“Transferred?” You questioned flatly.

“Why am I being transferred to a different branch?”

“Well, there have been some rumors going around the company and-“

“And what?” You glared, and the woman’s eyes fell to the ground.

“What? Don’t tell me. Some of the employees are getting paranoid? Afraid? Whatever. It’s not like I haven’t heard this before.” You said, your anger dying down.

The woman glanced up hesitantly and you crossed your arms, looking away.

“Oh- so you’ll take the transfer?” She asked hopefully.

“Oh no, I’m not transferring again. I quit.”

Taking hold of your employee ID card with a firm grasp, you yanked it off of your neck and threw it in the lady’s direction. She grabbed it with clumsy hands and almost dropped it.

“But miss-!” She called as you marched confidently out of the building.

“Miss Grace! Please re-consider! We need you on our team!” She yelled, wobbling after you in her high heels.

You rolled your eyes, and answered back.

“If you needed me, you wouldn’t be transferring me!”

As you neared the building’s entrance, you felt the cold stares of everyone around you.

“Glad she’s leaving. That gift of hers was creepy. Not humanly possible.”

They whispered back and forth.

At least I have a gift, even though at times it can be annoying.

As your heels clicked against the pavement, you walked out of the large building turning around to see the sign hanging over it.

CSI special victims unit.

Taking a long sigh, you frowned.

Maybe I should quit police work and go back to call ins? You asked yourself.

(A/N: Call ins are when you see a phone number on the news after a crime has taken place, asking if you are a witness to call the number if you know anything.)

Turning on your heel, you left the building for good, and headed back home.

~Seven years before~

You sat on your couch late at night, a hot bowl of ramen sitting in your lap. Grabbing your wooden chopsticks, you broke them in half.

“Dammit, I can never get them even.” 

Turning your attention to the television, you began to eat your ramen.

“Yesterday at around 4pm, a young girl around the age of 13 was found dead in a nearby stream.”

A picture of the girl before she died flashes up on the television screen.

“Police say that she was drowned to death after being abducted. If you know anything, please call the number on the screen.”

The newswoman says, and shows the phone number along with the picture.

Grabbing the television remote, you pause the report, and set the ramen down.

“Alright, let’s see what you have to tell me.” You muttered, taking a glance at the young girl’s photo. You begin to stare at her picture. After about 20 seconds, your eyes flutter shut, and a high pitched noise is heard in both of your ears, causing you to flinch. Many colors flash before your eyes, and the buzzing in your ears grows quieter until you only hear a voice. It sounds like a young girl, about 13 years of age, like the one shown on T.V.

“He was a taxi driver.” You hear her say.

“Every day he drove me home from school, and I would pay him. One day when I got home, my mom asked me what taxi I was taking home. I told her the license plate number because I had it memorized, and after she looked into it, she told me to never go in his taxi again. She told me that his taxi was un-registered and that he wasn’t really a registered taxi driver.”

You continued listening, hoping for more details.

“The next day, on my way home from school, I accidentally got into the same taxi. It was a habit, after all. Once I realized what I had done, we were already driving. I asked the man to stop, so he asked me why. When I didn’t answer he said that he wouldn’t let me out unless I told him. I got scared, so I told him what my mom had said. He got really angry, so he took me to this stream and killed me.”

The girls voice began to fade, and was replaced with the high pitched noise once again. Your hand rose to your temple, and you rubbed it because of the pain. Your eyes opened quickly.

“There are so many sickos out there nowadays. Probably had some weird with that poor girl, and once he realized his one and only customer was leaving him, he snapped.”

You said nodding, and then grabbed your telephone, dialing the number on the screen.

Yes, you could talk with the dead.