Punishment​​ for the Prophet

I’ve always had a sixth sense for disaster, a chilling premonition that has saved my life more times than I can count. The Thanksgiving holiday was over, and I was heading back to the city with my boyfriend, Leo, for work. Right before boarding, I was hit with a vision of a plane crash. I blocked the gate, screaming for everyone to stop, and was dragged away by airport security for causing a panic. Five hours later, after a long delay, the plane landed safely. But the passengers, riding a wave of media attention, went live on social media, branding me an extremist, a cult member trying to sabotage the flight. They cried about their financial losses from the delay, demanding I pay for everything. They fueled conspiracy theories and sicced an online mob on me. I was doxxed, and I lost my job. Then Leo, my own boyfriend, saw an opportunity for a promotion. He reported my history of "predictions" to the authorities. I was sentenced to three years in prison. Later, when I foresaw the prison’s collapse, no one listened. I was thrown into solitary confinement and crushed to death under the rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of the airport terminal, the day of the flight. Reborn. 1. "Grace! Hey, Grace!" My boyfriend, Leo, was shaking my shoulder, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "You were just saying you had a bad feeling about today. So, is the plane going to fly or not?" My eyes snapped open. The world spun. The crushing despair, the searing pain of being buried alive, still lingered in my bones. I flinched away from his touch. Looking around at the familiar chaos of the departures hall, I knew it was real. I was back. Last time, the day we were supposed to fly back after the holiday, I’d woken up with a fever, vomiting. On the way to the airport, our taxi hit a rabbit that darted into the road. A hairpin in my bag sliced my finger open, blood welling up thick and fast. A knot of fear had tightened in my stomach. I’d begged Leo to change the flight. But he’d just called me superstitious. In the crowded waiting area, in front of all the other passengers, he’d loudly declared I was having a nervous breakdown, that I was paranoid. He’d joked that one more outburst and he’d have me committed. The strange, pitying stares from everyone around me had been too much. I’d shut my mouth. But then, as boarding began, a horrifying vision had flashed through my mind: the plane exploding in mid-air. For everyone’s safety, I’d thrown myself in front of the gate, demanding the crew perform another safety check, demanding every passenger go through security again. No one believed my premonition, so I lied. I screamed that I’d seen someone with a bomb. That’s when Leo had stood up and pointed at me, telling everyone I was crazy. Eager to get on with their travels, the other passengers had turned on me. They called me sick, an attention-seeker deliberately disrupting their plans. But even so, after security hauled me away, they did another sweep. They re-screened the passengers and re-inspected the plane. When I heard the news in the interrogation room that the flight had landed safely, a wave of pure relief washed over me. I had no idea it was the beginning of my nightmare. The story went viral. Passengers from that flight became overnight media darlings. One after another, they went online to complain. Five hours, they’d been delayed. Five precious hours. A businessman claimed he’d lost a multi-million-dollar deal. A woman wept that she’d missed her own wedding. My face and personal information were doxxed and plastered everywhere. I was a pariah. My company fired me. Strangers threw rocks and eggs at me on the street. I became a prisoner in my own home. And Leo? He didn't comfort me. He gathered "evidence"—every strange feeling I'd ever shared, every dream I'd ever had—and reported me. He told the court I was a dangerous cultist spreading panic. The judge gave me three years. The last time I saw him, he was visiting me in prison, his face glowing with triumph. When I asked him why, his voice was laced with venom. "They were going to make you the Director of Finance? You? Over me?" he’d sneered. "A woman, standing in my way? I don't think so." And then came the final vision: the prison walls crumbling. They threw me in solitary. I was crushed to death. After I died, I watched as the passengers from that flight leveraged their fifteen minutes of fame into careers as influencers, selling cheap junk on livestreams. I watched as Leo took the Director of Finance position that should have been mine. The injustice of it all burned. I would not let it happen again. 