There was a crack, a thunderous splintering, followed by a sickening crunch and a cry of pain. I couldn't see what happened, I was too focused on trying to pull Polly out of the way of the table's descent.  

I realized there was a problem when I couldn't drag Polly any further, and in fact, trying to move her in any way resulted in her giving another ear splitting shriek. At first I didn't quite understand the situation, but once I looked back, and saw Polly's leg pinned under the edge of the heavy table, I realized why she was protesting so much.  

While grasping Polly's injury sent a new wave of panic through me, I marvelled that overall we were okay. The table could've done much more damage than break a leg. It appeared that several of the chairs that had once haloed the beautiful table had stopped the table from crushing us. Of course, now they were splintered shades of their former selves, but they at least saved us from grievous injury.  

Polly sobbed and moaned next to me, and I was drawn back to the situation at hand. 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. Its direction was still undetectable, but I knew it was closer than I ever wanted it to be  

I needed to get out of here. I needed to get Polly out of here.  

My face and arm itched and tickled. I glanced down at myself only to realize that there were several steady streams of blood travelling down my forearm and spreading over the white bandages already attached to me. I hadn't noticed my own pain until that very moment, but seeing it made it flare up with ferocity. We both were in need of immediate medical attention.  

We really, really needed to get out of here.  

The only sure exit I knew 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 city. The entrance hall was our battle ground.  

I stood up, my knees shaking and my body aching and protesting with every movement. But I couldn't let it get the better of me. Polly needed me, and after finding out that her bizarre actions were misguided attempts at helping me, there was definitely no way I was leaving her. She was my friend, and it was my fault she was hurt.  

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

Whatever was with us didn't like the disturbance and the volume of its cry started to rise again. My neck prickled instinctively and I knew I needed to move fast. We had seen the extent of its power and I didn't think we could survive another onslaught.  

I hobbled back to Polly's side as fast as I could. I shook her limp body, trying to get her to regain some level of consciousness. I had barely any strength left, I needed her help to get her out of here, even if it was just a little. She moaned and blinked stupidly at me.  

"Polly!" I hissed. "Polly, please wake up, we have to leave, we have to leave NOW."  

"Rachel... I had the weirdest dream..."  

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

"But I'm so tired..." Polly whined, but 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.  

"Oh 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.  

Polly was more alert, and she understood. She hadn't forgotten the cry; who could? It had this way of marking your very insides with its signature. You could remember it perfectly if you were to live for a century.  

She reached out for me, her hand shaking with fear -- of the screeching or the anticipation of more pain, I wasn't sure. I took her hand, and hauled her up to a standing position. She balanced on her good foot, the tip of the injured one gingerly touching the ground. Even that amount of pressure twisted Polly's face with pain. It was obviously broken.  

I took her arm and curved it around my neck, and wrapped my own arm around her waist. I gave her one last fortifying look, a wordless message to bear through the pain, before we began to move. Polly was brave. She didn't squeal or whine as we made progress towards the door, her weight bearing down on me. The only sign of her discomfort was the sharp intakes of breath near my ear.  

So far, so good. We made advanced on the door steadily, if not quickly. However, the thing in the room was reaching a fever pitch again. Its shrieking was back at full intensity, but I tried my best to block it out, focusing only on the red door before us, the gateway to safety.  

The pleasant, plain red of the door changed. It warped, distorted, shaping four glinting eyes right in the centre , one pair stacked on top of the other. Horrible, evil eyes -- the marbled yellow of an aged and vicious wolf, but with the unnerving horizontal pupils of a goat. I froze, jerking Polly and making her flinch.  

I then realized that it wasn't the door itself that had changed. There was something in front of it. For the first time, I was seeing it. The thing that was torturing me, that attacked us. Its eyes were vivid and haunting and clear as day. But its body was barely discernible; I could just make out its general shape, a darkened shade outlining its form.  

But I could still tell that it was a hulking thing. Its shimmering form towering over us, taller than the doorway. I couldn't make out any distinct features other than its claws; I was sure it had claws -- horrible, terrifying claws -- long and thin and razor sharp, and I was sure with teeth to match.  

We were trapped, there was no way out. We were fucked.  

So fucked.  

Polly tightened her arm around my waist, and I glanced over at her to return the look of defeat. But I found her with her eyes blazing and her jaw set, dangling the golden key from around her neck in her hand.  

"For the door." She whispered, her pain tainting her voice. "We can't give up now."  

She was right, what did we have to lose? We could die horribly or... die horribly. There was a chance of escaping, but it was miniscule. But that didn't mean we couldn't try.  

I took the key from her, wrapping the chain around my hand so it wouldn't slip, and turned back to the creature. It bristled and swelled, its hideous eyes widening with what I could only assume was a sick kind of glee.  

It moved first. It lurched forwards towards us; the scream was now so loud that it was shaking the room. Or maybe I was shaking so badly that it only seemed that way. I squeezed my eyes shut and swung out of reflex, trying hopelessly to protect myself. Polly screamed.  

There was a rush of cold and then silence. For a second, I was sure that I had died, that this nothingness was the end. But I realized I could open my eyes, fill my chest with air, feel Polly trembling by my side; we were still in the entrance hall. It was in shambles and Polly was clutched to my side, leaning on me with her broken leg. My hand was still extended out in front of me, the gold key dangling delicately from the chain encircling my first. But the thing was gone.  

I could feel it in the very air. It felt like a cool breeze had rushed in and blew out all the stuffy, hot air of a muggy summer's afternoon -- a beautiful feeling.  

Polly and I looked at each other. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide; I was sure my expression mirrored hers exactly. Somehow, we had survived.  

After several moments of standing in dumbfounded awe, we finally realized that though we were safe, we still had serious injuries that needed to be addressed. I hurriedly unlocked the red door and made our way to Polly's car which was till parked out front.  

I settled Polly in the back seat and moved up to sit in the front -- an ironic reversal of this afternoon's events -- and pulled out of the drive. As I drove towards the nearest hospital, I came to a decision. I needed to face this thing. I couldn't run away forever, because it would obviously follow me. I wouldn't let it hurt anyone else because of me.  

I would fight this thing, no matter what it took, how much it scared me or how much it hurt. I would fight it and I would get my life back.

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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.

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