The Psychic Next Door

[First Draft] Chapter 15: Accident

The curtain fluttered beside my head. I stared at it for a moment, lost in sleepy confusion that precedes true alertness. This environment seemed unfamiliar to me. Was I still dreaming? Then I suddenly remembered where I was; I had fallen asleep on a makeshift bed I had found behind the curtain, the bed I assumed Luc had set up for himself when I had been using his bed.  

But now the situation was reversed; Luc hadn't reemerged from his bedroom after his outburst, so I had no other choice but to take over the little foam mattress. Where else was I going to sleep? And besides, it was close to Polly; the futon on which she slept was just on the other side of the curtain.  

The bed, though not ideal, wasn't uncomfortable, and the sleep I had been having was deep and untroubled. There had been no reason to awake, not that I could remember at least. It was still night, and the room dark enough that details were obscured, no light to disturb be. Maybe I had been startled by a dream that I know couldn't remember.

I tried to quickly forget it and instead concentrated on the sounds of the night, hoping that the quiet din would help me quickly drift back to sleep. The constant low growl of the Beast next door was soothing now, in a strange kind of way. It was almost like the purr of a nearby cat, though I knew that it wasn't exactly harmless. Deep down, I still knew it was just as horrible, but the barrier between me and it gave the comfort of security.

Just as the demon's muffled snarls began to lull me into another heavy sleep, a small noise snapped me out of it again. My ears strained for a repeat, my senses heightened after weeks of living in fear. What was that? It came again, and I recognized it this time. The noise was just the gentle thuds of closing kitchen cupboard doors. My fear eased away and was replaced by curiosity.

I stayed where I was, trying to be as still as possible. I didn't want to make a movement or sound that would tip off Luc as he went about his midnight business. I had no idea what he was up to, but I was sure that I didn't want to interrupt him. I no longer feared him, but I wasn't sure about how much I trusted him either. And maybe if I could just see or hear what he was up to, I could make a better decision on what his intentions were.

His soft footsteps came towards me and I quickly shut my eyes to pretend I was asleep, listening hard to make up for the loss of my other sense. But I didn't feel the breeze of the curtain moving near my head again. After a few moments, I realized that he hadn't passed onto my side of the room and that it was safe to reopen my eyes.

Once I had regained my sight I saw light. Just the faintest of glows on the other side of the curtain; just enough for someone to see what they were doing, but not enough to wake a sleeping person. What was he up to?  

I heard a wet noise, followed by the soft sound of skin contacting skin. Silence followed, but soon after the process was repeated. It formed a pattern, happening again and again. And though I tried, I couldn't place the sounds. They didn't make me uneasy, but It seemed strangely familiar but I couldn't think of why. My curiosity got the better of me and I had to make a bold move.  

Moving as quietly as I could—hoping any sound of my blankets would be written off as restless sleeping or masked by the other sounds—I crept to the edge of the curtain and pulled it back just an inch. Flattening my face against the wall, I peered through the tiny crack to spy on Luc.  

The mystery of the sound was easily solved, and I realized why it sounded so familiar. It was the gentle sound of rubbing lotion into skin. There was a small dish of cream on the edge of the bed, and Luc—working by what seemed to be candle light—would scoop some of it up and gently rub it into Polly's leg... the one that had been broken.  

I watched him work for a while. He repeated the process on her leg several times before moving onto her arms and finally her forehead. I couldn't see her other injuries in the dark, but I could just make out the large gash on her forehead, only because it was the closest to me as well as the biggest. Luc seemed to focus on that spot too, and gently rubbed the cream into the scar several times.  

My mouth fell open. As Luc massaged the cream into Polly's forehead, the scar seemed to fade with every application... until it was almost completely gone. I blinked hard, sure that it had been a trick of the light, but when I looked back, it was still barely visible. It hit me; the cream he was applying was the reason I had healed so quickly, maybe even the reason I had survived.

I hadn't been here for weeks... I had only been here for a few days.  

The more I watched Luc, the more my suspicions were chipped away. He really had nursed us back to health. We were on the brink of death, and he had saved us, protected us, taken us into his home... All after we had stolen his powers, jeopardized our only chance of saving ourselves, and accused him of torturing us for fun.

He had every right to hate us, yet here he was, applying cream to Polly's injuries in the middle of the night.

I slipped away from the wall, the weight of my guilt consuming me. Just as I stifled a shame-filled sob, Luc spoke.  

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

I froze, fearful that he was speaking to me, afraid to be caught spying on him. Like he needed any other reasons to despise me, which I was sure he already did.  

But he wasn't speaking to me.  

"Oh god, Polly, I'm so sorry," His voice was so anguished, that it took all my strength not to sob again.

"God, I know you must hate me. And rightfully so, after your sister... I never meant for this to happen, I had no idea. First Lillian and now Rachel... I'm sorry I keep dragging you into this. I just—I don't know how to stop it..."  

His voice trailed away and I heard him muffle a cry of agony, and then a very quietly whisper: "I'm so sorry."  

Suddenly the light was snuffed out, and the room was plunged back into darkness. I blinked trying to readjust my eyes and felt tears trickle out of the corners. His footsteps retreated from Polly's bedside and I heard the soft thud of cupboards again before the room returned to silence.  

Confusion and emotion overcame me; I cried silently but I was completely baffled. What did Luc do? The more I saw of him, the more I understood that he was a good person... yet he kept accepting the blame for what had happened to Lillian, and to me. How did those two things fit together? Was he good or was he bad?

Maybe I was trying too hard to see this in black and white, to simplify it. But I knew that wasn't how things worked in the real world. Everyone wasn't bad or good, dark and light. We were all shades of grey, even me.  

So Luc must've made some sort of mistake. But this wasn't an embarrassing typo, or mixing a red sock in with the white wash... How does one accidentally summon a murderous spirit?

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If you're looking for something more polished, you should check out the new & improved version of THE PSYCHIC NEXT DOOR! It's been completely edited and expanded.

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