Ok, I didn't say it, but if I leave the next chapter name, leave some predictions! I could use some of them. In fact, that straight jacket idea is pretty tempting, but unnecessary, sorry. Thanks for the reviews though. Enough of me. Let's go.

I am sore. Even breathing hurts, but at least I survived. What did I survive? Do I not know because that isn't part of the vision, or do I not remember? I must have hit my head though. It feels like I'm on fire, and my ears won't stop ringing. Between painful breaths I open my eyes a little, but I still can't see anything. I moan and try to fall to my side. I scream when my head hit's the hard, cold, stone ground, but no one comes to check on me.

"No! You're a monster! Get away from me! Help! He's going to kill me!" a girl shrieks a few walls down. "Please! Dr. Huckbee! Dr. Blanton! He's going to kill me!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Shirley? Stay quiet, or I will kill you this time. You're screaming has really got on my nerves, and your blood is growing thin and weak. You're life if almost over," a low voice whispers.

I hear the two chase each other and hit the close walls. The echoes bounced their way across the asylum towards me. Her screams echo louder and faster than the continuous hits. I hear a loud crunch followed by even louder screams.

"Hold still before I break more bones!" the man growled.

"Help me! It burns! It's burning again!"

She continues screaming until the man lets go of her. I hear him throw her down and open a rusty door. He slams it shut.

"You won't survive the next time. I'll give you time to recuperate, but in a week or so, I'll have to hunt again. You know the routine. Think about what I told you in the beginning. You're learning the hard way."

My buzzing head didn't want to cooperate with reality's call, but after some time, the fake darkness faded and was replaced with the real darkness.

I was crying again. I hated having visions now because they hurt so much, and the asylum doctors always came running to me when they saw me cry. I tried to stop the tears from coming as I wiped them always from my cheeks, but now my clothes were wet. I didn't care though. I was more concern about my head ache.

I steadied myself and took deep breaths, trying my best to forget about the killer head ache. I focuses on the little details in my cell, the parts I could see anyway. I knew that I was daytime because the outside's sunlight was shining through the cracks between my heavy, steel door and the stone walls around it. Sadly, no light came from the slot window in the door. As always, it was shut from the outside, I was stuck in here all alone.

It had been almost a week since the man took me from the church, and since then I'd had lots of quick visitors. My family came that very night and apologized over and over about what had happened. They told me that the city wouldn't let the asylum release me until I had gone vision free for a month. The next day, Father Matthew came to preach to me. He stayed for half an hour, nearly twice as long as my family, but all of his scriptures and prayers did nothing for me. I had another vision before he left. Even Uncle Ray and Aunt Norma came once. They brought Cynthia with them, and surprisingly their visit was the best. They didn't apologize or preach to me. Instead they just talked, knowing I didn't have any news of the outside world. Cynthia even asked the doctors if I could have some paper to draw on.

My eyes were growing more used to the dark, and I could see the stack of paper in the back corner of my tiny cell. I had pictures scattered everywhere of my visions and family and friends…and Willy. He left on Tuesday as planned, and no one believed that I had seen his death. My visions were either "unlikely" or "lies from the devil." But I was still encouraged to draw everything I saw. At night Dr. Blanton would collect the pictures and give me my nighttime meal: a small chicken leg and a roll.

I was starting to doubt myself though as time went on. I was never always right, but at least I could correct myself before. Now, I didn't correct my mistakes. I still hadn't met Robyn or met anyone named Shirley. In fact, I hadn't met anyone besides Drs. Blanton and Huckbee, and those were short, to-the-point meets where I never really saw anything but their eyes. When I heard some footsteps approaching, I was ready to greet one of the two doctors, but this was someone new.

"Mary Brandon?" a quiet female asked outside my door.

"Yes."

She slide back the slot window, the incoming light was so bright compared to my cell, it hurt my eyes. I called out in pain and cowered in a corner.

"The light? I'm sorry. Goodness, it's dark in there. I forget how dark things are in there. I'm Monica, Dr. Huckbee's assistant. Dr. Newton asked us to begin electrotherapy, and I need to take you to the chamber."

She flipped through a lot of keys and finally unlocked my door. It swung open with a loud, groan, and the light was so bright! Blindly, I took her hand and shuffled down the long hallway.

Every twenty steps or so we passed another cell on the left or right, each one locked up tight but not quiet. A moan or rambling person called out to us, letting the assistant know that he or she was still alive.

We passed each one quickly and tensely until we were in a large room the size of my parlor room at home. It was semi-dark, with only a few lights shining about the five chairs. Four of the chairs were close to the door and were very simple, but the fifth chair, my chair no doubt, was bolted to the middle of the floor and was made of scarps of metal, several pieces dark and dull around the edges like they had been burnt. There were leather clasps on the armrests and leg rests, and metal hat rested at the top of the chair.

"What does that do?" I asked.

"Basically, Mary, this might zap the visions out of your head," Dr. Huckbee said from behind it. "Come here and sit down. I know it doesn't look comfortable, but it's much better than those cold cells."

I sat down and put my wrists and ankles inside the clasps. Monica and the doctor strapped me in the chair and walked away.

"This will be good for you if this works," Dr. Huckbee said.

"And if it doesn't?" I asked, my voice breaking in weird places.

"Have faith."

Raw electricity buzzed and ran through my head, freezing all my senses. I sat straight as a pen, my body slightly trebling from the overload of electricity. It burned through my nerves, and my brain refused to work properly. My eyes went from fully alert to completely blind and back again. I had to force myself to breathe, and my heart was stuttering. I knew that he was going to kill me!

"Enough," the doctor said.

Someone released me from my prison, and together the three of us got me back to my cell. I wasn't exactly sure when I got back in, but I do remember waking up later in the dark.

