Trish took a deep breath. “I figured it was time for me to tell you what really happened to me. You’re the only person I trust in this world, the only one I really talk to. I owe you the truth.”
James's eyes went wide. He reached across the table and grabbed Trish’s hand. She tried to pull away, but he held tight. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. I’m here whenever you are ready to talk. No pressure at all.”
“I know. But I’m ready now,” Trish said as she pulled her hand away from his.
“Here you guys go! Fresh chips and salsa,” the waitress sang as she plopped a basket of chips and a dish full of salsa onto their table.
“Thank you!” James said excitedly as he grabbed a large chip and dipped it into the salsa. The waitress walked away. James took a bite of the chip and then dipped the same chip into the salsa once more.
“I’m just going to say it.”
“Okay, then say it.”
“I went on a hiking trip by myself. The same one that my grandfather and I planned to take together. He then died so he couldn’t come with me. I decided to go on my own,” Trish took a sip of her drink.
“Do you regret that?” James asked, his eyes kind.
“Not in the slightest,” she answered firmly.
“Even after what happened?”
“Yes.” She took another chip and filled it to the brim with salsa. “Anyway,” she took a bite. “A few days in, I fell off of a rocky cliff. I tumbled a while, and that’s how I twisted my ankle. My arm shattered, and the bones burst through my skin. I walked a bit to try to find help. But this couple who had asked for help earlier started to follow me. I found a cave and hid in it,” Trish took a large sip of her Margherita to steady her nerves.
“It was there that my real terror started. I met someone named Xavier, well, I didn’t know that that was his name then—”
“You know who your attacker was! What did the police say? Were they the ones who told you his name?” James interrupted, his eyes wide as he picked up his beer bottle and chugged.
“Please, let me finish before asking questions,” Trish said sternly. James nodded.
“Okay, anyway, there was a riddle on the way. I can’t remember for the life of me what the riddle actually said, but anyway, Xavier told me if I solved the riddle, he’d save my life. But he wasn’t human. I’ve never actually seen him before. He’s always just a dark presence in my life, a black cloud that follows me everywhere, waiting for the right moment to make me…” she took a deep breath.
“Anyway, I solved the riddle, and he made me bow to him. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital. He visited me in the hospital and every couple of days since then. Sometimes he is in my nightmares. Sometimes he pounces when I’m alone or upset. I never know when he’s going to show up until I feel the weight of a thousand suns pressing down on me.”
James licked his lips and finished the rest of his beer. His hands shook, and he drummed on the table. “So, what you’re saying is that you were attacked by a ghost?”
“Possibly. Or a demon. I’m not quite sure.”
“Have you done any research?”
“What am I supposed to look up? Demons in caves with riddles? I doubt anything would turn up. And besides, this is my cross to bear. I’m the one up shit’s creek without a paddle, and I’m going to get myself out of this!” Trish said a little too loudly. Other patrons looked over at her for a few seconds but then went back to their meals and conversations.
“I’d like to help you, after my mom--” James began.
Trish interrupted. “I know you would. I’m not telling you this because I need help. I’m telling you this because you’re my friend, and I feel like I can trust you enough with my secret.”
James scrunched his nose and nodded. “Okay, I believe you. After what my mom went through, I’ve been trying to find some way to find peace in my life. I didn’t think that I ever would until I found you. When I saw you at the meeting, I knew we were connected in some way. And after hearing your story, I now know that I was right. If you need anything, please, I don’t mind helping you out.”
“Here’s your nachos and shrimp tacos. How does everything look?” The waitress startled them as she sat their plates in front of them.
“It looks amazing,” James commented.
“Can I have another Margherita?” Trish asked.
“Sure thing, doll.” The waitress replied as she scurried off. James smiled over at Trish, and she responded in kind.
“Thank you for believing me.”
“I’ll always believe you,” James said as he shoved a beef and cheese covered nacho into his mouth.
~~~
When Trish drove up to her house, an unrecognized car sat blocking the path to the garage. Intrigued, Trish parked her car along the road, the tires hitting the curb. She climbed out and locked the door behind her. She had one too many drinks tonight and didn’t want to deal with her parents, and whoever else was inside. She walked to the front door and leaned against it. Trish took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, closing her eyes. Shaking her head, she opened the door and was greeted by Sausage.
Sausage jumped up against her legs and barked, licking her hands. Trish laughed.
“Hey, buddy! I missed you too,” she sang in a sing-song voice.
“Patricia, the detectives are here,” her father called out.
“Hello again, Patricia,” Detective Smith said as he reached out to her for a handshake. Trish let him give her a handshake, her hand limp in his. Sausage was running circles around Trish and jumping up on her each and every way.
“What are ya’ll doing here?” Trish asked, glancing between both detectives.
Detective Vannatti looked over at Trish and eyed her up and down, her wrinkled blue button-up shirt a contrast to her ironed black pants. “We have some news for you. Would you like to sit down?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said.
“Okay. We have your attackers in custody, as you know, and they have been officially charged with not only your attack but the murders of thirty people who hiked in the same area,” Detective Smith said. He took a drink of his coffee.
