I was on vacation the first time it ever happened to me. I remember it clearly, as if it had happened only yesterday. The ocean water was warm on my legs as the swells came up to kiss my feet. The air was thick with sea-salt, and the sun warmed my skin to a dark brown.
Passers-by greeted me with smiles, and the token Mexican greeting of “Genuine Mexican Rolex’s” and rows of silver bracelets shoved in my face had to be gently shaken off with a friendly wave of my hand,
“No thank you,” I laughed, “Nada, thanks though,”
And it was at that moment that the images flooded in to my head. At first, they were blinding. The world around me turned on its head. Sounds were nothing but background noise, and my eyes rolled back, and still all I saw was bright light.
I fell to the sand, covering my eyes, as my temples seared with a sharp agonizing pain.
My breathing was ragged. I felt cold despite the tropical heat. I fought to slow the images. I allowed curiosity to win over.
Curiosity turned to horror.
I’d seen murder.