The Voices

Eight

But how does one explain something they barely understand themselves?

"I don't know where to start..." I tell Finn. I look down at the floor, avoiding his eyes.

"Start from the beginning," he softly replies.

I start fiddling with my fingers and wonder what I should tell him first. There are so many things to say. Most things are basically unheard by anyone I associate with.

"The thing is," I start, "it's not only me."

"What?" Finn says, obviously confused. "What's not only you?"

"In my head. It's not just me." I look up to see his reaction, but I'm only met with a blank stare.

Maybe this was a bad idea. He is just gonna tell everyone at school how I have a second person inside my head. I want to get up and leave but my conscience is telling me to trust him, so I do. "I have a type of disorder. It's like Dissociative Identity Disorder but it's not that."

"Go on," he whispers after I stop talking.
It's hard to explain. I don't want to judged by yet another person.

"It's like it, but it's not. I don't . . . The other personality - the other person - is on the inside."

I pause to look at him. Making sure he is processing it well and making sure I'm not hitting him all at once with information.

"It's more like just voices in my head. At first the doctors thought it was schizophrenia, but I didn't really have the signs or at least I wasn't like most schizophrenic patients."

After a while he says, "I get it." His voice is quiet. I don't think he gets it.

"It could be anxiety. I'm an over-worrier and I nag at myself a lot. But the thing is, it's not my voice. That's why it's like DID. Because it's not really me." I speak quickly. I try to control my breathing but I feel panicky.

Nothing new, I always feel like this.

He puts his had over mine. His hands are soft and warm. They feel nice. "Hey, breath," he calmly tells me.

I breath, in and out, trying to calm myself.

"I'm okay. Sorry. Thank you," I say.

I pull my hand away from his. I look down at my lap, trying to remember where I left off. So I've told him it's like DID but that's not the disorder.

"So do the doctors know what disorder it exactly is?" he questions, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"No," I say quickly. "They have ideas, like me, but they're not sure." I shake my head, still not looking up. I'm one messed up person.

"How did this all start?" I try to come up with an answer. Something so he can have an idea of how it started. Something so I don't have to tell him exactly what happened.

I rack my brain for the least detailed answer I can find.

"When I was little, I kind of went through some tough times."

He nods his head as if he's agreeing with me. "Like, how some kids use imaginary friends to cope? Is it like that?" he asks.

"No."

"Oh, okay." He isn't pushing for a answer and I like that. A silence covers us. It's comfortable. "So do you think doctors will know what disorder it is?" he asks.

"Umm probably one day." If I'd actually tell people why I had this, I think to myself. "I should probably get going," I say aloud.

He nods and stands up. "Alright, come on I'll drop you off." I follow his lead and stand up. We get to his car, enter it, and begin to drive off.

"Take a left up ahead," I say as we approach my street. We soon get to my house. He parks on next to the curb. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he says with a soft smile.

"I would invite you in, but I have weird parents." He laughs. I wasn't joking so I just shrug and start to turn around.

"See you at school, mystery girl." I wave goodbye and watch him take off.

I enter my house, and notice both my parents are sitting in the living room. I try to make it upstairs unnoticed but of course that won't ever happen.

"I thought we were going to talk," my mom says, not even turning to look at me. She stares blankly at a page in a gossip magazine.

Oh, right. She said she wanted to talk when I got home, or just something along the lines of that. I wonder what she wants to talk about and if it's about joining a group therapy I will rip out my hair.

"Who were you out with?" she asks. She pats the cushion of the couch that she isn't occupying. I walk over and flop onto the couch - knowing there's no way out of this.

"A friend."

"Who's this friend we've never heard of?" She questions further. I think of what to tell her.

If I tell her it's a guy named Finn, my father and her will immediately think there is some romantic connection, or he just wants to do the deed with me.

But if I lie and tell her that it's a perfect Christian girl named Christina, she'd tell me to invite her to church.

We don't even go to church.

"They're more of like an acquaintance." I choose my words carefully, making sure not to say he or stalker.

"When will we meet this acquaintances of yours?"

I do not want Finn to meet my parents anytime soon. Especially because of how weird and over protecting they are. Like, I love them and I know they worry about me but please give me some space.

"Never. This was kind of a 'one time get together'." I look at my mom. "Anything else you wanna talk about?" I ask.

She stops for a minute. I guess she's trying to gather her thoughts and remember what she was about to tell me.

"Oh, your uncle is coming to visit tomorrow. He has a business meeting here so he is going to stay the night."

My uncle.

My eyes grow wide. "What?" I ask. My voice only comes out as a hoarse whisper. "You're kidding."

She shakes her head, indicating that this isn't a joke. Great, my life just couldn't get any better.

I stand up and, without a word, make my way to my bedroom.

When I get there I plop down on my bed, stick my earphones in and turn the music as loud as I can, downing out the voices in my head and the noises from outside.

This day went from bad to better to outright terrible.

Nothing, not even music, will be able to drown out what's about to happen to me. I can already tell.