The Truthful Lie -- Chapter 4

At the hospital, Jetseta is told of her ailments.

THE TRUTHFUL LIE
By: Darkinyron


Chapter 4 -- Paranormal Experiences


The CAT scan didn’t take long at all, and before she knew it, she was back in her hospital room talking with Jeff and her mother once again. She felt safer now, and her blood pressure had lowered to a more normal number since her arrival. Indeed, to the nurse, she was looking better already. Now, they waited for a long grueling hour for the results of the scan and her blood test.

Trisha kept a watchful eye out the window, paying especially close attention to the sky. She stared up at the moon and thought of her brother, and for a long moment missed him.

Thank you, Darry, for bringing my daughter back. She knew in her heart that her deceased sibling had watched over her. Even in college, when they used to share classes, he would watch out for her if some jealous kid was picking on her, and later she would thank him with her notorious insults, as any other big sister would.

A quiet rapping came at the door, but she didn’t hear it open. Usually, with a quick tap the doctor would swiftly come through the door, but this time it didn’t happen. The knock sounded different, and hesitant. Trisha looked around, raising an eyebrow. Jetseta and Jeff were still chatting away like there was no tomorrow, and hopefully, there would be.

“Come in,” Trisha called, a questioning look crossing her features. At this moment, she didn’t want to be bothered with anymore visitors; she wanted to keep watching out that window.

The door then burst open, and in its frame stood a plump black woman, with greying hair. A gasp from Trisha; she remembered this woman. Twenty-three years ago she had met her in the police station at Poho, right before Darry was taken.

“You!” Trisha snarled. Jetseta and Jeff lifted their eyes from their conversation, seeming to just notice the newcomer that stood in the door. “Get out of here, you...you demonic bitch!”

“Trisha, I really need to talk with you,” Jezelle replied calmly, ignoring the warning with sympathy in her dark brown eyes. Her voice was soft, an African American accent mixed with a southern one.

“Last time you did that, my brother got killed!” Trisha hollered, something she rarely did, even when angry. “You let that bastard take my brother, and I’m not going to let you curse my daughter such a fate too.” At this, she moved in front of her daughter, as if animal instinct was taking over to protect her young.

“Trisha, darling, this is important,” Jezelle replied. “Now I’m not here to do any harm to you ‘n your family, Hun, you just gotta let me talk.”

Trisha remained silent, but held her arms out to her sides. She clearly did not want this woman moving any closer by the way her eye expression became more threatening.

“This time has come again,” she replied anyways. “You know it, Trisha, deep in your heart you know it to be true, and just like it was with Darry...It came for something.”

“What?” Trisha snapped.

“You’ll know in time, Hunny. All in short time.”

“What are you talking about? Why don’t you ever give us a fucking straight answer?!”

“Something I never answered Darry,” the woman said sadly, her eyes shifting to the floor. “You asked me if my dreams are ever wrong. Well, sometimes I just don’t know before they start happening.”

In the background, Jezelle could see the young girl clinging to Jeff’s arms, her head resting on his chest as she watched the two women speaking. She listened closely, taking it in; she knew who this woman was from Trisha’s tales—the one with the dreams of doom.

“He’s not taking her,” Trisha was saying. “I don’t care if I have to bring an entire army in here, he is not taking her again.”

Jezelle shook her head. “Nu uh Trisha, he already got her. Now it’s just a matter of time before he’s gonna get what he took her for.”

“What are you saying? ‘What he took her for’? She’s not dead; can you not see?”

“I see everything before it even happens, Trisha. You know it good.”

“Mother, what does she mean?” Jetseta called, her voice a mere whisper as her fear filtered through her voice box. “I still have all my organs.”

“I know you do, Jetseta,” Trisha said, not moving her eyes from their fixed position on Jezelle. “She’s just a crazy old woman, who needs to go to Hell.”

“You can curse me all you wish, Hunny, but ain’t nothing going to stop what’s happening to her, right here, right now.”

“What’s happening to me? Am I sick?” Jetseta asked with a shaky voice.

“You’re not sick, dear, just in a situation you ain’t getting yourself outta.”

A gulp was heard from the hospital bed, and Jetseta shivered, pulling her blankets up to her chin like a small child afraid of the dark, finding comfort in her blankie. Jeff glared at the black woman, but under that defensive veil, he too, was afraid.

