A/N: published 1/10/17, edited 1/11/17 3:29 AM

~ * ~

It had been two days, with no more visions. Part of me was relieved, but another part of me was dying to know what it was all about.

I was at the bank downtown after classes on Wednesday, running errands and enjoying the nice weather, when I felt a chill on the back of my neck. I looked up from my phone and saw a skeleton draped over the teller's desk in front of me. Behind the desk was an open vault. The bank floor was littered with dust and debris, just like everything else, and once again there was an eerie blanket of silence over the town.

I crept towards the vault cautiously. If nobody lived here anymore... then it wasn't really stealing, right?

~ * ~

I emerged back into sunshine of my reality with $5000 in cash in my bag. For once, I was seeing an upside to this situation. I could bring things back to my own realm with me, and wherever I moved in the other world would also transport me in my own world. While I still didn't understand it, perhaps I could use it to my advantage.

I needed to know how to control this ability, how to cross over when I wanted to and how to come back when there was danger. Furthermore, I needed to know whether it actually was an ability or if it was being induced. Unfortunately, I had no idea where to go for answers.

~ * ~

"I need to tell you something, and I need you to not think I'm crazy."

Marie looked up from her laptop. "What is it, dear?" It was Thursday afternoon, and we were once again at Espresso Express after classes.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. How was I supposed to make this sound believable? "I've been... seeing things. And going places, without meaning to."

Marie stared at me blankly, clearly not understanding what I was saying. I leaned across the table, lowering my voice. "The other day, I came downstairs and my parents were dead in the living room, but then they walked through the front door and the bodies were gone. And I was at Victor's apartment one night and he disappeared for a few minutes, and there was a pile of bones on his floor. And on Monday, the auditorium was like a greenhouse, and there was this lady named Delta who told me everyone in the city died."

"Hmm." Marie closed her laptop, squinting at me. "I think I have someone who you should talk to, but you also need to promise not to laugh at me."

"Of course, anything." I was desperate for something, anything, that would help me understand what was going on.

She scribbled a name and address on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "She's like a... spiritual advisor. All I ask is that you go in with an open mind."

I thanked her and slid the info into my pocket. It was better than nothing.

~ * ~

Later that day, I found myself in an old building on the outskirts of town. It was an apartment building, but half of them were unoccupied and rundown. The hallways were dark and narrow, the floor tilted at a suspicious incline, and the lights were almost too dim to see anything.

I finally came across a door labeled Maxima Fournier, Specialist. I knocked and a young woman answered the door. She was stunningly beautiful, with Japanese features and a scarf tied around her head. She wore an elegant green dress and smiled sweetly at me. "Anita Parsons?"

I nodded, in awe. "Marie called to let me know you were coming," she informed me. "Please, come in."

I stepped over the threshold into a sleek, clean apartment, sparsely furnished. Red curtains draped over every window, letting in only a small amount of light, and there were candles lit on every surface. "Wow," I said, "This is, um..."

Maxima laughed. "Not what you were expecting? I get that a lot. Most people expect me to be a wacky old hippie with crystal balls and herbs. I promise you, my methods are a bit more scientific."

"So, um, what do I do?"

"Have a seat, please." She gestured to a dark grey couch in the center of the room. "Let's begin with a little background," Maxima said, fishing around in some nearby cabinets and placing a number of materials in a basket. "Every human emits an energy. Some would call it an aura, others would call it brainwaves, still others would call it your soul, and some would even call it simple heat, but I refer to it as the Core."

She sat down in an armchair across from me, placing the basket of supplies on a coffee table next to her. "I have a number of tools, both scientific and mystical, with which I can measure your Core and give you some indication of what's happening to you. Either the results will be completely normal, in which case your problem might be medical or psychological, or they will not be normal, in which case more extensive readings will be needed."

I nodded. "I think I get it. This won't... hurt, will it?"

Maxima gave a soft laugh. "It shouldn't, not unless there's something really wrong with you." She winked playfully, but I felt a bit uneasy. It was too late to go back now.

"Here, put this on." She handed me a simple winter beanie with wires threaded to it, which connected to a mini portable television screen Maxima had pulled out and placed on the table. She switched the screen on and it whirred and hummed softly, clearly a relic of technology past.

I slipped the hat on, per her instructions. "Now we'll see the results on the screen..." She trailed off, staring at the small screen in shock. Symbols began appearing on the screen, as if someone was typing them in. It wasn't just regular Latin letters though -- I began to spot other languages, like Korean and Greek, and then Egyptian hieroglyphs and a bunch of other symbols I didn't even recognize. The typing accelerated, the symbols growing more and more foreign. I saw images of monsters, devils, and weapons before they started appearing too fast for me to see what they were.

Suddenly, sparks shot out of the back of the TV, and the screen went black. It was now nothing more than a smoking pile of metal. Maxima covered her mouth with her hands before quickly pulling herself together.

"Alright, then." She cleared her throat. "Clearly, you fall into the 'not normal' category, so we're going to need to try some more heavy-duty tests."

I was a bit nervous about what that might mean, but decided not to question it. That initial "test" had only made me more anxious to figure out what was happening to me. "I'm ready," I stated definitively.

