If I die,
will I remember them then?
Will I be condemned for them?
Was it really me doing them?
Or is Raeanne living inside me?
She won’t
talk to me, though I’ve tried.
Searched for her. Screamed
for her. She was the better part
of me. Without her, how can I
survive?
Fragments Shards
That’s what I am now.
Incomplete.
They keep asking for
truths.
I’m afraid to give them
answers.
I keep hiding behind
dreams.
Except maybe they’re
realities.
They keep asking for
reasons.
I give them lame
excuses.
I want to live in my
fantasies.
Except maybe they’re
nightmares.
They keep asking for
explanations.
I keep telling them
I don’t have them.
At First
They don’t allow visitors.
Only nurses. Doctors. One
is a shrink. Dr. Carol Shore.
Call me Carol. I’m
a psychotherapist.
And I’m here to help.
“Help what?” I ask,
pretending like I don’t
need help. Never have.
Help you face whatever
it is that you keep trying
to escape from.
“Why would I want
to do that?” My stomach
heaves, but it’s empty.
Because only by confronting
your demons can you ever
hope to conquer them.
What she doesn’t seem
to understand is, I have
to go home to my demon.
I Tell Her I’ll Think About It
Anything to get her off my back.
They give me something to calm
the withdrawal, help me sleep.
As I slip toward lovely nothingness,
I hear a voice behind the door.
She’s my daughter, goddammit.
I have every right to see her.
No. Don’t want to see him. Ever.
Then snippets. Ugly movies.
Please! Go away. Let me sleep!
Relax…can’t…he’s here.
The door opens, but I refuse
to open my eyes. Maybe the drug
will kick in, push me all the way
down into unconsciousness.
Footsteps. His. One, two. Stop!
Kaeleigh, girl. Wake up. It’s Daddy.
I’m right here beside you.
His hand, cold, strokes my cheek.
His head tilts against my chest.
I wish I could take it all back….
When I Wake Up
I’m alone. In the dark.
Where am I again?
Who am I again?
I’m hot. So hot.
I was hot in a car.
A BMW? With…
More ugly movies.
Only Daddy’s not
in them. I am.
Oh my God. What
have I done? Who
have I been with?
A collage of faces.
Ty. Ty? Who is he?
There was a party….
I went there with
Mick. Mick? And
Madison was there.
Madison. She was
at Lawler’s house.
I told him I like
older men. Older,
like…Daddy. Daddy?
No…No…No!
But he said, I wish
I could take it all back.
Take It All Back
Okay, maybe I do need help.
I can’t even remember what “all”
is. Only bits and pieces. And why
would I want to remember more?
Only by confronting your demons…
Confront him? How could I ever?
And how could I ever let anyone
know what my father has done
to me? Who would understand?
You’ve got some powerful demons….
Greta! Oh, maybe I could tell Greta.
I need to see her, need to know
if she ever confronted her demon.
Can’t believe it happened to her, too.
I met evil when I was very young….
But you wouldn’t know it to look
at her now. She’s strong. Strong
enough to fight Nazis. Strong enough
to invite Lars back into her life.
Could not imagine sharing a bed…
Sharing a bed with a man
she loved. A man she trusted.
Instead she sent him away.
Out of her life. Such loneliness!
Please trust me enough to tell…
Ian. My amazing Ian. My best
and only true friend. If I told
you, you’d turn your back on
filthy me. If you haven’t already.
I Stare at the Night Sky
Outside
the window.
The stars shine, as
they always do. Same
stars. Same sky. Only I am
different. Am I different? Will
my life change now? Better or worse? Will Mom come back,
save me? She can’t. She has work to do, far away
from home. Will she take me with her?
Do I want to go? And a bigger
question. Will she listen now?
Memory jabs. I accidentally
told once. Didn’t mean to make her
jealous. I was taking a shower. The soap stung
and when I said “Ow,” Mom asked what hurt. I told her,
“Where Daddy touched me.” She looked and her face grew red.
But she said, I don’t see a thing.
I guessed Daddy was right.
She got mad, closed
her eyes. Like I
need to do
now.
I’m Still Tired
When sunlight wakes me.
I feel a little better, though,
and that’s bad. They’ll make
me go home soon. Unless I tell.
A voice inside me whispers,
“Can’t tell. They’ll be jealous.”
Shut up. You’re dead.
“Am I? Guess you’ll just
have to wait and see.”
When they finally bring breakfast,
I ask the nurse, “Am I allowed
visitors yet? Has anyone tried
to see me?” Anyone being Ian.
The nurse shakes her head, and
the voice agrees, “He ran like
the wind. You’re crazy, you know.”
I wait for the nurse to leave,
so she doesn’t think I’m crazy.
Then I tell the voice again,
Shut up. You’re fucking dead.
“If you say so.”
When Carol Comes
I’m ready to talk. “Is there such
a thing as a split personality?”
Her eyes measure me up and down.
Dissociative identity disorder
is extremely rare, but yes, it’s real.
“Do the different identities
know about each other?”
Sometimes. Usually not. Sometimes
one does, but the others don’t.
There are no definites with DID.
“Could you split into someone
you know—or used to know?”
The jury’s still out on how the alters
develop. But I suppose you could take
on aspe
cts of someone familiar.
“Will one—what did you call it?
Alter?—do stuff another one won’t?”
My questions have definitely piqued
her interest. Often that’s the case, yes.
Why? Do you know someone like that?
Well, duh. Why would I ask?
“I think so. What causes it?”
Usually a childhood trauma. An illness,
or an accident. Most often it’s related
to sexual abuse in the formative years.
“Does it mean the person
is crazy? Can you fix it?”
“Crazy” is hardly a clinical term.
It’s a form of mental illness, and yes,
it can be cured, or at least regulated.
