The Thief

When I was seven years old, I had an 'hallucination' of my father being hit by a black car.

I tried to warn him not to leave the house that morning, but he raised his hand to hit me on the cheek, yelled at me that I shouldn't say such things and he left for work, not believing me.

A few hours later, we received a call from the police informing us that Frederick Claude had been run over before arriving at his office. He was dead.

But of course, I already knew that.

My mother didn't cry when she got the news, she just bent down to be at my level and grabbed my thin arms, burying her fingers, which I remember as claws.

"This was your fault," she said to me, in a low but clear voice. Her claws digging harder and harder into my arms, making me bleed and cry, "You put that idea into his head with your words, you made him hesitate and get run over. I hope you never forget that."

After the funeral, she left me at her sister-in-law's house with two suitcases and a last cold stare, not a word. That was the last time I saw her and the last time I talked to anyone about the strange things I was seeing in my head.

From that day on I realized that I'm not normal. Apparently, no one can see things that are going to happen in their heads, only me.

At first it was fun to have a couple of visions a day, but as I got older, my ‘ability’ matured, just like me. Suddenly, they weren't just short glimpses but long flashes of several things at the same time.

I could see more things, see farther into the future and see more options.

A simple decision like whether or not to go to a meeting with friends had four probable futures. Different ones. My head was a mess and I wasn't smart enough to understand what was going on, so my decisions started to get even more confusing.

And every time I got confused, my future got more and more erratic.

It was a complicated couple of years. I pushed away all my friends and ignored all the people who could become my friends according to my visions, but that time helped me understand myself a little bit.

Now I know that the more indecisive I am, the more paths open up for me. And the more time I spend over-thinking, the more options open up and torment my head, leaving me so confused that I want to scream and crack my skull open to get my brain out and turn it off for a while.

After my crisis, I learned to control my ability a bit. I learned how to focus my attention on reality to ignore what's going on in my head, so much so that my visions can sometimes take a back seat until I decide to focus on them again.

After a while of ignoring those million possible scenarios that only made me make erratic decisions, I learned to act blindly like everyone else. Ever since then, my future looks clearer, in only two or three probable paths I can choose.

And up until yesterday, everything was completely normal. I could clearly see my long term future because I was completely submitted to it. And my life was as ordinary as it has always been, next to a wife and two children who didn't make me feel anything when I looked at them.

But what happened last night with Willow woke me up from the submission I was in and filled me with courage, so I did something I hadn't done since that crisis year and I took a full night to study all the probable futures in my life.

Then, I chose the one I liked the most and blew all the other probabilities to hell.

I know you might not understand what’s going on or what the fuck I'm even talking about, but it's okay to be confused. I'm ALWAYS confused, so we'll be on the same page.

I would love to be able to explain in a clearer and more intelligent way what's going on inside my head, but it's impossible because even I don't get it. And I'm not intelligent, either. At all. I just go with the flow, trying to be as normal as I can possibly be.

I've seen all the movies with this subject, I've read all the books with this subject, I've searched the internet for someone who is just like me, but there's nothing out there. I'm absolutely alone in my peculiar ability... although, a part of me is also sure that I can't be the only one going through this and keeping it a secret.

It's way too complicated and the only thing I'm counting on is my own average intelligence to make any sense of it. So, please don’t expect too much from me.

Luckily, all the mess in my mind calms down once I get to my crappy little studio.

My future feels pretty safe and solid for some reason, so I can rest for a while before I start packing up the few things I have.

So, now that we’re all caught up... want to know what I did to earn this incredible promotion, impress the billionaire owner of the company I work for and climb so many steps on the infamous ladder of success?

I stole an idea from Charlie Lambert himself.

An idea that perhaps hasn't even occurred to him yet. An idea that I don't even understand very well.

I saw in one of the probable futures how everyone in the office was celebrating the launch of a new project so impressive and profitable that it launched Lambert to number 25 on the Fortune Global 500 list, the best companies in the world.

I did some digging until I found out what it was and a new path opened up, a path where I would design that project and stamp my name on it.

And with it will come more money than I could have ever imagined, worldwide recognition, a big, modern house in Chicago, a group of friends I don't want to focus on yet and a lot of good feelings that overwhelm me. I can even see that Charlie Lambert is going to be an important figure in my life, almost like he's part of my family.

This is truly amazing.

And I can't even feel guilty, I'm just excited.

➿➿➿➿➿

Whenever something unexpected happens to me, it puts me in a good mood. Like this afternoon while I was walking down the steps of the plane.

My ankle buckled and my weight submitted to the cold cruelty of gravity, falling downward with the grace of a rhino, hitting everyone near me with my long uncoordinated body.

The first thing I felt when I hit the ground was shock. And then, when I realized that so many people had seen me roll down the steps, embarrassment. But it went away quickly because a surge of happiness came to me and brought out a loud hysterical laugh that surprised everyone.

Maybe they wondered what the fuck I was laughing at, but I'm sure they could never imagine what it was due to: the surprise factor of something happening without it popping into my head first.

It must be a sign that good things are in store for me in this new place, such as the change of weather.

Even though it's October, it still feels warm and pleasant outside, not like in Toronto. I feel like a little kid on his first time out of the country... maybe because it's literally my first time out of the country.

The Lambert driver who picked me up drives for almost an hour through the most impressive parts of the city and then heads into a private residential area with gigantic homes worth millions and millions of dollars.

I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I don't say anything to the driver because I trust he knows exactly where he's going. I don't even say anything when we go through the gates and have to show our IDs to be let through.

This is not just a gated residential place, it's a complete community with its own supermarket, stores and even a movie theater. It's very impressive.

But I still don't know what I'm doing here, honestly. And at this point, I'm too embarrassed to ask.

"We're here, Mister Claude," the driver says a few minutes later as he pulls up to the curb in front of a mansion and I blink several times, confused. I was told that the driver would take me to a house where I can stay during my stay in Chicago, but I can't believe it's here, "Everything okay?"

This is the house of my visions, the one that will be mine for a long time. I didn't think I'd be living here so soon.

"Are you sure you're in the right place?" I ask and the driver nods without having to double check, "But... it's too big for me."

"Charlie Lambert owns this house," he explains. My mouth drops open and there's a strange feeling that makes me shiver inside. Maybe it's guilt, maybe it's shame, maybe it's happiness, "He wanted you to feel comfortable."

"Oh, okay," I answer, forcing myself to stop resisting. If the billionaire wants to lend me his house, he can. The chauffeur gets out to help me with my bags and I walk across the garden to the front door of the house, still unable to believe this. And when the chauffeur opens the door, my eyes almost pop out of my head, "Holy cow..."

It's gigantic and so fancy I almost don't dare go in, but I do anyway.

It has a double staircase like the houses in the movies and a long crystal chandelier in the foyer. It's the complete opposite of the tiny studio I rented in Toronto. And ten times bigger than the pathetic house that awaited me in the future, even after working tirelessly most of my sad life.

My wife hated that house. And I hated my wife.

So, I somehow took Julie into consideration when I decided to change everything. I seriously hope her future has changed for the better. And since my kids are still safe in my balls, I don't worry about them.

They'll have a better life, too, and I hope they'll be more talented than the lame children I saw in my visions.