“All I gotta say is you better get yourself a real close doctor that can treat her personally, for you ain’t gonna want to tell the ones here once you find out.”

“But...What is it?!” Trisha yelled, but just as Jezelle opened her mouth, the more familiar knock came at the door and again it burst open, the bald doctor stalking in, clipboard in hand. Following him, Jetseta’s father came in, hardly noticing Jezelle there.

“All right,” Dr. Martin said. “Visitors out, it’s time to reveal the findings of the CT scan and blood test to the patient. Out, out!” He shooed Jezelle and Jeff out with his free hand, waving it rapidly at the door.

A sigh came, but the two left quietly. The chubby physician closed the door after them and shifted his spectacles to a more comfortable spot on his brow.

“All right,” he began, clearing his throat as if preparing for a public speech. “Your CT scan came back with only tiny revelations—Jetseta, you have a minor concussion which will heal on its own with proper care. Did you take a fall in your time spent there?”

Jetseta nodded, briefly remembering the incident in which she fell into her own vomit.

“Well you’re going to be okay in that area,” the physician nodded. “The CT scan did reveal that you have an infection in your throat, and the blood test confirmed it to be strep throat. We’re going to give you an antibiotic for that; it probably explains how raspy you are and the swollen glands in your neck.”

“Anything else?” Trisha urged.

“Not from the CT scan, Ma’am, but we are just half way through.” The man adjusted his glasses again, and shifted the papers on the clipboard, putting a pen in the crook of his ear. “You have elevated levels of white blood cells, according to the blood test. This is due to both the strep throat and the numerous infections over your body. These will need to be properly cleaned until they heal, but you are going to have to be especially watchful and careful in you vaginal areas, dear, for you have suffered a lot of damage down there.”

Jetseta’s lip curled, but otherwise, she still made no response. She kept her eyes on the doctor, waiting silently for more news.

Now though, it was the doctor’s turn to have a puzzled face. His brows arched inwards as he read through the papers, flipping them back and forth as he skimmed their contents anxiously. “Jetseta, were you at all sexually active before your abduction?”

A bit wide eyed, but still silent, Jetseta shook her head quickly to indicate a no.

“Hmm, well, you also have elevated levels of hormones in your blood,” he replied. “There is no chance you could be pregnant?”

Now her eyes practically bloomed with fear, they bulged so large, her family thought they would pop out of her head.

“My daughter is not pregnant, Doctor,” Jetseta’s father spoke sternly. “She does not sleep around, nor do her and Jeffrey spend nights together.”

“Yet there is clear evidence that your daughter was mistreated sexually while in custody of her kidnapper,” the doctor reminded him. “The blood tests don’t lie; we think your daughter may be pregnant. Of course it may be too early to tell; her body may just be reacting in a way equivalent to such so she can heal. But I truly believe she is, for it is very rare for one to display these symptoms without being with child.”

Tears burst from Jetseta’s widened eyes and Trisha rushed to her side, taking her in her arms and holding her. Now she knew what Jezelle had been indirectly telling her. Jetseta really was pregnant, and now there was a little demonlike creature inside of her.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” Jetseta cried. Her vocalizations were so loud and desperate, as were her actions, that she looked more like a child herself, throwing a temper tantrum.

“Shhh, you’re going to be okay,” her father said calmly, stroking her tangled hair. “We’ll take care of you dear.”

The doctor sighed, stifling back what looked like a cough or perhaps words he had thought twice about. His mouth stood open, and finally he found something appropriate to say. “Other than that, you’re daughter is in remarkable health. We will give you antibiotics for her ailments, Ma’am, and please feel free to bring her in should anything else come up.”

With that, the doctor shook Trisha’s hand, and left the three to themselves, and went on with his everyday life.

None of them noticed the dark shadow the loomed in the top branch of the tree that was outside. The Creeper’s ear twitched, and a slight smile crossed his face before he took flight again. But what Trisha and her family would never know, was that the smile was not a sinister one at all.

* * * * *

The morning sun was already poking its light through the trees and over the golden corn fields when the family returned home. Jeffrey followed, and Jezelle was no where to be found, even in the parking lot of the hospital. Jetseta and Jeff shared a room that night, though nothing went on between them except a short exchange of words and then a deep sleep. Jetseta’s brothers both collapsed back into their beds after welcoming their devastated sister, who briefly filled them in on the night’s events.

