“What is it?” Mom asks. Her soft hand gently stroking my hair. “You can tell us anything, Molly.”
“I, um, I’m um. He um…he ahh. He um.” Shit, just say it. Tell them. Find your courage, Molly.
We’re here for you.
I run my hand over my forehead, rubbing the tension that’s building. “He used to do things to me.”
“Like what?” Dad’s voice is rigid, hard with anger.
“What?” Mom’s breathless expression is filled with pain.
“He started soon after I arrived into the foster home. Touching at first, then it progressed to more.” No one says anything, and I’m too afraid to look at anyone. I’m so scared. I’m also embarrassed.
Why didn’t I speak up when he started doing that?
Why didn’t I tell my foster parents?
Why didn’t I kick him in the penis, and hurt him?
Why didn’t I do something?
This isn’t our fault, M. This is all him. He did this to us, he hurt us. He manipulated us. He’s a monster. You were only a baby.
“I’m sorry,” I say, bursting into tears. The miserable feeling of impotence strangles my soul. Crushing it. I have nothing left in me. I have no courage. I have no fight. I have no spirit.
Collapsing to the floor, I pray for sanctuary.
Please God, show me some kindness. Show my parents some humanity, and take me. I can’t keep hurting them. They’ve suffered enough. It’s not fair for them to have to endure any more pain.
“No, no. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Dylan says as he scoops me up in his embrace. “We’ll get through this. I promise, we’ll get through this.” With gentle hands, he smooths my hair down while placing loving kisses on my head.
My parents don’t say anything. I can’t bring myself to look at them, I don’t want to see the shame in their eyes.
I hear heavy footsteps leaving.
I’m so ashamed of myself.
I’ve driven one of my parents to leave. They must be so repulsed by me.
“Who is he, and where can I find him?” Dad says in a cold, steely voice.
Opening my eyes, I see Dad standing near the top of stairs, with his gun in his hand. He’s deadly serious. He’s going to hurt him.
“Dad, you can’t.” I jump to my feet, and run over to him. “You can’t.”
“The only reason Preston is still alive is because the police got to him first. I’m not making the same mistake with that lowlife pedophile. I’m going to kill him.” Dad’s jaw is so tight, he’s barely opening his mouth to speak.
“Thomas, we need to calm down, and think about what we’re going to do,” Mom says.
“I’m going to find him, and I’m going to kill him. There, I thought about it.”
“Mr. Dawson, we need to get the police involved.”
“What? No, no police,” I protest. “I’m not going to the police. And you’re not going to find him and kill him. It’s done, it’s in the past. We forget all about it, and move on.”
“Move on?” Dad seethes.
“Molly, until we all deal with this, there’s no moving on,” Mom says as she steps in front of Dad and moves toward me.
“Well I’m not going to the police. What am I going to say? Someone who lives in my head told me I was… you know, when I was three? Do you even know how crazy that sounds? You can’t think, that anyone will believe me. I have no proof.”
“If you don’t go to the police, then I’ll find him, and kill him. End of story,” Dad says as he walks back to his room.
“Mom?” I plead. “Please, make him see sense.”
She shakes her head. “This is your father seeing sense. We need to involve the authorities.”
“No!” I shout. “They’ll put me in a psych hospital and say I’m making everything up. I don’t want this. They’ll dope me up on medication trying to prove I’m crazy. I’m not crazy!”
“No one is putting you anywhere,” Dylan says.
The air is thick with such sadness and anger. Not toward me, but toward the unbearable and unspeakable situation.
“We all need to calm down,” Mom says. “Everyone, downstairs so we can talk about this and figure it out.” Mom leaves ahead of Dylan and me, Dad passes us as he follows Mom.
Dylan and I stay upstairs for a moment. He hugs me tighter than he has ever before. “We’re breaking up,” I say, trying to spare him from a lifetime of crazy.
“What?” He slightly pushes on my shoulders so he can look at me. “No, we’re not.”
