UNTITLED (Riley's Story)

Remember

Thursday morning came and Riley and Shanna shared a quick breakfast of muffins and strawberries before they each rushed out of their apartment and off to their separate destinations - Shanna to work at the local TV station and Riley to meet with Professor Martin. The contrast between them that morning couldn't have been more pronounced, with Shanna looking fresh, polished, fit and blonde and Riley looking hurried, frazzled, tired, and dark.
Riley hadn't worked since her parents' death, but it wasn't because she didn't want to, just like it wasn't that she didn't want to take care of herself and look as nice as Shanna always did. Her empathic experiences and PTSD had made it all but impossible for her to function like a "normal" member of society, and she simply couldn't do a lot of the things she used to. Still, as much as she loathed the label, she did yearn for a return to normalcy. Hopefully the professor could give her some information that could start her down that path.
The drive to the university was quicker this time, and the meeting seemed to fly by. The professor asked her a ton of questions about her parents and how they died and what she saw that night. He asked about the police investigation and their progress, he even asked for the names of the detectives on the case.
He must have connections on the force, Riley found herself thinking. Or at least I hope he does.
Then Professor Martin wanted to know about her dreams and visions. She told him everything, including the most recent vision and finding the coin. She even told him about the twisted face in the mirror. Her face.
Unfortunately he didn't have a whole lot of answers for her. When he was done gathering information, he set her up with so many appointments it made her head spin. Monday he wanted her to see a psychiatrist colleague of his, though he assured her it wasn't to put her on medication, unless she needed it for the PTSD.
"Dr. Rowen has experience with clients with psychic abilities," the professor assured her. "She won't tell you you have a behavioral disorder when really you're a highly sensitive person or an empath. She knows what to look for, so you'll be in good hands with her".
Tuesday he wanted her to see a hypnotherapist, which actually made her roll her eyes when he wasn't looking. If only I could suppress my memories, she thought indignantly, but said nothing. Wednesday would be another meeting with him, and Thursday he wanted to meet with her and the detectives. He would set it up, he explained; he in fact did know someone on the force and he thought the detectives handling her parents' case would be more apt to listen to her with him by her side.
After the professor had finished setting her schedule Riley felt simultaneously disappointed and confused.
"What's wrong Riley?" he questioned, as perceptive as ever.
I can't hide much from him, Riley realized.
"Nothing really, it's just...all of this help is great, I mean, really generous and I appreciate it very much, don't get me wrong, but...I guess I just feel like I'm wasting time with it right now. There's something in the house that could help the investigation, that's what my dreams are telling me. And I don't think I need a psychiatrist or hypnotherapist to tell me that. I would really just like to go find it. And also, not to be rude or anything Jim," Riley said with a nervous laugh, "but you offering all of this help to a relative stranger, fellow empath or no, seems to beg the question of why? Why do you want to help me so much?" She instantly felt guilty for asking, but her intuition was speaking to her and she had learned by now not to ignore it.
"Well you're not wrong to think that, besides my being a compassionate person, there is an ulterior motive for my helping you. I want to study you Riley. I want to use your experiences for my research, and I'd like to write about you for the local journal of parapsychology. If you're alright with that, I'm more than happy to offer you all of the resources at my disposal, help you in your search for your parent's murderer and for closure, and help you become a trained empath. Of course, I would help you anyway, but if you allow me to base my research on you, the funding it could bring will allow me to be a much bigger help. It would require that you submit yourself to testing as well, but nothing too invasive, and certainly nothing I think you can't handle,". Professor Martin watched as Riley processed all of this, his hands clasped on his desk. Riley wasn't one hundred percent sure that she wanted to be studied, but on the other hand she needed the professor.
"Alright," she she agreed hesitantly. "But I hope that all the testing and research will take a backseat to finding out what happened to my parents, because truthfully Professor, that's all I care about".
"I wouldn't interfere with that Riley," he promised. "I've got to get to a meeting my dear, but I'll have my assistant send you an email with all of the details on your appointments, and I'll see you next week. We'll draw up a contract for the study, and don't worry I'll make sure you're taken care of. Call me directly if you need me. And don't forget group tomorrow!" The Professor was standing and donning his blazer as he spoke. Riley stood as well and the professor escorted her out of his office and to the parking lot on the way to his meeting.
Riley got into her car and sat for a moment, pensive.
The Professor means well, but he also has his own agenda, Riley mused while buckling her seatbelt and snatching a Marlboro 27 Blend from a hidden spot in the glove compartment.
He has a calming effect on me and maybe I agreed to the study too readily, but I need his resources and influence. Still...
Riley lit her cigarette, silently cursing herself for developing so many bad habits. She felt like she needed it though, her anxiety had spiked since parting ways with the professor. There was a looming sense of urgency constantly following her, but if she left it to the professor she would be seeing therapists and attending support groups for the next year.
I can't wait for him to work out all my issues or make me a better empath, she concluded.
She exhaled smoke and picked up her cell.
"Jax, are you busy?' she asked immediately when he picked up.
'I'm just in the workshop," he answered. "Wanna come by?".
"I'll be there within the hour," she told him.
"Do you remember how to get here?"
"Yeah, I remember," Riley said as she put her car in reverse. Some things she was glad she remembered.