Chris

My head hurts; it feels like an elephant has been lying on it. It takes a few minutes for my vision to clear up. I sit up and take in my surroundings. I’m in Chicago. In Lauren’s room. The bed is empty, and it’s bright outside. My eyes find the clock, and it says 7:30. I stand up and stretch my body and twist my neck.

How long has it been? I know I’ve lost time, and it doesn’t even surprise me anymore. The question now is how long, and who took over? I let out a deep breath and head to the bathroom, and when I look in the mirror, I take a step back. I’m wearing a freakin’ ponytail at the top of my head.

“What the hell?” I snatch the hair band off. My face is shaven cleaner than I’ve ever seen it, almost no hair is on my chin, but the hair on my head is longer than I’ve ever worn it, it’s fully touching my shoulders. My heart starts to beat frantically, how long have I been out? I think back to the last thing I remember. A fight, me and Lauren… about my dad. My dad was here in Chicago… how long was my hair then? I grip the counter and force myself to think, to get my thoughts and emotions together. The last conversation I had with Lauren was bad, and I was angry—angrier than I’ve ever felt with anyone—and she was the scapegoat.

I can’t believe I talked to her the way that I did. I’m embarrassed to even see her, but Lauren’s forgiven me… us for much worse things. I fight the stinging in my throat, the burning anger and sadness wanting to burst from my chest.

I hate this! I hate that I’m still dealing with this. I hate that it’s his fault. That things are always worse when I come back. Flashes of Lisa and me arguing and me spazzing out on my mom at dinner clash against me throwing my dad out of the house. Everything is bad—my best friend betrayed me, my mom is probably alone, my dad a hypocrite, and my alter ego a psychotic attempted murderer. I’ve got to get this together. It’s obviously up to me since no one else seems to be doing anything, and why the hell am I wearing silk pajamas? I strip them off and kick them across the room. I grip my head. I want them gone, I want them out! I’m so tired of this, and now there’s another one? I turn on the sink and splash water on my face. My gaze catches the mirror again. I don’t even look like myself anymore, not like this.

I bend down and open the drawers beneath the sink searching for scissors or clippers. After a few minutes I find some electronic clippers, and they’re professional grade. I’m not surprised since whoever did this obviously shaves twice a day. I plug them in and start to shave. Each line I cut off makes me feel better, as the locks fall into the sink. I don’t know whose idea it was to get this douchebag hairstyle, but I’m back in charge now. Watching the locks of hair fall is cathartic. When I’m done, I feel better. My hair is cut low, similar to Aidan’s when he got home— a little longer than a buzz cut. I rub my chin, and thankfully my hair grows pretty fast, so in a few days my facial hair will be back to what I’m used to. I look around the room for signs, anything to tell me what I’ve woken up to. What if it’s been years? Okay, I’m overreacting because it’d never be years. Though thinking about it, what’s so ridiculous or impossible about it? It used to be just hours then it went to days and weeks. I’ve got to get a grip. I refused to go out and see Lauren all frantic, so I need to be calm. I have to make up for how I left the last time. I need to start figuring out why this keeps happening and how to stop it. I head downstairs quicker than I want to and try to slow my steps, but I’m eager to see Lauren. When I reach the bottom, it’s quiet other than the T.V. playing.

“Hi.” She’s wearing a lopsided grin, her hair is pulled to the top of her head in a topknot and she’s dressed in an oversized white sweater and black leggings. Instantly the panic that was climbing up my body starts to recede. I think back to the day when we first talked about Caylen in that little hotel room. It seems like so much time has passed since then, how much closer I’ve gotten to her, how I fell in love with a woman I already loved at first sight. But who is she seeing? Who does she think I am? I try to wrestle those thoughts from my mind.

Does it matter?

It’s always mattered.

“Hey,” my own voice is unsteady, but it’s not cold and rigid as I expected it to be. She approaches me carefully only stopping when we’re a few inches apart. She looks up at me, her lopsided grin now a warm smile as she touches my cheek.

“You cut your hair,” she lightly runs her finger across it. I swallow hard. Does she know it’s me?

“Lauren who…” I begin to ask, and her smile softens.

