[ WP ] You can see the darkest secret of everyone you meet . As you enter your house , expecting to see the usual abusive father story of your spouse , you stop ; it has changed .

Travis was used to smelling blood. A lot of peoples' secrets involved bloodshed in some form or fashion. Most that did involve blood were from self harmers. A whiff of iron followed by brief flashes of open wounds either on wrists, thighs, and on rare occasion, genitalia. Travis was used to that. 
 
 He was n't, however, used to smelling it upon entering the house when he knew Jemmye was home. No, he was used to the smell of cheap whiskey, the sound of a leather belt smacking across bare flesh and the sight of Jemmye crying quickly flashing across his vision. It was these intruding senses that made Travis sure to always treat Jemmye with as much kindness as possible, even on days when he had trouble putting up with her nagging. 
 
 But no, this time, he smelt blood. The vision flashed across his eyes, but he was in too much shock to really take in what he saw. All he knew was that he smelt blood, and, was it water? Tap water? 
 
 `` Jemmye?'' Travis called out. 
 
 He heard pouring water. He dropped his keys and ran to the bathroom, leaving the front door standing wide open. `` Jemmye?!'' Travis called again, rounding the corner to the hallway. There he saw the door to the bathroom open. Steam was emanating from the open doorway. 
 
 He already knew what was going on by the time he got to the bathroom. He did n't have to glance into the tub to know what Jemmye had done. Instead he instantly rushed to open the small cabinets where they kept their towels. Green, her favorite color. 
 
 He grabbed two towels, then finally turned to see Jemmye in the tub. The water was a deep shade of red. 
 
 Jemmye was laying there, already unconscious. 
 
 `` Jesus Christ,'' Travis cried as he pulled her out of the tub. He grabbed a towel in each hand and pressed at the long gashes trailing up Jemmye's arms. Blood flowed out of her arms in spurts. 
 
 Never in a million years did he think she would actually try to kill herself. The way she acted on normal days, it never hinted that she was battling over her father's abuse. Travis loathed himself for thinking it would. 
 
 He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, dialed 911 and put the phone on speaker. He set the phone on the sink then continued to apply pressure to Jemmye's wounds. 
 
 The operator came on, and Travis demanded an ambulance. 
 
 Moments later, Travis was climbing into the ambulance with the paramedics. One of them, a Hispanic man by the name of Juan, turned to Travis and began questioning him. 
 
 Travis could n't focus on the questions. All he saw was Juan smothering his own mother. 
 
 `` I, uh, what?'' Travis asked. He had a day by day routine that minimized his interaction with new people. This cut down on the amount of new visions he had. He had n't witnessed a new one in a few months. Juan's secret was n't the worst Travis had seen, but it was the abrupt smell of Juan's mother shitting herself that really broke Travis' focus. 
 
 `` Is she taking any medication?'' Juan asked again. 
 
 `` I,'' Travis began. 
 
 The other paramedic placed a hand on Travis' shoulder. 
 
 `` Sir,'' the paramedic by the name of Ronald said, `` you need to relax.'' 
 
 Travis was having an even harder time relaxing now. Child porn, and a lot of it was flashing through his mind, and it was n't like he could block the visions out. The smell of Ronald's cum was the final straw. Travis blacked out. 
 _________________________________________________________ 
 
 A nurse by the name of Regina shook Travis awake. 
 
 `` Yeah, yeah, yeah?'' Travis muttered. He sat up, finally bringing himself out of the half-sleep he was in. `` Where, is she okay?'' He asked. 
 
 He locked eyes with Regina. She was a young, beautiful nurse who had blonde hair and brown eyes. Travis smelled roses, and then saw a 12 year old Regina stomping on a rose bush. 
 
 `` I'm sorry,'' Regina said, `` they did everything they could, but it was too late.'' 
 
 Travis was floored. He opened his mouth to speak, to question why they could n't do anything more, but the words would n't come out. 
 
 A man in hospital scrubs walked into the room. 
 
 `` I am Dr. Clark,'' the man said. 
 
 Travis smelled blood, and whisky. A quick flash, and Travis saw Dr. Clark's unsteady hands attempting to suture Jemmye's wounds. His hands moved about carelessly though, causing more damage to her wrists than what was already done. 
 
 Travis clenched his fists.