Their father stayed up that morning, watching the house as his family slept. He didn’t have to work that day, and he was a notorious insomniac; sleep wouldn’t come to him this early even if his life depended on it—which even though he didn’t think of it, it did.

Trisha’s slumber wasn’t nearly as easy as the others’ though. She tossed and turned, sleeping and snoring deeply but without comfort. Dreams of that vile creature plagued her for what seemed like hours, when in reality, the clock watched her for only about one. Her dream then shifted to something far more pleasant, but not what she would have hoped for....

She was in a dark field that was littered with weeds. Thistles, milkweed, and tall grass flowed around her in the quiet breeze of the night, luminated by the moon that liked to play hide-and-seek among the clouds. She looked up at it, tracing it by its light, and smiled as the wind blew her hair behind her.

A soft voice came from behind her. She recognized it instantly, despite it being so long, and the word choice proved her assumption.

“Hello Trash, I mean, Trish.”

Trisha turned, at first into a blast of her own hair, but she parted it with a hand to see the face of her brother, Darry.

“Darry!” she called, joy coming up from her toes. “It’s been so long, I’m so glad you’re back!” Running to him, she tried to embrace his form, but she slipped through his translucent form. The smile fled; he was just a ghost.

“Come on, Bitch, you know it’s not going to be the same again,” the younger boy replied. His face had not aged in the afterlife; he still looked to be in his early twenties—the same way she had last seen him.

She sighed. “I know Darry, I just got my hopes up too far again, is all.”

“You keep those hopes up,” he said. “Never let them get you down. Even when you feel like all those names we used to call each other are true, don’t you ever let yourself get down, sis.”

“Darry...I’m so afraid.”

“I know you are, but don’t be. Everything is going to be okay, I promise.”

“What do you mean? My daughter is pregnant, and most likely she is going to die if we don’t either get her an abortion or send her to the FBI labs.”

“Don’t you dare!” Darry warned, his voice becoming harsh. “You can’t do that. She has something very precious inside of her, Trish. What’s inside of her is as precious as Jetseta was too you, and you remember that.”

“But what am I going to do? I can’t let her die.”

“She isn’t going to,” he smiled. “She going to be fine. I’m watching over her, just as I did when she was in the Creeper’s hands.”

“The Creeper? That’s its name?”

“Well, I don’t know, actually. If he has a real name, I don’t know it. It’s just what the other victims call him...I’ve met them all.”

A tear fell from Trisha’s eye, but she didn’t break. “I’m worried, Darry, I really am. It’s times like this that I really wish you were here to give me support.”

“I am, stupid. I’m here right now, and I’m never going to leave. I came to you in this dream to tell you that. Now you go take care of Jetseta the same way you used to baby me when we were kids. You remember that, Trish? When we you would baby me whenever I’d scrape a knee or get a bruise?”

A smile, and Trish vaguely recalled a few individual times in her past.

“Then you do that to her. She needs you, more than ever. She needs you and Jeff—he’s playing a big part in this.”

“Okay, Darry. I understand.”

“Better,” he said with a smirk. “It’s not like someone like you could ever figure it out without me.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled otherwise. “Thank you.”

“Eh, it was nothing,” he replied. “Just thought I’d stop by and invade your mind for a while as you sleep. Damn, you need to clean it out, by the way.”

She then woke up, her clock sounding its irritating alarm. It really all had been a dream, but at least she felt better. Her mouth remained upturned in the same smile she had had in her dream, and she wished again that Darry was still there to help her. At least she knew he was there, spiritually, which was better than nothing.

She dressed, and came out of her bedroom to find Jetseta hogging the shower, as usual, and Jeffrey working on a large plate of pancakes. The boys were still in their pajamas and preoccupied with video games, hooting and booing at each other as they fingered commands into their controllers. Outside, her husband was busy gassing up the lawn mower. With the way everything was going, and after her dream, Trisha felt her life to be normal again. And she hoped that with the Creeper gone, it would stay that way.

* * * * *

Months passed, and although Jetseta was having a difficult pregnancy, her parents had not taken the advice of Jezelle to hire a private pediatrician. Trisha treated her daughter the same way she had been treated while pregnant all those years ago, and her motherly instinct kicked into overdrive for nine long months. Her own husband was a vet, and on late nights would bring home the ultrasound machine to examine Jetseta’s insides. For some reason though, each time he would, he would pick up odd sounds only, and no images. The fluids inside her were thick enough to block out the sound waves, and it caused a great concern.