"Okay, you can take off that hat." Maxima was rushing around the room, rearranging things to make room in the middle of the floor. She pulled back the rug to reveal a symbol painted on the floor. It looked suspiciously like a pentagram, but I was too scared to ask. She dimmed the lights so that we were only illuminated by the many candles around us and the fading sunlight through the curtains.

"Please sit in the middle of that symbol," she instructed, pointing to the floor. She was throwing a bunch of ingredients into a blender. Some of them were ordinary food ingredients, and others looked like chemicals from a lab. "I'm going to need you to drink this in a minute."

I looked at the milky white mixture skeptically. "Don't worry," Maxima reassured me, seemingly reading my mind. "It's perfectly safe, I've given this exact recipe to over fifty clients and nothing bad ever came of it."

She poured the mixture into a glass and handed it to me. It tasted slightly acidic, but not any stronger than lemon juice. It was easy enough to get down, but I felt a little funny afterwards. Almost displaced, like I was in another place watching myself.

Maxima had an old-fashioned instant camera now, and was loading it with paper to print with. "Just sit still now and we'll wait for the chemicals to do their work. You can close your eyes if that makes it less scary."

I did as she suggested, closing my eyes and sitting still, feeling oddly at peace. I soon felt a warm sensation come over my body, and I felt very sleepy, as if I wanted to lay down and take a nap. I could hear Maxima's camera clicking away nearby.

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see much of anything as I was surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke. Strangely, I couldn't feel the smoke, and it wasn't affecting my breathing at all. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched whining sound, almost too high for human hearing to register, and the smoke dispersed as quickly as it had appeared.

Maxima looked white as a sheet, staring down at the photographs she had taken, which were scattered across the floor. She stumbled over to the wall and turned the lights back on so I could see what was going on.

The camera had burnt up just like the television, and was still throwing off sparks. The photos were spread out roughly in the order she had taken them. I picked one up with shaking hands, not entirely sure what I was looking at.

All of the pictures were of me, sitting on the floor with my eyes closed. Around and above me was a cloud of smoke, morphing into various shapes and symbols. I didn't recognize any of the shapes, but some of them looked scientific while others looked ancient and medieval. Like Maxima had said, it was a combination of the technical and mystical.

Maxima clearly knew what the symbols meant, even if I didn't. "This... this is way over my head," she said quietly, "But I can refer you to someone who can help."

She gathered up the photographs and put them in an envelope, along with a note with a name and address. "I won't charge you for this," she told me, "Soon you'll have bigger problems and God only knows what kind of resources you'll need."

She handed me the envelope, making eye contact with me for a long moment. "Good luck," she said quietly, "May all the gods and spirits of this realm aid you on your quest."

All I could say was "Thank you" before she ushered me out the door and closed it swiftly behind me. I had gotten the impression she was scared of something, but I couldn't exactly say what.

~ * ~

I waited nervously on the sterile couch, tapping my pen against the clipboard given to me by the receptionist. After the routine paperwork, there was a list of checkboxes with statements like "I frequently feel unfocused and distracted" and "I frequently consider suicide." I hastily ran through the list, not wanting to think too much about my feelings and slightly resenting this exercise which forced me to.

"Anita Parsons?" A grey-haired woman appeared out of a nearby doorway. I stood up and handed her my clipboard, following her into a well-lit office. Puzzles and toys were stacked on her desk and the coffee table between two armchairs. Despite the calming atmosphere, I was nervous.

"You can call me Jane," the woman introduced herself. "Have you ever seen a therapist before?"

"No," I replied quietly, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

"Why are you here today, Anita?" Jane asked politely, sitting down opposite me with her own clipboard.

"One of my friends told me to come."

Jane smiled. "Yes, but why are you here? Why did your friend tell you to come here in the first place?"

I looked nervously down at my hands, realizing how sweaty they had gotten. "I feel unmotivated," I explained, "Like I don't have the drive to succeed anymore."

Jane scribbled something on her clipboard. "Any theories as to why that might be?"

"I don't know." I sighed. "It feels like I haven't had any choice in my life. My university was decided for me because I could attend here tuition-free. My major was decided for me because my mom wants me to take over her business. It's like I have no control over my life, so what's the point in doing anything?"

Jane tapped on her clipboard thoughtfully. "Do you feel depressed, Anita?"

I was confused. "No, I don't feel sad really."

"That's not what I meant," Jane replied. "Depression as an illness goes beyond simply being sad. It's characterized by a lack of motivation, a lack of ability to be happy or excited, a lack of feelings in general. Some people describe it as feeling half-dead, and can have a hard time even with basic tasks like eating and sleeping. Would you say that describes you?"

I was silent for a long moment. The more I thought about it, the more it did sound like me. I felt like I was on the verge of tears, not really wanting to admit to myself that I might have a real illness. I nodded, unable to bring myself to speak aloud.

Jane smiled kindly at me. "I'm going to give you a referral to our campus psychiatrist. If you do have an illness, he'll be able to diagnose you and recommend the next step. I would also like you to make another appointment with me so that we can keep meeting and discuss things you can do to make everyday life more manageable. Does that sound alright?"

I nodded again. I realized I was a bit relieved to hear that my feelings (or lack thereof) might be because of an actual condition, and not just a result of my becoming some sort of moody shut-in. I now had a tiny sliver of hope for the future.