Echoes of You

by Margaret McHeyzer

  Zhen finds his way over to me, and pushes his nose into my leg. I lower my hand, and stroke his head. “It’s hard for me to come to terms with that.”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s it? Just ‘yep’? I was expecting something a little more profound.”

  “Molly, I think we’ve had a hard session today. But I’m going to assign you some homework.”

  “Homework?”

  “Yes. Homework. Once you’ve had your shower, I want you to stand in front of the mirror, naked, and repeat these words. ‘It was not my fault.’”

  “Why naked?”

  “Because you have to see that you own your body. And no one has the right to touch it, not without your approval. No matter what you’re wearing, or not wearing, no person has the right to put their hands on you. It was not your fault.”

  My mind replays her words over and over. I feel dirty knowing he did things to me when I was so young. I shouldn’t feel like that. It wasn’t my fault. “It wasn’t my fault,” I say aloud, almost shocked that I thought and said the words.

  “Now, I’m not going to be here on Friday because I’ll be out of state for a family event. But I’ll see you Monday.” Amelia stands, picks her bag up and her little recorder. “You have homework. If you need me, you can call me at any time.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I offer her a small smile.

  I walk Amelia out and close the front door behind her. Zhen’s tail lightly smacks up against my leg.

  Mom and Dad will be home soon, and I think it’s best if I start on my homework before they get home, while I still have my courage.

  Zhen follows me upstairs, and I strip off in my room before heading into my bathroom. I usually avoid the mirror knowing it will cause me a lot of anguish when I have to face it.

  I turn on the shower faucet and get the water to the temperature I want. Stepping in, I let the water fall over my body. I close my eyes, lightly rocking from side to side, dreading what I have to do next. I can feel the tension in my stomach tightening with every breath I take. I don’t want to do this. What good can come of it? I don’t need to do this, I really don’t. What was Amelia thinking? How can looking at myself and repeating those stupid words actually help? How ridiculous.

  Yet, there’s a part of me that knows Amelia is right. But there’s another part of me that’s arguing, and doesn’t want to do this.

  I can feel Neve close by. She’s starting to force her way forward. But I don’t want to talk to her, not yet. I’m sure Neve can feel my trepidation, my edginess for what I have to do and she’s ready to take over.

  God, I hate this.

  I take the soap and lather myself up, absentmindedly washing my body time and time again. I stare at the water running down the glass, and try my hardest to keep Neve back. I need to do this, but I don’t want to.

  I soap my body up again. I know I’m delaying this, but I can’t bring myself to do what Amelia’s asked. I keep dragging this shower out, resisting the inevitable.

  “The first time’s the hardest,” I say to myself, as the water begins to cool.

  Closing my eyes, I reach for the faucet and turn the water off. Opening the door, I stretch for my towel, and pray something significant will happen so I don’t have to complete my homework.

  “You can do this,” I say to myself.

  Yes, I can.

  I dry myself off, then head to the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Standing before it, I look at the sad girl reflected in the glass. Her wet, dark brown hair is plastered flat to her head. Her nearly-black eyes appear soulless. Her body is thin, almost sickly skinny. It’s no wonder though, with everything she’s gone through. The girl in front of me has so much hidden behind her eyes. Her forehead is crinkled, and her lips are drawn tightly together. Water leaks from her eyes as she stares back at me.

  “I have words for you,” I say.

  My stomach stirs with uncertainty.

  The girl gives me a small, doubtful nod. “It’s okay,” she replies.

  I hesitate at the words I’m to speak.

  “It’s okay,” she encourages again. “Say them.”

  I want to say anything other than the words I desperately need to say. I open my mouth, wanting to speak, but my throat seizes and my voice refuses to work. The girl does something I wasn’t expecting. She smiles. Her face changes from harshness to softness. She’s waiting for me to say the words. She’s giving me unconditional permission.

