The Psychic Within

Chapter 24: Awaken

When my eyes opened, I was on a couch in the den. The room was dim, the sun now entirely gone, lit only by a single lamp near my head.

I tried to sit up, but the room began to spin and I had to lay back down. How long had I been here? It felt like no time has passed since I had been in the dining room. It was like I had blinked and, in the half second my eyes were closed, I had been transported. I could barely remember what happened. The strange creak, the message, Tory falling to the floor and writhing around...

My right arm twinged. I held it up to the light. It was red and tender. Swollen.

Oh. Right. Tory had grabbed me. I remembered that, too. And then... And then what?

What had happened? I closed my eyes, playing out the fractured scene again. I remembered a rush of heat, and then nothing.

Did I pass out?

I must have; I didn't remember anything else.

The old couch groaned beneath me as I attempted to sit up again. This time, thankfully, the room stayed where it was. I looked around the room. I was alone.

"Luc?" I called out into the emptiness. "Ethan? Tory?"

I waited for a moment, hoping they had heard me and I'd soon hear a rush of footsteps as they came to find me. But nobody came, and no one answered. I listened to the house, trying to pinpoint sounds of activity, but the house was still. Silent.

Where was everyone? Had they gone to bed or something? They wouldn't have just left me on the couch... Right? My jaw clenched. They better have not, or they were about to get an earful.

If I could find them, that was.

I pulled myself up from the couch and hobbled—my legs were stiff from laying still for so long—out into the foyer.

The foyer was pitch black. I could see the moon through the windows on either side of the door, but it's light had no effect on the hall. The darkness was too thick. I could barely see my own hands as I stumbled into it, feeling along the wall in my search for a light switch. Even though I knew where the switches were, it took a while; I bumped into a few tables and almost knocked over the coat rack before I finally found it.

The switch flicked on and warm light flooded the room, finally chasing back the dark. And then I realized I wasn't alone after all.

There was a girl there, standing in the centre of the room. She was turned away from me, facing the back of the house, looking out towards the kitchen and stairs. Her hair was tangled and dirty, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back in a matted mess. The hair was so dirty that I couldn't even tell what colour it was. Light brown? Dirty blonde? It was too greasy to tell for certain.

A chill ran through me. Wait, no...

Not greasy. Wet. Her hair was wet. I noticed then that there was a muddy puddle at her feet, and that her clothes—thin pajamas—clung wetly to her body. She looked like she had just crawled out of an lake. And now she was here, standing in the middle of Polly's house, staring off into nothing.

My heart thrummed in my chest. How had she gotten in? Why was she here? I wondered. It didn't make any sense!

It dawned on me then.

Of course it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense because... it wasn't real.

Because this was a dream.

The empty house, the thick darkness, the girl... Of course this was a dream! How many times had I dreamed of this damn house? How many times had I found strange girls—ghostly girls—lurking in the shadows of my mind?

Relief flooded through me. A dream meant that I was safe. In here, she was just a ghastly figment conjured up by my asshole brain—as if I didn't have enough of that in my waking life—and there was nothing she could do to could hurt me.

A thought stirred in me. Even if she was just a figment of my imagination, maybe I could... Talk with her? Maybe she could tell me something, like a direct line for my subconscious.

The thought made my insides flutter anxiously, but what did I have to lose? This was a dream—my dream—and I could do whatever I wanted.

Mustering my courage, I called out to her. "Uh, excuse me?"

She flinched at the sound of my voice, then whipped around. Her face was obscured by tangled, wet hair, but I could see a single, clear blue eye staring out at me. Her stare lingered for a second before she turned away again, back to her previous focus—the stairs.

Why was she staring the stairs? Was she trying to tell me something about them? I realized I shouldn't have been surprised; dreams were rarely straightforward and—

A long, deep creak echoed through the room.

I stopped, freezing in place. The creak was like the one we had heard in the dining room, during the seance, only much louder. It was like the sound a ship makes when it's being heaved around on rough seas, its metal sides straining against the forces of nature.

The girl didn't move; it was like she hadn't heard the sound at all. She just kept staring.

The creak came again, longer this time, stretching out to an eerie moan. Then it faded, but the following quiet only lasted a second. There was a squealing, keening noise. I clamped my hands to my ears; it was so loud, even in the dream. It was like metal being torn in two.

Then...

A roar.

The girl clenched her hands into fists.

The roar built quickly, then turned into a rushing. A torrent of water poured out from under the stairs, slamming into the wall opposite, knocking picture frames from their mounts, bowling over potted plants, knocking over tables. It pooled quickly through the room, with enough speed that it nearly knocked me off my feet.

I cried out, scrambling to keep my footing. The girl was unmoved, like a statue bolted to the ground. She didn't look back again. She kept her eyes forward... Like she was waiting for something.

Forgetting her, I fumbled through the quickly rising water and headed for the door—the only escape. Another roar—I barely had a second to look back before another gush of water burst out from under the stairs. It rushed through the room with such force that it easily scooped me up and threw me, right into the red door.

Stars clouded my vision and my chest hurt. Dazed, I sank back, letting myself float in the water—the dark, dirty water—as it rapidly rose through the room. As I floated, a frightening thought fliteted through my mind.

If this really is a dream...

Why haven't I woken up?

I didn't get a chance to ponder it. There was barely time for me to gulp down a breath as another roar of water descended on me. It pounded me into the ceiling, forcing the air out of my lungs. Dark water rushed to take its place, dragging me down with it...

Do you think it was a dream?  🔮

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As usual, I'll be posting the next chapter on Patreon next week (find the link on my profile!) and then on Wattpad the week after that!