Intentions

Work is difficult for everyone, at some point or another. Whether it was that one co-worker who insisted everything was your problem, or the one who was just so incompetent, or the commute; everyone had a problem. The way most people dealt with it was by venting over drinks, or whining about it to their partners.

Amelia couldn’t do that though. Not only did she not currently have- or want- a partner, but because she was still utterly convinced no-one in the world would have the same problems as her. Maybe she was wrong, and maybe if she spoke to someone about it then she’d realise it was a far more common occurrence than she thought. Her research suggested otherwise however, and that the more likely result was she would be locked up and studied.

Amelia was an empath.

Except that wasn’t really the right word, and the best she’d come up with in her head was ‘present empath’. Not that she really needed a word for it; she never spoke to anyone about it, and in her own head she thought of it as her ‘ability’.

Whenever Amelia was given something, she could feel the intention behind it.

The first thing that she’d noticed with this power was how rarely people were ever given things. Most of the time it would be shopkeepers or servers handing over the items she’d bought, when their intentions were simply ‘make a sale’. Every now and then the intention would be ‘make this person happy’, and Amelia always gave those servers an extra large smile.

Presents had originally been okay, until one year when her favourite uncle handed her a present and she got the intention of ‘social duty’, rather than love. From then on she made a careful habit of having presents put down before she picked them up. That wasn’t a feeling she wanted to experience again.

It made friendship interesting as well. As soon as she’d been able to Amelia had studied psychology- all the better to understand her ability- so she knew that someone’s intention when giving her something didn’t reflect their entire friendship. When she got a tissue from a friend with the intention of helping her though, it always made her feel a little closer to them compared to the people who gave her one to stop her looking so manky.

There was also that one time when she’d been out drinking and a guy had handed her a glass of wine. As soon as the intention to drug her hit, Amelia panicked and threw the drink in his face, screaming at him. While the man looked suitably awkward and scarpered, it left Amelia having to explain how she knew it was drugged. Since then she’d been extra careful not to react to the feelings she sensed, nor to go to that pub again.

On the whole, her abilities shouldn’t have affected her life all that much.

Except it was addictive, in its own way. Like watching horror movies or reading soppy love stories. The rush of emotion, good or bad, made her feel so alive, and after a month of trying to go completely cold turkey she found herself desperately searching for a way to be handed things on at least a semi-regular basis.

At last she found herself working in a greetings card shop.

So while everyone else struggled with the day-to-day dramas of working life, Amelia spent the days rocketing between glorious happiness and heart-breaking tragedy, all the while being unable to breathe a word of it to anyone else.

The rest of her co-workers moaned about the humdrum dullness of the work, but they didn’t instinctively know why someone was buying a card. From the rush of a ‘congratulations’ card for the daughter who’d been trying to get pregnant for two years, or the breath-stealing sadness of the ‘sorry for your loss’ card for a best friend’s widow, work was anything but dull for Amelia. She only had a few short shifts a week, but even after that she spent the rest of the time recovering from the roller-coaster of emotions a single day could bring.

It was a particularly dull day by her co-workers standards when the young woman walked in. Most of the shops in the centre were closing, so there weren’t many other people about, which meant Amelia could watch the woman surreptitiously out the corner of her eye.

What would her story be? The woman’s shoulders were hunched and she kept her eyes low, so something secretive. A card for her crush perhaps? Or maybe something for an estranged family member, reaching out behind everyone else’s back?

When the woman came up to the counter Amelia smiled at Suzie, on the counter next to her, their signal that she was happy to take it. Suzie winked back and kept secretly checking her phone under the counter, completely clueless about how obvious it was she was skiving.

“Good afternoon,” Amelia said with a daft grin. There was a faint buzz of anticipation as she held her hand out for the woman’s purchase, but her bob haircut played well into the ‘over eager, perky shop assistant’ vibe she had going.

“Hey. Just that, thanks.” The woman’s voice was soft, and even as she spoke she kept her eyes down.

Amelia reached out and took the card, and rode the wave of intention that followed.

I’m sorry mum. Please forgive me. I have to die.

The smile froze on Amelia’s face and her eyes went wide, but no-one was looking at her. On automatic she went through the process of making the sale, and the only things that went through her head as she bagged it up and handed back the receipt were those ten words.

I’m sorry mum. Please forgive me. I have to die.

The young woman took the paper bag without looking at Amelia and hurried away, leaving an empty shop and a shaking shop assistant.

“Ugh, great,” Suzie moaned as she looked round. “Another dead half hour. Why can’t we just close up early? No-one ever comes in after the other places have shut anyway.”

Half an hour. With that much of a head start Amelia would never find the woman again. And she’d paid contactless; Amelia hadn’t even been able to sneak a look at the name on her debit card.

“Hey, Amy, are you okay? You’ve gone white.”

“Yeah. I don’t feel so good. Stomach cramps.” The advantage of working in a shop staffed entirely by women.

“Ooh, are they bad? Go and ask Carla if you can leave. It’ll be slow now, I’m sure she’ll let you off.”

