Call it a guilty conscience if you will, or Birdie being over tired, but she couldnât shake the memory of first death she predicted. She was only thirteen when she dreamt of her cousinâs death. She had been having precognitive dreams for a little over three years at that point, but never of death. When she woke from the dream, crying, she couldnât bring herself to believe what she had just seen was real, that Fabian was actually going to die. She convinced herself it was just a nightmare, that nothing bad could really happen to them, so she brushed it off, and then it really happened. For the first time, Birdie hated that she was right about something. She could have told someone, warned her cousin. Instead she kept it to herself, hoping it was just a bad dream.
Itâs been ten years, and Birdie still finds herself reminded of what she could have done. Her family was full of heroes, people she grew up idolizing, wanting to be like, and she couldnât even help them the one time she had the chance to. She had to tell someone, she couldnât keep it to herself any longer. She had only told her dads after the fact, because they noticed that she hadnât been sleeping. Birdie had decided that she had to tell Fabian, they deserved to know, even if it meant they got angry at her, even if it meant she got blamed for everything. She kept having to talk herself into going to speak with her cousin, finding them a few times and then backing out. But she was going to do it this time, even if it killed her. It didnât take long for her to find Fabian, taking a deep breath, she made her way over to them. âFabian, I- Can we go somewhere and talk?â
