The Psychic

BY : SerafintheGreat
Category: Original - Misc > General
Dragon prints: 12916
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real people, situations, or locations are coincidental.

I’ve never seen that look before, like someone who’s just murdered all of his children and just realized what had happened. He starts pounding his fists like a crazed man right by my head, wailing and screaming in nonsenses to himself.

He rises, straddling my body and starts pounding his fists against the wall. The noises are so scary and awful that I cover my ears. I try to get away, but he has me pinned against the bed. I’m afraid he’s going to break through the wall.

Then, he pounds his fists on the bed, as if his hands couldn’t take it anymore. He pounds against the bed around my body with reckless abandon. And then one hits me in the chest.

I scream out in pain when I feel a very distinct crack in my bones.

This stops him, and he looks at me, as I scream out in pain. As I breathe, the pain becomes even worse. I panic. I look at him, and he looks back at me, shocked, as I grip the area I know he’s affected.

Suddenly, he gets up and leaves the room.

My breathing is very short because of the pain. I know he’s done something awful to my ribcage, and the tears stream down my face, as I try so hard to breath.

He re-enters with the Doc in tow. He throws the Doc near my bed.

“Fix her!” he screams at the Doc.

The Doc looks at me, and I look at him. I realize I’m naked in front of him, but I’m in too much pain to care.

“Okay, what happened?” The Doc asks.

“I-“ I start, but the Psychic interrupts:

“You don’t need to know, just make her better!” He screams violently at the Doc.

“I need to know, because I need to diagnose what happened.”

“Make him leave,” I cough out, barely noticeable.

“What?” The Doc asks, looking at me.

“I said, ‘make him leave,” I snarl between gritted teeth indicating the Psychic.

I look the Psychic dead in the eye. His fire is matched by my fire. I know he wouldn’t dare use his power right now after the scare he had only two hours prior, and I’m in too much pain to care.

“You need to get the fuck out, NOW!” I scream at him, then I grip my rib in pain and fall back onto the bed, crying.

He comes over to me, inches from my face, “You don’t tell him anything about what happened.”

I look him right in the eyes, then I look at Doc, “He fucked me, and then started pounding his fists all over the place like a fucking lunatic and he punched me here.” I sit up indicating the area the Psychic hit.

I look back at the Psychic, and then I spit right into his face.

There’s a dead silence in the room. He wipes the spit off his face, and he turns around and leaves the room. We both hear the front door slam. Then we a car engine rev violently, as he speeds out of the driveway into the night.

“Mags, what happened?”

I struggle to breath, “He comes home, more drunk than even usual. He comes into the kitchen and screams violent things at me. He calls me slut. He tells me I’ve been sleeping with you, and if he catches me, he’ll set me on fire. Then I yell back at him, and he tries to use his mind control on me, but then something in his head hurts him really bad, and he grips it hard and starts moaning and groaning. Instead of shooting him in the fucking head, I make him feel better. I give him my dinner to eat and then he starts acting really nice to me. He tells me he’s going to take care of me, which means he’s going to fuck me. So he fucks me, and he’s acting nicer than he’s ever acted while doing it. Then, when he finishes, everything changes. He starts pounding his fists against the wall, screaming angrily at something, and then he pounds his fists next to me on the bed, and then he hits me here-“ I indicate the spot where he got me.

“Okay,” the Doc says.

He feels around, and when he gets to the spot, I scream out in pain.

“Okay, it’s fractured, I assume. It’s not like I’m going to know anything for sure since I can’t X-ray you. You’re going to have to try to calm down and take deep breaths. It’s going to hurt, but we need to make sure your lungs will still expand.”

 I lie down, and I try to take deep breaths. It’s painful, but I manage.

“What about him?” I ask.

The Doc looks at me, blank, “I don’t know.”

“He might come back and kill me, especially when he realizes I’ve told you so much.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t have guessed based on the injury.”

 “What do I do?”

 “Just rest and breathe. That’s all you can do. I can give you medication for the pain.”

 “I don’t want it,” I respond to him.

 “Why not?”

 “Because I want to be reminded of how much I hate him and you each time I breath.”

 "Were you forgetting?"

 “He’s going to kill me,” I say after a moment.

The Doc shakes his head, “I don’t think so. Not now. I think he feels guilty. He left us alone, which means he wants you to get better. He called me in here, which means he wants you to get better. He doesn’t want you dead, no question in my mind he wants you alive.”


“I don’t know. He’s smitten, I guess.”

“Will you stay with me?” I ask him, “Just to give me a warning yell in case he plans on killing me.

“You’d want to know?”

“I think so, yeah.”

The Doc settles into his chair.

“Am I allowed to move?” I ask.