“Chris, I know.” Her slender arms wrap around my waist, and she rests her head on my chest. I can’t help but feel the elation course through me. She knows it’s me, and she’s glad I’m back. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

“I missed you,” her voice is quiet, but she squeezes me tighter as she says this. I loosen my grip and lean back to see her face.

“How long have I been gone?”

She swallows hard and lets out a small breath. “Let’s sit down okay.”

I take in a huge breath and follow her as we sit down at the table I don’t recall being there before, but maybe I just never noticed it. I haven’t been here a lot to know it like the back of my hand. My heart rate picks up. I sit down, and my eyes follow her as she heads into the kitchen and pulls out a water bottle and a sandwich out of the microwave. She sits it in front of me, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until she did.

“It hasn’t been years, has it?” I laugh, hoping my question comes off as a joke, but it feels as if I haven’t eaten in a millennium. I fight the urge to shove it down my throat, but I lose out as I take a huge bite. It’s roast beef and turkey with honey mustard—my favorite. I watch her as she watches me, her head resting in the palm of her hand. When I push the sandwich away, it’s halfway gone. She’s been quiet while waiting for me to finish. I scratch the back of my head, tension starting to climb.

“How long has it been? I can handle it.”

She folds her hands in front of her. “Almost two months.”

I nod, okay two months. I feel my fists involuntarily clench. Two months, I’ve been out of it. I think back to our last conversation, that day she told me that I had been gone a month…. so in total I’ve lost about three months of time. I grip the table and let out a long frustrated breath, then remind myself to get it together.

Three months, but the last time after everything that happened why did I leave? Cal was the one who should have left after trying to kill someone and finding out he was wrong. Why did I have to be gone so long? None of this makes sense. She’s watching me, waiting for me to respond, and she’s squeezing her wrist, a telltale sign when she’s nervous. Before I lost time I felt like I was on an emotional seesaw. Everything I felt was more heightened—anger, despair, annoyance—and I flipped between them so rapidly. I don’t feel like that today, but I still feel on edge, irritable and I have to get a grip.

At this particular moment it doesn’t exactly matter why I was gone, but that I’m back.

Right.

“So Cal’s been here this whole time?” I let out a frustrated breath and fold my hands trying to remain calm. Her eyes dart from mine to her own hands. She shifts in her chair.

“Not exactly,” she says nervously. My eyes narrow in on her.

“What do you mean?”

“Cal hasn’t been here at all actually because Collin took over.” Her face is blank, but she seems to be hiding another expression… is it worry, is it fear…?

It’s nothing. You have to remember you aren’t the only one dealing with a less than ideal situation.

“Wait a minute, Collin?” I am surprised and laugh. I almost forgot the guy’s name. She nods slightly. I throw my head back and laugh again, but I can’t help feeling slightly satisfied that it wasn’t Cal. I sort of know how he operates at least, but this Collin I don’t know anything about. The satisfaction I felt starts to sink as I realize he could be worse… or better. I steady myself for more answers.

“So, what’s his deal?” I try to keep my voice calm. “He wants to take over my life too? Does he want to kill anyone?” I ask her jokingly, but my tone is serious.

She shifts in her seat again. She’s quiet a moment, contemplative as if trying to choose her words and that’s something I really haven’t seen her do before. Lauren usually says what’s on her mind.

“Collin’s different from both you and Cal.” Her eyes are still glued to her hands, and it takes a few moments before they reach mine again. I asked her this question before, but back then she said she didn’t really know him. Almost two months gives her plenty of time, and I feel my heart flinch in my chest.

I wonder if she slept with this guy and if she likes him more than Cal and me.

That’s not important right now, Christopher.

Christopher. I don’t call myself Christopher. I try to calm my thoughts, drown them out… is this guy talking to me?

“Chris, are you okay?” Lauren looks extremely concerned.

I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah I’m okay.” I try to wipe the frown from my face. I’m okay, just maybe hearing someone else’s voice in my head! She looks at me skeptically, and I smile weakly at her.

“I’m fine, go ahead. Tell me more.” I plead with her. “How…is he different from me?” I ask again because Lauren’s opinion of this guy means a lot to me. She actually gets to know all of us firsthand. I only get to hear things secondhand, or with Cal I see some of what happened with him, when he feels like sharing I guess.

