The Psychic Within

Chapter 13: Believe

The harsh wind whipped at my face as I plunged headfirst toward a dark sea. The surface of the water was serene—just gentle, lapping waves—but I knew it would crush me the second I hit it. I flailed through the air, my heart pounding in my ears, grabbing helplessly for anything to stop my descent. But my fingers only closed on air.

There was nothing I could do.

The water was rushing up to meet me. I braced myself for the impact—

I awoke with a jolt.

I was dripping wet like I really had been pulled from the water and, for a second, I thought the dream had been real. Then, as my mind caught up with reality, I realized that it was only my own sweat that soaked me.

Nightmare, I told myself, rubbing at my face. Just another goddamn nightmare. I tossed my head, like I could erase it from my memory just by shaking it free.

But the dream wouldn't be cast aside so easily. There was something about it that clung to me like my sweat dampened t-shirt. It felt like deja vu—a memory, a moment I had lived through before...

Then I remembered: I had lived through it before. Well, not lived—it had just been a similar dream, another helpless fall towards dark water. Only this time, this fall had been from much higher than the second floor, and there was no ghostly face waiting for me in the depths.

I shuddered and rolled over, trying my best to put it out of my mind. I reached out, looking for the comfort of Luc's warm body. Snuggling into his chest always helped chase the nightmares away...

There were only cold sheets.

Scrambling up in bed, I reached for the light. The bulb came to life and for a second I was forced to squint as my eyes adjusted.

Luc was gone.

The sheets on my side of the bed were rumpled and damp from my nightmare, but Luc's were relatively undisturbed, pulled neatly back. It didn't make sense; I distinctly remembered falling asleep next to him, burrowed into his arm as he read.

Where did he go?

Maybe he had gotten up to use the washroom, or to get a drink... "Luc?" I called, hoping that was the case. The only reply were the faint sounds of the city—a car passing, a siren in the distance.

I slid out of bed and headed out into the apartment to look for him. Maybe he had escaped to the couch when my nightmare had kicked in—it wouldn't have been the first time my dreams had driven him from our bed.

The living room was dark. I listened, trying to catch the sound of his even breathing, but the room was the dead quiet. I felt for the light and flicked it on.

He wasn't there. I was alone.

Where the hell did Luc go? I thought angrily, wandering through the empty apartment. Had he gone out for some emergency job? The idea of it sent a flare of irritation through me. I glanced over the counters and tables, looking for a note. If he had left, he would've left me a note, right? Or at least sent me a text...

I stopped. Maybe that was it! He had sent me a text, but since the speakers on my phone were still busted, I wouldn't have heard it. Just as I turned to head back to the bedroom, something caught my eye.

The apartment door was unlocked... and ajar.

My stomach tensed, and my irritation changed to worry. If Luc had left, he would've locked the door... Or, at least, he definitely would've closed it.