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Chapter 1 - Death Bets

Ominis Gaunt wasn't sure if he believed in things like karma or an eye for an eye. That said, it was hard to deny the cosmic judgment banging its gavel down upon his mother and her terminal illness. Perhaps, he thought, if she had been the mother she should've been all along—his best friend, his comfort, his self-esteem, and most of all his parent—she would still have many years of life left. Though blind, even Ominis could see that his mother had very little time left. No longer were her hurtful words as sharp, nor were steps as light and decisive. Her spitting rage developed into a haggard disdain, and her walk devolved into a lumbering shuffle.

He listened to that listless, bitter gait that day as the nurses showed him and his mother to her hospice room. His mother, of course, refused a wheelchair.

"I don't need that," she said, "I'm no invalid!"
"Of course, Mrs. Gaunt."

The second nurse stuck close to Ominis as he used his cane to feel around the tiled floor. The nurse's presence was comforting, more so than other nurses. She smelled like flowers, and underneath that: babies with a hint of vomit, so he assumed she was a pediatric nurse. It was no wonder then that she would've been assigned to him as a scared little kid. Even at 8 years old, Ominis knew he was simply a child way in over his head. So he kept his wits about him as much as he could and listened to the nurse tell him where things were as they passed.

"That down there is the 3rd floor mess hall where you can go for free meals," she said. "And the bathroom is coming up on our right."

Ominis stayed quiet. Whenever he'd tried to open his mouth, he often heard his mother's voice at the back of his head. 'Shut up, boy', she'd say. So closed his mouth would stay.

"You better thank the nurse, boy," demanded his mother. "Show some respect."

Of course, Ominis knew the possibility of that reaction as well. His mother constantly gave him conflicting rules, so he always followed the most recent one.

"Yes, Mum," he said. He turned a bit to the nurse beside him. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Sure thing, sweetie."

Finally, they came upon his mother's room. The moment they entered, his mother wanted this and that changed. The bed was too far in the corner, the sun was too bright in the windows—

"And someone needs to replace the towels in the bathroom. I'm allergic to polyester!"

She wasn't.

"Of course, Mrs. Gaunt, we'll get you cotton right away," said the far too tolerant nurse. She smelled of plastic IV bags, isopropyl alcohol, and saline. She must've been an efficient and experienced nurse, otherwise she'd never be able to handle his mother.

As the nurses helped get the room settled, Ominis took his opportunity to leave and explore. Farther down the hall, he heard people chatting. A cart rolled toward him so he kept to the side to avoid it.

"Hello, honey," greeted a nurse.
"Hello, ma'am."

He felt about with his stick once she passed, curious of the noise. The closer he got, the more he smelled food, drink, IVs, and body odor. The voices cleared up. Men, older—maybe in their 50s or 60s—chatted with one another about a rather morbid topic.

"All right, place your bets, boys! Who's the lucky sumbitch that's gonna die next?"
Another laughed. "This again? You think just cuz you won last time you're psychic or some shit?"
"'Course Phil does, the man is senile!"

Laughter roared from the men. Ominis knew he was in the right room as he saw the lights grow brighter in his blind eyes—the only thing he could see—and the smells and sounds had landed right on top of him.

"Eh? Who's the blind kid?"
"Ominis, sir."
"'Sir', he says!"

They laughed at him. He didn't mind it. Ominis preferred to be polite and then mocked, than to be rude at all.

"What're you doing here, boy? This place is for grown-ups."
"Richard," called one of the nurses. "Be nice. His mother is here."
"Your mom, eh?" asked Richard. "Sorry to hear that, son."
"Yeah," Phil agreed. "Why don't you pull up a chair? Join the party of people bored to tears. Ain't nuttin' else to do around here."
"Thank you," said Ominis.

The group continued chatting about their "death bets".

"I bet 20 bucks ol' Batty Betty is next."
"Oh yeah?" Richard said. "Bet you it's Henry. He's an old coot what can barely get out of bed anymore. 25 on him."

