The Sixth Sense

Chapter 5

Louisa's POV

The room is dim, the only light coming from the pale glow of my bedside lamp.

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the book resting in front of me.

My father’s voice rings in my head, warning me to tread carefully with the knowledge it contains.

But I can’t help it. The pull is too strong.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, following the instructions laid out in the book.

A strange warmth spreads through my body as I let go of the world around me.

Then, all at once, the sensation changes.

I’m flying....

I open my eyes—or at least, I think I do—and I see myself.

My body lies motionless on the bed below me.

"What is this?"

The thought comes unbidden, but I barely have time to process it. A sudden awareness grips me, as if something is watching me.

"Who?"

"Where?"

The presence is overwhelming. Heavy.

Golden eyes stare at me from the void.

I gasp, and with a jolt, I’m back in my body. My heart races as I sit up and scan the room, but there’s nothing there.

The stillness is suffocating.

Goosebumps rise along my arms, and I clutch the blanket tighter around me.

“I know those eyes,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “But where have I seen them before?”

Knock, knock.

“Louisa?”

Groaning, I turn toward the door just as it creaks open.

My father steps inside, worry etched on his face. He doesn’t say anything at first, just crosses the room and sits on the edge of my bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pressing a hand to my forehead.

I don’t have the energy to respond. My body feels heavy, like all my strength has been drained. I watch as he pours me a glass of water from the nightstand, his movements careful, deliberate.

“Here, drink this.”

I take the glass and sip slowly, the cool water soothing my dry throat.

As soon as I finish, I fall back against the pillows, my eyelids fluttering shut.

“I’m just… tired,” I manage to whisper.

He sighs softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch is gentle, reassuring.

Even though he’s my stepfather, he’s always treated me as if I were his own. He’s the one who taught me that my abilities weren’t something to be feared.

To him, they weren’t a curse—they were a gift.

“Thank you, Father,” I think to myself as sleep overtakes me.

When I wake the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the window does little to chase away the unease from the night before. I sit up slowly, the memory of floating above my body still fresh in my mind.

Those golden eyes… they felt so real.

Pushing the thought aside, I reach for the book and flip through its pages. One chapter in particular catches my attention: Proprioception: The Sixth Sense.

The text describes it as our awareness of where our body is in space, an innate ability that never truly turns off. I read on, fascinated by the descriptions.

They feel familiar, almost as if I’ve always known this sense existed but never had a name for it.

Could this explain what I experienced last night?

Later that day, my father watches me carefully over breakfast. I can tell he wants to ask me something, but he holds back.

Finally, as we clear the dishes, he speaks.

“Louisa,” he says, his tone serious, “you tried something from the book, didn’t you?”

I hesitate, the memory of last night still vivid in my mind. “I… I just wanted to see if it worked.”

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “The techniques in that book are dangerous. They aren’t meant to be used without guidance.”

“I didn’t know,” I whisper, my guilt weighing heavily on me.

He sighs, his expression softening. “I know you didn’t. But you have to be careful. You have a gift, Louisa, but it’s powerful—and unpredictable.”

His words linger in my mind long after he leaves the room.

That night, the unease returns. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling that I’m being watched. The air feels colder, heavier.

Then, I sense it—the stare.

My breath catches as I sit up and scan the room. It’s empty, but the sensation is undeniable.

Those golden eyes…

I’ve seen them before, but where?

********

Jack’s POV

I stand just outside Louisa’s bedroom, my hand resting on the doorframe. I’ve been watching her closely since last night, worried about what she might try next.

The book… I should have never let her keep it.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial a familiar number. The line rings once before a voice answers.

“Jack,” Morpheus says calmly.

“I need answers,” I reply, my voice tight with tension. “Louisa tried the soul-leaving technique.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “And how is she now?”

“She’s… recovering,” I say, glancing toward her door. “But this isn’t normal, is it? What’s happening to her?”

“Her abilities are awakening,” Morpheus replies. “The book was merely a catalyst. She’s more powerful than you realize.”

His words send a chill down my spine.

“Is she in danger?” I ask.

“Only if she doesn’t learn to control it,” he says simply. “Guide her, Jack. She’s a rare flower—delicate, but capable of extraordinary things.”

The line goes dead, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Looking toward Louisa’s room, I feel a surge of both fear and determination.

She’s more than just my daughter. She’s something far greater—and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

*******

Louisa's POV

The days pass in a haze, my father hasn’t told me everything, but I can sense his worry.

At night, the golden eyes haunt me.

They’re always there, watching, waiting.

One evening, as I sit with the book in my lap, I come across a passage about astral projection—the ability to separate one’s soul from the body.

My breath catches as I read the warnings: energy depletion, disorientation, and the risk of becoming trapped outside one’s body.

A chill runs down my spine.

What have I done?

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