I was right. Polly's ankle was broken.
Miraculously, it was only a fracture, but they still had to put a big clunky cast on her. As the doctor was treating her, he pressed her for information on how her injury had occurred. I think he was worried because we were acting to shifty. We were beat up and I was sure we looked terrified. But she was able to come up with a story, flimsy but generic enough that it was believable. It was simple, no need to worry about messing up details.
But no matter how easy it was to tell, I could tell that she hate to repeat it, because it only made her think of what had really happened. Hell, even I didn't like listening to her fake story because it forced me think about the truth.
And the truth wasn't pretty: whatever it was that was after me wasn't just confined to my apartment. It could followed me, attack me whenever it wanted. I had seven stitches in my arm and a few more in my face to prove it, to remind me that it this was all real. I could no longer doubt my sanity, and neither could Polly.
After another doctor left, getting a some-what satisfying account of what had happened -- Polly told him we were moving a glass coffee table up the stairs when she slipped and fell, and I fell too, trying to stop her, smashing the coffee table in the process -- Polly turned to me. I saw a noticeable difference in her eyes; they were darkened, like a light had been gone out in them. They weren't quite dead, but they were injured, distant; they had come close, they had seen the kind of things you can't unsee.
"I'm so sorry I didn't believe you," Polly said, her voice quivering.
I shrugged. I didn't blame her; what rational person would believe that it was a hostile supernatural presence instead of the simple explanation of a emotional break down? If anything, I was blaming myself. This must have been something I did, and now I had gotten her involved. She had already suffered enough. Actually, she had probably suffered more, since her sister had gone through this -- except her sister hadn't survived. I wasn't about to rub that in her face.
"Don't worry about it." I whispered, not meeting her eyes.
"I'm going to help you."
"Help me?" I replied, my eyes flicking back to her face. I didn't understand what she meant by that. Her eyes were still flat, but her face was tense, resolute.
"I'm going to help you get rid of it. That thing hurt... killed... my sister. It hurt you, too. It might kill you. I can't let it do that to someone I care about again."
That was something that was bothering me. Polly's sister as attacked by something just like this -- maybe exactly like this -- and Polly never had a clue. It seemed that it had been careful to only attack her when she was alone so Polly had no idea, wouldn't believe her and therefore couldn't intervene. Yet, this time it had no problem attacking me while there was another person around this time. What had changed? Why didn't it care if it showed its true form to a perfect stranger? Was it something about Polly? Was it after her now too?
Or maybe it wasn't the same thing after all... After all this, and I was still at square one. I knew there was something, but I had absolutely no idea what it was, where it came from... or why it was after me. I wasn't about to let my friend face something completely unknown and dangerous for me. This was my battle, I knew this now.
"No, Polly, no. Look at you! I should have never dragged you into this, you're already hurt..." My eyes traced over the crisp white cast wrapped around her leg and the multitude of scratches and cuts that covered her exposed skin. I really mean it. I was determined to fight this, and doing this alone was the last thing in the world I wanted, but I knew it had to be this way. This was my problem, this was my fight. I couldn't make the mistake of dragging innocent people further into this. I looked away from her. "It's after me, only me, and if you're around me, you're in danger!"
"Rachel, please!"
"Polly, no!" My volume rose, but I still refused to look at her. I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist if I looked into those eyes, those eyes that had every reason to be there with me, if not more. To be attacked is one thing, to watch another suffer abuse is too... I knew that. But to lose someone so important to you? To watch the ones you love be destroyed and knowing you can't help them? My cuts and scrapes couldn't compare.
I couldn't hold that against her. But I knew what kind of hell I was facing, and I couldn't just let her follow me into it.
"Rachel, I need to help. I can't let you face it on your own. I can't let it go unpunished for what it did to you... to me... to my sister!"
I was losing this battle. I knew that she deserved to fight with me, but I also knew that she had the chance to escape, to leave this behind. "I can't--I can't! You don't know that it'll go after you..."
"It's already after me, Rachel. It could just as easily come after me even after you abandon me. I don't think this thing likes to give up easily..."
I knew I was grasping at straws, that my argument wouldn't hold up against Polly's iron will. Desperate and out of ideas, I stood up to leave, to run away, when Polly grabbed my wrist. Her face was desperate, pleading, pained and adamant. She knew what kind of fate this might be, and she was ready to face it.