“He’s smart,” she starts quietly. Her eyes widen. “Not that you and Cal aren’t.”

I bite the inside of my jaw, trying to remain unbiased. “Go ahead, no disclaimers needed.” She looks at me trying to see if I’m telling the truth. “Seriously, talk to me like I’m not me… or them… like I’m Hillary or actually Angela.” She grins, but I can tell she feels a little more comfortable and less hesitant to talk.

“He’s very refined. You could probably see that if you checked out his closet.” She chuckles lightly. I force a smile.

“He’s very into the work he does at Crestfield Corp. He likes to read, he’s not as unpredictable as Cal is but… I never really know what he wants…”

“What do you mean?” I lean forward. She gives me a half-shrug, then sits up straighter in her chair.

“With you and Cal… I know that you both are against… integrating. I know if you could choose, ideally it would be just you.” I can’t disagree with her on that. If there was a magic potion or pill, I’d take it in a second to get rid of them and whoever else wants to be in control of my life.

“But with Collin, I’m not sure. He says that he wants you all to integrate, and he doesn’t seem scared or opposed to it at all.”

I look at her in disbelief. “You’re saying he’s neutral?”

She looks at me blankly. “I think so…”

I fight the urge to laugh. He’s neutral, yeah right. If he were neutral, he would have told me a long time ago that he exists.

“So you’re saying he has no interest in being the last one standing?” This time I can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know. I only know what he says. As far as I can tell if he wanted to be… he’s in the best position for that to happen,” she says quietly, her eyes on the table. I feel my face scrunch up.

“What?” I ask her, not able to cover my frustration.

“He knows more about what’s going on than you and Cal. I told you what he’s told me, but after him being here I think he may have more control than you… and Cal...” she says hesitantly. I lean forward to make sure I ’m hearing her correctly.

“He told me when you were coming back,” she adds quietly, and my mouth falls open. That’s how she knew it was me, why she had my favorite sandwich ready, and didn’t look shocked. I stand from the table and pace the kitchen trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy building inside of me. I grip my head.

“But I’m not a doctor, and I don’t know if he’s telling the truth. Maybe he only guessed this time, or maybe he knows every time. You need to talk to Helen. He scheduled appointments for you every day for the next week.”

“Oh, so at least I’ll be here for a week,” I say sarcastically. I watch her head drop to her chest and realize I’m upset with the wrong person. I’m taking out my frustration on her, and I don’t want to do that. I asked her to tell me about this guy and she did, and now I’m punishing her for it.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I don’t mean to take this out on you.” I sit back down at the table. She smiles at me, but it’s halfhearted. We’re quiet for a few moments.

“How are you doing?” I don’t think I’ve asked her that in a long time. I know what I’m going through, but I can’t even put myself in her place. She smiles, but it’s tight.

“I’m here,” she says simply.. Guilt courses through me. I’ve got to get it together for her and for Caylen.

“Where’s Caylen?” I ask, and her face brightens up.

“I asked Angie to take her today, and she’s bringing her back tomorrow morning. When Collin told me you were coming back, I thought we’d need today to get adjusted to everything.”

I’m irritated that he’s the one who gets to offer Lauren a solution, even if it is temporary.

“Did he say why I was coming?” I hate how ridiculous I sound.

“He said you needed to talk to Helen to get stable for integration.”

I fold my hands tightly together on the table. “Do they know about him. Dexter─”

“Yes.” She interrupts me. Figures…

“So he’s the smartest, knows the most. What else should I know? Two months is a long time,” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but I fail.

Over the next half hour, Lauren fills me in on his daily work schedule, how he’s met my mother and how she doesn’t hate him—which in my mind means that she likes him if Lauren’s trying to edit her words to protect my feelings. She says he gets along well with Caylen, which should make me happy but it doesn’t but I keep a straight face not letting her know that this conversation is making me feel worse instead of better. Regardless of how it makes me feel I need to know these things. Knowledge is power and I’m at the low end of the totem pole, and that’s got to change. It turns my stomach to think of sitting with Helen—her being in charge of my treatment, knowing all of our secrets—but I’m starting to realize shutting her out, and making her my adversary wasn’t a good idea. I realize seeing her alone isn’t the smartest thing. I have to see another doctor. I need Lauren’s support, and I can’t shut her out this time. I need all the support I can get. If this guy has all of the memories, I need to have all of the people. I have my parents… my stomach drops thinking of that situation. The good thing is my mom is coming. Even if he set it up, I’m her son—I’m who she raised. I think of my dad and our last conversation.