2. "Grace! Grace, what are you spacing out for? I'm talking to you!" Leo shoved my shoulder again, his voice sharp with impatience. A woman in a blue hat nearby chimed in. "Boarding was supposed to start five minutes ago. Where's the plane?" She flashed a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg. "I'm getting married tomorrow! If this delay makes me late, I'll sue the airline into the ground!" The man with the briefcase next to her kept checking his watch. "I've got a billion-dollar deal waiting for my signature!" he grumbled. "Can this damn airline afford to cover that loss?" "Wow, a real tycoon..." a few people murmured, gathering around him. I stared at their faces, the woman in the blue hat and the man with the briefcase. I wanted to claw their smug faces off. They were the ones who had led the charge against me online, the two who profited most from my downfall, building their brands on my humiliation. "Grace Shaw!" Leo's voice was a bark. He'd lost his patience completely. I forced down the hatred churning in my gut and looked at the man I despised more than anyone. "What did you say?" I asked calmly. "I didn't hear you." They were so ungrateful in the last life. This time, they could all take their seats on the death flight. "I asked," Leo said, irritated, "if this plane is safe to fly!" I smiled. "Of course it is." My answer surprised him. He frowned, pressing me. "Are you sure? A minute ago you said you had a bad feeling. You said you dreamed about a crash last night. And this morning, the rabbit, your finger..." "You said they were bad omens," he finished. Leo spoke loudly, making sure everyone in the gate area could hear. At the mention of a crash, dozens of heads snapped in my direction. Their expressions were a mix of concern and disgust. I was the crazy one, the bringer of bad luck. With just a few words, Leo had put me on trial again. Outside the massive terminal window, thunder rumbled. Leo’s voice cut through the noise. "Well, Grace? Is it going to fly or not?" I looked at him, remembering his cruel words in the prison visiting room. And suddenly, it clicked. This was a setup. The dead rabbit, the cut on my finger… aside from the nightmare, everything else could have been orchestrated. Maybe he had been trying to push me over the edge all along, to make me look unstable so he could steal my promotion. The thought sent a chill down my spine. Meeting Leo's gaze, I answered with unwavering confidence. "Yes, it's going to fly. I'm anxious to get back to work. Of course it's going to fly." I turned to the other passengers and gave them a reassuring smile. "What rabbit? Don't be so superstitious. It's bad luck to even talk about things like that before a flight." I gestured toward Leo. "My boyfriend just gets a little nervous." This time, I wouldn't give him the chance to paint me as the hysteric. "Hick. First time on a plane?" someone muttered. "Pathetic. Needs his girlfriend to calm him down." "Seriously, so tacky. Who says stuff like that out loud? I'm getting married tomorrow, I don't need to hear that negativity," the woman in the blue hat snapped. The whispers spread. I saw Leo's face turn beet red. He was gritting his teeth in fury. I calmly took out my phone. I had to change my ticket, but I couldn't just not board. That would look too suspicious. I'd cancel my check-in first. Leo leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. "Something's not right with you, Grace." A wave of fear washed over me. He was staring intently at my phone screen, a strange, knowing smile on his face. "You're not thinking of quietly changing your flight, are you?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Are you crazy?" I snapped, forcing a look of indignation. "Of course not. Did you hear? I got a tip from HR. They're about to make me Director of Finance. I can't wait to get back and pop the champagne." It was a gamble, but I had to throw him off the scent. This bastard had to get on that plane. As I'd hoped, a muscle in Leo's jaw twitched. His expression became even more strained. "Oh. Well, congratulations." I pressed my advantage. "What's the matter? Aren't you in a hurry to get back?" I raised my voice again, mimicking his earlier performance. "Is it that the plane can't fly, or that you don't want it to fly? Everyone here has urgent business. Can you stop being so selfish?" The murmurs started again, now directed at him. "What is wrong with that guy?" "I've got a billion-dollar deal to close!" "Young people today have no consideration for anyone else." As Leo scrambled to defend himself, I slipped my ID out of my wallet. "I'm just going to the restroom," I said quietly, and stood up. I had won the court of public opinion. But as I took a step, Leo’s voice rang out, sharp and triumphant. "My girlfriend reads tarot cards! Why don't we have her do a reading for the flight?" He smiled at me, a cold, demonic smile. "Grace? Come on. Everyone's waiting." 