  I drop my towel, and look at the girl in the mirror. I stare at her. She stares at me.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” I finally say. The words thunder out of me like lightning bolts.

  “No, it wasn’t,” she replies.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” I say once again.

  “No, it wasn’t,” she says in a softer voice.

  I straighten my shoulders, and lift my chin. The girl in the mirror mimics my stance. “It was not my fault,” I repeat. I maintain eye contact with the girl. She seems to have gained in power. “It was not my fault.” She pushes her chest out, and gives me a bigger smile. Her face is strong, powerful. “It was not my fault.”

  My arms cover in small goosebumps.

  My body stands taller.

  It was not my fault.

  It was his. I was only a child.

  I head into the kitchen to help Dad with dinner. A gentle aroma of cooked onions flows through the house.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Dad smiles. “You okay?”

  “I think I’m okay.” I pick the knife up, and start chopping the carrots he has sitting on the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Pot roast and dark gravy. How’s it going with Amelia?”

  “Good. Yesterday she gave me some homework to do.”

  “Yeah, like what?” He stirs the pot on the stove top.

  “She had me stand in front of the mirror naked, and tell myself it wasn’t my fault.”

  Dad looks at me sideways. “How did that go?”

  “It was hard. Really hard, actually.”

  “Yeah? You okay? Why didn’t you tell us you were going to do that? Did anyone make themselves heard when you did that?”

  I chuckle at Dad. “No, it was just me. The others stayed away.”

  “Huh,” Dad huffs. “So, you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing okay, Dad. How are you and Mom? I know so much has happened, and I really haven’t asked how you both are.”

  “We’re concerned for you.”

  “Why?”

  He walks over to me, takes me by my shoulders and gently turns me around. “Molly, you have three other personalities inside of you because of trauma you suffered when you were very young. This isn’t easy for anyone to digest. Your mother and I are grown adults, and we can barely comprehend what’s happening with you. We want to support you as much as we can, but we don’t know if we’re screwing up, or doing a half-way decent job.”

  I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t bury your head in the sand, Dad. You and Mom have found and are paying for an amazing therapist for me. You support me…” I chuckle. “You support all of me, every personality, every person who comes out. I can’t ask for anything more.”

  Dad’s eyes fill with tears. “We need to make sure we’re here for you. No matter what happens.” He wipes his face, before turning away from me so I can’t see. “It’s the onions,” he quickly adds.

  “You’re here for me. In case I haven’t shown it, thank you. I can’t imagine how people with DID could go through life without love and support.”

  “Thankfully, you’ll never have to know.”

  “I’m home!” we hear Mom say as the front door closes.

  She walks into the kitchen, and I notice how frail Mom’s looking. The pant suit she’s wearing is way too baggy on her, and she has dark circles under her eyes. I walk over to her, and without saying a single word, I hug her tight I feel her body completely relax into mine after only a few seconds. Her chest shakes, and I k
now she’s crying. I hug her tighter. “I love you,” I say as I slowly pull away from her.

  She wipes the tears from her cheeks, and offers me the sweetest smile. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

  We’re interrupted by a knock on the front door.

  I walk out, open the door to see Dylan with his cousin Gemma. “Hey,” I say as I open the door further to let them in. I instantly notice Gemma’s face. Her right eye is heavily bruised, and her lip is split.

  Dylan steps aside to let Gemma in, then he follows and gives me a kiss on the lips.

  “Sorry to come over unannounced,” Dylan says.

  “You don’t have to tell me you’re coming. Gemma, nice to see you again.” I lean in to give her a hug. “Are you okay? What happened?” I’m worried for her.

  “Hey, Molly. It’s good to see you too. This is nothing. Some guy underestimated me.” She shrugs. “Downside of the job. But that guy’s now in the hospital.” She grins.

  “She’s a black belt. Used to beat the crap out of me when we were kids.”

  “Also protected him when the other kids picked on him,” Gemma adds.

  “Kids used to pick on you?” I ask Dylan.

