Dirty Secrets

Part 13

At 2:05 the following day, Lyla found herself in the dreaded daily group therapy session with her afternoon crash in full bloom. Contagious yawning swept through the room like a virus. She rubbed her burning eyes.

Who made this stupid schedule, anyway? They should put group therapy first thing in the morning while we still have some energy. Nobody ever think of that? 

Lyla, Shaniece, Natalie, and AJ slumped in their usual chairs with the other girls. Maisie was entranced by the pattern on the floor created by the sunlight streaming through the mini-blinds. One girl in the back was asleep, her eyes concealed behind her long bangs. The click, click, click of Natalie's nail-picking had become a familiar component of the session's soundscape.

Matthew pulled the door closed and walked slowly to the center of the semi-circle, anxiously scratching his beard. He seemed deep in thought and especially somber. He paced to the window where he stood, looking out at nothing in particular.

"Girls," he said, shuffling to his chair. He sat with his legs wide apart, elbows on his knees. 

"Girls," he repeated in a quiet voice. "I want to get ahead of the rumors that may be circulating. I wanted to tell you before you..."

He stopped and cleared his throat.

He looked from Lyla to Shaniece and said, "Clover is gone."

A quiet mumbling arose behind Lyla.

"They found her in her parents' garage two days ago." He lowered his voice. "She hanged herself."

Lyla felt as though she was going to erupt. Like every organ in her abdomen was about to burst and let loose with a gusher of bodily fluids. Until she saw the widening dark spots on the thighs of her jeans where her teardrops fell, she didn't realize that she was crying. She turned toward Shaniece who pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, her eyes clenched tightly.

Matthew gently placed his hand on the girls' shoulders. "Lyla. Shaniece. Are you okay?"

Neither could reply.

His attention was diverted when AJ wailed, "Oh, God." 

He got down on one knee beside her chair.

And then it hit Lyla. 

Hard. 

Matthew said they found Clover two days ago. But she saw Clover in the art therapy room just yesterday. She saw her shocking drawings. A violent chill gripped her. Her mouth was so dry, her lips adhered to her teeth.

Lyla realized that she was the only one who had seen Clover in the art room. Was it a warning? Did some dark force guide Clover's restless spirit from the rafters of her parent's garage to the art therapy room to convey a message to Lyla? A taunting message from Keenan Ames?

Lyla was aware of the sensation of tipping forward but she was unconscious before her head struck the carpeted floor.