"I'll go after this thing even if you won't let me do it with you. But we both know we have a better chance together."
That force Polly has, it steamrolls you and like always, my will buckled to hers. I knew she wasn't going to give it up. I didn't want her involved, but I knew Polly was the kind of person who would want revenge. She wasn't going to drop this, and I could either help or get the hell out of her way.
"Please, Rachel."
I sighed and sat down again. I hate myself, but I found small comfort in the fact that I wouldn't have to do this alone. I glanced at Polly, and her face was brightened, a light smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but her expression was still sombre.
After a heavy silence, I spoke: "Where do we even start?"
"Start from the beginning, I guess. Find out what it is, where it came from. Maybe something happened in your apartment, like a murder or a suicide. That's how this sort of stuff starts, right?"
I was skeptical. Don't hauntings stay in their predetermined spots? I don't think ghosts follow you around. If it even is a ghost, a little voice inside me whispered and I shuddered at the suggestion. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on what things exist in the world of the supernatural, but I knew enough to know that if it wasn't a ghost, it could be much, much worse...
But it wasn't like I had a lot of ideas of where to start, so my apartment was a good one. I buzzed for the nurse.
+ + +
After Polly was released, we slept in her car. It wasn't glamorous, but we didn't have any other options. It wasn't a comfortable solution, but we both slept soundly simply because we were too exhausted to care. It was too late to rent a hotel, and both our residences had been... compromised -- I guess that's one way to put it. I knew that the thing could follow us anywhere, that it didn't matter where we went, but the idea of going back to either place to rest still didn't sit well with us. It was like they were tainted, scarred.
We awoke in the early afternoon. After a quick and greasy breakfast and a in depth planning session, we decided that our first step in our plan was to check out my apartment, and talk to my landlord and -- even though I really didn't want to -- talk to my neighbour, that Luc guy. My new found belief in the supernatural didn't make me like him any more; hell, it made me like him less, seeing as now there might be actual weight to his prediction. Which didn't exactly put me in a cheery mood.
Polly and me tried to make ourselves look presentable as possible with what we had. We didn't look bad, but we didn't look good either. Our hair was limp and greasy from the two days without a shower and we didn't have many toiletries on hand and certainly not any make up. But it would have to do. We weren't about to travel back to the wreckage of Polly's house just to have a shower.
The drive to my apartment was a short, silent one. We were both too focused on what we were going to ask the landlord so we didn't come off as complete psychos. When we arrived, the appearance of my apartment caught me off guard. My mind must have warped it into this hideous building that fit the description of a haunted dwelling, but it looked just as unassuming -- simple and calm -- as ever. It looked nothing like the battleground I was expecting.
As we climbed out of the car, I noticed that, to my surprise, the Psychic shop's sign was flickering feebly in the window, alight and open at a reasonable hour for once. My stomach clenched; that meant he would be home, and I couldn't weasel out of talking to him.
Polly was already up the front steps, to the door of my landlady's flat, by the time I regained my concentration. I thought crutches were at least going to slow her down, but apparently not. She prodded the buzzer as I ran up the steps to join her.
Only a few moments passed before the door opened, revealing the sweet Mrs. Malik, wearing a creamy mint green dress with a frilly apron and her signature string of pearls. Her cheeks were full and rosy as ever, except her expression was one of utter surprise; she looked at us like we were relatives come back from the dead. I assumed it was because of our shabby and worn appearance.
Mrs. Malik was polite enough to quickly wipe that look from her face, and beamed at us instead. "Miss Vaughn, yes?"
I nodded. She looked to Polly questioningly in a polite way. "And this is?"
"Pollaine Greenbury, nice to meet you" Polly said, her demeanour slipping into the sickly sweet professional one we used at work. This seemed to pacify Mrs. Malik, and she beamed wider at Polly.
"What can I help you girls?" Mrs. Malik said in her broken English, thick Eastern European accent flavouring every syllable.
Polly and I exchanged glances. I figured I should be the first one to speak, since it was my apartment.
"Uhm, have you heard any strange noises lately? I've been hearing... things."
I saw Polly roll her eyes at my lame attempt, but I stayed focused on my landlady. Mrs. Malik looked thoughtful, and then shook her head. "No, no, everything quiet, everything good."
"Oh..." My voice trailed off. I had no clue how to get the information I needed out of her, because I couldn't exactly come out and ask if she's seen any horrible transparent beasts that scream like banshees.