“There is too much happening. I’ve got voices talking to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to function in any type of relationship, sexual or otherwise. I’m a damn mess. We’re breaking up.” It’s not an option for him to say no.
“Well, I’m glad you acknowledge you hear voices, and as far as sex goes, I’ve never pressured you before, so why do you think I’d change now? And no, we’re not breaking up.”
“Yes, we have to,” my tone is unwavering.
“No, we don’t.” He’s as determined as I am.
“We can’t work, Dylan. We can’t be together.”
“And you think you can decide for me? Right?”
“You’ll end up being miserable.”
“Ah, I see. So you’re being humane and sparing me? Making sure my feelings don’t get hurt?”
Finally, he gets it. “Exactly.”
“Bullshit. You just want to hide away, and hope to God no one ever sees you. You want to hide from the world. Well, too bad, Molly. Because we’re not breaking up, and I’m not going anywhere. Tell me you don’t care for me.”
“Of course, I do, which is why we have to break up.”
“That’s the reason why we won’t break up.”
Girl, he loves us, he ain’t going nowhere.
That voice sounded different. It’s not Neve’s, or AJ’s. “Who are you?”
I’m Kate.
“Kate?”
“Who’s Kate?” Dylan asks.
I hold a finger up to Dylan. “Are you new?”
She giggles. No, silly. I’ve been here since AJ.
“Can you do me a favor please?”
Sure, anything I can do to help.
“Can we talk later? I need to get through everything Neve told me about.”
I can come back.
“Before you go. It’s just the three of you, right?”
You really are silly. Nope, it’s the four of us. Including you.
“It’s a lot to handle, but okay. I’ll see you soon?” Even saying that aloud sounds stupid.
Bye.
I look at Dylan, and he’s staring at me like I’ve grown three heads. “I know, it’s a lot.”
“It’s amazing. And I’m looking forward to meeting all of you.”
Is he serious? “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
He shakes his head. “I think you’re incredibly smart. And I think if you have these voices inside you, there’s a reason why. I also think we all need to be on the same page, and figure out exactly what’s happening. And we need to go to the police about what happened to you. In order to have a future, we need to confront the past.”
He links our hands together, and leads me down the staircase toward the back of the house where the kitchen and dining room is. Sitting at the table, Mom and Dad are already drinking cups of coffee.
Dylan walks over to the fridge, pours me a glass of cold water, and gets ingredients out to make a sandwich.
I look at all the paperwork on the table, and my heart lurches as I see Tina’s name across it. It’s paperwork from the funeral home.
My parents are talking between themselves, and I’m staring at a photo of Tina from when we went on vacation. She’s wearing a large, oversized straw hat, and is holding up a mocktail, smiling at the camera in her bikini. The sun reflects off the crystal-clear blue pool behind her.
I pick the photo up, and run my thumb over Tina’s happy face. “Remember how she snuck
a bottle of whiskey, drunk it all and was throwing up for two days after that?” I say with a smile.
“She had vomit in her hair,” Mom says and rolls her eyes.
Dad chuckles.
“She was so drunk. She sat at the bottom of the shower, trying to sober up so you wouldn’t find out. She made me promise not to tell you,” I say.
“Because obviously, we wouldn’t have known.” Mom laughs.
“She tried to blame it on food poisoning,” I say.
“Yes. That stench of drinking hard alcohol for hours wasn’t conspicuous or anything,” Dad chuckles. “We knew what she was doing. And we let her do it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because she drank herself into oblivion. And we knew she’d feel so sick for days and we were hoping it would teach her a lesson.”
“It did. She hates whiskey now,” I say. The smile on my face quickly disappears as I correct myself. “She hated whiskey.”
The mood quickly swings to somber, my heart feeling the sharp pang of loss. I hate not having her here. Not talking to her. Tina would’ve told me how lucky I am that I have these other personalities living inside. She would’ve seen the light side of it, and made me feel something other than shame and embarrassment.
I have to push on, for my parents.
