Waking up was a shock. I was so sure that I had died, that the fact I was now conscious was almost incomprehensible. It made me doubt my own senses. I wondered if—somehow—these past few weeks had just been a dream. If I sat up, would I find myself in my own bedroom, without any cuts and bruises?
But soon enough the pain returned and, with it, the reality of my situation. All of it, every impossible bit of it, had actually happened. I tried to remember the details while trying hard not to think about how much my body ached. The amount of abuse I had taken that night—was it last night?—had been extreme.
Groaning with every movement, I pulled myself up to sitting and held out my arms in front of me to examine the damage; my mouth hung open at the sight of it. New gashes overlapped my old ones, criss-crossing my body. My skin was almost entirely black and blue.
Maybe it looked worse than it was from the contrast between my mottled skin and the fresh, white, unfamiliar sheets, perfectly tucked around me like I was in a hospital bed.
But wherever I was, it was no hospital.
I tore my eyes away from the battered shell that was once my body, and I took a closer look at my surroundings. It seemed to be just an ordinary bedroom, though I had no idea to whose. Everything seemed impossibly bright, especially to my straining eyes. Sun streamed in from the short window at the top of the wall, and everything in the room—walls, furniture, bedding—was a stark white, so crisp and clean that it almost seemed to glow in the daylight. I didn't recognize anything about it, and I was certain I had never been here before.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed while I had been unconscious. I scanned the room for a calendar or alarm clock, but the room's minimalistic owner didn't have either. Would my battered body be able to hold my weight if I were to get up and look around?
Suddenly, a low, unearthly growl resonated around the room, tearing through its crisp order and instantly sending me into a panic. The Beast! How could I have forgotten it when it was the thing that had done this to me? I somehow found the energy to fling myself out of bed, as my eyes scanned the strange room for exits.
But as I tried to walk—or once my weakened body realized I was trying to use it—my legs gave out beneath me. I cried out in pain as I crumpled to the floor. My body felt like it was beginning to shut down, and suddenly I was sleepy... I tried to resist it, and pushed myself to my knees, attempting to crawl, but I only made it a few inches further before I slumped against the wall, defeated.
What was the point of fighting? There was no way I was going to win, not in this state. Acceptance washed over me as I slumped on the floor; I'd be happy to give in if I could just rest.
As I drifted away, I was only slightly disappointed that I had escaped death, only to have it catch up with me again so soon...
The door to the bedroom flung open, banging loudly against the wall behind it. It was enough to pull me out of my haze, and I suddenly realized how stupid it was to give in so easily. I really did want to survive, to live, to fight.
But I couldn't just will strength to my feeble body; I could only slide along the wall to find some corner in which to cower. My eyes tried to find some item with which to protect myself, but the only thing within reach was a plastic lamp and a stack of magazines. Not exactly melee weapons of choice.
But when I finally turned my gaze to the door, there was no shimmering Beast lurking there, ready to pounce and finish me off.
It was Luc.
He just stood there, his eyes wide and worried, his gaze first drawing over the empty bed before finding me shaking in the far corner. As he looked me over, his stance relaxed. Unlike what I had been expecting, his eyes didn't blaze with a murderous rage, nor did a sadistic smile split his handsome face. His expression was soured, and he looked... disappointed.
I wasn't sure what I should do. Should I try to attack, or run? But as my own anger bubbled up inside of me, my energy was quickly sapped away. My head began to swim once more, overcome with the desire to sleep. I tried my best to fight it off, refusing to look away, not wanting to let my guard down around him. We just stared at each other for a long moment before he made a move. He walked over to me and plucked me off the floor, pulling me up by my arms.
"No!" I screamed, or tried to; my voice was rough and hoarse. I tried to push him away, pry his hands off of me, but I had no strength left and for some reason my anger only made my eyelids heavier.
Why is my body so determined to sleep when I'm about to be attacked? It was such a bizarre push and pull.
But he didn't attack me. He didn't even taunt me like any evil villain would as I wriggled in his grip. He simply lifted me into his arms, carried me back over to the bed, and gently laid me down. He paused, taking another good look at me, before shaking his head.
"Don't try moving around just yet. You're still in pretty rough shape."
I stared at him incredulously. Every inch of my body screamed for sleep, eclipsing my ability to comprehend. Nothing seemed to make sense. "Wh... what am I doing here?" I managed to ask, my voice still raspy.
"It's the only place that's safe for you now," he replied tersely, pulling the covers up over me.
I took another look at the room, desperate to understand, and it dawned on me. This room was an exact mirror version of my own; this was the apartment next door. I was in Luc's bedroom. I had been sleeping in Luc's bed.