Ominis knew no one's names, nor anything about their situations. But he knew how to turn the tables so the game would go in his favor.

At first, he rejected the idea. The morbid game was of no interest to him. Certainly, betting on people's deaths was an awful thing, he thought. Almost as awful as his poverty-stricken life. What money they had was spent on this hospice care. Once his mother died, he would be forced to live with his equally horrible and impoverished father.

He longed for something better. Oddly, he longed for his mother to have more comfort before death. Watching her waste away, even after all her vitriolic words, sent a shock through his heart and made sick settle on his stomach.

While Ominis didn't think he had much going for him, what he did have was the strange ability to read minds. The idea of searching through someone's thoughts without permission made his skin crawl. How utterly violating. And the minds of nurses or doctors, no less; people who don't share their grim thoughts with any patients—and not their children, either. Thoughts that Ominis felt sure would be full of macabre knowledge. But the bets were coming to a close, and he had to act now or never.

He heard the nurse from before sniffle and looked toward the sound. The impossible to define sense kicked in effortlessly, like flicking a switch.

'Those stupid bets,' the nurse thought, these words at the very top of her consciousness, 'they're just awful.' He dug a little deeper. 'Stephen is doing better—Henry still has another month or so, I'm sure, his heart disease is—Jerald is the real contender. He almost coded yesterday and his lips were turning blue. I'll be amazed if he makes it to the end of the week.'

"5 bucks on Jerald," Ominis said.

The room went silent. The air was so thick that it hitched Ominis' breath. But then the men burst out into rancorous cackles.

"I like ya, kid!"
"Boy's got hutzpah!"

One of the men patted his back. Ominis simply smiled. In a way, he hoped he was wrong so he'd never want to play this game again.

♥♥♥

This is barely edited and based off a dream I had. Idk why this takes place in America, my dreaming brain demanded it be so. Probably gonna be about 5 chapters. Expect a not good ending if you read this. Ominis Gaunt is bae <3 Best Harry Potter character, I love

Chapter 2 - Sebastian

"Get me some decent food," his mother demanded. "These hospital meals are shite."
"Yes, Mum."
"And pick up something actually good this time, for God's sake."

Ominis made his way to the cafeteria down the hall, leaving his mother to lounge in bed and watch television. He didn't know what she wanted exactly. Not that it mattered. She would probably be unhappy with his choice regardless, but he waited in line while reading over their only braille menu.

The cafeteria had pretty much the same things his mother got three times a day, with only a few exceptions. He chose a wrap she hadn't tried before—chicken, lettuce, and tomatoes with ranch sauce. Maybe that would be good enough. He asked for a couple tins of fruit and a tuna sandwich for himself. It was hardly filling, but enough for a couple hours.

When he got back to the room and his mother took a bite from her wrap, she grumbled.

"Crappy cold chicken. Figures, I give you a simple task and you manage to muck it all up."
"Sorry, Mum."

He ate his food quietly, listening to her mutter about how much she despised his food choice, and how the smell of his tuna sandwich was turning her stomach. Over the years—perhaps due to her illness, perhaps due to her personality—she'd only gotten worse and snippier with him.

His keen ears caught wind of a commotion down the hall, which his mother seemed not to hear beyond the sound of her television. Rushing nurses, hurried orders, confusion and fear—

Then silence.

He waited, and heard sobbing. Someone must've passed. Curious, he headed out.

"The hell are you going?" his mum asked.
"Bathroom," he said.

He went down the hall, opposite the previous chaos and toward where the old men had gathered. It was lunch, meaning they wouldn't turn up for another 10 minutes or so, but Ominis figured he could wait. So he sat on the long, uncomfortable couch. A nurse walked by and he resisted the strong urge to read her mind.

Minutes later, the sound of hobbling and heavy steps lumbered to their usual meet-up. They came from all sides, grumbling and sniffling and coughing.

"Yo, Phil!" called one from across the room. Ominis came to know him as Tony. "Ya hear all that commotion down your way?"
"It was Betty, wudinit?" asked Marcus.
"No, no," said Phil. "It was Jerald. Poor old coot."