“You sure?” It wasn’t as though Suzie had done much work throughout the day, but the last thing Amelia wanted was to look too eager to leave.

“Yeah, go on. You can make it up to me another time, eh?”

“Thanks Suzie.”

In the back office Carla was busy playing solitaire on the computer, and one look at Amelia’s face was enough. “Go home. You’re not in until Friday are you- think they’ll be gone by then?”

“Yeah. They’re usually only really bad for a day at most. I can come in first thing on Saturday or something, if you want me to make up the shift.”

“This is the first time you’ve bunked off early. I think we can let you off. Just don’t make a habit of it!” Carla called as Amelia scooted out the back door.

As soon as she was round the corner she started running. With the empty shopping centre it wasn’t hard to search, but there was no sign of the woman. When she spotted a security guard an idea struck Amelia. After digging around in her bag and making sure her branded uniform was obvious, she wandered up to him.

“Excuse me? I don’t suppose you’ve seen a young woman walking around? She was in the card shop a few minutes ago, left her debit card behind.” On cue Amelia held up her bank card, making sure her fingers covered the name that was also stamped across her name badge. “About so tall, hair tied up, looks pretty distracted. She had a purple handbag.”

“Oh, purple bag? Yeah, she headed off that way. Walking pretty fast, you’ll have a job to catch up with her now. Do you want me to take the card, put it in lost property?”

“I could do with the exercise!” Amelia joked, hoping the smile didn’t look as panicked as it felt. “Still got half an hour before closing time. If I don’t catch up with her by then I’ll come back and hand it in.” Flourishing the card in the air Amelia took off, running harder than she had for years with a few shouts of encouragement from the bored security guard.

Out in the car-park there was still no sign of the woman, and Amelia was out of people to ask.

“Think, think, think,” she muttered, even as she started running blindly out into the lot.

The woman was desperate. Amelia only got intentions, but the strength of the woman's intention to kill herself had been overwhelming. She wouldn’t bother going home to write the letter out, she’d do it now and leave it in her bag, near where her body would be found.

“Okay. So she’s going to do it soon. Which means nearby. How would you kill yourself here?” Guns were too hard to come by, and pills or knives were more personal, the sort of thing you’d do at home. Outside there were plenty of other opportunities, and faster ones at that. At this time of night the traffic would be backed up, so walking out into that would just get you a cacophony of horns and insults. There was no water to jump into-

“The bridge!”

Before the words had left her mouth Amelia was running again, veering off the right. Her throat was already dry and she had a stitch in her side, but she forced herself on.

The multi-story car-park nearby had a bridge that led over into the top of a different part of the centre. Most of it was boarded up, but if you really wanted you could climb up on the hand rail and boost yourself over. There would be no time for second thoughts once you were over the top, and it was a straight drop right down to the bottom of the underground car-park. Straight onto solid concrete.

As she ran Amelia almost snapped the card in her hand, but she wasn’t thinking of that. All she had to think about was putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how much her body screamed at her.

When she skidded into the car-park she took one look at the notoriously slow elevators, then groaned and threw herself into the stairwell. She started taking them two at a time, but soon she was hitting each one, pulling herself up the railings as well.

At last she burst out onto the floor with the bridge, and here her momentum finally ran out. Dizzy and sick to her core she stopped and bent double. Her vision flashed in front of her eyes and she dribbled spit onto the ground as she heaved air back into her lungs.

Still recovering she turned her head, ever so slightly.

There on the bridge was the woman. Her bag was on the ground next to her, the card lying on top, and with slow, careful movements, the woman was pulling herself up onto the hand rails.

Amelia was moving again before her brain had even registered it. All she saw was a flash of horror on the woman’s face, before Amelia slammed into her waist and rugby-tackled her to the ground.

There was silence. Then there was the groan and wheezing, as both of them tried to work out what had happened.

“What?” the woman moaned. “Why?”

Amelia was still getting her breath back, still fighting back the urge to throw up. Where words fail, actions have to take over. Amelia hugged the stranger. After a moment’s pause the woman started hugging back, before she started crying.

The pair of them would’ve looked a right state, lying on the floor, Amelia pinning the other woman down, both of them snuffling. But there was no-one else around, and right now that hug was what both of them needed.

Eventually Amelia realised it would only get more awkward the longer she stayed there, so she pried herself off and sat up. “Are you alright?”

“I think my elbow’s bust,” the woman said with a faint smile. Her eyes were already swollen from earlier tears, but there was a trace of hope in them now. “Why… why did you do that?”

“Because I couldn’t let you die.” It had never occurred to Amelia to do anything else. As soon as she’d known, she’d also known that she had to help.

“But how did you know I was going to-” The woman looked up at the railing and blushed. The necessity was already fading.

Amelia opened her mouth a few times, at first trying to find a genuine explanation, and then trying to find an excuse. “Cos I’m psychic,” she said at last, with a wink.

The woman laughed at what she thought was a joke, then bit her lip. “I’m Elaine,” she said, as she put her hand out for help up.

Pushing herself to her feet first, Amelia took the hand with a grin. “Amelia. Come on. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”