“You can do whatever you want…except leave.”

I push myself up, and I moan when the pain hits me. He comes to help, but I push him away, not wanting it. I walk slowly to the bathroom, and I take care of myself. I go back to the room, and I lie myself down on the bed.

“How are your kids?” I ask the Doc.

 "They’re in summercamp.”

 I nod, “I’ve been here for a year, haven’t I?”

 The Doc nods, “a little bit longer than that.”

 I close my eye, and finally it seems like slumber has come to me.

I wake up suddenly, and I’m immediately reminded of the sharp pain in my rib cage. I look to my side and I see the Psychic is lying down next to me.  My eyes widen when I see him.

“No, no, no, no!” I scream at him, as he crawls into bed with me.

“Shh, calm down sweetheart, I’m not mad at you.”

“You broke my fucking rib, get the fuck away from me.”

“No, no, no, we’re going to bed, and I’m going to comfort you.”

“How are you going to do that? You’re the monster that put me in this position.”

“It was an accident.” He replies, maintaining his ‘nice’ character, “You know I didn’t mean to do that to you. Accidents happen.”

“I hate you!” I scream at him.

“I KNOW!” he screams back at me, and it’s the most deafening, horrible scream of pain and anger I’ve ever heard. I look into his eyes and I see, finally, so much anger, so much sadness.

I start crying myself when I see it, and this time it’s real tears of sadness, understanding all too well now. Understanding that now that we’ve been ‘linked,’ I am entirely susceptible to his pain and anguish. I realize the pain I’ve caused him as his love for me goes entirely unrequited.

He doesn’t know how to love me. He has no clue how to be kind to me, and it angers him whenever he gets so close only to realize that he’s nothing but a monster to me, when I’m everything to him.

This whole time I’ve looked into his eyes and cried, he’s made no effort to comfort me. Instead, he’s let me see everything I now know.

“I’m tired,” I say to him, weakly, “Please, help me sleep.” I ask.

 He shakes his head, mournful, “I can’t help you do anything right now. My head….it doesn’t feel good.”

 I nod, “can you help me in other ways, please? Just hold me, I don’t know.”

He nods, and I lie back down. He lies down next to me, and he starts stroking my side, the one that doesn’t hurt.

“Shhh, darling, shhh, everything’s going to be okay, I promise you.”

His words lull me into a deep slumber. I realize the power is still there.


The next morning, I wake up. He insists I don’t leave the room, and he brings me breakfast in bed. He sits and watches me eat intently.

 “Does it hurt?” He asks.

 I nod, my breathing labored. Everything hurts. I sit up, and I struggle to take deep breaths. He watches me as I struggle.

 “If you are in pain still, I can make it go away.”

 “I don’t want any medication.”

 “I  can make it go away,” He emphasizes.

  I put my fork down, and I look away from him, averting my eyes. I shake my head, “No.”

“Why not?” He insists.

“I want to feel the pain,” I respond to him.

“Haven’t you felt enough pain?’ He asks, his hand running through my hair, gently.

The question upsets me. Is he indicating my entire tenure at the house?

He sits on the side of the bed, and rubs the side of my back that doesn’t hurt.

“Darling, there’s no reason to be in pain if I can make it go away. Let me take care of you.”

My head is still covered, I feel his presence so close, and I know his voice has a seductive quality.

“Let me take care of you.” He insists.

“No,” I cover my ears and I shake my head, “Please, leave me alone.”

His hand falls off my back, “You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” I respond to him.

“I will leave when you finish your breakfast. Your bones are weak because you haven’t been getting the proper nutrients into your body. You need to eat.”

I look at him now.

“That’s why my bone is broken, right? Because I haven’t been feeding myself properly? It has nothing to do with you pounding your fist right onto my chest,” my anger delivers a sharp pain in my chest, and I retreat, holding my side and trying to take deep breaths. 

“Just relax,” he rubs my back, “and eat your breakfast”.

 I retreat into his arms, and I finish the breakfast he’s made for me.


            Things return to a relative quiet after that incident. He brings food to me in his room. He sits, and he watches me eat it. He eats with me usually.

            “Can I go outside?” I ask.

            He nods, “Yes, I will bring you outside.”

            I put some type of clothing on, and he makes like he’s going to lift me, but I push him away.

            “I’m sorry, I…I’m sorry.”

            He nods, not looking to create any conflict today. I change out of my slip into some real clothing. He looks away from me, strangely allowing me privacy. When I’m done, I go towards him and he takes my hand.

            We go outside, and he walks me to the dock because he knows it’s my favorite place to sit, if only just to look on the other side. All of those people are living a life while I’ve been stuck here against my own will for thirteen months now.

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