Self Inflicted Pain - Revision #1 - January 11, 2008 4:30:10 AM UTC

"Smoke?" the detective across the table asked, getting out his pack. Phillip took one and lit it. The detective placed a tape recorder in the center of the table and hit record. The air was dry and hot, no air conditioning, just the ceiling fan above them. They were both sweating up like bloody hell.

"So..." the detective began, leaning back in his chair. "You say that there is going to be a murder, that, you can see this in the future." The guy chuckled a bit. "It's more complicated than that." Philip said. "please... go on." The guy took another drag from his cigarette and noticed that Phillip had not yet taken one off his.

"It's more of a premonition, but there can be multiple paths and..." Phillip took one big drag off his cigarette. "I can't control it. It's not always clear either, kind of like a dream."

"I'm going to be straight with you here Philip. The girl that you say is going to be murdered has been missing for a week now. It's funny you come prancing in here telling us that she's going to be murdered. You know what I think?" Phillip said nothing. "I think you're a sick man! You knew details that you couldn't possibly have known, unless...." The detective paused. "Unless you kidnapped her." He snapped his fingers and one of the men standing in the corner came up next to Philip holding a club. "Your going to tell us where she is." The detective said and then nodded his head to the guy with the club.

The guy took a swing to Philip's right leg. Philip bent over pain. "You don't want to waste my time here Philip." The detective said. He gave him a moment to answer. Philip looked up and noticed the wall clock behind the detective. It was twelve o'clock on the dot, but the second hand, just continued to tick in one place.

Philip began laughing. "Not again." Philip said to himself. "It's not real is it?" Philip took another drag from his cigarette and rolled up his sleeve. "What do you think you're doing?" asked the detective angrily. Philip held the cigarette up to his arm. "I'm getting the hell out of here." Philip pushed the cigarette into his arm and screamed in pain.

He dropped the cigarette and let it fall to the floor. He wiped the sweat of his forehead with his arm and sighed. He was no longer in the detectives office. He was standing on a dock at the lake. He looked over to his left to see a kid and his grandfather fishing, staring at him in shock. "Well... " Philip said to himself. "I guess going to the police isn't an option."