For Dylan.
But especially for Tina.
Her life was horrifically ripped away from us, and I have to preserve the good.
I take several deep breaths trying to calm my nerves.
“You need to eat,” Dylan says as he places a sandwich in front of me.
I nod. I do. I feel like I’ve barely had anything to eat or drink for a long time.
“You’re all right. I need to go to the police. But first, I have to talk to Amelia.”
“She’s coming first thing tomorrow. She’ll be here at seven, before she goes to work,” Mom says.
“Good. We all need to talk to her.” I tap my temple. “Neve especially.”
Mom, Dad, and Dylan all look to each other, unsure on how to respond. This is unchartered territory for all of us. Hell, if it wasn’t happening to me, I’d say I was crazy too.
I pick the sandwich up, and nibble.
I must move forward.
I feel better this morning. Calmer. Although tomorrow is Tina’s funeral, and I know that’s going to trigger strong emotions inside of me. I’m hoping Amelia can be there for me. I’m not sure how much strength I’ll have seeing my sister in her coffin. I think I’m going to crumble.
I’ve had a shower, and a light breakfast, and now we’re waiting for Amelia.
Dylan said he’d like to be here too, but he’s spent too much time here, and I’m afraid he’s on dangerous ground at work. I don’t want him losing his job because of me. Although he assures me, with his skillset, he’d be headhunted before they even had a chance to say, ‘you’ve been fired.’ But I don’t want the guilt of that hanging over me too. So he agreed to go to work today, and take a day for the funeral tomorrow.
“How are you?” Mom asks as she walks into the kitchen and sees Zhen and me sitting at the dining table, looking outside.
“Tired, but not as bad as yesterday. Where’s Dad?”
“He had some things to do at work. He’ll be back soon. He wanted to be here when Amelia arrives.”
“I’m nervous,” I say.
“Why?”
“Everything happening in here, it’s not normal.” I tap on my head, then lower my hand in search of Zhen.
“Normal is such a difficult word, Molly. I don’t want to say, ‘no, it’s not normal,’ because in reality, this is how your life is going to be. We all have to accept it. Especially you, because you’re the one who has to live with it.”
“I tried to break up with Dylan. It’s the kindest thing I can do for him.”
“Because you can’t see a future with him?”
“It’s not that.” I let out a long sigh. “How can he be with someone like me?”
“Like you? You’re not an alien, honey. You have alters. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, or embarrassed about.” She makes her coffee, and comes to sit opposite me. Zhen moves his butt closer to me.
“How do I explain this to people?”
“You don’t owe anything to anyone. If you want to tell them, tell them. If you don’t, then don’t. The only people who matter are the ones you care about. Who cares what others think? You’ve never really been one who’s hung up on others’ opinions.”
“But this is different. This is potentially life-changing.”
“It is life-changing. But only to you, and to Dylan. I don’t give a damn if you have ten alters, or none. You’re my daughter, and I’ll love you forever.”
“But…”
“Molly, it’s like this. What if I told you I’m bisexual? What would you say?”
“I’d say, I hope Dad knows.”
“And?”
I shrug. “That’s it.”
She picks her coffee up and takes a sip. “Would you be happy, or upset or disappointed with me?”
“No. It’s not my business. I’d still love you; you’re my Mom.”
She looks at me pointedly. “Exactly. This is no different. I love you, regardless of who I’m talking with.”
“But there are four of us.”
“Four times the love.” Mom smiles.
“You make it sound easy.”
Mom coughs, and waves her finger at me. “Hell no. This is anything but easy. But I still love you, and always will.”
Mom makes me smile. “What did I miss?” Dad asks as he comes into the kitchen. Zorro is right behind him, wagging his tail, and looking for Dad’s attention.
“Nothing, yet. Amelia hasn’t arrived,” I say.
“Good. Just give me a few moments to go get changed.” Dad turns to leave and Zorro follows.
