Beep. Beep. Beep.

Each time the machine sounds, my head throbs with a pain that only brings back memories. I feel my forehead pinch and another shooting pulse, but I can’t move my hand up to my head.

I groan, trying to move but I can’t.

The images flash through my head.

My father holding me down. Beep.

His fist. Beep.

The dogs. Beep.

I go backward in time.

My mother dying. Beep.

I want to stay there. They’re so happy. He holds her, and she holds me. Beep.

She’s on the ground. Beep.

She won’t wake up. Beep.

I scream out for her.

My head shakes and I try to move again, feeling closer to consciousness, becoming more aware of my body, but it’s so heavy.

I shake her shoulders, trying to get her to wake up. Mom! I scream out. Mom!

The sound of my father’s boots. The sound of the toolbox that crashes to the ground as he runs into the room.

My throat feels raw as I cry out again. Beep.

He pushes me out of the way.

No! Mom! Beep.

My shoulders shake as I watch him leaning over her.

Small hands shake me, but they aren’t in the room with me.

Father! Help her! Beep.

His cold gaze finds me, his hands still holding Mom, but when he looks back at me, I can’t cry out anymore. I can’t speak.

His eyes are like ice as he sneers at me. What did I do? Why is he blaming me? I didn’t do anything. I swear I didn’t.

“Jay!” I hear a voice scream, and my eyes part slowly. My groggy head sways and I try to blink. The bright lights hurt though. My wrists sting as I pull upward, but they won’t move. It takes a moment as my head lolls to the side to realize I’m in the hospital. Sedated and restrained.

“Jay,” I hear her soft voice and vaguely feel her hands on mine. I turn my hand slightly and she laces her small fingers with mine. My little bird. I’ve held her hand so many times. Her hand belongs in mine. Everything’s okay then. That’s all I need to know that everything’s okay.

Robin, my little bird.

She brought me here.

I expect anger, I expect to hate her. Instead I only feel weak and helpless. The pain in her voice is what does it. I’ve hurt her. I’ll do anything, my little bird. Don’t leave me. Not here, and not ever.

Slowly, the memories come back.

All twenty years and more.

My Robin. My sweet Robin.

I watch her run. I keep watching as the dogs bark behind me. They’re so close, and I’m certain they’re going to get out. It’s only a large stick keeping the cage secured. It’s going to break. I know it will. But when it does, they’ll come for me.

I’ll watch her though. I’ll make sure up until the last moment my life slips from me that she’s free, that she’s running and the dogs stay here. My father will stay here. They can have me, so long as she’s free.

When I turn behind me, finally ripping my eyes away from where she’s gone, it’s only because the sound of boots stomping against the cold hard ground is getting louder. It’s only because I don’t want him to touch me. But the second I turn, the shovel slams against my skull and blackness consumes me. Only the briefest vision of my father follows me to the darkness.

“Jay, please. Stay with me,” I hear her soft voice call out. It’s like an echo in my head.

I’m here. I try to tell her, but my throat isn’t working. My voice isn’t here. I’m here, little bird. We made it. We both made it.

I remember standing outside her house. Across the street and shielded from the row of oak trees, I waited for her to be alone. She came to mine and I followed her home, too afraid of the police. I did that. I burned it down. It was all my fault.

But she has a family who holds her so closely.

And she never looked back.

My hand slips from the tree and the rough bark scrapes my arm. When she ran away… she never looked back. As the anger rises, I hear the footsteps behind me. I turn ready to fight, my movements sharp.

But there’s no one there. Just a voice in my head. I shake my head again. The boy is there. He looks the way I want to look. Who am I?

---

“Jay!” Robin’s voice is clear and strong.

“Robin,” I finally answer her and I know she heard it.

Beep. “Turn off,” I try to speak but my throat hurts too much.

“You were intubated, Jay. It’s okay,” I hear her tell me as I fight against the bindings holding me down.

I open my eyes as she yells at someone to turn off the machine.

They tied me up. I stare at the bindings, hating her. She of all people should know.

“Jay, it’s okay,” she tells me as she pats my hand over my clenched fist. “You had ICU psychosis and you tried to rip out your IVs, but you’re okay.” Her words barely register as I pull at the bindings, my muscles coiled, but I’m weak.

“Please, Jay. Please stop,” Robin begs me, her voice strained. Her small hands grab my face, and they’re so soft. Her tears hit my chest hard.

It’s only then I see the wires, all the machines.

“Miss,” a nurse calls out behind Robin as she comes forward to take my Robin away.

“Leave me alone!” Robin cries out and then looks back at me, her hazel eyes pleading with me. “Stay with me, Jay. Please. It’s been days of this. Please, Jay. Stay with me.”

Days?

I still my body, my heart beating rapidly and thumping so hard in my chest it hurts.

“He’s fine!” I hear Robin snap at someone behind her and then sniffle. “Don’t put him back under. He’ll be okay. I know he will,” she says and her voice is so strong.

“Robin, what-?” I can’t finish my sentence as the last memory comes to the forefront of my mind. Over and over I smashed my head against the wall and coffee table, against anything. I wanted him out of my head. Jay… the memories of Jay.

I swallow thickly as Robin talks quietly and calmly, in an even cadence meant to avoid agitation.

“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.

“You did what you had to do,” she tells me, but there’s no way she can convince me that it’s justified.

“I don’t care what you think or where we came from,” she says. “John, Jay, it’s just a name. I love you. I’ve loved you for years. All I need to know is whether or not you love me.”

Of course I do. She’s the only one I’ve ever loved. I don’t even know if it’s possible to love someone else like I love her. She rests her hand against my cheek and my eyes drift to hers. “Do you love me?” she asks me in a whisper of a breath. The fear and insecurity apparent.

I tell her the truth. What I know to be more real than anything else. “I’ve always loved you, Robin. When I was jealous, when I hated what you represented, when I feared what you could do to me and what power you held over me.” A sob rips from her throat and she covers her mouth with both of her hands as tears leak down her cheeks. I brush them away and put my hand on the nape of her neck, gently but firmly, just how she is with me. With a small push, she falls closer to me and I rest my forehead against hers and lower my hand to her back to rub soothing strokes up and down. “I’ve always loved you, Robin. And I always will.”