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Being psychic isn't cool.
It's a liability.
I didn't choose to see things I can't prove. I didn't ask for dreams that feel more like warnings than imagination. And I definitely didn't ask to be the only person who suspects that my best friend's perfect fiancé is anything but perfect.
Susan is getting married. Everyone adores her groom -- his charm, his manners, his success. Everyone except me. In my dreams, he's something else entirely. Cruel. Calculating. Dangerous in ways I can't explain without sounding unstable.
The problem is I have no evidence. No facts. Just an unreliable vision and the gnawing certainty that something terrible is coming.
If I speak up, I lose Susan forever. She's made that much clear. Questioning her future means questioning her happiness -- and our sisterhood won't survive it.
If I stay silent and my visions are right, I'll have to live with what happens next.
I don't know which choice is worse: becoming the villain in my friend's life...
or letting a monster walk her down the aisle.
Being psychic is such a drag.
A Supernatural Suspense Short Story
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