When Chelsea got into the waiting car and Jody handed her a wet wipe to clean her hands, she didn’t understand what had happened. They refused to answer any of her questions except for ‘Where are we going?’, the simple response was, ‘head office’.
She tried to make sense of their silence and the worried glances they kept giving each other. They hurried her into a much more modern building than the office and took her in the elevator to floor eight. Both stood very alert to either side of her, the same way a guard in a prison might be wary of escorting a prisoner. It made her uncomfortable, as she had no intention of hurting anyone and wondered why they were acting in a manner that she would. They took her to a white room with no windows and only the one door. A desk sat in the centre with four chairs. Looking at the floor, Chelsea realised they were bolted down, so they couldn’t be moved. Jody followed her in, but the doctor went down the hall. She closed the door softly and Chelsea realised, by the clicking noise, that they were locked in. She was in a basic prison and had no idea why. She sat down in the opposite chair and waited for Jody to start talking. The woman sighed and looked as if she was struggling with questions herself.
“You’re still Chelsea right?” She asked and after Chelsea nodded her head she ran a hand back through her hair and frowned, “Okay, this is going to sound, well, insane, but I need you to listen to me?” Chelsea could only nod in response and wondered why Jody was seeming so upset, “You are not Chelsea or Charlie or Christie or Chase. Your name is Charlotte.”
“Okay,” Chelsea agreed, while questioning the sanity of the woman.
“No, I do know that you don’t understand, as we have been through this eight times,” Jody explained calmly. “I was in the foster home with you, after your mother and father were murdered. They were murdered because they were part of a cult and left to raise you. They realised you needed a more stable life. Unfortunatly the cult leader followed them and probably murdered them on their anniversary. But, due to your age and the trauma, we have never gotten a description of the murderer,” she took a deep breath and reached out to take hold of Chelsea’s hand, “You saw who murdered them. You have been working through different alters to see the face that you saw that night.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. If this,” Chelsea looked up sighing, “fantastical situation was real, wouldn’t I have remembered my parents apparently dying. They are very much alive and live in the city.”
Jody sighed, “Yes, your alters generally have alive parents, and each time I ask the same question. When did you last see them? Do you want to call them on the phone? Do they have a phone number? Last time we called and it went through to a Thai restaurant.”
Chelsea felt scared, but she also recognised a sense of exhaustion in the scenerio, that made her listen, “Okay, then who are my alters? Do they all come here? Do they all have the same memories? Do they all see the same things?”
“No, they generally are only a part of who you are and a protection mechanism. But they follow the same triggers until they have the same experience. When you mentioned the dark figure and when you ordered the spagetti, they generally let us know you are about to relive the memory. All of your alters have gotten to this point before changing to another. Some take a really long time, but you managed in two weeks. We think this means you want to remember.”
“If I haven’t been able to, then why would it be so important now?” Chelsea asked.
“The man who killed your parents was never arrested, due to them not having enough evidence. But another incident has happened, involving him, and the police asked us to ask your last alter if he remembered. It had quite bad circumstances where we pushed him before he was ready and resulted in him getting confused and setting a fire. With you, we left more obvious signs around the house and we also got Malcolm to touch the shoulder that the murderer touched to see if it would speed up the memory,” she winced as she said this, “Sorry, that it hurt you so much, we shouldn’t have done that.”
“So you are all in on it?” Chelsea felt oddly violated that they were all observing her without telling her anything.
“Not everyone, but enough people are aware of your alters and help you,” Jody reassured.
“The office is fake though.”
“Yes.”
“You need me to see a random guy who was in darkness?”
“We can’t show you his face or the courts would call it unethical manipulation.”
“When are you saying I saw this person?”
“You were around six years old.”
“I can barely remember last month, let alone,” Chelsea’s face fell as she realised if what they were saying was true, this further supported it, “I guess I wouldn’t remmeber.”
“Some of your alters have memories, others don’t. It generally creates, the more time you give them. Unfortunately, Chelsea has only had two weeks and you seem a very practical and introverted personality. It’s probably come from us asking for you to remember and so you needed to create an alter who could handle it.”
“But then why haven’t I?”
“The human mind is a curious thing and I’m guessing the blocks you placed over the trauma went very deep down.”
“So, how much have I remembered before?”
“It was your parents anniversary and your father had made spagetti bolognaise for dinner. You were put to bed around six and your parents stayed up. You looked out your window to see a man looking at the house and you told your parents, who dismissed your concerns, telling you to go back to sleep. He wasn’t there when you returned to your bed. At ten you were woken from your sleep when a window downstairs broke and the pot used for the spagetti bolognaise was crashed to the floor. You stayed in your bed until the person came in and told you to stay in bed until morning he handed the murder weapon to you and tapped you on the shoulder. He then left and an annonymous call was made to the police from a phone a few blocks away, which they traced to a phone booth. You did not stay in bed and went to the kitchen, where you discovered your mother and fathers bodies. The police found you, trying to clean up the blood with a kitchen towel.”
