Writers 
The ceiling fan gave a steady, hypnotic sound, and Mrs. Adebayo’s voice was a distant drone about Bills being a proposed law to be discussed in the parliament for it to become law. Everything was normal. Until it wasn't.
A scream tore through the silence. It was high-pitched and terrifying.
I flinched, turning sharply to my best friend.
"Faith! Do you want to get us suspended?" I hissed, my voice barely a vibration in my throat. Faith blinked at me, her expression blank.
"What are you talking about?" she whispered back.
"You just screamed," I said to her.
Fatima, are you okay? Faith asked, but her lips didn't move. Her mouth was set in a thin, concerned line, but her voice echoed inside my skull like it was being played through a speaker.
Is my best friend going mad? The voice added. It was a thought that wasn't mine, yet I had heard it clearly.
The blood drained from my face. I stood up abruptly, the legs of my chair screeching against the floor.
"Yes, Fatima?" Mrs. Adebayo called out. She looked calm, her hands folded neatly on her desk.
"I . . . I need to use the restroom, ma," I stammered.
They don't pay me enough for these interruptions!
The teacher’s voice was a jagged blade of irritation. I flinched as if she’d slapped me.
But in reality, Mrs. Adebayo simply smiled, a tight, artificial curve of the lips. "You are free to go," she said sweetly.
I didn't wait to be told twice; I bolted out of the room.
I ran blindly through the corridors, the world blurring into a smear of ceilings and concrete. I rounded the corner at full tilt and slammed into a solid chest.
Gravity gave way. I braced for the hard floor, but a hand snaked around my waist, steadying me. The moment the skin-to-skin contact made a circuit, my vision shattered.
A strobe light of images burned into my brain. It was one of Jacob, the school’s most feared student. The boy who had seen the inside of a prison cell, holding my hands. We were standing in a wasteland, facing a hooded figure that felt like death itself.
The headache arrived following the imagery like a physical blow. I let out a sound that was half-sob, half-scream, and soon, the world went black.
***
The smell of antiseptic and old linen brought me back. I tried to sit up, but a spike of pain driven into the base of my skull forced me back onto the pillow.
"You aren't in any state to move," a voice rumbled. It was gloomy and deep.
I turned my head. Jacob sat in the plastic chair beside the bed, his shadow stretching long across the floor, as fear, cold and sharp, spiked in my gut.
"You!" I croaked. "What did you do to me?"
He didn't answer. He just watched me with eyes that seemed to see too much.
"I’m asking you a question!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "What did —"
The door handle rattled. In a blur of motion, Jacob was on the bed, pinning me down and burying my face into his chest. I struggled, muffled protests dying in the fabric of his shirt. I tried to reach into his mind, to find the voice I’d heard earlier, but there was nothing. Just a terrifying, hollow silence.
"Fatima?" It was Faith. I heard her footsteps pause. "What are you doing to her?"
"She doesn't want to see anyone," Jacob deadpanned.
"I — I'll come back later then," Faith stammered, probably scared of the look Jacob was giving to her. Retrieving steps followed and the door clicked shut.
Jacob released me immediately and I scrambled back, gasping. "What is wrong with you?"
Without a word, Jacob pulled out his phone and flicked on the front-facing camera. He held it up to my face, and I froze.
My pupils were gone. In their place were two milky, glowing orbs of pure white. I looked like a ghost wearing my own skin.
"Do not leave this room until you are normal," Jacob said, standing up.
"Wait — how?" I reached for his wrist, but he flinched away as if my touch were electric.
"And stay away from me," he warned, his voice a low growl. He vanished through the door before I could find the words to stop him.
***
The next day, the white orbs had receded, but the weight in my head remained. I searched everywhere for Jacob, and finally found him in the centre of the school field, a lone figure against the grass.
"Jacob," I said, approaching him. He didn't look up from his book.
"Jacob, listen to me. I-I think something is wrong with me." My voice broke. That small sound of a girl coming apart at the seams finally made him look up.
"And what am I supposed to do with that?" he asked. The edge was gone from his voice, replaced by something like pity.
"You know what this is," I whispered. "You covered for me at the nurse’s office."
He stood up, gathering his things and I tried reaching for his wrist. "Stay away from me, Fatima!"
As the shout left his lungs, the sky responded. A sudden, violent crack of thunder shook the ground. The sun, which had been shining seconds ago, was swallowed by bruised, purple clouds that rolled in with impossible speed.
I looked up, trembling. "Why is it . . . how is it about to rain so suddenly?"
I looked at Jacob. He wasn't surprised. He looked like he was part of the storm.
"You want to know what you are?" He took a predatory step toward me. The wind began to howl, whipping his knot tie across his face. "You’re a Seer. The All-Knowing. Those white eyes? That was you having a vision.”
He must be crazy, I couldn't help but think.
However, Jacob had a different mindset, as he kept glaring at me, while taking dangerous steps towards me.
“What did you see?"
"I don't know!" I cried, backing away. “What is going on? What are you?”
“Want to know who I am?” Jacob let out a laugh as cold as the rising wind. He snapped his fingers, and the sky opened up. A torrential downpour hammered the earth, soaking us in seconds.
"A rainmaker," I whispered, the realisation hitting me harder than the water.
"I guess it's not only the old men in the village who can control the rain," he mocked, stepping into my personal space.
He grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm. "Now tell me, Seer. What did you see?"
The touch triggered it again. My world tilted, and I saw us, not in a wasteland this time, but somewhere else. Somewhere closer . . .
And then, the darkness enveloped me.