“Has he spoken to my dad?” I can see I’ve surprised her by referencing him as my dad.

“No, he hasn’t. When we were there, he stayed away from him,” she says quietly. I fold my hands together tightly. I’ve got to talk to him, even if it makes my blood boil to think of it. I can’t believe what he did to my mom, to our family, to Lisa—well, he didn’t do anything to Lisa, if anything they did things to each other—but I know without a doubt if he’d be on anyone’s side it’s mine, and I’m going to need his help.

“There’s another thing,” she says as she clears her throat. Great.

“Go ahead,” I tell her trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m opening a gallery.”

The fist around my heart loosens. “Really?” I am in shock.

“Yeah, we have the space. I’ve ordered the furniture and I have already set up artists to feature.” She seems happy, but her voice is on the edge of nervous, and I’m not sure why.

“Lauren, that’s great. Wow. That happened fast.”

“I-I didn’t do it alone though,” she says shakily, rubbing her arms. I feel my brow arch.

“Collin, uhm he sort of bought the property and did some of the groundwork,” she mutters.

I feel myself flinch. “Oh,” is all I can manage to say.

“I just… I didn’t want to mention it but, I want to be honest with you. No secrets between us.”

I can’t say what she just said doesn’t sting. He bought her a gallery and helped her open it. While Cal and I drive her crazy, he swoops in and becomes the good guy.

“You deserve it, Lauren.” I walk over to her and pull her into a hug. She feels so good and smells as good as she looks. She rests her head on my chest and relaxes in my arms.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this,” I whisper to her, she looks up at me and smiles.

“I’d rather be in it than out.”

I kiss her forehead. “Did you miss me?” I didn’t want to ask, but it just comes out.

“Of course I did,” she tells me, and her expression is so open and honest.

“So you were okay while I was gone?” She nods and I’m glad that she was okay, but I can’t say that it hurts. With Cal, he usually screws something up when he comes back, but with this guy…

“Were you happy?”

Her smile fades. “Let’s not do this Chris.” She steps away from me.

“It’s just a question,” I say, but my voice sounds desperate.

“There’s not a right answer for me to give you, is there?” she asks sullenly.

“I want you to be happy.” I mean it with every fiber in me.

She nods, a sad smile on her face. “But only if it’s with you right?”

I start to say that she’s wrong, but is that what I want? Do I only want her to be happy with me and miserable with them? No, I don’t want that for her or Caylen. But what does that mean? Is she saying that it doesn’t matter if it’s with me or not? I feel my jaw flinch.

“That’s what I thought,” she says quietly, but she looks more disappointed than angry, and that hurts more than anything because I can’t help her. Hell, I can’t even help myself.

“Your appointment with Helen is in an hour.”

I used to hear the word integration and just hoped for that to mean I’d be fixed. Now when I hear it, it makes my blood go cold.

Before this guy appeared I always thought if integration ever happened, it’d be me in the end. Now I’m terrified because if this guy knows so much, isn’t against integration, and wants this to happen—what if it’s not me—what if I’m an alter?

No, that’s ridiculous.

I know one thing. I’m the hero, and the hero always wins.

* * *

“It’s good to see you, Christopher.” Helen saunters into the office. It’s different from the one I used to see her in. This one is bigger, more modern, large picture windows overlooking the backdrop of the city. It’s also on the nineteenth floor, which didn’t help things. I try to push down the seething resentment I have when I see her and Dexter. I thought I’d gotten over it, but each time I see them it starts to peek through.

“I wish I could say the same thing,” I tell her adjusting my position in the chair I’m in. It’s more like a sofa than a chair, and it’s too comfortable. Maybe it’s here to make you think you’re having a simple conversation with a friend than a visit with a doctor—or in my case a doctor that deliberately keeps things from you.