The couch dropped as Phil took his usual spot, and the others gathered about as well. A hand clasped Ominis' shoulder.

"You all right, kid?" asked Phil.
"Yes, sir," he said.
"Balls of steel on this little man," said Richard. "Looks like you won the pot, too."

Everyone paid up, and Phil counted out the money before handing it to Ominis. An odd glow of pride washed over him as he pocketed his gains, and as the men sang his praises for winning and being unfazed by Jerald's death. He didn't really understand why he felt like he was walking on air that day.

He took that money up to a nearby vending machine later that evening. He felt the machine to locate its braille. The slow-going process filled him with anticipation as he found a favorite treat for his mother—a cheese Danish. He ordered that and chocolate covered pretzels for himself then two lemonades before jogging back to his room with his hands full. The Danish and pretzel bags set clamped in his teeth so he could use a free hand on his cane. A passing nurse offered help, but he shook his head and kept hurrying down the corridor.

Once in his room, he set his cane aside and held out the Danish.

"Look, Mum! They had one of your favorites in the vending machine!" He approached the bed and handed it to her.
"Thanks, Ominis. That's very thoughtful."

He beamed and handed her the lemonade, too. For once, she ate in silence, filling Ominis with pride at being able to assuage his mother. It helped him sleep easier that night, his chest swelling with hope for his future.

The next day, however, was more of the same. His mother complained and thought nothing was good enough. Nothing from the menu was appetizing and nothing the nurses did was ever done right. When Ominis set his cane aside to help his mother stand up, he accidentally knocked over her television tray.

"Be careful where you're going!" she demanded. "Can't you just walk without destroying everything?"
"Sorry, Mum."
"Just help me to the bathroom without killing us both."
"Okay…"

Later that evening, he sat around making more death bets. He read the mind of a passing nurse.

'Poor Fritz is on his way out, I think. His heart can't take much more.'

"10 dollars on Fritz," he said.
"Fritz?" Phil asked. "You insane, Ominis? That guy's as strong as a bull, there's no way."
"I stand by my bet."

The whole gang laughed.

"You're sumthin' else!" said Richard.
"Glad we asked the little dude to join us," said Marcus. "He's a hoot and a half!"

Ominis grinned. This crowd wasn't one he'd expected to enjoy, but being so included and heard was an undeniable perk.

As the days passed, Ominis thought maybe the nurse had been wrong about Fritz, but before the time limit of the week was up, Fritz, too, perished. Ominis earned his winnings, and used some of it to reward himself and his mother with the vending machine food that same evening.

He heard someone walk up behind him. Their presence felt small, like someone around his age.

"What do you recommend?" asked the boy. "I hate pretty much everything on the top row."
"I don't even know what's on the top row. I can't reach it."
"So? Can't you read?"
Ominis held out his cane. "No."
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's all right."
"Well, you're not missing anything. Animal crackers, wheat thins, cracker-crackers—yuck!" The boy made a dramatic retching noise.

Ominis smiled as he got his usual and took his change. He moved aside to the sodas to let the boy get his food.

"I'm Sebastian," said the boy. "Here with my sister and our uncle."
"I'm Ominis. I hope your uncle is okay."
"Oh no, it's my sister, Anne. She's really ill."
"I'm very sorry, Sebastian."
"Yeah, but she'll be okay. I don't think we'll be here for all that long—she'll bounce back, I just know it!"
"I'm sure she will," Ominis agreed, collecting his lemonades. "Get the chocolate covered pretzels. They're one of my favorites."
"Thanks!" said Sebastian with a huge grin clear in his voice.

Chapter 3 - Truth

As the days went on, Ominis found himself going through similar routines. Only now, he had the added benefit of seeing Sebastian every now and again. In the cafeteria, Sebastian helped Ominis pick the best fruit cup, one without any dried up or discolored fruit. Sebastian also took Ominis to the kid's room down the hall, a place Ominis was too nervous to go in alone, due to the screaming children and overwhelming smells.