Luckily, Polly took the reigns. "Nothing? No bumps or voices or animals?"
Mrs. Malik's eyes narrowed, "No pets allowed in this rooming."
"No, Mrs. Malik, I don't have any pets!" I added, shrilly. "Have you heard anything though? I hear... something that sounds like a dog sometimes."
My landlady considered this point for another moment. "No, maybe the telly vizzy? My roomings and tenants are all very good, very nice." She smiled at me.
I smiled back, wide and insincere. If only she knew what was lurking in her basement suite.
"If you don't mind me asking, who lived in Rachel's apartment before her?" Polly added, jumping on the mention of tenants.
"Oh nice young couple, but got baby made, had to find bigger home. Happy leaving! Very good people but family better and I am a happy for them!" She laughed, like she had told a dirty joke. I hardly thought "got baby made" constituted vulgarity in this day and age, but her innocence made me happy in some way. It was like she was incorruptible in the midst of all this shit.
"That's all, thanks for your time, Mrs. Malik, " I said. My voice was whispery and soft, carrying my disappointment from this fruitless endeavour. But my landlady didn't pick up on it, and kept smiling as she waved goodbye and shut the door.
I sighed audibly. Polly and I shared a disappointed look and began to descend the stairs. So my apartment wasn't the cause for this, but we had no other leads.
A door creaked open, and Polly turned behind us, probably thinking that it was Mrs. Malik who suddenly remembered something of importance. But I heard its direction better, it was from one of the basement suites.
I scanned my doorstep in horror, expecting to see that shimmering, transparent creature crawling out, ready to leap and attack. But there was nothing there. I flicked my head back the other way, looking for the source of the noise.
It was him. He hummed to himself as he casually ascended the stairs to street level, hands in his pockets and his black waves bouncing slightly with each step. As he turned to look up and down the street, I saw he had a slight smile playing on his lips. He was so beautiful, so sexy... it was too bad that I hated him. He must have some redeemable qualities... like being good in bed...
I stopped myself, cursing myself internally for even wandering down that path. He was a huge jerk and totally not worth my time. I had much more important things to deal with. Speaking of which...
"Hey!" I called out. "Hey, I have some things to ask you!"
Luc turned to face me, unsure of who had called him. As soon as he saw me, his face fell and his eyes widened. What little colour he had in his face vanished. I scowled back at him, my mouth slightly open in offence. I knew I looked a little rough today, but surely not that bad--...
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
The shriek came from behind me, from Polly. It carried a hatred that you could feel in the air, the kind of hatred that makes you feel nauseous from even seeing someone.
I turned to look at her, shocked at her hostility. Sure, I had told her all about him, but his crime against me wasn't worth this kind of verbal assault. But her eyes were wild, fierce, vicious. If she hadn't been impeded by crutches, I was sure she would've leapt forward and simply killed him.
Luc looked scared, horrified and... sad? I flicked my gaze back and forth between the two of them, trying to make sense of this situation. But apparently Polly wasn't going to let her crutches interfere with her rage. She hobbled down the steps, shaking with rage, making her descent unstable.
"YOU BASTARD, YOU EVIL PIECE OF--"
She slipped on one of the lower steps, trying to take too many at a time in her attempt to get to Luc and maul him. She fell and I barely caught her arm, almost slipping myself. We crumpled to the ground, but luckily it wasn't too hard. Polly fought against my grip to upright herself again; I fought to keep her still and try to calm her down. I didn't understand why she was so hell bent on facing off with the Psychic guy.
But when we finally got up, he was gone. Absolutely disappeared. I hadn't heard him walk or run away, or the door to his apartment open or close again or the sound of a vehicle. He was just gone.
Polly snarled in frustration. I pushed her down onto the step, forcing her to sit.
"Polly! What the hell was that?" I snapped at her, once she was more stable and calm.
"That bastard..." She muttered under her breath. She was still flicking her eyes back and forth, trying to spot him in his hiding place, ready to leap up and continue her attack.
"What. The. Hell. Was. That?!" I repeated, my voice low and serious.
"That was him! THAT WAS HIM, the fucking rat bastard!" She shouted back at me, her face flushed with anger and exasperation.
"Who?"
"Rachel, that was him. That was the guy my sister was dating... the guy who dumped her... just before her attacks started."
+ + +
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