The Psychic Network - Sheryl

  Now it was her turn.  Disconnecting the cellphone, Sheryl got out of her car, pulling on her coat as she slammed the door.  She hurried across the lonely rural intersection to the wagon, steeling herself for what she would see.
  What she did see was a woman - a mother - in her mid thirties.  She was held back by her seatbelt, her head lolling forward.  One of her cheekbones had broken and pierced the side of her face.  As Sheryl reached the broken window she could see where the caved-in side of the car had pushed a piece of metal into the woman's chest.  Sheryl knew it had punctured the woman's lung.  This was what would kill her.
  The back door of the wagon had popped open.  Sheryl carefully climbed into it.  She leaned forward so her mouth was close to the woman's ear.
  "My name is Sheryl," she said, "I'm here to help."
  The woman made a noise somewhere between a groan and a spoken word.  Sheryl looked at her neck.  It was, as the precogs had predicted, broken.  Now came the part that allowed Sheryl to do what she needed, and yet convince the ambulance officers that she was a first-aider trying to be helpful.
  Sheryl positioned herself on the back-seat.  She reached forward and carefully took the woman's head in her hands - thumbs up the back of the jaw, behind the ears, fore- and middle-fingers along the jaw, third- and little-fingers under the jaw on either side.
  Gently, carefully, she brought the woman's head back until it touched the seat's head-rest.

  Then Sheryl used her power.

  In her mind she imagined warmth, calmness, and peace flowing down her arms, into the woman.
 
  Now for the tricky part.

  Bracing herself, cold rain and wind hitting her cheek, Sheryl began to draw the pain out the woman she held.
  The physical pain, the emotional pain, the fear for her family, all the sad things the woman was feeling flowed into Sheryl simultaneously.
  It nearly knocked her out.  There was so much.  She could feel the steel in her ribs, the pain from the shattered leg, the strange, cold hole in the side of her face.
  Yet Sheryl fought back.  She pushed those sensations deep inside, and sent out peace, calm, a knowledge that her friends and family would grieve, be deeply saddened, but ultimately would be alright.

  They remained that way for almost an hour - Sheryl holding the woman, removing her pain and fears, replacing them with peace and wellbeing.
  At last Sheryl could hear sirens in the distance.  This was the signal she had been waiting for.  She sent her last message to the woman, "It's okay to go now."

  The woman died in peace and happiness.

  Sheryl removed her hands, and all the pain and fear she had been drawing in for an hour came rushing up, like a torrent down a river - unstoppable and immense.
  An immense burst of psyhic pain went rushing out of Sheryl, and she curled up on the back seat of the wagon as an unbearable sadness overwhelmed her.  Exhausted and cold, Sheryl cried her heart out.

  When the ambulance and police eventually arrived they helped Sheryl out of the wagon.  She sat in the back of a police car, a woollen blanket around her, cupping hot coffee in her trembling hands.