First one to say "I AM BATMAN" wins a spoiler.

Chapter 3

Yeah, you heard me.

No visions, no freaky psychic shit for the first time in months. Even mourning, I still felt a twinge of joy at that. And of course that didn't last long, as you see, that created quite the dilemma. How was I supposed to market a product I didn't have at the moment? I pride myself on keeping all my promises…even if I have to do something I really don't want to do. And it was Am who'd asked me. Letting this one drop wasn't an option, not unless I wanted to let it haunt me for the rest of my short and miserable life.

Thus I, not without some hesitation, recreated and launched our website.

For a while I didn't check in. Instead, I stalked Andrew Smith whenever I had the chance.

Somehow, he'd avoided vehicular manslaughter and life in prison, getting out after a month or two and was back to his old ways. He was always smiling this dopey, yellow smile as I watched him. In his half-closed, bloodshot brown eyes I saw no guilt. He had probably killed the brain cells holding the memories using alcohol and pot.

I despised him from a distance for about three hours a day. Then I would walk back to my small studio apartment, all I could afford after I lost my job.
(Which by the way was not my fault...the boss wouldn't stop touching my ass.)

This is where the lines started to blur. Like smeared chalk on pavement.

I don't know you, but maybe you've come close to my point of anger and desperation before. And so maybe you'll understand why I did what I did that night after a day of blankly staring at the dark blue liquid I'd planned on drinking, and the knot hanging in wait in case that poison didn't end me.

I sat down with some ice in one hand for my headache, and finally logged back on.

There were an awful lot of people that sent messages of support, snide remarks, and others took "suspension of disbelief" to a whole new level and began sending their pictures, smiling or not smiling (with and without clothes), asking if I see them as dying when I look at them. Before this, I'd never even tried to see if photos gave me visions. Knowing it didn't matter, I felt the urge to do the worst thing I'd thought of up to that point. There I was, bouncing on the balls of my feet and about to start sprinting over the line.

The angel on my shoulder screamed "NO!" until she went blue in the face, died of suffocation and fell, and it was just weight off my shoulders (why would I need a devil? I'm already evil).

Then I took that flying leap over the lines of WRONG and told my followers living in my same city, for a small fee, that they were all dying horrific deaths and were going to burn in Hell…Unless they did what I said. And donated much more money. Y'know, to keep my psychic juices flowing.

They were quite enthusiastic.

Oh, this course of action seems rather bad, doesn't it?

Review, please. State your conflict, suggestions and perhaps even offer some constructive criticism.

P.S.-Yeah, so what if blue was recurring as a BAD color? It is proven that seeing blue releases calming hormones in your brain. Therefore, it makes sense.

Death can be calming. After all, how can you be anxious or mad if you're dead?

P.S.S.-I do not condone suicide and believe that suicide will condemn me to an eternity in a Purgatory of flying monkeys and talking rabbits. Plus, in death there is no chocolate. :C

I hate flying monkeys.