Cryptid Girl — Chapter 15

Copyright 2013

A novel by Mystery Jones

Art by Terrill Chappell

Riley Dashel stacked the pillows on her bed against the headboard and started reading her English assignment. She decided that The Catcher in the Rye wasn’t such a bad book, but Holden Caulfield definitely wasn’t her type. He drank and cussed too much. If he stayed on that path, he may grow up to be just like her dad.

She sighed; she couldn’t even read her homework without thinking about him.

There was a knock on her bedroom door and Mrs. Grafton poked her head in.

“Riley, Lorna is here to see you.”

“Come in,” Riley said, shoving a scrap of paper into her book to mark the page.

Lorna stepped through the door and approached the bed where Riley was relaxing.

“Hey,” Lorna said as she sat down on the edge of Riley’s bed.

“Hi.” Riley glanced at Lorna’s clothing. She wasn’t dressed all business-like as usual. She was wearing dark, boot cut blue jeans, low-top Nikes, and a white polo. “Wow. You’re wearing like, normal clothes. You actually look kinda hip for an adult.”

Lorna smiled. “Don’t tell my boss I’m not dressed up; she’ll fire me.”

“No worries. I won’t.”

“I didn’t come here so you could critique my sense of fashion,” Lorna said. “I want to know how you’re doing.”

“You mean you want to know how I’m dealing with Dad’s death.”

Riley could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry. Not over him, not after all he did to their family. “Good riddance, that’s what I say. Now that he’s out of the way, hopefully the Graftons will take us in permanently. Then maybe we could have normal lives for once.”

Lorna sat quietly, as if she were waiting to hear something more.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, I get it, I’m supposed to be all sad and weepy. My therapist called last night. That’s what she wanted to hear. She tried to tell me that deep down I was experiencing terrible grief and I just needed to let it out. That’s a bunch of crap. Lorna, I hated him. I’m happy he’s dead.”

Riley couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. The dam within burst and tears spilled down her cheeks. She hopped off her bed and paced her bedroom floor.

“I don’t want to hate him,” Riley said, between sobs. “I feel like such a bad person for hating him. But he never loved us. All I ever wanted was for him to love us, to take care of us like everyone else’s parents. He loved his booze and his pot more than he loved us. I loved him; I really did. Even after he’d hit me and cuss at me, I still loved him. I did everything to please him. The cooking, cleaning, laundry, taking care of my brothers and sister — I thought that’s what he wanted. I thought maybe that’s what Mom would have wanted, too. But what did I get in return? A bloody nose or a broken bone, that’s what! Why should I feel sad that he’s dead?”

Riley wiped tears from her eyes and looked over at Lorna, who got up off the bed and came and stood in front of her.

Lorna laid her hands on Riley’s shoulders. “You’re feeling a lot of different emotions right now, and that’s okay. You’re not a bad person because of how you feel. Sometimes we just can’t help our emotions.”

“You don’t think I’m a bad person for hating him?”

“No.”

Riley wrapped her arms around Lorna and cried. When she let go, she wiped her eyes once again. “How is it that I always feel better after talking to you? You’re like the only person who actually understands me.”

“Riley, I’ve been where you are and sometimes it feels like the anger and the hurt is going to kill you. But you’ll make it through.”

Riley sat down on the end of her bed and frowned. “Everyone says stuff like that. ‘I know how you feel.’ Do you? Seriously? You’re just saying that to make me feel better, and I’m sick of hearing it.”

Lorna said nothing and seemed at a loss for what to say.

Riley studied her, and the look in Lorna’s eyes was suddenly cold and empty.

Without speaking, Lorna walked over and sat down next to Riley on the bed.

“I’m not just saying that to say it,” Lorna said. “I do understand.”

Riley looked deep into Lorna’s eyes and saw a hidden secret, saw that maybe Lorna really did understand what it meant to have your entire life turn to crap. Someone must have abused her, too.

“What happened to you, Lorna?”

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my client, that’s why.”

“You’re just like my therapist,” Riley said. “Of all people, I thought maybe you would be real with me.” She got up and marched over to her bedroom window but kept glancing back at Lorna to see what she would do next. Would she take the bait and spill her secrets?

