Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“You hurt yourself,” she tells me. “You’re okay now, but I need to make sure you can swallow on your own and eat.”
“Swallow?” I ask her.
“When you first came in, you woke up and… and they had to sedate you, Jay.” Her small hand grips my arm tight. She’s so sad as she tells me what’s happened.
“Do they know?” I ask her and then swallow, my throat throbbing from the pain. I don’t care if they hear. I need help. I can’t hurt my Robin. I won’t do it.
I see her nod in my periphery and it draws my attention to her. I try to pull my arm up so I can brush her tears away, but I can’t and I’ve never felt a greater pain in my life.
“It’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder… or split personality as it’s more commonly called.”
I nod once, I know already. I’ve known all along, but part of me has held it down. There is no cure. There are times when you may forget again and slip into psychosis, but constant therapy and a desire to be well are important. I used to think it was because my dad was crazy. It’s not genetic. But it can arise from abuse and stress.
“Could you undo these please?” Robin’s voice comes out strained as she angrily wipes under her eyes. “He’s fine now,” she says confidently. “He’s back,” she whispers.
I can’t look as a nurse unties the bindings and tells me something. Not to hit, not to harm myself. It all turns to a blur as I think about her staying with me for days.
“How many days?” I ask her, although I stare straight ahead at the white wall.
“It’s been six days,” she says and I close my eyes tight. As the binding to my left wrist loosens, I quickly move it to my right, on top of Robin’s.
“You stayed with me?” I ask her and she nods her head but says, “They couldn’t let me stay with you at night at first. I had to get papers and orders.”
It’s quiet for a long time. And I whisper, “I’m sorry.” I truly am. For everything I’ve put her through. She doesn’t answer me, she only kisses my cheeks and then once chastely on my lips, but I can’t open my eyes.
“Your name is John?” Robin asks me.
My voice is raspy as I answer her, “Yes.”
I lay my head back, remembering how she ran again. How I gave her a choice and she left, but yet she’s here.
I speak from the heart. Without thinking at all I say, “You don’t owe me anything, Robin. I knew you’d run, and I knew I’d have to stay behind. You never owed me anything. You never had anything to be sorry for, Robin. This guilt isn’t on you.” I know she needs to hear it. It’s plagued her for so long. My eyes stay closed, and I can’t bear to look at her to see her reaction. I need to let her go for good.
“Stop it, John,” I hear her say and turn my head to her.
“You aren’t mine to keep,” I tell her as my gaze finds hers. I want to keep her though. So badly.
“I was always yours, Jay.” A warmth floods my chest, until I hear the name.
“Jay,” I say the name with anger. I hid behind Jay. Or maybe I hid behind both. I don’t even know which is more present in this moment.
“You’ve always been Jay to me. Always. And I’ve always loved you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I tell her simply.
“It’s not about what we deserve, only about what’s real.”
“What’s real?” I repeat her words with a sarcastic laugh. “My name’s John.” I talk out loud, but not really talking to Robin, my sweet little bird. Just at the mere thought of her nickname, the sight of her looking up from the floor of my father’s cellar to the small dirty window flashes into my mind.
“You’ll be alright, I promise you,” she reassures me then cups my chin and kisses me on the lips. I grip her wrists, wanting to push her away. I don’t deserve her love, and she shouldn’t have to deal with this. With how fucked up I am.
“Hey,” she whispers and tilts my chin slightly so I look her in her eyes. “Now that you know, now that you’re aware, it will be much easier. I promise you.” She licks her lips and stares deep into my eyes, willing me to believe her. “I know everything’s going to be okay. It will take time, but just you knowing and accepting… you have no idea how difficult that is.”
“It’s because of you,” I tell her. “He used you to make me-” I clear my throat and correct myself. “I used you,” I confess and my heart splinters just admitting it. I can feel the urge to hold her tighter making my hands itch. The memories of my father coming on strong and making me want to cling to her. Everything was better when she was there.