“Why wasn’t I sent to a psychiatrist?”
“You were, many, but they got frustrated because you forgot things or didn’t understand things already explained. It took them a long time of observing us playing to realise that when I called you different names, it wasn’t because we were playing pretend, but because you were really becoming different people. They hired a specialist to take care of you. You didn’t want to leave and started switching quickly between alters, so we couldn’t really say a proper goodbye, but I stayed true to my promise to Charlotte and after studying to be a psychiatric nurse, eventually found you. But by adulthood the medication had made your alters more stable, so I had to become a staff member to stay. Charlotte was appearing to be dormant, but you share a lot of personality traits with her, so I think this is you trying to come to terms and remember.”
“Once I remember, will I be cured?”
“I don’t think it can be cured, but it can get better. With more therapy we can manage your symptoms and improve their quality of life by reducing the disruption of, or integrating, personality states. So you’ll change a bit less frequently.”
“But I first need to remember?”
“I’m afraid so,” Jody looked at her with a mix of compassion and pity, “can we try hypnosis to try get a description?”
“Okay.”
The Jody went to the door, where the Doctor was obviously waiting and she let him in. He sat down opposite Chelsea and Chelsea felt the same uneasiness she had felt when she first met him. He looked like he was a hungry preditor about to attack.
“Chelsea, I want you to relax. Close your eyes and listen to my voice,” the Doctor began.
Chelsea could hear him , but her mind was taking her back to her memory. She saw everything clearly. She recognised her mum and dad, she felt happy as they tucked her into bed. She remembered feeling scared by the man standing in front of their house and then irritated as her parents ignored her. She remembered the terrifying sounds and then, she saw the doctor, but a younger version of him entering her room. He had the same smile and he told her to stay where she was and handed her a knife and then left.
She snapped herself out of the trance and looked in horror at the smiling doctor.
“Did you see the face Chelsea?”
Chelsea looked around and realised that Jody had left the room. She couldn’t accuse him. What would he do? Kill her?
The doctor sighed, “you saw me didn’t you? We’ve been through this a few times and you sometimes mix my face with the man who murdered your parents because I’m the last person you see and hear before becoming relaxed.”
“That’s not true,” Chelsea was suprised at the deeper, more masculine voice that decided to come from her mouth. She realised she wasn’t in control and was watching.
“Charlie?” The doctor asked.
“I’ve seen you everytime we did hypnosis and I saw your face. You also were the one standing outside. I recognise your bald head, you idiot,” Charlie said gruffly.
“We went through this Charlie, then you went and burnt the building down! Hardly a point for your sanity.”
“I agree with him and I bet we can even get Charlotte to agree, now we have a consensus. She was scared, but we figure eight agreements mean we must have a reason for it.”
“Christie?”
“You hurt them! I hate you! You’re a bad man!”
“Charlotte, don’t fall for their tricks. I helped you remember?”
“No, you broke them and I remember!”
“Charlotte, I helped you, remember I got the nice people to come get you and I’d come visit you?”
“No, you are a bad man.”
“I think you need a time out, Charlotte,” the doctor got a long needled syringe from his pocket.
“Don’t you think about hurting a little girl you sicko!” Chase yelled and did an army roll to the door, banging on it with vigor. The doctor pushed the syringe in the fatty tissue on his rear and he felt the sedative beginning to work. He collapsed as the door jerked open and Jody knelt down next to him. He knew Jody, she trusted him, “Jody,” Charlotte croaked feeling sleepy.
“Hi, what happened?” Jody asked and shushed the doctor, waiting for Charlotte to respond.
“He did it Jody, he’s a bad man. We all agree. Ask me when I wake up,” Charlotte fell asleep. Jody looked at the doctor in confusion.
“Who does she think did it?” Jody questioned.
“God, only knows. Lets get her into a ward and see who’s in control in the morning.”
…
“How are you feeling today?” The nice lady asked. She was an odd-looking woman and had numerous piercings all over her face.
“I’m good thanks, always a bit nervous in job interviews. Have the others gone well?”
“I wouldn’t worry, they have already seen your resume and are impressed. I think you are a shoe in!” The lady said and handed her the buildings sign-in book. She signed her name with a florish and the woman smiled, “Charmaine Colfrey, what a lovely name.”
The end.
Maxine the Magnificent 