Page 39 of Eldritch

“Of course. If you think about it, the security cameras will ensure we aren’t making up what’s happening in the house. So all of this is a good thing.”

“Yep.”

“We should be done by three o’clock. So come by then. But before we hang up…don’t mention the whole serial killer thing to Pauline and Maria. Letisha knows, but I try and keep this stuff on the downlow.”

She held her breath a little, worry creeping up as she waited for his answer.

“Okay, no problem. I can understand why you might keep it concealed. The whole thing has to have been a nightmare for you.

She relaxed a little, relief rushing over her. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

After they hung up, she ignored the dull ache in her temples. She pocketed her phone.

Weary, she went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. She leaned against the bathroom sink. An icy shiver ran over her skin, and her breath snagged. Her eyes looked startled and worried. A weird flicker of terror touched her, the uncanny brushing along her skin and crawling through her to twist in the tender and hollow parts of mind. She didn’t understand the strange sensation, just as she didn’t understand so much about herself, and at the same time knew too much.

You’re afraid. Always worried about the next move you have to make in life.

Sybil thought, when she had a moment to over analyze, that anyone with half a brain would see her incompetence. They’d note her awkward stride, her inability sometimes to put two sentences together when startled by a cruel turn of phrase or sudden tough question turned her direction.

Many years ago, her tendency to not look people in the eyes consistently had prompted people to ask her if she was autistic. The question had always thrown her, and she’d hesitated to say no. She recalled a date with an impeccably dressed and suave looking chemist. He’d nodded, and said very matter-of-factly, “Uh-huh. Yes. I think you are autistic. You never look in my eyes.” She had found her voice, put on a smile and said no, she wasn’t autistic. Then she’d changed the subject. He’d told her at the end of the date to call him. Back at home, she’d found an online test that confirmed that although she had a few traits in common with people on the spectrum, she didn’t qualify as autistic or even Asperger’s. She hadn’t called the smug chemist back.

Despite all of that, she hadn’t felt a smidgen of relief. All her life she’d dealt with uncertainty, convinced she’d been born with something inherently wrong in the core of her. Until the last few years, when she’d found a trauma therapist who worked with patients suffering Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Then the lightbulb came on, and she understood so much more about her life.

Did a monster still lurk inside her? Possibly. After all, her father had hidden his killer tendencies as well as she’d hidden her trauma.

Now, being in this house…she wondered even more. After all, she’d recognized the darkness in this house the moment she’d seen it as they’d arrived the other day. Noticed it lurking and trying to hide itself until it recognized that darkness within her. Then it must have realized a kindred spirit. In a sense.

“I don’t understand,” an acquaintance had once said when she realized Sybil didn’t find haunted houses, horror movies or novels and Halloween abhorrent. Sybil hadn’t replied, well aware the somewhat religious woman wanted Sybil to turn away from it all.

Sybil finally stood up for herself and didn’t allow the woman to lead her around by the nose.

Still feeling strange, Sybil left the bathroom.

A rumble sounded through the house. It was short but loud.

Thunder?

A shadow passed near the doorway. Sybil started. It was Letisha. She looked like hell.

“Hey there,” Sybil said. “Did you hear that thunder?”

“Yeah. I reached my doc in Denver, and he’s sending a refill on the prescription to a pharmacy in Estes Park,” Letisha said. “They’re putting a rush on it, but it won’t be ready until tomorrow.”

“Glad you’re getting it filled fast.”

Letisha threw out a half smile. “Yeah. It’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with pain like this and it won’t be the last.”

No way to deny the defeat in that tone. An off balance sensation hit Sybil. She wasn’t used to Letisha saying things that sounded this way. As if she’d come to the end of her rope.

“Did something stress you out? I mean, do you think stress restarted the pain?” Sybil asked.

Letisha’s face altered, filled with exasperation. “Your guess is as good as mine. And it doesn’t matter anymore why. It just is.”

The abruptness of her answer surprised Sybil. “Hey, it’s okay. Since we got here you don’t seem to be the cheerful person you usually are. Even when you’ve had a fibro flare up in the past, it hasn’t made you grumpy. In fact, I always found it amazing that you weren’t cranky when in that much pain.”

Letisha walked closer, and her shoulders slumped a bit. “I don’t mean to be an asshat. It sucks that after all these months of being in remission, it all comes back.”

---