Page 7

I marvelled that, overall, we were okay.

The impact could've easily done much more damage than break a leg. It appeared that several of the chairs that had once haloed the beautiful table had stopped it from crushing us. Of course, now they were splintered shades of their former selves, but they at least saved us from truly grievous injury.

Polly sobbed and moaned next to me, and I was drawn back to finding a way out. 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.

My face and arm itched.

I glanced down at myself only to realize that there were several steady streams of blood seeping through my sleeves and spreading over the white bandages already attached to me.

Seeing it made pain flare up with ferocity.

We both required immediate medical attention.

We really, really needed to get out of here.

The only sure exit I knew of 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 country, and the entrance hall was the front line.

I stood, my knees shaking and my body protesting every movement. But I couldn't let it get the better of me. Polly needed me.

Stumbling, I gripped the table and heaved.

It took almost every remaining ounce of strength I had—plus some extra, borrowed from who knew where—to move the behemoth.

It rose slightly, off of Polly's ankle, and I managed to drag it several inches away before letting it fall again with a ringing boom.

Whatever was with us didn't like the disturbance. The hairs on my neck prickled instinctively as the volume of its cry started to rise again. A new wave of panic spread through me. We needed to move fast. Having seen the extent of its power, it was unlikely we'd survive another onslaught.

I hobbled back to Polly's side as fast as I could. Shaking her limp body, I tried to get her to regain some level of consciousness. I had barely any strength left, and I would need her help to get her out of here, even if it was just a little.

"Polly!" I hissed. "Please wake up. We have to leave!"

She blinked stupidly at me. "Rachel... I had the weirdest dream..."

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

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

"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 all around us.

Polly cautiously eyed our surroundings, and I saw she understood the urgency; the thing's scream was quickly rising, and Polly hadn't forgotten it.

I'd probably be able to remember it perfectly for the rest of my life, even if I were to live for a century, but first I needed to focus on surviving the next few minutes.

She reached out for me, shaking with fear. I took her hand and hauled her up to standing. Balancing on her good foot, she gingerly touched the toe of the injured one to the ground. Even that small pressure twisted Polly's face with pain.

I took her arm and curved it around my neck, wrapping 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.

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 headed for the door at a steady, even quick, pace. However, the thing in the room was reaching a fever pitch again. I tried my best to block it out, focusing only on the red door before us, the gateway to safety.

But as we advanced, the pleasant, plain red of the door began to morph. It warped, distorted... and then glinting eyes emerged right in the centre of it. I froze, jerking Polly to a stop, making her flinch.

I quickly 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 the thing that had attacked me, attacked us. Its eyes—four huge, horrible eyes, one pair stacked on top of the other, hovering in mid-air—were clear as day, but those were all I could make out. The rest of it seemed like a mere distortion in the air, but I could tell it was a hulking thing; its shimmering form towered over us, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling of the foyer, blocking our way.

There was no way out.

We were fucked. So fucked.

Polly tightened her arm around my waist, and I glanced at her to confirm our defeat. But I found her with her eyes blazing and her jaw set, the golden key that had been around her neck now in her clenched fist.

"For the door," she whispered, pain tainting her voice as she offered it to me. "We can't give up now."

She was right. What did we have to lose? We were either going to die horribly or... die horribly. There was a chance of escaping, and even though it was miniscule, we still had to 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—so yellow they almost glowed—widening with what I could only assume was a sick kind of glee.

It moved first. It lurched towards us, the scream so loud that it shook 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 I had died, that this nothingness was the end. Then I realized I could open my eyes, fill my chest with air, feel Polly tremble by my side; we were still alive. Still alive, and still in the entrance hall.

But the thing was gone.

Somehow, we had survived. Polly just looked at me, her mouth hanging open; I was sure my expression mirrored hers exactly.

The room felt different.

It felt like a cool breeze had rushed in and blown out all the hot, stuffy air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could truly breathe again.

I inhaled deeply, savouring it, and dropped my arm to my side.

.

.

but I kept a tight grip on the gold chain and key.

After several moments of standing in dumbfounded awe, a stab of pain finally brought me back to reality. Our injuries needed to be addressed. Hobbling forward again, I hurriedly unlocked the red door, and we made our way to Polly's car, which was still parked out front.

I settled Polly in the back seat and moved to sit in the front—an ironic reversal of events—and pulled out of the drive.

As I drove towards the nearest hospital, I came to a realization.

Polly had been right.

I couldn't give up. I couldn't run, because it would obviously follow me.

I needed to face this thing.

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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