Today Jetseta had hit her somewhat-predicted due date, though no official one had been given by her father, or anyone. She felt mild contractions at times, but otherwise was calm and relaxed. Trisha had relayed the dream to her, and once she heard it, all those months ago, she had felt much more relieved to know that her dead uncle was protecting her. She hoped he would keep watching over her even after she gave birth.

More though, Jetseta hoped that her child would be human. She felt a lot of kicking, and a lot of sensations that turned extremely painful in her abdomen, but so far, nothing out of the ordinary except for the ultrasound readings. Both her parents told her that she seemed excessively large, even for a pregnant woman, but she ignored it. She didn’t go out in public though—who would want to see her ‘getting fat’? She was even embarrassed in front of Jeff, who had practically moved in with the family.

Jetseta played video games with the younger of her two brothers while the other was at work, and for Trisha, the sight of a pregnant female getting into the game was quite a funny one. Jetseta made expressions of victory, loss, and excitement, moving her hands as if she were actually driving the racecar on the screen; their movements matched that of the steering wheel. Smiling, Trisha sat down and pulled out a magazine, opening it to a page of new hair styles so she could find something for herself. Her husband was at work, and often called to check in on Jetseta’s condition.

“Aww damn, you suck!” the boy scowled, receiving a laugh out of Jetseta. “My god, and I almost beat you! Only thirty-five more points! Thirty-five!!!”

“Kiss my ass,” Jetseta replied, preparing for the next level and waiting for her brother to press the START button.

“Game nerd,” the boy muttered.

“Joystick sucker.”

“Sick! Pussy eater.”

“Ball sniffer.”

“Ass fucker.”

Right as Jetseta was about to reply with a quick comeback, a sharp pain shot through her belly and down her legs. She cried out in pain, tensing the muscles in her face and gripping tight to the controller.

“Hah! Contraction made you screw up, you lose!”

But the contraction didn’t stop, and when she tried to stand, her brother noticed a large puddle beneath where his sister had sat. She sank back to the floor, whimpering and clawing at the carpet.

“Mom! Come here, Jetseta needs help!”

Tossing down her magazine in a heap of pages, Trisha rushed over and kneeled before her daughter. She noticed the broken water, which was an unusual thick, green goo, and a bit of blood that was now leaking out as well. Panic began to take over; she had not even thought of this moment. What would she do? Would she call an ambulance, or what?

“Help me get her onto her bed,” Trisha said instinctively to her son. The boy nodded, and the two each lifted Jetseta onto a shoulder and helped her into her room. She laid on her bed and clutched onto a teddy bear that she had kept since childhood, crying and shuddering in pain as she did so. The boy ran out the door to find his father; Trisha fetched some warm water and towels. She returned quickly, ready to help her daughter as any mother would. She removed her pants and proceeded with a quick visual exam; so far the girl seemed to be alright until a decision could be made.

The vet and his son rushed into the room moments later; the man brushed grass off his clothes and repeated the exam, seeming to panic as Trisha did.

“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” the boy asked.

“She’ll be fine,” he replied. “Go call her boyfriend and get him over here. She needs someone to comfort her.”

The boy left, and for a moment the parents felt relief. They were alone with their daughter, and they both were terrified.

“I’m going to go up to the office and get my supplies.”

“Okay, quick, don’t dawdle.” Trisha snapped. “This might go faster than we hoped.”

“I’ve never done a C-section on a human before, Trisha.”

“Who said we had to? Just go get her some medicine to stop the pain!”

The father turned and followed his son out the bedroom door. Seconds later she heard his truck starting up and rushing out of the driveway with the heat of a panicked parent. Trisha stood alone, at her daughter’s side. The girl whimpered and continued to clutch the teddy bear that had always soothed her pain and brought hope to her.

Please, Darry, I hope you’re around here. I need you to soothe us and give us hope too right now. Please let my Jetseta be okay!

A calmness overwhelmed Trisha, but her daughters pain remained. Her mind cleared, and for a brief time she remembered the dream, how Darry had told her to clean it out. Perhaps she would get to that, but right now, there was going to be no time. She had to think correctly now, and in a situation like this, there was no room for mistakes of any sort.

Trisha took a breath, as well as her daughter’s hand. She was ready for anything, and she had Darry on her side to guide her.