and he hadn't even gotten to first base.

Brice was four years my senior and had already graduated from high school, and though Danny and Brice were the same age, however, Danny was held back a year. Yet, that hadn't stopped Brice from meeting up with Danny as he'd headed to school the morning after he had started the rumor among the other students. After kicking his ass, Brice followed Danny to the high school, making him apologize to me in front of everyone within hearing range. By that afternoon, the whole school knew Danny was a liar. I knew Brice was trying to do it again, and I couldn't help but dislike that because of this case, he even felt the need. I had held my secret too long. Too many lives had become lost because of my fear of being looked at as a freak, especially by Brice. But it was time. I needed to tell what I knew. We had to catch this bastard, and it needed done quickly. However, I had to figure out how to approach Brice and tell him I was telepathic and that the killer had been sending me his horrible acts for nine years. The previous visions still haunted me, and I didn't want to live another day with the mistakes I had made by not speaking of them. I just hoped Brice would understand why I had kept this to myself for so long.

I'd known Brice and Ashley forever, it seemed. Ashley and I were the same age and in the same grade in school. Over the years, we had become best friends, and of course, Brice had played a big part in my teenage fantasies and did to this day. He was gorgeous; At six-foot-three inches and weighing two-hundred-twenty pounds, his body made me drool; he had shoulder-length black hair, olive-toned-skin, and amber-eyes—and was where wet dreams originated. Even though his looks were model material, Brice didn't carry the cockiness most men with his kind of looks did. Instead he was warm, humble, and would do anything for anyone if they were in need.