"And if anyone messes with you—" A thud, like Sebastian punched his own palm. "—they'll answer to me."
Ominis giggled. "Okay. Just try not to get into too many fights."
"Who, me? Never."

And sure enough, Sebastian was a natural in a group. He talked to anyone with impunity, and always seemed to know what to say. Ominis saw this firsthand when two of the other children were fighting.

"It's my turn to play with the crayons," said the kid, who sounded younger than him and Sebastian.
"No it isn't!" shouted the other, about the same age as the first.
Sebastian got up from the reading corner with Ominis and headed to the art corner. Ominis followed behind, curious.

"Hey guys," said Sebastian. "What's the issue?"
"I wanna play with the crayons and she's been hogging them!"
"I have not! I'm just still playing with them!"
Sebastian went quiet for a second before responding. "Ooh, I see the problem. One of those crappy sets of 24. I hate those. Can't you just share?"
"No way, she's using all the colors I want!"
"Hmm… Hold on, I've got an idea."

Sebastian shuffled off for a moment, then returned. Ominis heard the snap of a crayon breaking, the girls yelling, and the sharpener working its magic.

"Smart," said Ominis as the girls quieted down. "Now you've got two sets of crayons."
"Yep!" Sebastian agreed. "Here you go, ladies. Two crayons and the sharpener. Now you can share!"

The girls thanked him and giggled as he walked away.

"Resourceful," said Ominis. "And a hit with girls."
"Yeah, well," Sebastian started, sounding immodestly modest. "It's really no big deal."

Ominis disagreed, but kept it to himself. Thinking about girls fawning over him, too, was both delightful and sweat-inducing. He didn't understand girls.

Later that evening, Ominis went back to his Sunday death bets, bringing Sebastian along. Ominis introduced everyone and the men took to Sebastian just as easily as the kids.

"If Ominis says you're all right," said Richard. "Ya must be."
"Thanks, Rich," said Sebastian. "It comes naturally."

The group laughed, including Ominis. Laughter felt so alien to his body, so bizarre as it rocked his core, so good as it lightened up his face. Everyone staked their claims for the week's death bets, except Sebastian, as Ominis waited for a passing nurse. When one rolled a cart through, he dug into her mind as fast as he could.

'God, I miss my cat—Pauline is doing much better—Herman loved his family visit today—I think Betty's dementia is finally getting to her, the poor woman. Couldn't remember her daughter last week, but that sudden clarity today isn't a good sign.'

"20 bucks on Betty," he said.
"Batty Betty?" Phil asked. "I've given up on her. I don't think the reaper will ever claim that old crone."
"Are you doubting the master?" asked Tony. "The little man is two for two! I swear he's got a gift or something!"
"Is it too late to change my bet?" joked Richard.

When everyone headed off to their rooms for the evening, Sebastian walked with Ominis back to his room.

"What did they mean you 'have a gift'?" asked Sebastian.
"Oh, umm… I'm not sure. I just guessed right a couple times and they think I'm psychic or something."
"How did you guess right? Do you know the patients here?"
"Not really." Ominis shrugged. "I don't know."
"Oh, come on, Ominis. You expect me to believe that out of all the people living here, you just happened to know who was gonna die by pure luck? I might be a stupid kid, but I'm not that stupid."

Ominis stopped in the middle of the hall and rolled his cane in his sweating palms. His heart rate kicked up at the thought of telling Sebastian his secret. Would Sebastian even believe him? Would Sebastian think he's weird?

"You might think I'm crazy," said Ominis, voice soft so no one else could hear. "I've never told anyone this before, so you have to promise to keep it a secret."
"Of course, I promise," said Sebastian, whispering just as quietly.
"Ever since I was a little kid, I could read people's minds."
"No way. What am I thinking?"

He probed into Sebastian's mind. 'There's no way he could. But what if he can? Oh man, I might be in trouble. How much can he see?'