“I told you I wasn’t attacked. I told you what really happened!” Her hands shook as she yelled at them.
“Patricia cut the dramatics and see reality. They attacked you and whether or not you choose to believe it isn’t our problem. I’m so glad that they are going to pay for your attack. They deserve to rot in hell for what they did to you,” her mother said.
“But they—” Trish said, but her father only shook his head.
“Stop it. Listen to what the detectives are saying,” he insisted.
The detectives stared at Trish for a few seconds, their gaze unwavering. Detective smith took a deep breath. “Anyway, like we were saying, they’ve both been arrested. The male hasn’t spoken a single word, but the female has given us enough information to hopefully find all of the bodies. They are apparently buried in caves around the park.”
“Caves? I was in one, and I didn’t see a dead body,” she said.
“I know that’s what you’re claiming,” Detective Vannatti shot Trish a look that she couldn’t decipher.
Trish’s eyes welled up with Tears but she quickly bit them back, not wanting to make an even bigger scene than she already has.
“So, what do we do from here?” her father asked.
“Honestly, nothing. As Patricia is the only living victim, we would normally call her to the stand to testify. But we don’t feel she would help the case at all and, in fact hinder it. So all you need to do is sit back and wait for the court hearings to start. If you would like to attend them, please let us know, and we can make sure you have seats. This is the trial of the century in this little town. Everyone wants a piece of it,” Detective Vannatti said.
“I’m fine to take the stand,” Trish said firmly as she leaned over and gave Sausage some attention.
“T
hanks for the offer, but we’ve got it from here,” Detective Smith said.
“Whatever, I guess. I have no autonomy anymore, so it’s not like I even get a choice in the matter, do I?” Trish bit at everyone.
“No, you don’t,” her mother said sharply.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” her father asked, shifting his weight back and forth.
“No, I think that’ll do it,” Detective Smith said. He looked over at Detective Vannatti for confirmation.
“Yeah, I think that’s it,” she responded.
“I hope you both have a good night. Please keep us updated on any events,” her father said.
“Will do,” Detective Smith replied. Both detectives turned around and made their way to the front door. Detective Vannatti limped on her right foot. Trish didn’t realize before, but now that the detective limped, she noticed that her face was bruised up and covered in a heavy dose of makeup. Under her left eye was a bump, and her chin was swollen.
“What happened to you?” Trish asked as she sat down on the couch. Sausage jumped into her lap and slobbered on her face. She gave him a playful nudge away from her.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Just focus on getting healthy,” Detective Smith answered for her. They left the house, slamming the wooden door behind them.
“Why are you so rude, Trish? We certainly didn’t raise you like this,” her mother said as she sat next to Trish on the couch. Her plump body made the couch squeak.
“I’m just asking, Jesus. Is that a crime?”
“Yes! You have been nothing but hostile ever since your grandpa passed, and we’re done with it. We’re trying to help you as best as we can, but we won’t be taking this attitude any longer. Do you understand?” her mother said. She grabbed Trish’s hand roughly and forced her to look at her.
“What are you going to do about it?” Trish challenged
“The same thing we did when you were seventeen,” her father spoke. He walked over and sat on the other side of Trish.
“Can ya’ll give me some fucking space?” Trish yelled, the alcohol flowing through her body heightens her emotions.
“Absolutely not. I just need to clarify to you: you do not have any rights in this house. Until you can grow the fuck up, get out of your head, stop cutting yourself, and be a productive member of society, you are ours to do with as we please. Don’t think for one moment that we won’t send you right back to the looney bin where you belong,” her mother said. She dug her nails into Trish’s hand, blood sprinkling on the surface. Trish yanked her hand away from her mother and reached out to slap her. Her father grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist. Trish screamed out in pain, and he put more weight on her wrist.
“You will listen to us. You will obey us. You will respect us. You will also take your medicine, go to therapy, and anything else that we deem fit for you. Do you understand?” her father said, squeezing her wrist tighter.
“Fine! Just let go of me,” she squealed.
“Nope, say that you will obey us.”
“I’ll obey you!” Trish cried. He let go of her wrist, and she stood up and away from them.
“Fuck you both!”
“That’s just great, Patricia. Keep it going. See what will happen,” her mother said, her eyes alight with fire.
Trish sighed and walked towards her room. Her back was turned to her parents when her mother called out, “Oh, by the way, I have set you up to volunteer tomorrow morning before your appointment at your old work. You will be going, or we’re taking away your car. Don’t even think for a moment we’re not going to call and make sure you’re there.”
Trish screamed at the top of her lungs as she stomped to her bedroom with Sausage hot on her heels. She slammed the door behind them both. Trish jumped onto her bed and fell apart. Her sobs loud, her breathing erratic, and her mind running a mile a minute.
I don’t know how much longer I’m going to make it in this house with those fuckers, she thought to herself. She cried herself out with Sausage next to her. She falls asleep and dreams of nothing.
