I woke up to the sound of banging. I sat up suddenly, my heart thumping, though I wasn't sure why. Where was I? This wasn't my apartment... My mind was still clouded with the effects of heavy sleep.  

When it all came flooding back to me, I was impressed that I had slept at all. It was late at night, the sun had set; this afternoon seemed like ages ago. It felt like years had past since I heard that horrible animalistic scream, months since Polly had taken me into her home and locked me in a room and weeks since I opened my disappearing laptop and found a threatening note on my desktop. Yet it had been a matter of hours.  

The banging came again. I froze, suddenly fearful that the phantom beast had returned, had followed me to this unfamiliar home. Fear surged through me, because I was trapped in this room... maybe trapped with it... with no way out...  

But my paranoia was dispelled when a voice accompanied the knocking. The noise was coming from the door, and Polly was on the other side. "Rachel? Are you okay?" her voice was a little shaky.  

A tiny clunking noise told me she had unlocked the door, and I was right. The door swung open a crack, Polly peering through. "Ah! You're awake."  

I nodded, my hand on my chest, trying to calm my erratic heart. It was like I was fearful that she could see it, and that would make her suspect my sanity even more.  

"How are you feeling?" She said, her voice back to calm, sing-song and distant. What was she afraid had happened when I didn't answer her right away?  

"I feel a lot better, actually, after resting. Calmer." I emphasized the word calmer to let Polly know that I wasn't totally losing it like she obviously assumed.  

"Would you like some tea?"  

"Uhm..." I paused. My throat burned with thirst, but mind was already preoccupied on the message I received last night; the strange little text file left on my desktop bothered me immensely.  

How did it arrive there? What was its source? Though it was being shaken, my steadfast belief that the supernatural didn't exist still clung to me. I sought a logical explanation. I was determined to find where it came from.  

I had decided last night that my home network had been compromised. My explanation was that some sneaky neighbour had hacked my connection and placed the file on my desktop just to fuck with me and that the noise was a mere coincidence and was really just a dog on the street or a stray cat in the alley. Of course, it didn't explain the sudden disappearance of my laptop, but I was too scared to admit to myself that my grip on reality was hanging by a string and I was willing to accept any explanation that was rooted in the physical, the explainable.  

I wanted to return to my apartment to test my theory, desperate to regain some feeling of safety. I wanted to check the security of my internet connection, in hopes that my last desperate theory was right so i could regain some confidence in my own sanity.  

"Polly," I began, forming the word carefully. I approached it cautiously, calmly, worried that Polly would shoot me down. I hoped that she didn't think of me as damaged enough that I couldn't be trusted out of the house. "You did a great job of packing my things last night, but you forgot some stuff. Can we go back to my apartment to get it?"  

My voice threatened to tremble at the mention of my apartment, the place I dreaded going the most, but I was sure that I had been rash to think that something supernatural was the cause of all this and fought to keep it even.  

Polly eyed me cautiously, and I was sure she was hesitant whether to trust my sudden confidence. But it worked, she shrugged opened the door for me leave the room. "Alright, if it's quick." she said with a skeptical edge, confirming my suspicions.  

After I grabbed my laptop from its spot on the floor next to my bed, I crossed the threshold into the hall. Polly closed the door behind me and locked it with a little ornate golden key, that I only now noticed hung on a long chain around her neck. She slipped the chain and key down her shirt, nestled next to her curves--away from the temptation for me to snatch it and run, I assumed--and stepped forward, in front of me, beckoning to me with her hand. She led me down the hallway and back out into the beautiful entrance hall.  

As we crossed to the opposite side, I got a closer look at the house. There was the large red door that we had entered the house through a few hours ago; it was flanked by two rooms, accessible by two open double-wide arches. One looked like a study, the other like a living room, both adorned with fireplaces and lush couches. There was a large sweeping staircase opposite the red door that lead to the second floor which was out of sight. Two small open doorways were placed on either side of the stairs on the lower level, that led to two tiled rooms, one which I assumed was the kitchen.  

The hallway we had just emerged from was narrow, nestled in a nook behind the exterior corner of the living room; it led to three small rooms, including my own.  

But we didn't linger in the grand entrance hall. We headed straight for the exit, the large red door that drew your eye with its impressive size and bright colour. Polly pulled the key from her shirt, and used it to unlock the front door as well.  

Polly pushed it aside and stepped out into the night, the cold air biting at my cheeks. I followed her to her car.

* * *

We arrived at my apartment in no time. Maybe it was because I was distracted or because I wasn't in fear that we would end up at the Psych Ward this time, but I barely noticed the journey.  

The street was dead, just like the first night I arrived here. The streetlights were useless and the only signs that the houses weren't abandoned were the dancing glows in their windows indicating that their occupants were zoned out in front of the TV.  

But my building was still. The upper floor was dark, as was my apartment and the strange little shop. There was no movement or light indicating life.  

I strode confidently towards the door to my apartment, determined to keep up the facade that I wasn't bothered by the events that had occurred here just the day before, and that I was keen on getting to the bottom of this. Which I was, but that doesn't mean that the thought of entering the apartment didn't give me chills that ran deep, into my bones.  

The door opened without complaint, innocent to the evil that had touched down in here--it was not responsible for letting it in. The apartment was dark, still and smelled of dust; harmless.  

