“Of course, in the hospital. You’d think that would’ve been one of the first questions to ask.”
She smiles as she takes a cleaning solution out of the kit. “You’re a smart-ass,” she sasses.
“Only to people I like,” I counter.
“Good. You like me.”
“And to people who irritate me,” I quickly add.
She smiles again, even bigger this time. “Definitely a smart-ass.” She cleans the small wound, and we get a better view of it. It’s more like a scratch than anything else. “It’s not as bad as I thought.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” I look at my rough hands, and notice how small the wound is on my knuckle. “That’ll bruise by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, it will.” She finishes cleaning, then quickly dresses it. “How are you feeling?” Amelia sits back in her seat, and places her finger to her chin.
“You look like a therapist when you do that with your finger.”
“Do I? Funny thing is, I actually am.”
I roll my eyes. “I know,” I say. I cradle my hand, but try to keep it elevated so it doesn’t throb so much when the blood runs to it.
“How are you feeling? We were talking about you and how you help Molly.”
“I feel like I don’t do enough for her. I’ve always tried to protect her, but I’m failing.” I run my hand through my short hair.
“AJ, I think what you’ve done for Molly, is exceptional. You’ve kept her safe, and you’ve guarded her from things she couldn’t deal with. Honestly, I think you saved her when she needed you the most.”
I look up at Amelia. “You think I saved her?”
“I do. And, I think it’s important for me to get to know all of you, including Molly.”
A huge knot forms in my stomach. My throat becomes parched, and I try to swallow to moisten it, but I can’t. I’m worried. So damn worried.
“What’s wrong? You’ve gone white,” Amelia says as she sits forward, leaning her elbows on her knees.
“I’m terrified of what can happen to M. I feel it, in here.” I make a fist with my good hand, and lean it against my stomach. “I’ve protected her for so long, I don’t know if I’m ready for you to do this.”
“Doesn’t she deserve to heal? Don’t you deserve to heal?” It’s never been about me. Ever. I blink at Amelia, trying to focus on her words. “Your hardened eyes carry a mixture of shock, and sadness.”
“I’ve never really thought about myself. Everything I’ve ever done has all been for M.”
“I know. And I respect you for everything you’ve done. But I’m here because I want to help, and I think I can.”
I stare blankly for a few seconds. “I think you can too.”
She gives me a half-crooked smile. “Yeah.” She nods her head. “I think it’s time I meet everyone else. But not today. Today we’ve had enough, and you should be exhausted.”
One cue, a huge yawn overtakes me. She’s right. How did she know I’m tired? I didn’t even know until she mentioned it. “When will you come back?”
“I’m going to talk with Molly’s parents first, because it’s important we’re all on the same page. We want what’s best for all of you.”
“What if they think we’re crazy?”
“Would you like to talk to Molly’s parents? They know I’m here.”
“M’s parents are here?”
“Yep, and Dylan.” Her boyfriend is here too? I shake my head. “When you’re ready to meet them, you can. Baby steps first. We’ll start with Molly’s parents, when you’re ready.”
I nod my head. I can do that. I like her Mom and Dad; I always have. “I’m tired, do you mind if I go back to my room to get some sleep?”
“I’ll take you,” she offers.
“I can take myself.” I stand to leave, but hesitate. “You best go first. I’m not ready to face M’s parents yet.”
“I’ll see you soon. Right, AJ?” I nod my head. “Nice meeting you.” She gives me her hand, and I shake it.
Yeah, I like her. And I think she’s right, she’ll be able to help us.
I stretch in the bed and open my eyes. Looking around, I’m temporarily displaced. Where am I?
“Mom?” I call as I notice her asleep on the chair.
“Sweetheart,” she says as she leaps to her feet. “Molly?”
“What? Yeah. Wait.” I look down at my hand and notice the bandage. “What happened to my hand?” I try to flex it, but the ache is too bad and I wince in pain. I search Mom’s averted eyes, and I’m taken back by her silence. Suddenly, I remember. I remember everything. My heart beats like crazy as I try to make sense of the memories flooding me.
“I don’t understand,” I say as I desperately search for answers.
“Doctor Morgan is on her way to see you,” Mom says.
“Tina? Please tell me that was a nightmare.”
Mom’s eyes fill with tears, she lowers her chin and shakes her head. I see tears drip to the top of her shoe. “Preston’s been arrested,” she replies while choking on the words.
I lift my trembling hands to my face. The ache of my hand is unbearable, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the misery in my heart.
The door opens, and a short woman walks in. “Hi. How are you today?” she asks me.
Wiping the tears away, I nod once. “My hand hurts and I don’t know why. Who are you?”
“My name is Amelia Morgan. Maybe I can help with that. Do you mind if I sit and speak with you?” I shake my head. “Would you like your Mom to stay?”
“Don’t go, Mom,” I beg.
“I won’t,” Mom says offering me a slight smile.
Amelia drags a chair over to sit beside me on the bed. “I’ll properly introduce myself. My name is Amelia Morgan, and I’m a psychotherapist. I specialize in dissociative identity disorder. Or, as it’s more commonly known, DID.”
My head whirls. What and huh? “Dis… huh?”
Amelia smiles. “Dissociative identity disorder.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What is that? Is it bad? I don’t…” I shrug, trying to form a coherent sentence.
“No, it’s not that bad.”
“Am I like, crazy?”
“No, not at all.” She takes a recorder out of her bag, and holds it up to me. “I’m not a fan of taking notes. I find it distracts me. Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
“I’m okay with it,” I say in a weary, softer tone. “I think.”
“Paris, would you mind?” Amelia asks.
“Not at all.” Mom turns to me, and says, “It’s okay, Molly. She’s here to help all of us.”
I trust Mom with my life. “Okay then.”
Amelia starts recording our conversation. “Can I have a look at your hand?”
I hold it out to her. “I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember.”