"I can see as much as I want," Ominis answered aloud. "Even things you aren't actively thinking. I can't see your memories with my vision, but I can feel your remorse and guilt for pushing Anne off the monkey bars last year. Try not to be so hard on yourself."

There was a lull in their conversation. Ominis wished to see Sebastian's face—if he was shocked into silence, repulsed by his intrusion, or terrified of what Ominis could do. Ominis' adrenaline coursed through him, pulsing in his ears. Fear gripped his mind, keeping him focused on Sebastian's presence, heightening him to any little thing Sebastian could be doing. There was a muttering whisper of a breathless, "woah", nigh imperceptible.

"That's so cool, Ominis," said Sebastian. "No, that's not just cool, that's amazing. So that's how you're winning these death bets?"
"Yeah, I'm reading the minds of the nurses. I don't really like doing it, but…"
"But?"
"I finally have people who like me and accept me. I finally have money to buy things that I want. I finally have a reason to use my power instead of being afraid of it."
"Why would you be afraid of it?"

Ominis quickly probed deep into Sebastian's mind, like second nature. He felt things he had no business feeling, knew things he had no business knowing. It all hit him hard, rushing through his mind like the fuse of a firework until it hit its explosive crescendo, ending in the gas leak and collapsed home that ultimately killed Sebastian's parents. When he came to reality, Ominis felt his lungs burning as he breathed heavily, and sweat dripped down his brow.

"See?" he panted. "It's that. The lack of control. Like the lack of control you feel with Anne being ill. How you feel about your Uncle Solomon. How you felt about your—"

He stopped, his senses returning though his gut still swirled. Even Sebastian breathed heavier.

"I… I'm sorry," said Ominis, composing himself and standing up straight. "I shouldn't have done that. I don't want to keep knowing these things. They scare me."
"But Ominis, your powers are incredible. It's like you can know anything about a person just by concentrating. You can use your powers to win at these death bets. You can use them to win at anything."
"I guess…"
"If you keep using them like this, who knows how much money you could get. Ominis, you're sitting on a gold mine!"
"Shh!"
"Sorry," Sebastian whispered again. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But we should keep participating in these death bets and honing your skill."

Ominis frowned. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that after his invasive search through Sebastian's memories. But he liked his mum being happy. He liked the praise he got from the death betters. And what he liked most of all was making a friend.

Chapter 4 - Anne

The more his mother declined, the more Ominis needed to get out of the hospital room. Not only was it too much hearing her struggle to breathe or listening to her groan in pain whenever the nurses helped her get up, but she began to take it out on him whenever she could.

"If I didn't have to worry about you so much, I'd be feeling better," she would say. Or worse, "If you were just a normal child, you could help me".

He found himself locked in a bathroom stall sobbing after that comment. Behind the closed door in the quiet, empty bathroom, he felt hidden enough to let it out. He, too, wished he could be a normal child, with a normal life, and normal loving parents.

Seeing what Sebastian had before his parents' demise, how much they loved and cared for their twins, made his mind boil with undue rage. He wanted that. So badly. And his heart fell with heavy guilt when he noticed his rage being directed at the now orphaned Sebastian. It wasn't Sebastian's fault that Ominis' mother fell short of her role.

The bathroom door opened and Ominis hurriedly wiped his face and stopped crying. One treacherous sniffle snuck out.

"Hello?" came Sebastian's echoing voice. "Are you all right?"

Ominis stayed silent. He listened for Sebastian's footsteps, hearing them through the bathroom and over by the urinals. Sebastian went about his business so Ominis buried his face in his arms, feet up on the toilet seat, and he waited. But after washing his hands, Sebastian's footfalls didn't exit the bathroom. He knocked on the stall door.

"Ominis, is that you?"
"How did you know?"
"I can see your cane."
"Oh…" Right. He'd shoved it in the corner of the stall when he rushed in here.
"Are you okay?" Sebastian asked.
"My mum hates me."
"I'm sure she doesn't hate—"
"She wishes I could be normal."

