Somedays, most of the time recently, Merecedes hated her life. She hated the fact that she was called a car instead of the correctly pronouncing her name, mer-said-ez. But most of all she hated the fact that she was psychic.
Her life hadn’t always been so complex. At first she thought her dreams were just that, dreams. But after she and her friends visted a psychic as a fun joke, she hasn’t been able to shake her words.
You my child, are a non-believer, but the evidence is right in your dreams. If you only take the time to look, you will see. Oh yes you will see. At first she was not sure what that meant but after she paid more attention to her dreams, and soon they began coming true.
What bothered her most was even with this gift she felt helpless, unable to save or prevent what she sees. That is why she hated her life.
To her father, she is just depressed. It is a depression that makes her sad. Her visions caused her the most pain she’s ever felt. Wouldn’t you if you had killed your mother?