The Psychic Next Door

Chapter 7: Run

There was a crack, a thunderous splintering, followed by a sickening crunch and a shriek. I was trying to pull her away from the table, but for some reason Polly wouldn't budge. In fact, trying to move her in any way resulted in her screaming and trying to fight me off. I frowned, finally pausing to look back, and realized why she was protesting so much. Polly's leg was pinned by the edge of the fallen table; it had to be broken, crushed by the weight.

I marvelled that, overall, we were okay. The impact could've easily done much more damage than break a leg. It appeared that several of the chairs that had once haloed the beautiful table had stopped it from crushing us. Of course, now they were splintered shades of their former selves, but they at least saved us from truly grievous injury.

Polly sobbed and moaned next to me, and I was drawn back to finding a way out. The thing was still with us, I was sure. Though it was no longer shrieking at a deafening pitch, there was still a low, residual growl that filled every crevice of the room.

My face and arm itched. I glanced down at myself only to realize that there were several steady streams of blood seeping through my sleeves and spreading over the white bandages already attached to me. Seeing it made pain flare up with ferocity. We both required immediate medical attention. We really, really needed to get out of here.

The only sure exit I knew of was the red door, which wasn't far. But with that thing still with us, it might as well have been on the other side of a war-torn country, and the entrance hall was the front line.

I stood, my knees shaking and my body protesting every movement. But I couldn't let it get the better of me. Polly needed me.

Stumbling, I gripped the table and heaved. It took almost every remaining ounce of strength I had—plus some extra, borrowed from who knew where—to move the behemoth. It rose slightly, off of Polly's ankle, and I managed to drag it several inches away before letting it fall again with a ringing boom.

Whatever was with us didn't like the disturbance. The hairs on my neck prickled instinctively as the volume of its cry started to rise again. A new wave of panic spread through me. We needed to move fast. Having seen the extent of its power, it was unlikely we'd survive another onslaught.

I hobbled back to Polly's side as fast as I could. Shaking her limp body, I tried to get her to regain some level of consciousness. I had barely any strength left, and I would need her help to get her out of here, even if it was just a little.

"Polly!" I hissed. "Please wake up. We have to leave!"

She blinked stupidly at me. "Rachel... I had the weirdest dream..."

"Tell me about it later, we have to go!"

"But I'm so tired..." Polly whined, though she attempted to move anyway. But the moment she put any pressure on her ankle, she cried out. The pain snapped her out of her daze.

"Polly, I know it hurts, I know it hurts a lot, but please, please, we need to move. We can't wait. I'll help you, but we need to go now, now, now!" I pleaded, my voice growing hysterical as the disembodied scream intensified all around us.

Polly cautiously eyed our surroundings, and I saw she understood the urgency; the thing's scream was quickly rising, and Polly hadn't forgotten it. I'd probably be able to remember it perfectly for the rest of my life, even if I were to live for a century, but first I needed to focus on surviving the next few minutes.

She reached out for me, shaking with fear. I took her hand and hauled her up to standing. Balancing on her good foot, she gingerly touched the toe of the injured one to the ground. Even that small pressure twisted Polly's face with pain.