Silence again. Ominis got down off the toilet and exited the stall. He felt Sebastian's presence before him and thrust his arms out. Once he grabbed on, Sebastian reciprocated and pulled Ominis into a hug. Ominis cried again.

Later that afternoon, Sebastian didn't allow Ominis to go back to his mother. Instead, he and Ominis got dinner at the cafeteria and headed back to Sebastian's room.

"I can't wait for you to meet Anne!" said Sebastian. "She's so excited to see you. She's just been exhausted this past week, moving in here and all. I didn't want to overwhelm her, you know?"
"I understand. I can't wait to meet her, too."

Anne's room was brighter, filled with the sunlight gleaming through the open window. There was a smell of sweets and delicious food. Unlike the lung-constricting air of his mother's room, he found it easy to breathe here.

"Hi, Sebastian," said a weak but excited girl. "Oh! Is that the boy you've mentioned?"
"Hello. I'm Ominis. You must be Anne."
"Hello, young man," came another voice—a large one of a man. "I'm Solomon Sallow. Our Sebastian has told us a lot about you."
"All good things I hope, sir."

Ominis heard the shuffling of sheets, then felt arms around him. Long hair tickled his warming face as he hugged Anne back.

"I'm so glad Sebastian has found a friend!" said Anne.
"Don't smother him, Anne," said Sebastian.

They soon gathered around their dining table by the window, with Ominis sitting between Anne and Sebastian. They ate their cafeteria food, chatting between bites. Ominis stayed quiet.

"Why do you have to stuff your cheeks, Sebastian?" Anne asked.
"Shu' up," Sebastian said, his mouth so full.
Anne giggled. "Don't go for another bite!"
"Do wha' I wan'."

Anne and Sebastian's laughter made Ominis smile. He didn't speak for the whole of dinner, and no one tried to force him.

Afterwards, Uncle Solomon let Anne out with Sebastian and Ominis. Ominis watched the twins glow in each other's presence, laughing and giggling, whispering to one another little in-jokes that Ominis didn't understand. He avoided the urge to read their minds and get involved. Seeing them be so loving was all Ominis needed.

In the kids' playroom, Anne demonstrated a very Sebastian-like confidence. She ran up to everyone and chatted without fear, and thrust Ominis into the midst of several uncomfortable social interactions.

"This is Ominis!" Anne introduced. "He's such a sweet guy!"
The girl giggled. "Hi, Ominis."
"Uh, h-hi," he said, fiddling with his cane and cursing that his voice sounded so weak.

Both Anne and the other girl giggled again, skyrocketing his heart rate and leaving him all out of sorts. Sebastian tried his best not to laugh at Ominis floundering, stuttering over his words in front of a girl, but he still heard his friend's snickering.

He was thankful to return to the normalcy and comfort of the death betters that Sunday. He and Sebastian sat with the men who all put up their bets, with a couple high-rollers. Ominis read the mind of a passing nurse and confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that a man named Herman was on the chopping block for the week. Not wanting to be outshone, Ominis whispered to Sebastian who then counted the money.

"50 bucks on Herman," said Ominis.
"50!? Didn't want to chicken out, eh?" asked Phil.
"Told ya not to tempt the boy!" said Marcus.

But they accepted his bet either way. All they needed to do now was wait for the results.

As he and Sebastian headed back to their rooms, they got to chatting.

"50 bucks, eh, Mr. High-Roller?" asked Sebastian.
"That nurse has never been wrong in all the weeks I've lived here. It's an assured win. 25 for each of us."
"You'd really go 50/50 with me?"
"Of course. You're my friend."
"Wow, thank you, Ominis! You have no idea how much that means to me. If we can keep getting these payouts, maybe I'll finally get enough money to cure Anne."
Ominis smiled. "I really hope so, Sebastian. I want to see Anne healthy, too."
"What about your mum?"
"Don't get me wrong, I'd rather her not be sick, but I'm not so sure she's going to pull through. I'm just trying to make her comfortable as much as I can before she dies."
"I'm really sorry, Ominis." Sebastian's hand cupped his shoulder. "You're very brave, you know."
"Yeah, not everyone can survive my mother."

