Chapter 4: If That Actually Happened, I'd Go Crazy
Samantha's POV
My whole body went cold.
What? He dreamed about my death? My actual death?
"I..." The words wouldn't come out. My face must have gone white because Tyler's eyes widened.
Tyler saw my expression and freaked. "Shit, Sammie! I didn't mean to freak you out! It was just some weird-ass dream - I shouldn't have said anything—"
"No, it's fine." I had to clear my throat twice. "Just... nobody wants to hear about getting murdered, you know? Even in a dream."
Tyler ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, so... everything was pitch black. I'm walking around lost, then I see our house way off in the distance, all lit up. Weird thing was there was nothing else around - no other houses, no neighbors. Just ours."
My heart started beating faster. This sounds exactly like...
"Something felt wrong, so I ran home. Place was empty. But I kept thinking 'Sammie's not home yet, it's late, better leave the door open for her.' Which is stupid - you have a key."
Because in your dream, I'd moved out and given the key back.
I dug my nails into my palm. "What happened next?"
Tyler's face went white. "I waited forever, but you never came home. Finally went looking for you. Found this alley..."
He stopped talking. His hands were shaking.
"Keep going," I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
"I saw you there. You looked older, different than you are now. Had something in your hands. Then this guy in a hoodie..." Tyler's voice cracked. "He just... he stabbed you!"
Jesus. He really saw it. Every single detail.
"I wanted to help so bad, Sammie. Tried to move, tried to yell, but I couldn't do anything. Had to watch him stick that knife in you, watch you go down, watch him drag you to the water..."
Tyler was shaking hard now. "Felt real as anything. Scariest dream I ever had. If that actually happened..." He shuddered. "I'd go crazy."
I made myself hug him, even though my hands were shaking too. "Hey, it was just a nightmare. Your brain messing with you."
But over his shoulder, my eyes grew firm and determined. This time, I absolutely won't let any of this happen again!
"Sorry for dumping this crazy shit on you." Tyler pulled back, looking guilty. "Just... you're about to leave, and I wanted to give you a heads up or whatever."
"I can take care of myself." I squeezed his shoulder.
"By the way, when do you take off?" Tyler asked.
"Tomorrow."
He nodded like he expected that. "Getting away from all this crap?"
"Yeah. I'm done letting Catherine control my life. Now I see what she really is - she never wanted me to succeed."
"Makes sense. Sometimes you gotta get some distance."
Tyler stood up and actually smiled. "Whatever happens, I'm proud of you. And I swear - I'll work my ass off to catch up."
We hugged quick, then he was gone.
After Tyler left, I sat on my bed staring at the wall.
How could Tyler dream those exact details? Details only I lived through?
Maybe if I can come back from the dead, Tyler can see the future in his dreams. Crazy thought, but nothing about this situation was normal.
Didn't matter why it happened. What mattered was I got a second shot, and this time I wasn't going to blow it.
Dawn came fast. I barely slept but felt wide awake. The house was quiet when I snuck out.
Outside, fog hung over the empty street. I stood there with my bag, looking back at the house one last time.
Then I turned and walked away without looking back.
Four Years Later
I stood in front of the mirror in the FBI locker room, adjusting my jacket. The reflection staring back was completely different - short hair, sharp eyes, lean muscle from years of training.
Four years ago I was serving coffee to truckers. Now I'm Special Agent Samantha Thompson.
Getting into West Point had been just the beginning. That aptitude test sophomore year caught Harrison's attention, and one meeting later, my path was set. Three years as a probationary agent, and today I officially joined the ranks.
"Sammie!"
I barely made it three steps out before Sarah Morgan came charging at me. Without looking, I threw up a hand, stopping her mid-tackle.
"Seriously?" I said, turning to face my deflated colleague. "Every time?"
"I'm welcoming you to our team officially!" Sarah pouted, then immediately brightened. "Can't a girl show some enthusiasm?"
Sarah Morgan, also a special agent. Twenty-four years old, walking sunshine. During my probationary period, she'd stuck to me like glue. Somehow, she'd become the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.
"Harrison's waiting for you," Sarah continued. "Better hurry before he gets that look - you know, the one where his eyebrows try to escape his forehead."
"Thanks for the warning." I straightened my jacket again.
"Good luck! Try not to get fired on your first official day!"
Harrison's office was exactly what you'd expect - clean, functional, with a view of the White House he probably never looked at. The man himself sat behind his desk like he was planning a military operation.
I walked in without knocking.
Harrison's head snapped up. "Three years I've been training you, Thompson, and you still can't remember basic manners? Want me to send you back to the Academy?"
"Want me to go back out and knock?" I offered, fighting back a smile. "I can do a whole production - clear my throat, shuffle my feet..."
He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. "I've been way too easy on you."
William Harrison, my SAC. He'd pulled me from a crowd of cadets three years ago, saw something in my test scores that made him take a chance. Since then, he'd been teacher, mentor, and the closest thing to a father figure I'd ever known.
"Alright, Thompson. You're officially a Special Agent now," Harrison said, leaning back. "Congrats. You earned it."
"Thanks." I smiled. "Won't screw it up."
"Better not." He almost smiled back. "You're not that angry kid who stormed into my office anymore."
"I was focused, not angry," I shot back.
Harrison snorted. "Right." He waved toward the door. "Go grab some coffee. Check out your new desk. Morgan probably covered it with those stupid motivational posters."
"Ugh, don't remind me. Yesterday she gave me one with a kitten hanging from a tree branch."
"Could be worse. Could be puppies."
Just as we laughed, the phone on Harrison's desk started ringing. He smiled as he picked it up, but as he listened to whatever was being said on the other end, his smile vanished instantly. His eyebrows drew together in a deepening frown.
Finally, with a terse "I understand," he hung up the phone, then pressed both hands against his head and sank into deep thought. I stood quietly to the side, saying nothing.
At last, he raised his head and looked at me. "Thompson, could you do me a favor?"