“I’ve been doing some research on DID, and it really blows my mind,” Mom says. “It’s complex, with so many layers. For most people who have alters and DID, it usually develops from early childhood trauma.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not a psychologist, or psychotherapist, like Amelia is. It’s what I’ve read on the Internet. I’ve watched a few YouTube videos too. It’s fascinating.”
Dad returns, this time with Amelia. “Hello,” Amelia says as she enters. Zhen stands, makes his way over to her, and sniffs her. “Aren’t you a beautiful dog.” She squats down, in her expensive, well-cut pant suit, and pets Zhen. Zhen wags his tail, then gives her a quick lick on the cheek before returning to me.
“Zhen likes you,” I say.
“Zhen. I love the name.”
“Please, sit. Would you like a coffee?” Mom offers.
Amelia stands, and makes her way over to me. She sits opposite me, and takes her little recorder out of her bag. “I’d love a coffee. Black.” She holds up the recorder. “Do you mind?” she asks.
“It’s fine,” I reply.
She brushes Zhen’s hair off her pants, but really, she doesn’t appear to be fazed by the fact she has dog hair on her. Mom brings over a coffee, and places in front of her. “Thank you.” She gives Mom a genuine smile. “Molly?” She looks to me for confirmation. I nod. “How are you today?”
I want to talk to her please. AJ’s voice is the loudest.
I have things I need to say. Neve’s soft tone, and calmness makes me pay more attention than AJ’s.
“Molly?” Amelia brings my attention back to her.
“They’re loud. AJ and Neve both know you’re here, and want to talk to you.”
“Would you mind if I spoke with them?” Amelia asks.
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
Let me go first, AJ. You’ve already spoken with her. She needs to know why we’re here.
It goes quiet for a few seconds. Then AJ replies. Okay, you’re right. Do you want the bunny?
“Molly?” I indicate for Amelia to wait a moment.
I don’t ne
ed the bunny.
Okay. But I’d like to talk to her too.
“You can both talk to her. But just Neve for now. Okay?” I ask.
Yeah.
Yep.
I look at Amelia. “Neve wants to talk.”
“I’ll be here when she’s ready.” She picks her coffee up, and takes a small sip.
Molly, can you close your eyes please?
My eyelids become unusually heavy. They feel dry and scratchy. I rub at them several times. The more I do it, the more I fall into a blackness.
Opening my eyes, I examine the room. Cautiously, I shrink away from Molly’s parents, and Amelia. Amelia especially. I don’t trust her, but I know I need to talk to her.
“Hello, Neve,” she says with a gentle smile.
I cast my eyes down, not wanting to look at her. “Do you have colored pencils and some paper?” I ask.
“I don’t. But I can make sure I have some for you next time we speak. Would that be okay?”
I nod my head, and hug my arms around my body.
“I have some paper, and some plain pencils. Would you like them…Neve?” M’s Mom asks.
“Yes, please.”
I hear the scraping of the chair, then footsteps as she leaves. I try to sneak a little look at M’s Dad. He catches me peeking at him, and offers me a smile. “Hello,” he says in a gentle voice. He reaches out to touch me and I cower away from him. He quickly retracts his hand.
“Hello,” I say in a small voice.
“My name’s Thomas, and I’m really happy to meet you.”
I nod my head. I don’t want to talk to him. He seems nice, but I don’t trust him yet. I know he’s never hurt M, but I’m still careful.
“Neve, would you like to talk to me?” Amelia asks.
I cast a side glance at Thomas, a little bit afraid of him. It’s like he’s reading my thoughts. “Would you like me to leave?” he asks. I slowly nod. “Okay. I’ll go.” He stands and walks out of the room.
M’s Mom returns caring a stack of blank paper, and some pencils. A big smile comes to me. “Yay!” I say as I clap my hands together.
“I could only find some pencils. I’m sorry I don’t have more. But I’ll get you some for next time.” She sits next to Amelia.
“I like to read too.” I pick one of the pencils up, and start to draw on the paper.
Echoes of You Page 23