“Yes, I can imagine I’m not on the list of your first people to see.” She doesn’t look the least bit offended at my statement. She settles into the chair behind her desk. I remember her other desk being bigger, there was more of a separation between us.

“Why did you come?”

“Because Lauren said I have an appointment,” I tell her tightly. My plan to make friends with Helen is off to a terrible start. I’m not a pretender or an opportunist. How do I do this?

“But that doesn’t mean that you had to come does it?”

And just like that, I’m already annoyed at the questions she’s asking.

“You’re angry with me,” she says pointedly. My initial reaction is to tell her I’m not, but if I’m being honest, I am.

“It’s okay, Chris. You can tell me that.”

Of course I could tell her that, but it doesn’t really matter how I feel towards her. I need her if I want to get better. I have to talk to her.

“You seem to be in deep thought. You do know this is a safe space. Nothing you say will offend me, and I won’t use it against you.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about my condition. It seems like if you’re on anyone’s side, it’s Cal’s or… this Collin guy for all I know,” I tell her pointedly.

“It was a decision made by several parties who all share your best interest. You weren’t ready to know at that point. It was a very difficult decision to make, but one that was ultimately decided for your benefit.”

“Who were the several parties? My parents, Dexter or Cal and Collin?” I ask her pointedly. “And how do you think I can trust you after hiding something like that from me?”

“I understand that you feel you can’t trust me. It was a risk I knew would have consequences when the decision was made. However, I do promise you, from this day going forward if you choose to continue to see me that I won’t keep anything from you.” Her voice is even, calming almost. If I didn’t know her, it could possibly lull me into believing her. What use is the promise of a liar?

“Regardless of how you feel about what happened, I can help you. I am highly qualified and I do my job extremely well. Things have changed since we used to meet. You are aware of your condition and have a foundation that I can build on. I can help you.” Her tone is more direct instead of the pacifying one she used earlier.

I fold my arms across my chest. “And what exactly does helping me mean?” I ask her coldly.

She smiles as if my attitude doesn’t bother her. “What do you think helping you means?”

“Integration. That’s what the solution is right?” I ask.

“Is that what you would want?” Her question catches me off guard.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, sitting up in my chair. What does it matter what I want, it’s the plan, the solution I thought.

“I always thought that that was the answer, that’s what all of the websites say.”

“The majority of people who suffer from your disorder find peace with what integration is. Do you know what integration is?”

“It’s when all of us come together.”

“Do you understand what that means?’ She asks, and I’m quiet. I don’t really understand what that means, and that’s the scary part about it.

“We’ll be one, all of us…” I clear my throat. Just the thought of being one with them terrifies me.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly,” I laugh coldly.

“There is no point to these sessions if you’re not honest.”

“I don’t want to be one with them. I want to be me. I want to know what’s going on in my life without being filled in on it after waking up with no clue of what’s going on. I don’t want to share it with them. If you told me there was a way to get rid of them, that’s what I’d want. If integration means getting rid of them and shutting them up, then that’s what I’d like to work on.” I let out a deep breath when I finish. She doesn’t look surprised by my outburst at all, but I guess my response is normal.

“Them is you, Christopher.” She says this as if it’s so simple, and I roll my eyes.

“Well, it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Let’s start from the beginning.” She pulls out an iPad and a stylus, and I groan. If we’re starting from the beginning, I’m doomed because that means this will take a long time. How far off is integration if we’re only at the beginning?

“Dissociative identity disorder is—”

“I know what it is Helen,” I say not hiding my frustration.

“Chris, since you’ve never seen me in regards to your condition, I don’t know where your information comes from or if it’s even accurate. Without an appropriate understanding of what you’re dealing with, no treatment that we’ll undergo will be beneficial to you so please if you will…”

“Fine,” I say quietly.

“As I was saying…” she grins at me.

“Dissociation isn’t abnormal. Everyone does it.” She says and I scoff. I don’t remember my parents running around calling themselves by different names and not remembering it.