The silence between them seemed eternal, but finally Lorna took a deep breath and spoke.

“Riley, I can’t divulge the details of my past. It would be unprofessional of me to do something like that. You’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

Riley turned and faced Lorna. “I believe you. I can see it in your eyes. Someone somewhere hurt you really bad. I just wanted to see if I could get you to spill your guts to me.”

Lorna’s eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “You mean you just tried to manipulate me?”

“Yep.”

Lorna shook her head and grumbled. “You’re such a teenager.”

“I know,” Riley said with a smile. “So do you want to hear more about my boyfriend, Rusty?”

Lorna folded her arms. “I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend?”

“That was so last week. We’re kind of hanging out now.”

“Do tell,” Lorna said.

***

“Hey, Lorna, you’ve got great timing,” Jeannie said. “I just got here. Glad you’re early; now we’ve got time to get drinks and popcorn and still make the previews.”

After purchasing tickets and hitting the snack bar, Jeannie led the way into the theater. They took seats high up near the back.

“I haven’t talked to you since Mexico,” Jeannie said as she munched on her popcorn. “How are you? Gavin said you had the flu.”

“Yeah, I was pretty sick for a day or two,” Lorna replied. “I’m over it now.” Which wasn’t entirely true, because her body continued to ache all over, some days worse than others.

Jeannie shook her head. “You don’t look well,” she said. “You seem…run down. Is work stressing you out? Are you getting enough sleep and exercise?”

“My job is pretty stressful right now. I’m really behind at work, and I have this one client — well, had this one client — who was a real thorn in my side.”

“Had?” Jeannie asked.

“Did you hear about the latest person to be attacked by that…animal that’s on the loose? That guy was one of my clients. And the first victim, he was a former client of mine.”

“Oh, Lorna, that’s terrible! You must be pretty shaken up.”

“I am, kind of,” Lorna said. “It’s not like either guy was the world’s greatest father, but I do feel awful for the kids involved.”

“How many kids did they each have?”

“Kyle Dashel had four kids. They seem to be making it through okay. His two boys are more upset than the girls.”

“What about the other man’s children?”

“Hank Smith had one boy and I don’t know how he’s doing. Hank was removed from my caseload a while back.”

Jeannie nodded, and Lorna could tell that she had transitioned into her therapist mode.

“Are you sure you’re doing alright with all of this?” Jeannie asked. “You’ve experienced three traumatic events in a very short period of time. Do you need to talk?”

Although she didn’t consider Hank or Kyle’s death a traumatic event for her personally, the dreams she’d had surrounding their deaths were causing her quite a bit of stress. Maybe she should ask Jeannie about her nightmares. Surly she’d met with clients who suffered from this same type of issue. And she could trust Jeannie to give an honest opinion.

“I’ve been having these nightmares,” Lorna said. “Terrible nightmares. I wake up and I’m sweating all over and my entire body is just sore and aching.”

“What are the nightmares about?”

Lorna took a deep breath. “I dream about the animal killings. I see the attacks just as they must have happened in real life.”

“You mean you dreamt about the two men who were attacked by the mountain lion?”

What if she told her about El Chupacabra? What would she think and do? Jeannie had dismissed the suggestion of the creature back at the hospital in Mexico. Why would she buy into it now? But she trusted Jeannie; she’d never given her a reason not to. She decided to take a chance and bare her soul. “I’m not sure it was a mountain lion. I think those men were killed by El Chupacabra.”

Jeannie’s brows furrowed, but she masked her skepticism in the next moment. “Are you sure that’s what it was?”

“That’s what it was in my dreams. It’s like I see the killings at night, and then I wake up in the morning and it’s come true.”

The theater fell dark and the screen began to roll the first movie preview.

“Lorna,” Jeannie said, then placed her hand on Lorna’s shoulder. “I want to hear more about these dreams. Please, call me this week. You seem so stressed out, so tense. I want to help you through this, whatever it is.”

“Okay,” Lorna replied. “Just please don’t tell Mason about my dreams. He doesn’t know yet, and I don’t want to worry him for no reason. Can we just keep it between us?”

“Sure,” Jeannie said with a tender smile.