Three, four. You better open your door.
Five, six. Cut or nick?
Seven, eight. Don’t party too late.
Nine, ten. Watch your gate.”
“I don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head.
“You will, just sing it. Oh, and don’t stop,” I say, grabbing the remote and flicking through the channels. I find nothing that’s to my satisfaction, so I find my cell and I text Tyke. I sit and wait… no reply. My guess is that he doesn’t need me.
“Who were you texting?” he asks, his eyes never leaving me.
“Tyke,” I say, still scrolling through my cell. I’m so bored.
“Who is he to you?” he asks, leaning over and placing his hands on his knees. I put my cell on the bench and mimic his actions.
“Once I thought of him as my salvation, but now I think he’s gay. Either that or he’s like you,” I say, pointing at him. He gives me a baffled look.
“Like me?” he questions.
“Yeah, you know, pussy whipped,” I say, throwing my hands in the air and that’s when an idea comes to my mind.
“You know, if you wanted to play dirty I can pretend to be her. I’ll even talk like her,” I say, exaggerating my accent and bringing out the sweetest voice I can muster. He shakes his head and looks at me.
“I didn’t want you then, Kayla, and I don’t want you now. You aren’t her. She’s caring and sweet with a little bit of sass mixed in. You, well, you are another ball game altogether.” He’s got to be shitting me. He loves her! Like crazy, stupid, loves her. He talks about her like she’s good, but she isn’t.
“I’m going out,” I tell him and grab my cell from the bench. He laughs and I turn around to face him.
“You’re staying right here,” he tells me. I don’t say a word as I turn and start to walk away. He may try and control her, but I’m a completely different story.
I get to the door and that’s my last thought as something hits my head.
Fucking bastard!
Without any words, you may be able to determine if someone is in a good mood, is feeling sad, or is angry just by reading their face. A small area in the brain called the amygdala is responsible for the ability to read someone else’s face for clues as to how they are feeling.
The weekend has been quiet. Kai left to go to work at any opportunity he had. He’s hardly spoken to me, other than to call and check on me. He doesn’t trust me by myself. I’ve had three appointments so far with Dr. Walker and he seems to think I’m doing well, but he wants to discuss something with me today. I’m not quite sure what it is, but his voice suggested it was serious. I have put school on hold now that I can afford to in order to focus on myself. Kai thinks it’s a great idea, but he doesn’t go into any detail about anything anymore. I’ve hardly seen him for longer than an hour a day. It seems he comes home when I’m sleeping and leaves before I wake.
I catch a taxi to the therapist’s office and I’m surprised when I see Kai standing out front waiting for me, dressed in all black with his gun and badge on him. I walk to him slowly and watch him while he watches me. I stand in front of him, not sure if I should speak. I think it’s time I leave his place and go back home. I’m not a flight risk anymore, so there shouldn’t be a problem.
“Hi,” I say and he tucks his hands into his pockets and gives me a head nod.
“So, I just wanted to thank you for looking after me, but I think it’s time I went home,” I blurt out without thinking it through.
“Do you think that’s smart?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“Why are you here?” I ask, changing the subject.
“The good doctor wants me to join in today.” I nod my head and start to walk away. I don’t know why he has to be here, but I’m interested in what it’s about.
We don’t wait long to be seen. The doctor takes the single sofa opposite us, and we take the double sofa and sit down facing him. He starts off with basic questions, asking how I’ve been, and then things start to change.
“Kristy, I have a diagnosis for you. Now, you may not believe me at first, but Kai here is a witness to it and we also have video.” I nod my head, waiting to hear what he’s going to say. He looks at Kai, then looks back at me.
“Its called Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder.” Both sets of eyes are looking at me now, watching and waiting for my reaction. I want to laugh at them. They don’t know a thing and it’s not true.
“It can’t be right,” I say and watch as the doctor talks some crap and then directs my vision to the television screen. I watch as a girl that’s dressed like me, and even looks like me tries to sweet talk Kai. I watch as she hits on him, trying to get what I want and most of all. I watch his reaction to her. This can't be me, I don’t talk like her or act like her.