I moved slowly now, anticipating an ambush at every turn. But I flicked on the lights and nothing happened. I walked across the living room, and still nothing changed. I stood in place for a few moments, skin prickling, waiting for some sign, something to happen and tilt the balance of my beliefs.  

It didn't come.  

Polly did though, closing the door behind her with a bang. She was watching me, assessing my reaction to the change in environment. I reverted back to my steely self, still trying to convince Polly that I was capable of dealing with this without some psychiatric intervention.  

"What did you forget?"  

"Uhm, that I needed to do something to my laptop. Install something." I muttered, coming up with an excuse to use my computer.  

Polly didn't look to pleased, but didn't object either. She just nodded and went to stand in my kitchen, leaning against the counter so she could keep me in her sights.  

I plunked my laptop down at my desk and brought it out of its stand-by state. I sat down in front of it and pulled out a random CD from a drawer in my desk. I popped it in my drive, pretending to install a program; Polly wasn't close enough to read the screen. I closed the CD's prompt, and began sifting through my security settings and scanning my drives to see if I had contracted any malware or viruses.  

It was slow work. The bar on screen that indicated the progress of my scan crawled at a pathetic speed, dragging the process out. I really needed a new computer. I thought that I might buy one as a present to myself if I could verify my sanity, as a sort of reality check reward.  

Polly fidgeted as she leaned against the counter in my kitchen. She looked uncomfortable, her face slightly scrunched in displeasure and her foot tapping on the floor.  

"Sorry, I know this is taking a long time," I apologized, half sincerely. Truthfully, I was pretty annoyed that Polly was being so impatient. I was playing nice, I wasn't inconveniencing her in some huge way; she was the one who--for some reason--insisted on being my matron.  

She shrugged, like she had barely noticed my apology and continued to fidget. She was obviously distracted, so I got up to get myself a drink.  

Walking past her, I opened the cupboard to retrieve a glass. I held it out to her. "Do you want anything? A drink?"  

Polly furrowed her brow, like that was the last thing she wanted. "No thanks."  

It was my turn to shrug. "Suit yourself."  

I held the glass under the tap and let the water rush into it for a while, washing the dust out and waiting for it to reach a satisfying level of chill. Polly's fidgeting intensified for a moment, before she sighed loudly, exasperated.  

"I'm going to use the bathroom. I'll be right back." Polly said, emphasizing the last two syllables. She then darted around the corner and into the nearby bathroom.  

So that's what it was, I scoffed as I raised the glass to my lips. Was Polly really so paranoid that I couldn't be left on my own? What could possibly happen in the two minutes it took--  

The glass was torn out of my grip, smashing into the cupboard behind my head. I went rigid, my hand still frozen in position of raising the glass to my mouth. I hadn't dropped it, that would have been an innocent mistake. But I was sure it flew out of my hand, I had felt the pull as it left my grasp.  

I was careful not to move, my ears strained to hear every sound. I could hear Polly in the bathroom, the muffled sounds of the toilet flushing.  

"Polly,--" I whined, my voice shrill and shaky.  

The word barely left my mouth before I heard it. A snarl, right in my ear. It was quiet, but still invasive, and I knew what it meant. I would be sorry for disobeying its order to stay away.  

I felt it my forearms burn suddenly and I screamed at the contact. Though I always feared it, actually knowing that it could touch me hit some sort of instinctive nerve in me, tearing away what was left of my logical foundations. I couldn't see it, I didn't know what it was, but it could understand me and worst of all, it was real. It wasn't in my head, I wasn't losing my marbles, there was something here, something beyond my grasp of explanation and it was after me, chasing me... haunting me..  

I heard myself sob, and my arms felt like they were on fire. Polly rushed into the room, her eyes wide, fearful and angry. They somehow managed to widen even more when she saw me. I realized I was clutching my arms, trying to subdue the painful sensation, and when I looked down to see what had happened, I forgot my pain and was lost in the sight.  

Four identical long, red gashes striped each arm, blood streaming down them, freely and fast, dripping to the floor. I clutched at them frantically, glancing around desperately for something to stem the flow.  

Polly's face was twisted in anger, tinged with concern--she looked like I had betrayed her.  

"What the hell, Rachel?! I left you alone for one damn minute--" she screamed, grabbing my wrists, and turning my arms up to examine the damage. The cuts weren't as deep as I initially thought, but her touch still stung the tender wounds.  

"Polly, Polly no, I didn't--... I couldn't have!" I sobbed, my world crumbling around me.  

"I knew it! I knew I couldn't trust you--you're exactly the same--" Polly wasn't listening to me, muttering to herself furiously. She pulled the long sleeves of my sweater down from being rolled up around my elbows, and over the the gashes.  

She held them there for a minute before looking me dead in the eye. "Keep applying pressure," she hissed, her voice threatening, more vicious than I had ever heard it, more than I had expected she was capable. I complied because something told me it was dangerous to cross her at this time.  

As I pressed the fabric of the sweater down onto my wounds, the grey turning scarlet as it was soaking up my blood, Polly grabbed the waist hem of the sweater and dragged me from my apartment.  

We left my computer on the desk, and I didn't care because I no longer needed to check it. I had already gotten my answer.

+ + +

If you enjoy this story, please vote or leave a comment! 💜

Did you know you're reading the first draft of this book?
Beware it's rough edges, typos, and plot bumps!

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.

You can find the links here:
http://www.yvetterussell.com/the-psychic-next-door