Page 23 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 2
“Where am I?” My voice is raspy, my throat sore and thick, like the time I had strep in elementary school.
“You’re safe now.” A woman’s voice draws my attention to the foot of the bed and that’s when I take a moment to look around the room. A hospital room. The lady is older, maybe sixties, judging her wrinkles, but she dyes her hair dark to cover it up. My mom did that too. There’s a police officer beside her, decked out in uniform, and my stomach twists.
“Am I … am I under arrest?”
A quick glance toward the officer and the woman chuckles. “No, sweetheart. Officer Mike is here to talk to you. He’s investigating what happened to your mother.”
No sooner do the words leave her lips and I notice the absence of my mother. Memory strikes me.
The junkie. Her hand hanging over the bed. Blackness.
“Where is my mother? What happened?” I ask, as the sensation of dread crawls over me like ants marching across my skin.
Officer Mike clears his throat and steps forward. “Your mother … she uh … had an overdose. That’s when a person takes too many dr—”
“I know what an overdose is,” I snap back at him. “I’m eleven … not a friggin idiot.”
“Dylan,” the woman chimes in. “Is that what you want me to call you?”
“What else would you call me?”
“Dylan Sofia Marceaux. That is your full name. Correct?”
At my nod, she nabs a clipboard from beside her and flips the page. “Dylan, I’m Muriel Kestral. I’m the Director of the Eden Ranch Academy, where you’ll be staying for a while until we can find a more permanent living arrangement for you.”
“What happened to my mother? Where is the man who killed her?”
Clipboard to her chest, she tips her head. “I’m sorry?”
“The man. Who killed her. The junkie. Where is he?” I turn my attention toward the police officer. “Did you arrest him?”
He exchanges another glance with Muriel, who adjusts her glasses. “There was no junkie. No one else. I found you passed out in your mother’s apartment. Your mother has, in fact, passed away. But I’m afraid there’s no evidence of anyone else having been present at the time of her death.”
“Lies!” My hands ball into fists at my sides. “He was there! She screwed him for money and he fed her some bad drugs! He hit me over the head!” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I can keep up. “Where is my dog?”
“Your dog is being held in a kennel.” Muriel places a hand over my foot to settle me. “Once you’re discharged, we’ll figure all of that out. For now, get some rest. You’ve clearly had a rough couple of days.”
“I don’t want rest! I want you to find the man who killed my mother! He killed her! I’m not lying!”
Muriel’s eyes track toward the doctor, and she gives a subtle nod.
I snap my head toward him and a mask smashes into my face while a hand grips the back of my neck.
“Deep breaths. Calm down.”
I don’t take deep breaths as he tells me, but my muscles feel warm, my arms like jelly.
Suddenly, all I want to do is sleep.
7
Dylan
Present day …
At the click of the front door, I roll over in bed.
Ripley’s avoided me for three days now. Every morning he gets up, showers, dresses, eats some pathetically healthy meal that he also leaves for me in the kitchen, and sips coffee, watching me while he thinks I’m sleeping. He’s not the type to give a shit about embarrassment, so I doubt it’s the pain thing keeping him distant.
