The Psychic Within

Chapter 11: Witness

"You did?" I whispered, just as the room began to tilt. Gravity increased its pull, and I slid down to my knees, clutching helplessly at the wall. A sudden and deep exhaustion had turned my body to lead.

"Rachel!" Ethan cursed, and rushed to my side. He hovered over me, and ran his hands through his mop of blonde, revealing a deep furrow in his brow. "Uh... uh... Can... Can you stand?"

I couldn't respond; I could only lean back and stare up at him.

"Uh, well, uh..." he mumbled. He kept glancing around the room, like he was hoping someone might pop out and help him. When no one did, he released a shuddering sigh... then took my hands and pulled me to my feet.

My legs shook as I tried to stand. No, not just my legs... Everything. I was shaking all over.

Ethan must have realized I wouldn't make it anywhere on my own, so he clasped me to his side and pulled my arm across his shoulders. Half-leading, half-dragging, he got me to the chairs by the window and dropped me in the closest one. I slumped back, barely able to hold myself up. My head rested heavily against the back of the chair. I thought I might slip into unconsciousness, but my eyes refused to close, staring out at the room.

The afternoon sun was beating against the shop's window, warming the room and drawing long shadows across the hardwood floor. Dust motes were dancing in the light, and the only sounds were of distant traffic and my own breathing. In that perfectly calm moment, it was hard to imagine that anything had happened here. It would've been all too easy to convince myself that what I had seen was just another one of my fucked up dreams...

But the broken mirror and the scattered pages of Ethan's sketchbook said otherwise.

Ethan. Something prickled, fighting to emerge from the fog in my mind. Ethan... Ethan had seen those girls, too. That realization seemed to give me a foothold, and I used it to claw my way out of my stupor. I turned, my heavy head lolling over.

He was still at my side, only he had now settled into the chair opposite mine. His dark eyes were fixed on me, expectant, like he could already guess the question that was forming in my head.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't manage to produce any actual sound. Closing it for a moment, I tried again... and failed again.

"Those girls..." Ethan started, finally, taking the words I couldn't manage to say. "What was that?"

My mind was still too clouded to come up with a quick response, so I blinked at him, trying to formulate an answer before realizing I didn't have an answer to give. "I... I don't know."

"You don't know?" He sounded incredulous.

I shook my head, both to refute him and to try and clear my aching head. "Luc thinks they're... He thinks they're hallucinations." I spat the word, hating it. "He thinks they're caused by stress... after my... my other experience."

Ethan just watched me for a moment. "But you don't agree," he said eventually. His voice was gentle.

"No, I don't." I met his curious gaze. "How did you know that?"

One corner of his mouth twitched up for a moment, but he ignored my question. "Well, what do you think they are?"

"I don't know, like I said. But I never thought they were hallucinations—they were too real—but now I'm certain they can't be. Especially since you saw them too."

Sudden blotches of red bloomed over Ethan's cheeks. He quickly looked away, settling on the scattered sketchbook at his feet. From the pages, several sets of strange eyes stared back. Their gaze emitted a unexplainable pull, as if they were real eyes, not drawn ones...