“It may sound strange, but daydreaming is a prime example. Drifting off into another state of consciousness is dissociating. The issue is when it becomes disruptive, as yours has become. When it interferes with your daily life. When a traumatic event happens to someone and they use it as a form of coping or blocking out the event, it falls into the category of becoming dysfunctional. There are several conditions that involve dissociation. I have ruled them out in your case. Initially I thought that you could have a borderline personality disorder, but I ruled that out when I realized your egos were more compartmentalized.”

“After you met Cal and Collin?” I ask her, and she nods.

“I want you to understand that there is no person on this Earth that has a totally integrated personality. For instance, I’m sure when you taught classes that you behaved differently with your students than you would behave with your co-workers or from how you would be with your friends. Another example could be when someone is invited out to an event and they’d say a part of me wants to go, but another part of me wants to stay in,” she says.

“So you’re saying that those people have DID?” I ask her confused.

“No, what I’m saying is a person with DID experiences that on a more extreme level. With your condition the boundaries between your personality parts are more distinct. Try to think of Cal and Collin as parts of your personality gone rouge, but they’re still you,” she says softly.

“They don’t feel like they’re me, not even a little.”

“Why don’t they?”

“Because they’re the complete opposites of me. At least Cal is from what I know and I don’t know what to think of Collin. They don’t make any decisions that I would, and I do know this Collin is even further from me in how I talk and dress than Cal is.”

She leans in forward from her desk. “Have you ever had a day when you woke up in a great mood, where you are in such a good mood that you decide to put a little more effort into your appearance, where you’re more tolerant of someone that you usually can’t stand? Or when in a bad mood the patience you’d usually exhibit is extremely short? Those are just small examples of what you’re dealing with to a more extreme level.”

I run my hand over my head, and it’s weird feeling prickly hair sticking out of my scalp than the hair that’s normally there.

“One thing that I’d like for you to make a priority is not being embarrassed or ashamed of your condition,” she says quietly. “What your mind did is an amazing feat. The defense it created was not only psychological, but neurobiological. It protected you from an event that could have destroyed you. Instead of that happening, it adjusted and modified itself to protect you. That your mind is capable of that is something to be admired,” she says almost impressed.

I’m not as impressed by it. “What I don’t understand is why I’m still stuck like this? If we know why it happened—what Cal or I did when I was a kid—why are they still here?”

“You have to understand, Chris that your mind has been functioning like this way for over twenty years. To think just the discovery of what caused it to function the way it does would automatically cause it to revert back to how it was originally conceived is unreasonable wouldn’t you think?”

I start to feel my defenses lower. She’s explained more to me in five minutes than I’ve been able to put together myself in I don’t know how long.

“So what am I looking at Helen? How long until I’m fixed because right now I feel pretty broken,” I tell her honestly.

“What I don’t think most people understand is that integration isn’t a magical moment that everything comes together. For most people it’s a very long process that each alter has to be open to, including you.”

When she says that I swallow hard. “Long process… how long?” I feel slightly on edge.

“It could take years,” she says gently.

I angrily stand out of my seat. “Years?!” I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t have years, Helen. I can’t live like this for years! Lauren won’t make it with us for years!” I tell her frantically.

“Christopher, breathe.” She is trying to calm me, but my heart is beating faster than it was just a moment ago. My throat is becoming dry, and that dull ache that’s familiar is coming on stronger….

* * *

Cal

“Christopher, are you okay?” My head feels full of shit. I open my eyes and my vision is blurry. As it clears, I see Helen sitting in front of me.

“Wrong,” I tell her moving to the chair in her office, I flop down.

“Cal?” I give her a thumbs up.

“Are you okay?” She stands and walks over to me.

“No. That jerk-off has shut me out, and it’s never been this hard to come through. Fuck, my head hurts.” I scratch the back of my head, and feel scalp. “What the hell, am I bald?”

“Not exactly.” She laughs and hands me a mirror.

I look into it. “I look like a fucking jar head.” I hand her back the mirror.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“That prick Collin was in here, and you wanted to talk to me, and I wanted him to know our deal is over. Somehow he cut me off, and I don’t remember anything since then.”

“He said something about that,” she sighs and hands me a water from the mini fridge. “So you have no consciousness of the past three days?”

“I’ve been out for three days!” That little son of a bitch.

