“I was here yesterday, and I spoke with AJ.”
“AJ?” I turn my head, and furrow my brows together. AJ. I know that name. Closing my eyes, I try to place where I know AJ from. “Wait. You spoke with AJ?” The fogginess is lifting, and I’m regaining clarity.
“I did,” Amelia confirms.
Opening my eyes, I’m unsure of what to think. “I thought he was a figment of my imagination. He’s not real. He’s like an imaginary friend. I think.”
“He is real. And he lives inside of you.” She pointedly looks down at my hand. “Do you remember how this happened?”
I try to flex my hand again. The ache is still there, like a new wound. “I don’t.”
“AJ was frustrated with himself, and punched a wall.”
I blink rapidly for what feels like hours. I’m trying to come to terms with what she’s saying. My hands tremble, and my breathing elevates. “I don’t understand. How can this other person live inside me? What’s wrong with me?” Hysteria seems to be taking over all of me. I hit the side of my head with my fist. “Get it out, get it out of me.”
“Molly, calm down. There’s nothing wrong.”
“Sweetheart.” Mom flies to her feet, and comes over to me, embracing me. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.”
“Molly,” Amelia’s voice is strong, and authoritative. I peep out from under-Mom’s arm. “You need to focus on me, okay?”
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my inner tsunami of mixed emotions. The overwhelming fear of being crazy is the strongest one.
“I’m focusing,” I say as I close my eyes and calm my breathing.
“Okay. That’s good. Breathing techniques can really help.”
“I do yoga, so I can do that.”
“Perfect.” Mom steps away, and I can hear the squeak of the plastic chair as she returns to her seat. “Open your eyes for me, Molly.” Amelia is standing in front of me. “What do you know about AJ?”
I turn my chin to look away, unsure of how to answer the question. “I don’t know anything.”
“Do you remember the first time you met him?”
I strain my memory bank, but everything is fuzzy. “I don’t know,” I say again.
“Molly, there’s no right or wrong answers. And I’m here to help the best way I can.”
Instead of me struggling with memories I can’t focus on, I change direction. “You said you’re a psychologist?”
“No, not a psychologist. I’m a psychotherapist and I specialize in dissociative identity disorder.”
“What exactly is that?”
“Have you ever heard of multiple personality disorder?” I nod. “Dissociative identity disorder used to be known as multiple personality disorder.”
“So I’m like, schizophrenic? I have a split personality or something?” What the actual fuck!
“No, you’re not schizophrenic at all. Schizophrenia is something altogether different. What I think, and I have to have more sessions with you to be sure, is that you have DID. The difference is, DID is brought on by trauma in the younger, formative years.”
“Trauma?” Mom asks the question I’m thinking.
“What kind of trauma?” I ask.
“When the mind is faced with an overwhelming, life-threatening situation, it can create what we call alters, or other personalities, to deal with that particular trauma. It’s a survival mechanism we have when we have to deal with certain events before we’re emotionally mature enough to do so.”
“But what could’ve brought this on?” Mom asks.
“In Molly’s case, I don’t know yet. AJ was as open as he could be, but he did indicate I had to ask one of the other alters.”
“Wait? I have more than one? This isn’t normal,” I screech. “It’s not normal!”
“Tina’s death.” Mom brings her shaky hand to her mouth. “Molly said her name wasn’t Molly, it was Neve. Could it have started then?”
“I did?” It’s all so vague. I’m struggling with all of this.
“I can’t know for sure, but I highly doubt it. I need to speak to the other alters first before I can confirm anything.”
Amelia can’t tell me why I’ve developed these voices in my head. “Will they go away?” Maybe they’ll leave me, and never come back. If I try hard enough. Ignore them if they try to talk to me, then maybe they’ll leave.
“In my experience, alters are here to stay. Locking an alter out can do more damage than learning to embrace them, and live with them.”
“You’re talking about voices in my head. How the fuck am I supposed to live with this?”
“Molly, please,” Mom begs. “I know this is a lot, but you have to hear her out. We all do.”
“I’m being told I’m fucking psychotic. How the hell do I know if one of these assholes in my head won’t turn nuts and go on a killing spree? Get them out! Get them out now! I don’t care what you have to do. Shock therapy. Drugs. Take part of my brain out. Just…Get. Them. Out!” A frenzied madness takes over. I’m screaming and yelling, while crying and trying to hit my head my non-injured hand. “Why? Why me? Why can’t you leave?”
In my panicked state, I feel a prick on my arm, unsure on who or what just happened. All I’m aware of is that my is mind becoming quiet, and my eyes droop shut. Order and peace quickly replace the out-of-control delirium.
“What’s happ…”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Mom whispers. Her cheeks are wet from tears; her eyes red from crying.
I’ll take care of you.
“Who are you?” I slur as I lose the fight I had in me.
I’m AJ, and I’ll always care for you.
Closing my eyes, I’m forced into a place where my mind is tranquil.
All I’ve done is cry. Amelia cleared me to go home, and I’ve been here since yesterday. Thankfully Mom’s called Sky at work to tell her what happened with Tina, and Sky has given me as much time off work as I need. Dylan has been here with me. Well, by with me, I mean he’s down stairs while I’m in my room. I don’t want to see him.
I can’t deal with anything.
I can barely think about the funeral in two days. I’m a damn mess.
Amelia is coming for home visits too.
I’m in zombie-robot mode. All I want to do is lock everyone out, and not talk to anyone.
My best friend is gone. Tina was always what I could only hope to be. She was happy, and energetic, and fucking sane.
Unlike me.
M, it’s time we talk.
“How can I talk to you when I can’t even see you? I made you up, and now I want you to go.”
I’m sorry. That’s not how this works. I think it’s time you talk to Neve.
“No, I don’t want to talk to any of you.”
You need to know why we’re here.
“You think I don’t know?”
Do you? Do you really know? Because there’s a part of your life you buried.
“Buried? Is that what Amelia was talking about? Trauma and stuff?”