My head was swimming. Where was I again? It was so dark here I couldn't tell if it was day or night. The view was always the same, eyes opened or closed. Cold sweat was still dripping down my face, but I didn't know why. I was so disorientated that I couldn't tell if the approaching footsteps were real or not.

"Mary Brandon," said a deep voice. I remembered this voice from somewhere, but I couldn't place where. "My name is Robyn, and I'm the only one you can trust. If you don't trust me, you'll be just like the others, and they can't tell you anything anymore."

I struggled to sit up, but my arms shook under me. I fell back down and groaned, tears starting to form. Robyn unlocked the door and came in. He held a candle and sat down next to me.

He was a smaller man than I would have imagined. He was so pale, and feathery, thin, white hair that resembled age-old images of mad scientists. Despite his deep voice, he looked a little shaken. Perhaps it was whatever I'd just been through, but it looked like he had red eyes! This cell must have been driving me really crazy.

"You've been through a lot, and after a procedure like that, most can't remember much. Let me refresh your memory. You were brought here Sunday afternoon because you have visions. Some people that you're possessed, but I think I can rule that out soon enough. Father Matthew's preaching didn't work, so we'll have to call these visions premonitions, the work of the supernatural. Now, during this week, Dr. Blanton has studied your drawings, and he's interested in why you would see these. Seeing as this type of thing is my area of expertise, his investigations won't last long. I'm more curious about if they're true and if this can be corrected. I've heard much about you, and you have been mistreated your whole life. You want out of here, and if you behave, I can do that. Now, tell me everything about these visions. The more you help me, the more I can help you."

Most of what he'd said made some sense. I remembered the drawings and the electricity again. I'd been through this before, right before we'd arrived at church. Was that really just a week ago? I racked my brain fro everything I knew.

"I've been like this all my life, but my family didn't know until I was about ten. That's when my vision starting happening during the day. Before that I had weird dreams that would happen in real life later. It was all trivial stuff though. But they've been getting stronger. I saw you before church. We'll I heard you. I couldn't see anything because it was so dark. And this morning, I think, I saw…" I paused, afraid to tell the truth. How do you tell a killer you saw him attack someone?

"Go one, dear. You must tell me everything. Even if it's something so… strange you can't describe it, you must. I believe you."

"I saw Dustin dying," I whispered. "I was there… in the cockpit when the other planes shot him down. He's going to be trapped by his seatbelt, and the engine's explosion will kill him! No one else believes me." I started crying again.

"Shhh," Robyn said rubbing my arms.

His arms were so smooth and hard and cold! I had goose bumps where he touched me. I stared at him, half scared half curious. He smiled apologetically at me.

"William Jenks, right? Are you always right?"

"I correct myself if things change. The vision will change, or if it won't happen anymore it fades away. Other than that, yes, I'm always right."

"I'll see what I can do about William's plane. Now, I think the question is, what do we do about you? I can't guarantee a success, but I can try. Do you want to give up your visions, or do you want to leave and learn to control them? Either way, you must listen to me, tell me everything, and eventually change when you See."

"I like Seeing."

"Then we'll have to hide your visions, and call you cured. I wonder… No, that's thinking too far ahead. I think with you looking out for everything, we won't need to call for drastic measures yet. We'll continue the shocks to slow your visions. Mary, you heard my voice before? Good." Then he left and locked the door behind him.

Days passed, but I didn't see or hear from Robyn again. I continued to See and draw my visions, and Dr. Blanton continued picking them up each night. One picture showed Cynthia talking to a boy from school. Another one showed Momma sewing by the fireplace. There was one picture I kept from the doctor and slept with every night: one of Willy.

I saw him in training camp, learning how to fire a gun. Though I didn't care for violence, I loved to see him in uniform holding that gun. His eyes were so serious, focused, and for a brief second I could pretend that he was thinking about us. His brown hair fell in his eyes, making him lose his focus for just a second, and then BOOM! He shot his target. He stood up so proud and majestically, that I almost cried knowing that he was almost mine. I couldn't help looking down at my empty left hand. The doctors took my engagement ring back as soon as I got here, and they told Daddy. Monica said he turned several shades of red when he first found out. Like I could marry Willy now!

Days drug by, slowly turning into lonely weeks. My only company was the doctors sending in food twice a day, picking up my sketches, giving me more paper, taking me to electrotherapy every few days, and the occasional screams of another patient. Nothing eventful happened until I I'd been there locked in the cell for over a month. I'd fallen asleep one night, and a dream vision invaded the middle of my dreams.

It is dark outside, and he is very comfortable strolling in the city streets at this late hour. The large clock outside the band says it's two-thirty.

He is a handsome man. He has light brown hair, sort of choppy and messy like he'd been traveling for a long time. He is wearing traveling clothes that are torn and dirty. Strangely, he's not wearing shoes, but that doesn't bother him.

He's thinking about something, analyzing every detail as he walks. He stops every few steps and sniffs the air, but then frustration covers his face. He continues walking until he passes my house.

"Now, we're getting somewhere," he mutters as he climbs my tree to my bedroom window.

He pushes it open to find the room empty. He curses and jumps inside without making a sound on the old wood floors. He makes his way downstairs, his black, hungry eyes growing darker and darker as he passes my parents' and Cynthia's rooms. He doesn't stop to hurt them. Instead he walks down to the kitchen and shuffles through the papers Daddy left on the kitchen table.

"The asylum, hmm? A wonderful place of people who won't be missed. Well, Robyn, you just keep making my day, don't you? And you're so close. You can't run this time."

I try desperately to jerk myself awake, but as always, the vision must fade before I can wake. It fades, and I'm back in the dark.

"Robyn!" I scream.

But Robyn's too busy to answer.

Chapter 5: Now She's Part of the Hunt