“That’s interesting,” she says sitting on top of her desk.

“Interesting! That’s not fucking interesting. He’s going to pay!”

“Calm down, Cal. You obviously aren’t exactly yourself right now,” she says in her signature condescending tone.

“Of course I’m not because I’m keeping him out.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re not used to doing that Cal,” she says concerned.

“No shit, but he’s not going to one up me. Asshole. He must not be used to doing it either. I think that’s why Chris came back,” I add.

“I was wondering about that,” she mutters.

“Collin’s off his hinges, and he wants to take over,” I tell her angrily. She looks at me in disbelief. “I’m telling you he does,” I shout.

“Why would he want to do that?” Her stupid crazy-patient tone drives me up the wall.

“Don’t do that shit with me, Helen. I know you,” I remind her. She frowns. “He’s been in the driver’s seat too long. I’m telling you what he’s going to try to do! I know I’m right because I can feel it,” I rub my temples. “I need an aspirin or something.” I hold my head between my legs. Is this what Chris feels when he goes in an out? Shit, this sucks.

“I don’t think aspirin is going to work, Cal. You’re not strong enough to block him and Chris out at the same time,” she says and I wave her off, but the hammer that feels like it’s hitting my skull makes me think she might be right.

“I want to talk to Chris,” I groan.

“You want to talk to Chris?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yes!” Doesn’t she see I’m in too much pain to keep repeating myself.

“You haven’t been able to reach him?”

“I’ve been blocked out. He can’t hear my voice,” I tap my foot to try to distract myself from the pain. “I want to meet with him. Can you teach him how to do that?” I feel my limbs start to tremble.

“Of course,” she says. “He seems more open to treatment, so I’ll do my best.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” The pain is so bad my eyes are starting to water.

“I’m not sure Cal. I’m worried about you, though. I’ve never seen you like this.”

I take in a long breath. “Record me now,” I tell her. “I mean give me a minute, but I need to get a message to Chris.” I close my eyes and try to block out the pain. I hear her ruffle through her drawers.

“Okay, let me know when you want to start.”

I let out a few breaths and try to block and push away the pain. “Okay, go ahead.” I sit up in my chair pretending that it doesn’t feel like there’s shards of glass being pushed into my head.

“Are we on?” I ask her and she nods. “It’s me. The guy you think made your life a living hell, right?” I laugh, trying to hide the pain that’s splitting my head. “Well, if you think that, you’re fucking delusional. Without me, Caylen and Lauren wouldn’t be in your life. You’d probably be married to that stuck-up bitch Jenna.”

“Cal, come on. You said you’d be nice,” Helen scolds me.

“Okay, let me get straight to the point. I want to do right by Lauren. I left her once because I thought I was doing the right thing.” Thinking of Lauren makes it harder to focus, but I have to. This is for Lauren.

“I wanted her to have someone better than me.” I pause. “Well not better—because let’s be honest it doesn’t get any better than this—but more responsible, reliable. Someone who didn’t have the shitload of baggage we do,” I shrug. There haven’t been many times in my life I ever thought anyone was better than me, but better for Lauren than me. No one could be better to Lauren than me.

“I never wanted Lauren to know you. It always seemed like everything in life came so easy for you. I thought you’d be easier for her to love than me. I have to laugh thinking back on it all—how much of an idiot I was to not realize then that the girl who caught me by surprise would turn my life upside down—she’d make me fall in love with her.

“I’ve been trying to fix things for her. Make things right, and give her everything she deserves.” I sigh. “She doesn’t deserve us fighting against each other. Telling her to pick and choose all the time. Confusing the hell out of Caylen when she gets older. You are the responsible one. The selfless one. You could be a good dad. But God, sometimes you’re a fucking pussy, man.” I groan thinking of how weak he is most of the time. Helen shoots me a warning glare.

“I mean you are, and I can’t leave my girls with someone who acts like a pussy.” I say adamantly, but then I realize I need him to get this. I try to tone myself down, if that’s even possible.

“I want to give her something she’s always wanted. I sure as hell can’t do it by myself. But maybe both of us can together. We can give her the Prince Charming she deserves.” That was corny but he’ll buy it, and my girl does deserve a Prince Charming. I can be her Prince Charming.

