the physical pain had eased. Reluctantly she realised she was going to have to do something with the wound and clean the bathroom and so she opened her eyes again.
** ** **
She was no longer standing in her bathroom, and instead found herself sitting in Dr David’s office. David was mid sentence when he looked at her and stopped talking. He looked concerned, his brow furrowed as he studied her. Jo wanted to say something and felt the overwhelming urge to apologise, although she didn’t really know what she wanted to apologise for. She didn’t even understand how she ended up there, although this was something that happened often enough. You would think she would get used to it, yet she just couldn’t.
Don’t worry, it’ll wash off. That male’s voice again in her head.
“Jo?” She glanced at the doctor, who was now looking at her with what she could only describe as a kind expression on his face.
Jo, unable to speak, merely nodded. She couldn’t hold his gaze, so she looked at the floor, letting her hair fall over her face.
“Are you all right?” The doctor sounded genuinely concerned, and when Jo dared to look up again, she could see he was leaning forward in his chair in an attentive gesture, yet still keeping a firm boundary between them which for some reason, she felt was really important. Jo took a deep breath and, in a subconscious gesture, reached to feel her wounded arm through her sleeve. It was obviously bandaged, and although still sore it was more a dull throb. How did it even get treated? She was standing in the bathroom, then here in the blink of an eye. How did she get from her bathroom with blood everywhere to here, and with the wound bandaged?
Don’t worry, it’ll wash off. The male whispered in her ear again.
She felt the arm again, and her prodding did not go unnoticed by the doctor. He gestured to her arm and asked, “Do you know what happened? Do you remember any of it?”
Jo shook her head, looking at the floor once more. Why couldn’t she remember?
He looked concerned and gently said “It happened three days ago. There was a visit to the medical centre and it was stitched.”
Jo nodded mutely, still unable to speak. She felt so ashamed. What does David think? That this keeps happening? Does he understand that she just suddenly realises it has happened, without any recall of actually doing it? Can he even fathom what it’s like for her?
Again the overwhelming urge to apologise.
“Someone in the Collective was feeling very anxious, and ended up cutting the arm.”
Jo looked up, trying to meet his gaze, but failed. She resumed looking at the floor, allowing her posture to hunch over all the more, until she was almost sitting in a foetal position. The Collective? What was he talking about? She knew on some level they had had this conversation before many times, but it didn’t make sense and she just felt the urge to deny it, to tell him that it simply wasn’t true.
While all of these thoughts were flitting through her mind, David continued. “I know you don’t believe me, and I know you may not recall that we have had this conversation many times. But that’s ok,” he added, and softened his tone of voice. “I will go through it every time with you until it sinks in, if I need to.” Jo heard him move in his chair, and she couldn’t help but jump, although she didn’t know why.
“It’s ok,” he said, hurriedly. “You’re safe. I’m just adjusting position. I really need to get a comfier chair,” he smiled apologetically, before continuing.
“You have what is called DID or Dissociative Identity Disorder. You have alters, or personalities within, who take control of the body and have done so since you were very young. They call themselves the Collective. At those times you often have little to no recall of what is happening, nor do you have any control over what is said or done.” He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of reaction from her.
Jo shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. Why would he think that? She had heard about DID before somewhere and it came to mind that it developed due to severe trauma or abuse. Nothing like that had ever happened to her. She had a very normal and happy childhood, there was no trauma or abuse.
“I know you don’t believe it, Jo. Yet I can assure you it is the truth. I have been seeing you and the others within for many years now, and I have never had any doubts about the diagnosis.” He paused again, and Jo couldn’t help but feel he was preparing for a barrage of denial.
Don’t worry, it’ll wash off. The male whispered.
Jo physically shook her head, both against the cruel voice that kept whispering in her ear and what the doctor was saying. She struggled to speak, to voice her denial. She wanted to tell him none of it was real. She had made it all up and she didn’t know why she did that, but she was very sorry. She needed to explain and then apologise for wasting his time. He will possibly be angry when he found out how she had been lying, but it had to be done.
However no sound came out, other than a small squeak. She felt like the room was starting to fade and that she was beginning to physically sink into the chair. Without thinking she poked hard at the wound, and was instantly rewarded by the wave of pain that reached her and jolted her back to the present time.
The doctor noticed her digging her fingers in to the wound and automatically reaching out, he said “Please, don’t hurt yourself.”
Jo shrank into the chair away from his reach. She heard a scream inside and felt herself sink back into safety.
Sam
Shift, switch. Sam’s eyes were blazing with fury when she met the doctor’s gaze. “What the fuck?!” she demanded, staring him down.
“Sam?” The doctor said, leaning back in his chair, instantly realising they had switched and Jo was no longer in the room with him.
Sam didn’t answer his question, instead firing at him “What the fuck did you do?”
The doctor looked apologetically at her, before he said “I’m sorry. I reached out when Jo started to injure the arm. I didn’t mean to scare her, it was an automatic reaction.”
“Fuck, doc.” Sam bent the neck from side to side, until she was rewarded with the crack that eased the stiffness. She then made a conscious effort to unclench the fists and take some deep breaths to try and calm down.
“Please tell Jo I am sorry when you see her. It was not my intention to scare her.”
“Intention or not, you did. You know she’s a fucking nervous wreck as it is, this is not gonna help.”
“I know, I know.” The doctor realised he had screwed up. He held out his hands in an apologetic gesture and then looked at Sam once more. “I apologise again, to you all.”
“Fuck, just watch it doc, ok? I don’t wanna have to come out and kick your ass, especially coz of that stupid bitch.” Sam realised the arm was hurting again, and swore under her breath.
Jo
Jo found herself back in her house, in her bedroom. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was sitting with the doctor. She wasn’t sure how she got to the doctors, but she equally did not know