3. Leo's voice was a chilling whisper, an invitation to a trap. "For real? Show us, honey!" "I've never seen a tarot reading before. This should be interesting." "Well, the flight's already delayed. Might as well have some fun." The passengers crowded around, their boredom turning to curiosity. Leo smiled sweetly at me. "Don't say no, Grace. Unless you have something to hide?" I had to admit, the little weasel was sharp. To avoid raising his suspicions, I sat back down, my hands clammy and cold. Leo produced a brand-new deck of tarot cards from my own bag. A dozen people leaned in to watch. My fingers were stiff as I shuffled and drew three cards. Each one was worse than the last. A tower, a skeleton, a devil. It was a clear and catastrophic omen of death. But how could I tell them that? I forced a bright smile. "According to my reading, we will definitely be taking off today!" A few people exchanged looks. The man with the briefcase crossed his arms, unimpressed. "What good is taking off today? I've already missed my meeting…" "You could always change your flight," I suggested sweetly. He scoffed. "And do what? With this weather, every flight will be a mess." I was about to pack up the cards and make another escape to the restroom when the woman in the blue hat shrieked. "No! That's not what those cards mean! They mean the plane is going to crash! No survivors! You're lying to us!" The crowd surged forward again. Leo fixed me with a glare. "Grace, what is the meaning of this? Are you trying to get us all killed?" He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, his voice booming for all to hear. My heart leaped into my throat. I held up my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, everyone," I said, my voice full of shame. "I don't really know how to read them. It's just a silly hobby. I just like to pretend." I pointed to the box. "See? It's a brand new deck. The plastic is still on it. I had no idea there was an expert among us." I turned to the woman in the blue hat, my eyes wide with manufactured fear. "Oh my god, ma'am, is it really that bad? Should we all change our flights? Are these things accurate? Oh, what am I going to do? My promotion..." I had turned the spotlight directly onto her. Tarot cards were a niche interest. Most of the older passengers were already skeptical. "My billion-dollar deal!" "My kids are waiting for me to make them dinner!" "No way, I'm not changing my flight! I have tenants to collect rent from…" A cacophony of angry voices drowned out the woman in the blue hat. She was now the enemy, the one trying to derail their lives with her hocus-pocus. Her face turned crimson with rage. "Alright, that's enough!" she screamed. "You bitch, stop putting words in my mouth! I never said anyone should change their flight! I have a wedding to get to! The last thing I want is another delay! Blame her boyfriend! He's the one who started this superstitious nonsense!" As the passengers argued, I saw the plane finally pull up to the gate. My anxiety spiked. Leo was busy defending himself. This was my chance. "I need the restroom," I muttered, and slipped away. The second I was inside a stall, I opened the airline app. My check-in was cancelled. My ticket was rebooked for the same flight tomorrow. Now all I had to do was figure out how to handle the police questioning after the crash. This time, there would be no one to point the finger at me. Dead men tell no tales. I waited in the restroom for thirty minutes. Boarding was about to close. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text from Leo. Grace, are you still in the bathroom? Why aren't you boarding? Is there really something wrong with this flight? 4. The message sent a sliver of ice through my veins. The best defense, I decided, was a good offense. I would start a huge, dramatic fight. The fight we should have had during the holiday. About the house deed being only in his name. About his mother stealing and selling my gold bracelet. Any of the things he thought I didn't know about. All I had to do was pick one and demand he come out and deal with it right now. I knew him. He would run from that kind of confrontation faster than anything. Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Jenna. My screen was already lighting up with a flood of notifications from her. The moment I answered, her drunken, sobbing voice filled my ear. "Grace, what am I going to do? I'm pregnant with Leo's baby." "Please, you have to break up with him, please… hic… My baby can't grow up without a father." The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. Last time, at this exact moment, I was so busy trying to stop people from boarding that I'd ignored her call. But this time? This call was a gift from the heavens. I feigned a choked gasp of fury, then launched into a tirade against Jenna, making sure to step out of the stall and stand directly under one of the security cameras by the sinks. A few women who were washing their hands gave me strange looks. One even lingered to eavesdrop. Perfect. This was exactly what I wanted. After hanging up on Jenna, I immediately called Leo. He picked up on the second ring. "Grace! They're closing the doors! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, his voice frantic. I made my voice as cold as steel. "I'm not flying. Get off the plane. We're going home." For a split second, I heard something like relief in his voice. "I knew it. I knew something was wrong with the plane. Fine, not flying. You should have just said so." A bitter laugh escaped me. "When did you and Jenna start screwing around behind my back? You two disgusting pigs! No wonder you put the deed in your name only! Do you know how much of my money went into renovating that house? Jenna just called me! We're settling this today. The three of us. Face to face." Before he could get a word in, I unloaded every grievance, every betrayal, every dirty little secret. The other end of the line went silent. "Leo! LEO! You cowardly piece of trash, are you even listening to me? Get your ass out here right now!" I was screaming. After a long pause, Leo finally spoke. "Grace, look, I can explain. But I have that urgent meeting at work. We can't let our personal problems interfere with our jobs, right?" He was trying to deflect, trying to escape the mess he'd made. It didn't matter. Soon, he wouldn't have any messes to deal with at all. I pushed myself into full-blown hysterics. "Work? Who gives a damn about work! I'll quit! I have never been so humiliated in my entire life! Get. Out. Here. Now." I thought I heard a faint chuckle on his end. Was he recording this? To use it against me later, to prove I was unstable and unprofessional? To take my job? It didn't matter. He would never get the chance. "Grace, I'm already on the plane. We're about to take off. Let's not talk about this now," he said, his voice suddenly calm and dismissive. "Why don't you go home and cool off. We'll talk when you're being rational." Then he hung up before I could say another word. The entire airport was under surveillance. If I was going to put on a show, I had to see it through. I stormed out of the airport, calling our mutual friends on my way, sobbing about the affair. Once I was back in the city, I went straight to Jenna's apartment building. I grabbed a meat cleaver I'd bought from a corner store and started hammering on her door. A neighbor peered out, her eyes wide, before quickly slamming her door shut. Probably calling the cops. Good. The bigger the scene, the better. Jenna, hiding inside, refused to open the door. "I'm warning you, Grace, I've already called the police!" she shrieked through the door. "You couldn't give Leo a baby after all these years, and I got pregnant the first time we were together! His mother loves me! She said the house is mine! I'm the woman of the house now! Hahaha, the cops are here! You're going to jail!" I ignored her, just kept pounding on the door. The nearest police station was only a few miles away. Soon, two uniformed officers arrived. I immediately dropped the cleaver and put on my best victim face. "Officers, that woman in there! She's sleeping with my boyfriend in the house I paid for! And she's pregnant!" The two cops exchanged a weary look, but they followed procedure, taking both of us down to the station. In the mediation room, Jenna was still arrogant, rubbing her belly and looking down her nose at me. "This is Leo's baby," she sneered. "He's not going to abandon his own child. You might as well get used to being dumped." Is that so? I thought. That baby is about to be fatherless. "You should just break up with him now," she continued. "It'll be less embarrassing for you in the end. His mother adores me. She gave me this gold bracelet the first time we met." Jenna deliberately held up her wrist, showing off the bracelet. My eyes narrowed. It was mine. The one his mother had "lost." Just then, another officer entered the room and whispered something to the two handling our case. Suddenly, all three of them were staring at me. I knew. The plane had crashed.

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