The Sight
By
Nick B

 © Nick B 2008

Big up to Gabi for giving this a polish . . .

“W-who a-a-are you?” he stammered, trying to back away from the girl . . .

Chapter 10

Darryl had been wrestling with a whole cartload of new things that since the accident had been dropped in his lap. There were the visions and other strange abilities he had suddenly found he had and now his physical development seemed to have taken a decidedly feminine turn.

In some respects, this “Sight” thing had both advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, he was privy to matters that others were not, but at the same time, sometimes this information could be quite distressing. Since it first manifested itself, he had been shocked and upset by what he had been shown on more than one occasion. This was one aspect that he wouldn’t have minded not having at all. There seemed to be responsibility there that really, he would rather not have had to think about.

Then there was the fact that physically he was male and yet was starting to develop breasts, which was unnerving, yet at the same time, had an odd sort of “rightness” he wasn’t expecting. Perhaps that “rightness” was due to what his grandmother had been telling him, yet somehow, didn’t seem to be the case.

All he knew was that there was a lot happening and he didn’t know which way to jump. It turned out that his mother had been told about his unusual developmental spurt.

“It’s okay, Darryl,” she said, taking her son’s hand and patting it gently. “The doctor says they will go. It’s not uncommon for it to happen when boys of your age are growing up.”

Darryl didn’t think it was that straightforward, but then his mum didn’t know what he did.

Once she had gone, he had a chance to really think about things.

There was the fact that since his accident, he and Doris had been getting along much better. Even Paul had noticed he’d changed and that his change was for the better, though Paul couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Grandmother too was pleased with the way he was coming along, but he suspected that her delight in his progression did not have the same reasoning as Paul or Doris’s.

He thought at first that his new-found relationship with Doris was due to his abilities–his ability to know what she was thinking and was then able to avoid putting his foot in it as he had previously been known to do; however the more he thought about it, the more he realised that there had to be something else behind it.

His conclusion was mainly due to the fact that his “insights” into Doris’s mind hadn’t been that frequent and Doris’s change of heart towards him had been well, immediate, but more than that was his relationship with Anne.

She was the woman in the next bed whose visitors to whom he had spent a lot of time chatting. The initial introductions had been simply that he was Darryl, not Darryl, the young lad in the next bed. None of them–including Anne had the faintest idea that he was male and during one of the visiting times one of Anne’s friends actually referred to him as “she”.

“If I had her looks,” the woman had said and Darryl was shocked to the core. The wave of confusion that swept over him at that moment was colossal.

He didn’t want to be a girl. He didn’t want The Sight and all the responsibility that it entailed. He just wanted to go back to being plain Darryl, the boy who was just about to leave school and take up his place in the world.

That night, his grandmother “visited”. He found himself in that white room, sitting with his head in his hands as tears streamed down his face.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?” asked his grandmother, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

“This,” he said, standing and gesturing as if trying to encompass everything.

“You mean?”

“You know, this Sight thing, being a girl. I’m not a girl and was never meant to be one. If I were, don’t you think I would have been born that way?”

Mariella shrugged. “Some aren’t.”

Darryl stopped dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes the brain works one way and the physical works another.”

“But I am a boy,” he said, balling his fists and shaking them.

“Are you?”

“Of course. I have a willy for a start.”

“Doesn’t make you a man.”

“I didn’t say I was a man, I said I was a boy.”

“What’s the difference other than age?”

Darryl couldn’t answer that one.

“Just think what you are giving up, Darryl. You have a rare gift and you want to throw it away?”

“I never asked for it.” He turned away from his grandmother, knowing he was being petulant and childish, but his grandmother remained calm.

“Having a gift like The Sight is like being tall or having brown eyes. It’s not something you ask for, it’s something you’re given.”

“I wish it were that simple, Gran,” he said. “Right now I don’t feel that it’s a decision I can make.” He went and sat back down, resting his head in his hands again.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Mariella said, quietly coming up behind him and resting both hands upon his shoulders. “I think you’re very brave. I hadn’t really taken the time to consider what you’re going through before. It wasn’t just an accident that brought you to this point, but a whole lot of things. I only had the thought of being able to pass on The Sight but I never once considered what it would mean to you.”

“Can’t I just stay as I am?” he asked.