“Helen and I have been talking, and I’m starting to think maybe this integration thing won’t suck ass completely. So what do you say, Chris? You in or you going to pussy out?” I ask point blank into the camera.

“Okay, cut it.” I tell Helen and double over gripping my head.

“What are you saying? You’re suddenly okay with integrating? I thought you were completely against that?”.

“Show the tape to him when you think he is finally ready to hear from me. When he is ready to meet with me. That tape is for Chris only.” I tell her squeezing my eyelids together. I don’t have much time left because I can’t hold Collin off for much longer.

“Cal, I don’t understand what you are up to.”

“Promise me, Helen!” I shout at her. She scowls at me, but nods.

“Okay. I promise.” She finally relents.

My muscles feel like they’re trying to stretch around a tree. I take a deep breath and glance at her trying my best to hide my pain.

“I keep having the dream Helen, I can’t shake it…”

* * *

Chris

“Here,” I open my eyes and see Helen in front of me with an outstretched hand offering me a bottle of water. I rub my temples. I could have sworn that…

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“What were we just talking about?” I could have sworn I just… but I couldn’t have because it wouldn’t make sense for it to happen that quickly.

“Integration—about how long the process can take,” she says quietly and goes back to sit behind her desk.

“You said years, right?” I open the water and chug it down.

“Yes, sometimes. Still, there have been some cases where spontaneous fusion has occurred.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s been said that sometimes when all parts—or alters as you know them—become co-conscious, operating in awareness of each other, then fusion can gradually take place.”

“Wait, what is co-consciousness?” I ask being that this is the first time I’ve ever heard the term.

“It’s when everyone is on the same page, you’re all aware of what the other is doing. You operate as one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It would mean no more blackouts. You all would share memories and information instead of switching or you going to sleep when one takes over. You all communicate and make decisions together.”

“Wait, what?” I ask confused. “We would basically rotate out,” I laugh.

She presses her lips together. “The thought may seem ridiculous to you now—” she begins.

“It is. You want me to share my life with them. All take turns?!”

“With you all being so combative with one another it may seem impractical, but there are many people who choose that path and find they function more normally that way.” I think you should attend a support group. You’d be able to meet others like you who are further along in treatment and hear firsthand how others handle it.”

“Why am I just now hearing about this being an option?”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Would you actually consider co-consciousness?”

“No… I mean… I just think it’s something I should have known about.”

“Well, co-consciousness isn’t an option until the underlying reason for integration is learned by all parties.” She explains.

“And now we know…”

“Yes,” she says simply. “Also you all share a commonality now.”

“You mean Lauren?” I let out a long breath.

“Of course, you all would have to be on the same page. Each of you would have to agree… and let’s just say we’re at square one with that,” she adds. I roll my eyes at that. I don’t see why either of them would want to be co-conscious with me. They’re the jerks who are ruining my life. It’s not the other way around.

“Lauren. She told me that Collin knows more than Cal and I know.” She looks at me as if wanting me to ask the obvious question.

“Does he?” I ask.

“Here is the thing Chris,” her eyes fall on her desk. “With everyone being at odds, I’m not allowed to discuss what they say to me to you unless they explicitly give me permission to do so.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask her in disbelief.

“My goal is to have you all agree for me to treat you as one, but as of now, no one has given me permission to do that.”

“You’re kidding.” But from the serious look on her face, I can tell she’s not.

“It’s ridiculous. How are you supposed to treat us if you can’t tell me what they talk to you about?”

“It goes both ways,” she interrupts.

“But can’t they hear and see what I do. I’m the only one out of the loop in this. It’s not fair! Then what am I even doing here?” I stand up disgusted with myself for even thinking that this would help, that she’d help me. I know out of all of us, it’s probably me she likes the least.

“I can help you, Chris!” She stands up as I’m about to leave the room.

“How?”

“I can help you learn to better process so that the switches aren’t as frequent or necessary. I can teach you how to communicate with them. Right now you feel as if you’re the weakest. I can help you change that.”

I stop my hand on the doorknob.

“Your biggest weakness is that you were in the dark. You don’t have to be now. You can choose another option.”