Sebastian cracked up, making Ominis join in. The release of his tension, the sounds of their joy, and the heartening of his chest eased the fears and worries of his mind. Temporary as that fleeting moment was, Ominis knew he'd cherish it forever.

Chapter 5 - Reckoning (Finale)

Ominis adored nothing more than getting his mother her favorite snack from the vending machine. The payout from their last few bets had been immense, leaving Ominis and Sebastian rich as poor kids could be. While he pocketed most of the money to use for a rainy day, he siphoned some into the simple pleasures of life. It was worth the pleasant silence with his mum, rather than that oppressive mess that his meals usually entailed—always waiting for his mother's venomous fangs to clamp down on him. Ominis wished his cheese Danish and lemonade mother could be his always mother.

But Ominis also adored time spent with Sebastian and Anne. While Anne was sometimes too ill to leave her bed, he and Sebastian would enjoy time together in the playroom or out at the park.

"Can you read that guy's mind?" Sebastian asked as they sat in the sunshine, nibbling on ice creams.
"Which guy?"
"That dude jogging—quick, before he passes!"

Ominis honed in on the sound of running steps and probed into the shallow parts of the man's mind.

"Music lyrics," said Ominis. "Must have earbuds in."
"That is so cool," Sebastian gushed. "Did you ever think of doing something with that power? Something great?"
"Not really. Before all this, I pretended that I couldn't do it at all. I just want to be normal."
"Normal is boring! Look at me, I'm normal and I practically put myself to sleep."
Ominis giggled. "You're not boring."
"Neither are you. If there's one good thing that came out of being in hospice, it's that I got to meet you. We'll stay friends after this, right? Whether you get out first or Anne and I do, we'll keep being friends, won't we?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm just waiting for my name to pop up here!" said Tony during their Sunday death bet.
"You joking?" asked Sebastian. "We can't bet on you unless we wanna lose."
"Take a chance, kid!" said Phil.

Ominis took his opportunity while a nurse scolded Marcus for pulling his IV out for being "damn itchy". Between telling off her patient and being overworked, it was difficult to squeeze into her deeper thoughts. He passed by a 'I'd rather be working with the children', to her regretting saying that. After all, as she well knew, having to watch children die was a horrid part of being a pediatric nurse.

'Norice loves the children so much, but I couldn't imagine being her. She gets so attached to them. I hated hearing her cry last night over that sweet new girl, Anne.'
Ominis' heart skipped a beat as he continued listening, hearing Norice's voice through the nurse's memory.
'I can't believe how bad she's gotten over the past week!' sobbed Norice. 'She's so sweet, she doesn't deserve this. I don't think she's gonna make it to next week and I don't know how to tell her brother!'

Ominis stopped immediately. He couldn't bear to hear the distress and fear in Norice's voice, and he heard Sebastian in his mind crying the same way. Ominis' stomach churned violently and he felt a burning and tingling creep up his throat.

He hurried out of the room and into the bathroom. Hunching over the toilet, nothing actually happened. But sick sat atop his stomach, threatening to come up.

"Ominis?" came Sebastian's voice. "Are you okay?"
Ominis swallowed, and spoke as calmly as he could. "Yeah. I'm—" He swallowed again as his stomach flipped. "—okay."
Sebastian's footsteps stopped outside of Ominis' stall. "You don't sound okay. You looked like you were gonna barf."
"I think it's something I ate."
"Need me to get a nurse?"
"No, I… I'll be all right."
"Okay, if you're sure."

While it shocked Sebastian that Ominis didn't want to put a death bet down, he didn't press it. Ominis took every chance he could that week to visit Anne. She couldn't get out of bed, so he and Sebastian would play games with her on the blankets. During a rousing game of checkers, she shouted, "Look, a distraction!", before he heard the gentle clinking of illegal moves.

"Made you look."
"Anne, I'm blind."
"And I'm the winner so what's your point?"

