The Psychic Next Door

Chapter 17: Accident

The curtain fluttered beside my head. I stared at it for a moment, lost in the sleepy confusion that preceded true alertness. The environment seemed unfamiliar. 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.

But now the situation was reversed; Luc hadn't re-emerged from his bedroom after his outburst, so I had no other choice but to take over the little foam mattress. At least 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 was no reason for me to be awake—not that I could remember at least—yet I was. It was still night, and the room was dark enough that details were obscured, no light to disturb me. Maybe I had been startled by a dream I 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.

Just as the Beast's muffled snarls began to lull me into another heavy sleep, a small, strange noise snapped me out of it again. What was that? My ears strained for a repeat, my senses heightened after weeks of living in fear.

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. It had to be Luc. I had no idea what he was up to, but I was sure I didn't want to interrupt him; I no longer feared him, but I didn't know if I could trust him either.

His soft footsteps headed 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. It was safe to reopen my eyes.

There was a light, 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 anyone. Then I heard a... wet noise, like a plop, followed by the soft sound of rubbing. Silence followed, but soon after the process was repeated. It formed a pattern, coming again and again. Though I tried, I couldn't place the sounds. It seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't think of why.

My curiosity got the better of me. Moving as quietly as I possibly could—hoping any sound of my blankets would be written off as restless sleeping—I crept to the edge of the curtain and pulled it back ever so slightly. Flattening my face against the wall, I peered through the tiny opening.

I realized why the mystery sound was so familiar; it was the gentle sound of rubbing lotion into skin. Working by the weak light, Luc scooped up a large dollop of cream from a small dish that sat at the edge of the bed and then worked it into the skin of Polly's broken leg.

I watched him work for a while. He repeated the process several times before moving to her arms and then her face. I couldn't see her other injuries in the dark, but I could just make out the 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 I watched. As Luc massaged the lotion 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 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 a few days.

The more I watched Luc, the more my suspicions were chipped away. He really had nursed us back to health. We had been 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. Was he speaking to me? Had he known I was awake this whole time and spying on him? Like he needed any other reasons to despise me.

"Oh God, Polly, I'm so sorry..." he continued, voice so anguished it took all my strength not to sob again. "I understand why you hate me. Rightfully so, after your sister, but I never meant for this to happen. I had no idea. And now it's after Rachel, too. I've tried, but I couldn't... 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 quiet whisper: "I'm so sorry."

As suddenly as it had come, the light was snuffed out, plunging the room 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 the room returned to silence.

I cried silently as I tried to understand it. What did Luc do? The more I saw of him, the more I understood that he wasn't a bad person... Yet he kept accepting the blame for what had happened to Lillian, and to me.

Perhaps I was trying too hard to see this in black and white, to simplify it, but that wasn't how things worked in the real world. People weren't just bad or just good, they were a little bit of everything. Luc must've made some sort of mistake. Maybe it had been some kind of accident.

But this wasn't an embarrassing typo or a red sock mixed in with the white laundry...

How does one accidentally summon a murderous spirit?

🔮

Why do you think Luc is blaming himself?