Chapter Twelve
T
rish arrived at Happy Paws, the veterinary clinic that she worked at before her trip. She walked up to the dirty double-glass doors and pulled open one of them. The metal door handle cool against her skin. The air-conditioned air smacked her in the face. It smelled of wet dog, fur, and shit. Trish smiled as she remembered all of the memories of her working there. The worst part for her was putting sick animals down.
“Trish!” Lucy, the plump receptionist with red hair, called out when Trish walked inside. She stood up and jogged over to her. She wrapped her arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze. Even though Trish hated being touched, she would allow it for today. Lucy looked at her sympathetically when she noticed that she was missing an arm. They had been briefed by her parents to not say anything about her condition. She quickly looked up at Trish. “We’ve missed you so much!”
Trish smiled at her, “I’ve missed you guys too! But I miss the animals more,” she said, honestly.
“Of course, you do! You wouldn’t be you without that,” Lucy said, letting go of her.
“Hey, Trish!” Dr. Brown called as he walked into the reception area. His brown paw-print covered scrubs coated in vomit.
“I’d give you a hug, but…” he trailed off, motioning to his scrubs.
Trish laughed, “It’s okay, I’m fine without one.”
“That’s great! Has Lucy told you what you’ll be doing today?”
“No, sir. She hasn’t,” Trish looked at Lucy’s smiling face.
“We’re having you walk all of the kenneled dogs out in the back yard today, one by one. We figured, with your accident…that it would be hard for you to clean the kennels. And plus, I know that you love spending time with the dogs,” Lucy said, her eyes full of sincerity.
“That sounds great, thank you,” Trish said sincerely.
The two-hour volunteer block that her parents assigned to her went by pretty quickly. She was able to walk six dogs, which made her feel productive. Trish decided to walk the smaller dogs for fear that she may have lost her good arm strength. She walked a couple of corgis, a beagle, and three chihuahuas. Trish took everything in; the cold winter wind blowing against her face, the smell of dog wafting up and into her nostrils, the dead grass crunching beneath her feet. Absolute heaven for her.
After her two hours were over and she put Banjo, the black chihuahua, back into his cage, she made her rounds and said goodbye to everyone. She received many more hugs than she wanted, but she was please with how the morning turned out. Maybe her parents did know what they were talking about.
~~~
“How is your week going so far?” Dr. Hughes asked as Trish walked into the office for her appointment.
“It’s actually going great! Well, today has been great, but the rest of the week has been shit,” Trish said. She walked over to the leather chair and had a seat. Dr. Hughes followed and sat behind her desk.
“Tell me first why today has been great; I’d love to hear about it,” Dr. Hughes said, her blonde hair in a long side braid that laid on top of her red sweater.
“This morning I was able to volunteer at Happy Paws!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I was hoping you’d start getting back into the swing of things. How did it go?”
“It went amazingly. I got to see all my old coworkers, and they had me walking some of the kenneled dogs today. I have missed being away from animals for so long. It feels like they’re a part of my soul, and when I’m away from them, I feel like something is missing. Maybe that’s why it has taken so long for me to get right. If part of my soul is missing, how can my body heal?”
Dr. Hughes nodded. “That does make some sense. If you’re not doing what makes you happy and you’re miserable all of the time, it could take longer for your body to heal with all of the mental and physical stress it is under.”
“Yeah, th
at’s true,” Trish said, nodding her agreement.
“So, tell me about why your week has been bad,” Dr. Hughes commanded.
“Well, my parents have gotten more controlling than ever. They treat me like I’m not a full-grown adult. They told me that I had to do as they said, or they’d lock me up again,” Trish answered. She pulled at her hoodie strings.
“It sounds like you don’t appreciate that. Did they give you a reason as to why they are threatening you?”
“They didn’t have to,” Trish said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been having ‘attitude problems’ and not wanting to listen to them.”
“What kind of problems?”
“The detectives came over, and I was rude to them. They don’t believe that I’m mentally well enough to take the stand against the so-called ‘attackers’,” Trish said, air quoting the word attackers.
“So, they have them in custody, then? That’s good! You should be happy about that. Why aren’t you?”
“You know why,” Trish answered, raising her eyeborws at her.
Dr. Hughes took a deep breath and pushed her chair away from her desk a bit. “Do you think that your story may be something that your brain came up with to protect you from the truth?”
“No! Absolutely not!” Trish yelled; her voice echoed around the room.
“Okay. Do you think that maybe your story is unbelievable to your parents because of what the detectives have been saying to them?”
“It shouldn’t matter what the detectives say. I’m their daughter. They should believe me!”
Dr. Hughes nodded and wrote something down in her blue notepad. “Alright. Do you think that your parents may have other reasons for wanting to control you? I don’t think that you being rude to the detectives is all that it took.”
Trish sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling. “Probably. I do talk to myself sometimes. I argue with them a lot and fight with them too.”
“Are you still hearing voices, Patricia?” Dr. Hughes asked as she brushed a strand of light blonde and grey hair out of her face and behind her ear.
The Cave Page 10