They all had a grand laugh at this. Ominis held onto his tears. Such intense emotions from his joyous laughter nearly brought them out.

One day in the cafeteria, he and Sebastian got Anne's favorite foods. Ominis kept quiet all week about Anne's supposed doom, and perhaps that was best given it was Saturday evening and Anne was still around. Maybe the pediatrician had catastrophized, and maybe he would be wrong. Sebastian, wonderfully oblivious to it all and ever the optimist, kept up with the latest gossip and relayed it to Ominis on their way back.

"Did you hear? Tony coded last night. I overheard one of the nurses say so. He barely made it. Isn't that crazy? I didn't think that old geezer was actually mortal."
"Maybe we should've bet on him."

Despite Sebastian's laughter, Ominis regretted saying that the moment the words left his lips. He didn't think he should be encouraging these death bets. With all the mind-reading and horrible vicarious memories that came with it, he wasn't so sure how much longer he could continue.

"Sebastian. Maybe we should stop with these death bets."
"Stop? Why?"
"I really don't like reading other people's thoughts. It's invasive and horrible."
"But Ominis, we should be honing your skills, not running away from them!"
"I get that, I really do. But here, in the hospital… I've heard things I was never supposed to hear."

Sebastian stopped walking. Silence overtook them, leaving only the ambience of the hospital. Beeping. Scraping. Low chatter. Gentle sobs.

"What did you hear?" Sebastian asked.
"All kinds of things—"
"You're hiding something from me. What did you hear?" Sebastian repeated, forceful and desperate. Ominis heard the deep frown in his friend's voice.
"Sebastian, I… I'm sorry. I heard from one of the nurses that… Anne isn't doing well."
"Not doing well?" he demanded. "What do you mean 'not doing well'?"
"Please, don't make me say it."

A sudden harsh shove made Ominis stagger back. His heart pounded and he braced himself for another push, or worse.

"Why didn't you tell me!?" Sebastian said. "I could've known this whole week, I could've been there for Anne, but you just kept it a secret!?"
"I'm so sorry, Sebastian, I didn't know what to say."
"I'm sick of people treating me like some fragile little kid! I thought you of all people would understand that, but you kept me in the dark just as much as everyone else!" Sebastian sighed hard. "I gotta go. I gotta be with Anne."

He stormed off. Ominis wasn't sure if he should follow, and decided to eat his food in the cafeteria.

Sunday morning, Ominis awoke to an utter ruckus down the hall. He shot up out of bed, snatched his cane, and hurried toward the noise. Nurses and doctors rushed around, shouting orders and information as a machine beeped loudly and continuously in the background.

"Continue chest compressions! Get that IV on there!"
"Anne, no!" Sebastian cried.
"Get the kid out of here!"
"C'mon, sweetie—"
"Let go! I need to be with my sister!"

Ominis stayed back, unsure of navigating the absolute chaos before him. His palms grew slick on his cane as he listened to Anne's monitor and its long, horrid beep.

"Please don't die, Anne!" Sebastian begged.
"Sebastian!" Solomon shouted.

It sounded like Sebastian was being dragged away as his cries and distressed straining came closer to Ominis.

"Ominis!" Sebastian called before he collapsed against him.

He sobbed and trembled in Ominis' arms. The shock of it all stole Ominis' voice.

The dead silence of the hospital bore into him. He and Sebastian sat around Anne's body. The monitor plug had been pulled after an hour of unsuccessful resuscitation. Sebastian's keening had faded. All that was left was a ringing in his ears.

Ominis didn't understand how it was fair. How could someone as young and full of life as Anne die while his bitter mother continued living? How could someone so innocent be consigned to such a cruel fate while nasty people such as his mother walk freely? He grit his teeth and gripped his cane. If self-control hadn't been ingrained in him at a young age, he would've gladly given into his temptation to smash everything in his grasp. He pulled his knees up to his face and sobbed in the cold darkness of the lifeless room, choking on the faint scent of sweets.