  “Hi, Dylan. You staying for dinner?” Dad asks as he comes into the foyer, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “Hi.” Dad extends his hand to Gemma.

  “Dad, this is Gemma, Dylan’s cousin. Gemma, this is my Dad, Thomas. And this is my Mom, Paris.” I introduce them all.

  “Hi.” Mom gives Gemma a quick hug.

  “I’d like to say I’m here for a social reason, but I’m not,” Gemma says slightly elevating her tablet.

  I look at Dylan who gives me a sympathetic smile.

  Shit, what have they found?

  “Does anyone want a coffee, or a drink?” Dad offers as he leads us into the kitchen, so we can sit at the dining table.

  “Just some water please,” Gemma replies.

  “I’ll have a coffee, but I can make it,” Dylan says as he heads into the kitchen and goes about making a coffee. He brings Gemma and me each a glass of water, before bringing his coffee over.

  The nervous tension in the room is making my heart beat quicker than normal. My breath is short, and I can barely pick my glass up without it spilling over the rim because I’m shaking.

  I break the strained, dark mood in the room. “You’ve found him, haven’t you?”

  Good, we’ll make that bastard pay for what he did to us. AJ is angry, and he’s ready to come out fighting.

  “I have,” Gemma confirms.

  Let me at the bastard. I’ll fucking kill him. AJ’s wrath is growing with every breath I take.

  “AJ, please. This is hard enough.”

  I need him dead.

  “Just, stop. Please.” I hold up my hand in a ceasing motion.

  “Are you okay?” Dylan asks as he places his hand on my thigh for support.

  Lifting my hand, I rub the back of my neck, but nod. “It’s just AJ. Please, go on.”

  Gemma wets her lips, before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” she pauses, then flicks her tablet to life. “I’ve found him,” she confirms.

  I take in a long, deep breath. I stand and I head to the back door, and look out to the darkening sky at the horizon. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to know.” I let out a long sigh. “And there’s a part of me that wants to know, so I can drive over there, and kill him.”

  “The choice is yours, Molly. I don’t have to tell you. I can take this information straight to Eveline without involving you,” Gemma offers.

  “Do we need to know, AJ?”

  Of course, we do. We need closure, M. You need to see him brought to justice.

  “What about Neve? How do you think she’s going to react?”

  I want him to suffer, like he made me suffer. Neve’s voice is small, but powerful.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  We’re here for you. Kate says.

  Yes, we’re all in this together. AJ adds.

  “What if no one believes us?” I ask.

  It’s not up to us to make people believe. It’s up to us to protect you. And it’s up to you to protect anyone else he may be doing this to. AJ’s words send a chill up my spine. He’s so damn strong, I don’t know how he does it.

  “They might call me crazy.”

  Do you really care what others think of you? Kate asks.

  We don’t care what others think of us. We know what we are, and what we mean to each other. We’re a family. And just like any family, sometimes we’re dysfunctional, and sometimes we’re not. But most importantly, we will always have each other’s back. Neve may be the youngest, but she’s so damned smart.

  “Are we sure?” I ask them.

  We’re sure. They respond in unison.

  Turning, I face my parents, Gemma, and Dylan. All four are staring at me. “We all need to know, because we all need to heal.”

  “Okay.” Gemma nods. She taps on the screen again, enters a password and takes a deep breath before turning the tablet around so we all can see.

  The person in the photo is crossing the road. He’s wearing a blue overall uniform. He looks much older than I thought he would be. I do the math in my head. If I was three, and he was sixteen then that makes him thirty-one. “He looks so old,” I say. I’m not even sure if it’s him.

  It’s him. Neve whispers in a tiny, petrified voice. It’s him.

  I don’t want to go against Neve or doubt her, but this man looks like he’s in his early forties. “Are you sure?” I ask Gemma.

  Gemma nods. “I double checked. Triple checked, actually, to make sure it’s him.”