It doesn’t happen overnight, though.
It takes years of treatment, and the guts
to dig down and extract the truth.
Guts? Do I have the guts? I smile.
“Guts? Is that a clinical term?”
That’s All I’m Ready to Give Today
She provided a lot of answers,
though, and I’m more grounded.
So I get a jolt when she says,
Kaeleigh, if we’ve been talking
about you, I want to get you
the help you need. The nearest
residential treatment center
is in Ventura….
Residential treatment center?
“No. I don’t want to go there.
I mean I…why can’t I stay here?
Why can’t you be my therapist?”
This is a regular hospital. There
are no beds available for psychiatric
patients. I could treat you, but only
on an outpatient basis. You’ll have
to go home, and all things considered…
“When? When are they going
to release me?” How long do
I have to make up my mind?
Your withdrawal symptoms have
mostly subsided and your vitals
are good. Probably tomorrow.
Tomorrow Isn’t Far Enough Away
“Have you talked to my mother?
Does she know what happened?”
Why haven’t I heard from her?
Your father said he’d take care
of it. Hasn’t she called you?
Well, of course he’d say that.
“My father is a liar.” Whoa.
“I’ll call her. Where’s my cell?”
She goes to the closet, digs
through my things. Um, it
doesn’t seem to be here.
You can use mine if you want.
It was in my pocket when all this
shit went down. Where is it?
One answer: Daddy. No wonder
I haven’t heard from anyone.
Carol brings me her cell. I start
to dial and suddenly remember
Mom’s I don’t see a thing.
“Will you talk to her? Please?”
Of course. Carol waits, and
when Mom answers, the good
doctor pulls no punches.
Mom Promises
To get on a plane as soon as
she can. I don’t know whether to feel
relieved or not. Totally weird
to think this, but I’ve never been so
fucking scared in my life.
I’ve always believed, of the two
of my parents, she was the one I could
count on. But I had completely
forgotten that bath scene. Who is my
mother? Who the fuck am I?
Am I one person? Two?
Maybe even more? Oh, great. Maybe
there are a dozen of me,
doing drugs and sleeping around
all up and down the state.
Speaking of drugs, I could
use a big fatty right about now.
How will I ever score after
I get out of here? And which one
of me is the loadie, anyway?
I’m sure getting high
isn’t good for my “condition,”
but how can I not, if I have
to go home? I can’t imagine living
there any other way.
I Suppose I Got the Addictive Gene
From my wonderful father. Something
else to thank him for. Bastard.
“Thank him for giving you life.”
Fuck that. All he did was have sex
with Mom. Probably just one time.
“Have you noticed you’re cussing?”
Now that you mention it, yeah.
That, I’m pretty sure, I got from you.
“That, and a great sex education.”
Sex is disgusting. And I really,
really wish you’d quit talking to me.
“No can do. You need to hear me.”
Well, if you’re so smart, what do
I do about Daddy? I need to tell.
“He’ll go to prison for a long time.”
So what? He deserves it. Daddies
shouldn’t touch their daughters.
“Not totally his fault. Remember…”
Yeah, yeah. So what, am I supposed
to just say okay, it’s not your fault?
“You could have a little sympathy.”
So I just go on home, wait for him
to go on a bender, drop in for a little?
“Maybe you should confront him.”
Confront him? You mean like tell
him to his face that he’s a sick man?
“The direct approach might work.”
No damn way. He’d deny. He’d
blow up. He’d blame me.
“Face it. You’re a chickenshit.”
Damn straight. But I can’t take this
any longer. And I can’t rely on you.
“You always have before.”
Sorry. I don’t want to be pieces of me
anymore. I have to take care of myself.
“Seeing, my dear, is believing.”
I’m Deep into Conversation
With one of me when Daddy walks
through the door. He looks around.
Who are you talking to?
“Uh. No one. Myself, I guess.”
My belly starts cartwheeling.
People will think you’re crazy.
Fuck, Daddy. I am crazy.
“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
I just got a call from your mother.
I’m going to throw up.
“I thought she should know.”
I told her we can handle this.
No! No! No! “I want her
here, Daddy. I need her.”
You’re not three, Kaeleigh.
“No. I’ll never be a little girl again.
You took that away from me.”
I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.
Wow, Ballsy
I can’t believe I found the nerve
to say that much. But I can’t
believe he told Mom not to come.
They’re releasing you tomorrow.
I’ll take the day off to bring you home.
Then we’ll have to discuss our options.
“Options?” What options? Back
to school, back to work, back to…
Oh my God. How can I go back?
I can’t have you getting stoned
and running around like a tramp. Your
reputation may be trashed, but…
“My reputation? That’s what you’re
worried about? What the fuck is wrong
with you, Daddy? You need help.”
Don’t you dare talk to me like that.
He stalks over to the bed, raises
his arm, and just as it starts to fall…
I wouldn’t do that if I were you,
sir
. Carol. I’m afraid I’d have
to report you for child abuse.
Daddy spins to face her, anger
leaking from his pores like sweat.
I know the law. Don’t recite it to me.
Artfully, Carol maneuvers between
Daddy and me. I’m afraid your blood
work indicated a problem, Kaeleigh.
We’ll need to keep you an extra day
or two, to run a few tests. Sorry.
I know you wanted to go home.
Daddy backs up a few steps.
Problem? What kind of problem?
She isn’t pregnant, is she?
Carol’s grin is sardonic. Funny
place for you to go first. No, we’ve
found an electrolyte imbalance.
It’s probably from all the vomiting
she’s been doing, but we want to
test her for kidney disease.
Phew. Saved by possible kidney
disease. At least for a couple of days.
Hey, wait. Kidney disease?
Turns Out
The electrolyte imbalance is real,
the result of not only puking
from Oxy withdrawal, but also