The growling resurged. I lunged up again and glanced around nervously, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Luc didn't react, but then again, why would he? He was controlling it. Polly had been right.
Then I noticed that the Beast's noise was slightly muffled, like there was something between it and us. I listened closer. It was coming from the far wall, from the other side... where my bedroom was.
It was still in my apartment. I could hear its footsteps, the clacking of its invisible claws on my hardwood floor. Back and forth, back and forth... It was pacing, but it was staying over there. Once again it felt like I was missing something, but my mind was too muddled to figure it out...
"It's staying in there because it can't come in here," Luc explained like he had read my mind. "It wants to stay close, just in case it gets a chance to come after you again."
I eyed him cautiously, beneath my drooping lids, seeing if he could pick up any other thoughts. Everything considered I wouldn't have been surprised if he could.
A shadow of a smile crossed his otherwise stern face. "I can't read your mind."
"Then how..." My head swooned, and I struggled to stay awake. "H-how did you know I was just thinking that?"
"Your face gives it all away. I'm good at reading people, not minds," he said plainly. "You, especially... you're very transparent."
I just glared in reply, working my way through the situation. What had he meant, it couldn't come in here? Was he keeping it out until he was ready for another attack?
"You should rest," he said, ignoring my hostile look and turning to leave.
"No..." I protested. I didn't want to stay here, with him. Unwilling to give up, I tried to crawl across the bed, to slide off the other side and escape, but it felt like my body had been filled with quick-dry cement. I collapsed face-first into the covers, sprawling out.
"You can't leave. I told you, you're only safe here."
"How can I be safe here? When I'm with you?" I tried to snap, but my voice was muffled from the bedding.
I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded slightly hurt. "With me? Don't you... don't you remember?"
The Beast next door let out a particularly bone-chilling howl as if to remind me.
"I remember being attacked," I barely managed to whisper, unable to produce a louder sound.
"Right, but why did it attack you?" he continued, ignoring my degenerating state.
Why? Did he think I somehow brought this on myself? The nerve! A shot of adrenaline flooded my veins, just enough to bring me out my fog.
I trembled with as much rage as my weakened self could muster. I pushed myself up and turned my face him, my hoarse voice as menacing as I could make it. "Why? Why? You know why... It's because of you! This is all your doing!"
Luc's face twisted with some emotion I couldn't place as he watched me struggle. Was it disgust? Pain? But he said nothing as I continued my tirade.
"You... you sicced that thing on me. On us! On—"
Polly.
My heart skipped a beat. My last image of her—collapsed against the wall, unmoving and streaked with blood—was vivid in my mind; a small scream escaped my lips as I remembered it. "Polly! Oh God, where's Polly? What did you do to her?!"
I struggled to get up off the bed again, hobbling over to the wall and flattening myself against it, clawing at it, trying to find some grip on its smooth surface. Then, without warning, the adrenaline vanished. All my energy drained away. My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and fighting against gravity was useless. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor again.
It was like I had been drugged.
Wait. A chill ran through me. Have I been drugged? Did he slip me something while I was unconscious? Questions rushed into my head, making it feel like it was about to burst, making the ache worse. I swayed and my sight darkened momentarily...
The next moment, I was in his arms again. This time I was unable to even attempt to fight him off, the exhaustion finally taking its toll. He just placed me back down in the middle of his bed and covered me with the blankets.
I watched him in confusion as he fussed over my comfort. It didn't make sense. Why was I here if he just intended to kill me? Was this some sort of sick game for him? Was he drawing it out for his own disturbing pleasure? Had he done the same thing to Polly's sister? I glared at him with pure hate, but he avoided my gaze until he was finished. When he finally looked up, there was a conflict raging in his bright green eyes.
"You're right. This is all my doing, and for that, I'm truly sorry. But you've done your part as well, and now... now it's too late. For all of us." And just as suddenly as he had moved towards me, he was out the door, slamming it behind him and leaving me in silence.
What the hell is he talking about? I wanted to call for him to come back and tell me what exactly was happening, but I couldn't. My mind swelled and faded, my anger rising only to be smothered by the beckoning blackness.
Polly's pale face surfaced again in the dark of my mind. Where is she? I wondered, desperately. What if she's de—? The thought stopped short. I couldn't bear to even think of that possibility. It would be all my fault, and I wasn't sure if I could live with myself if that were true.
"Polly!" I screamed for her, draining the very last of my energy to regain my voice for a single moment.
There was no answer.
My body finally gave up. A distant part of me wanted to fight this, but there was simply nothing left in me. I could no longer ignore the overwhelming desire to drift away.
I wanted to sleep more than I had ever wanted to sleep in my entire life, and I got my wish.
🔮
After everything, why do you think Luc helped Rachel?
And where do you think Polly is?