The Psychic Next Door

[First Draft] Chapter 18: Trust

Polly didn't approve, though I knew she wouldn't. When I first emerged from Luc's bedroom the morning after, she was standing statue-still in the middle of the living room, obviously waiting for me. Her eyes burned with fury as they bore a hole straight through me.

The look on her face said it all: she felt betrayed. She was livid. I knew that if we hadn't formed such a strong bond beforehand, she might've just lashed out and killed me just to save herself the trouble of dealing with the aftermath of what the night Luc and I had spent together would mean.

I had to talk to her for hours—during which Luc couldn't leave his room for threat that Polly would strangle him—to get her calmed down enough to even begin to consider my point of view. I did my best to clarify what exactly our situation was—that Luc was cursed and through him I was cursed too, simply because he had the potential to love me. That Luc had attempted to change our fate, to lead the Beast away, to protect me. That it was already too late the moment he saw what the cards had said. That I had been marked the minute I had crossed his path. That he tried to stop the inevitable and failed. That it wasn't his fault. But even sharing all the new information that Luc had given me, Polly remained wary.

She may have understood it but she didn't mean she liked it. And it certainly didn't change her opinion on Luc. The explanation seemed to give Polly more reason to hate and mistrust him, to hold onto the idea that he was still to blame for all of this—and she was right in some sad, twisted way even though I knew he wasn't directly responsible. The revelation only strengthened her resolution to despise the man that put not only her sister in danger, but now endangered me—who had become like a sister to her. He would carry the blame for her sister's death forever. It seemed like he was marked by her like I had been marked by the Beast.

Frustrated though I was with Polly's desire to hold onto this grudge despite our need to work together, I couldn't hold her reasoning against her; I knew losing her sister was a hard and terrible thing, and I also knew that it was true that in some way true that Luc was responsible. But I also understood Luc... I knew that this wasn't Luc's conscious doing. Plus, he had tried several times to stop me from meeting the same fate as Polly's tragic sister. And he already carried the guilt of her death, weighed down by the blame he had placed on himself. Polly didn't need to add any more burden to an already defeated man. The only way she would ever let it go was to find out what was actually happening, find who was actually to blame. And the chances for that weren't looking any better than they had the day my laptop disappeared in my apartment next door.

It took two days of careful reasoning and assurances to get the two of them to actually sit down and talk to each other about it. I had to agree to stand in the centre, between them, to mediate the discussion and protect Luc from Polly's penchant for trying to murder him. While Polly couldn't stand to look at him—if she wasn't attacking him, that was—I had at least convinced her to be willing to listen to what he had to say.

"So you think it started with my sister?" Polly said, her voice still icy. Her gaze was far away, examining a far corner of the room like it was far more interesting than the discussion at hand.

"I don't know," Luc said, helplessly. While she refused to meet his eyes, he looked at the back of her head with a pleading, apologetic edge—hoping that she might eventually turn around and see how truly sorry he was. I could already see that he couldn't stand to have anyone angry at him. Her intense dislike for him seemed to deeply bother him. "I really don't. I don't know anything else except what I've pieced together from what's happened..."

"So you don't know who is behind all this," Polly continued.

Luc shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor in a look that spoke of disappointment.