The Psychic Next Door

[First Draft] Chapter 14: Realize

When I woke up, the door was open again—but only by a crack. There was light streaming in from the next room, and from the window, but my eyes were too bleary to make out anything just yet. My head ached and my body was stiff with sleep. I rolled onto my back, carefully stretching my arms out in front of me. I gasped at the sight; my once battered arms, red and purple with cuts and bruises, were now only blotched with faint yellow. Vivid pink lines were stretching across where angry red had been before.  

How long had I been asleep?  

I sat up in bed and was surprised to find that my body didn't protest as much as it did the last time. As I took in my surroundings, I was reminded of my previous encounter with Luc. Everything came back quickly this time, as my mind wasn't as muddled as it was before; it was as clear as the sunlight that assaulted my temporarily sensitive eyes.

I knew right away that there was things I needed to do... such as find Polly, or find out what had happened to her. I tried to push the last thought from my mind, telling myself to be optimistic, but it had already sunk its claws into me.

I slid off the edge of the bed, trying to move as quietly as I could. My body had truly healed, though I didn't really understand how. I could stand easily, with no wobbling or feeling like I was about to collapse.

The deep rumbling next door told me that the Beast was still lurking in the remnants of what was once my bedroom, but I wasn't worried about alerting it. It seemed what Luc had said was true: it couldn't come in here. For whatever reason, he was keeping it out. Now that I knew exactly where it was—and knowing that it couldn't jump out at me at any moment—it seemed a lot less threatening, like a tiger in a cage. For the first time in what seemed like ages, I wasn't worried about it.  

But now, it was Luc who I was worried about finding me. I wanted answers from him but I was still unsure if he meant me harm or not. I obviously still suspected him for summoning the beast, but despite my anger, I was very much confused by his actions from the last time I had seen him. He had taken me into his home, and kept me in his bed until I had healed. He had apologized, though I wasn't sure what for. It seemed so strange, and I couldn't reconcile one trait with the other. It just didn't seem to fit together.  

Did it really matter though? I could worry about his motivations later, when I—and hopefully Polly, I thought as a lump formed in my throat—had escaped, and were safe. As I crept to the crack in the door, about to step forward, struggling to come up with an escape plan, I realized that I was dressed in only my panties and an oversized white t-shirt.

The colour drained from my face, horrified at the idea of Luc changing me. For a second my mind swam and I felt faint, but I forced the thought from my mind. I couldn't dwell on it at the moment. I needed to find Polly.  

The lump in my throat seemed to grow. I couldn't bear it if she had died because of me. If I had lived and she didn't... how was I supposed to go on? Did I deserve to, if I was responsible for the death of a friend? I silently prayed that she was alright. She may not have been able to escape the foray unscathed, and I could atone for that, but just let her be alive...

My eyes adjusted to the bright light as I pushed the half-open door aside and crept forward into the main room. The kitchen was a mirror version of my own, but the living room was siginficantly shortened by the wall-to-wall curtain that separated the "working" area, the side Luc used for his psychic business, from the rest of the apartment. Fortunately, there was no sign of Luc, and I wondered if, hoped, he had left.

In the small space, it only took a few more steps to find Polly; she was stretched out on a pull-out sofa, which had been converted into a bed. I exhaled deeply with relief; I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, but I was relieved to find her breathing. I rushed to her side. She was definitely alive, but seemed to be deeply asleep. Her chest rose and fell easily and her eyes were gently closed. I saw the remnants of her injuries as well; the large gash I had seen on her forehead was now knitting together well, with a large expanse of pink papery skin stretching over top. She had other scrapes and bruises, but those were barely visible now. And, to my surprise, I noticed that the cast was no longer on her leg.