  “But this guy looks so old.”

  “His name is Mack Hewitt, and he’s thirty-one.”

  “Mack Hewitt?” Oh my God. I cover my mouth with my hand. Turning away from everyone, a brutal memory surfaces. “No,” my voice trembles, rejecting the flashback. “It can’t be.” My chest aches, it feels like someone’s sitting on it, constricting my breathing. “I can’t.” I step back, trying to put more distance between me and everyone else.

  “Molly.” Dylan steps forward, and reaches for me.

  “No,” I whisper, as I grasp at my hair. “He used to say, ‘I’m as powerful as a Mack truck.’ He’d say it when he’d…” my voice trails off. I don’t need to say anymore.

  My entire body feels like it’s shutting down. My mind can’t think straight. It’s him.

  Now let’s go get the bastard and castrate him. AJ jumps up and down. He’s ready for a fight.

  This is about all of us, AJ, not just you. Kate steps in to calm him. We need to consider what we all want to do.

  Chop his dick off. Dirty fucker.

  No, AJ, we all have to agree. Kate reminds him.

  “Neve, what do you want to do?” I ask.

  Neve’s timid, sitting back and listening. She’s terrified, I can tell just by how she’s curled into herself and barely talking.

  “Neve?”

  We need to go to the police.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  It’s the only way. If we hurt him, we’ll feel guilty for hurting him. We’re not him. We’re better than him.

  “We are.” I gather every ounce of strength I have, and go to sit at the table. “We’re going to go to the police,” I say.

  “There’s more to this,” Gemma adds.

  “This can’t be good,” Mom murmurs.

  “He works as a janitor. In an elementary school. And he lives about forty minutes from here.”

  “He’s nearby? And he works in a kids’ school?” I shake my head, unable to fully comprehend the barrage of information. “Please tell me he doesn’t have kids of his own?” I beg.

  “He doesn’t. But here’s something I found out. He’s not married, but he wears a wedding ring, so parents won’t suspect him. He does it to throw everyone off his scent. I’ve been interacting with him on a social media site young kids use. H
e thinks I’m a ten-year-old girl.”

  “Can’t you get in trouble for doing that?” Dad asks.

  Gemma smiles proudly. “I’m working with a phenomenal district attorney. She’s got my back.”

  “It’s decided. We go to the police. He needs to be stopped.”

  “We’ll be right there with you, Molly,” Mom says as she reaches across the table and places her hand over mine, giving me a gentle squeeze.

  Tonight’s been overwhelming. My body aches from all the traumatizing recollections I’ve faced. “I’m going to go to bed,” I say abruptly. I can’t sit here and talk about him, or what Gemma’s doing to gather information. I just can’t. I hardly make eye contact with anyone, before I take off up the stairs and disappear into my room. Zhen follows and when I get in bed, he lays beside me.

  My mind is racing. They’re all talking, but I’m trying to zone out and ignore them. AJ’s anger is making my heart race. He’s furious. He wants to hurt him.

  “Molly,” I hear Dylan’s voice from the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it okay if I come in?”

  I try and muffle the voices. The angry, the sad, the calm. “Yeah.”

  Dylan walks into the room, toes off his shoes, and climbs into bed beside me. He swaddles me in his arms, holding me against his chest. My head is to his chest, and I can hear the rhythmic, steady pace of his heart beating.

  I try to be strong, for all of us.

  But being wrapped in Dylan’s arms makes me feel safe.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” I clear my throat, and swallow back the lump.

  “I don’t think there are any other options.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” my voice is small.

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Molly. All I can say is, if you do nothing, one day you’re going to hate yourself for enabling him to hurt others. But if you do something, then you’ll forever be proud of acting on your strength.”

  I bring my thumb up to my mouth, and flick my nail against my teeth several times. I try and play every possible scenario in my head. He’s right—if I do nothing, I’ll hate myself. But if I go to the police, I might not be believed.