His grandmother smiled. “No child, I’m afraid not. You see, the reason why the women in the family have this gift and not the men, is because women’s brains work differently. They’re wired differently, which means we don’t think the same as men, neither do we do most things the same as men.”

“So you mean, if I were to stay as a boy, I would lose The Sight altogether?”

“I don’t know, it’s most probable; either that or you would retain your gift but not function fully as a male.”

Darryl understood that, for it was already happening. It was all starting to make more sense. The fact that he wasn’t working right may well have something to do with the fact that he has the gift. He now understood that he couldn’t have one thing without the other.

He looked up at his grandmother and put his hand on top of hers. Neither said another word, they just stood or sat for a few moments before everything faded away.

---

It was dark and cold and the incessant drip, drip, drip from a rusty tap or leaky pipe had been playing its part in the almost intolerable tension, keeping everyone on edge.

“For God’s sake stop that,” someone cried, but it didn’t cease, desist or even change its pace. It just continued its measured drip, drip, drip.

Someone else was sobbing, but there was no way of knowing who.

The smell was getting worse too, but that was unlikely to lessen since no-one was allowed to move, let alone visit the little girl’s room and it had been days since anyone had even been down there.

A small light appeared in the distance, bobbing and swaying gently, growing as it neared.

A man swore. “Bloody hell! It stinks down here. You’re going to have to move them sooner rather than later or we’ll start getting complaints.”

“I’ll move them when I’m good and ready,” said another man and the light continued to bob and sway, getting ever bigger as they approached.

“What do you want them for anyway?” said the first.

“That’s my business.”

“Only asking.”

The men were only a short distance away when they stopped.

“I’m not going any closer,” said the first man. “My eyes are starting to sting.”

“Stop your bloody moaning for fuck’s sake. I won’t be a minute.”

The light swooped around in a wide arc, illuminating each of them in turn, dazzling and making them squint and try to turn away, but with their bonds as tight as they were, there wasn’t much room for manoeuvring.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the stiffness that had invaded their muscles and joints, there was no escape.

“Get the one with the short dark hair,” the second man ordered.

“Why me? This has nothing to do with me.” The first one grumbled.

“Just do as you’re told,” said the second.

Muttering and grumbling, the man stepped gingerly across the wet concrete floor towards the girl whose face and upper body was being illuminated by the other man’s torch.

“Come on. We haven’t got all day,” the man with the torch shouted irritably.

“Alright, but I don’t know what I’m stepping in here and she smells bad,” whined the first.

The man with the torch started to say “if I have to come over there . . .” but the other picked up the girl in the torchlight and started to drag her towards his colleague.

She didn’t want to go and fought valiantly, but she had eaten nothing in days, drank nothing in just as long; had been bound in one position for who knew how long and had little fight in her.

“Careful, don’t damage the merchandise,” said the torch-bearer and as the labouring figure of his colleague continued to drag the moaning girl along the rough concrete surface, the light once again diminished and the remaining women breathed out, some seemed relieved although it’s doubtful that’s what was going through their minds.

“So what you going to do?” said the man with the girl as they disappeared out of earshot.

Darryl awoke in a cold sweat, looking around him, recognising nothing of his surroundings. They looked so similar to the dreamscape he had just witnessed in his dream.

It was cold and the pungent smell of excrement and urine was making his eyes water.

“It’s not pleasant is it?” said a voice.

Darryl spun round to see something that made him heave.

She was about his height and even in the half light he could see her perfectly clearly. Once he calmed from the shock, he wondered how this was possible.

“Sorry,” she said. “But I had to get your attention. This seemed the best way of doing it.”

“W-who a-a-are you?” he stammered, trying to back away from the girl whose neck was gaping open, with black gobbets of blood congealing around the open wound and whose skin had taken on a sickly green cast.

Her face was vaguely familiar, but battered and bruised beyond recognition. Her eyes had a kind of milky greyness about them that with the smell of the place, was doing its utmost to turn his stomach–and succeeding.

“I’m Suzie; Suzie Croft,” said the “thing” before him. She absently scratched at her chin and flakes of skin tumbled like green snow.

Darryl retched.

“I’m sorry. I’m not holding up too well, but I have to show you this. Will you be alright?”

“I don’t know,” said Darryl wiping his lips on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “But I’ll try.”

---

To be continued . . .