My Story
I knock rapidly on the door, hear the doctor call me in, and step inside. I stand nervously at the door until the doctor says to me, “Please, have a seat.”
I sit down carefully on the leather lounge chair and fold my hands. I hate assessments. The six are unusually quiet.
“Miss Michiko Kumiko Okada, age seventeen,” the doctor reads. “Admitted three months ago…after committing the murder of Miss Trina Baskovych. A psychiatric evaluation revealed multiple personalities—”
“They’re not multiple personalities,” I say quietly, looking at my hands, “they’re me.”
“Just the same, Michiko,” says the doctor, ignoring me. “A psychiatric evaluation revealed multiple personalities, of which more than one have been proven to be particularly violent.”
The doctor glances at me sternly. “Regarding the nature of her disorder, Okada has six separate personalities, each with the distinct symptoms of a psychiatric disorder. Dolcé, who exhibits signs of psychopathy, seems to be the most dangerous, along with Diana, who shows signs of sadistic personality disorder. The other four—Kylie, Charlotte, Jolie, and Morti—show signs of varying disorders but do not seem to be an immediate threat to the world at large.”
The doctor puts down his file and removes his glasses. “That,” he says, “is what your file tells me. Do you want to know what you tell me, Michiko?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Oh,” I say, “I…I thought for a moment, you—“
“Had resorted to the ‘stupidly predictable, completely out of touch with the patient methods of other doctors’?” The doctor laughs. I smile. “Of course not, Michiko. You’re a smart girl. I realized quickly that wouldn’t work with you.
“It seems to me that you are correct; these are not multiple personalities, but multiple aspects of yourself. Am I right?”
I nod. It had taken me a while to prove it, but in our last few sessions, I had been able to convince the doctor of my theory.
The doctor continues. “I understand that…you don’t see yourself as ill. I don’t you as ill myself,” he says lightly, “but Michiko, you must have some understanding of the danger some of these aspects pose.”
I look away. I am well aware that certain parts of my personality have the ability to kill without remorse. But it’s not my fault. They just want to protect me.
“Michiko, I need to ask you: why? Do you know why Dolcé killed that girl? I’ve tried to be sensitive and not pry, but I think it’s time to start giving me some answers.”
“Self-defense,” I say, as I’ve said so many times before.
“Please, Michiko, what you did…what Dolcé did was not merely self-defense. The girl never laid a hand on you,” says the doctor with amazing restraint. “I’ve heard the police reports, read them over and over. The only thing she did was make a few comments, albeit rude ones, towards you. Absolutely no cause for—”
“You have no idea what it’s like,” I say lowly. I think I’ve reached my breaking point. This is the last time I can take somebody telling me ‘absolutely no cause.’
“You don’t know what it’s like to go to a school where you are ridiculed on a daily basis, what it’s like to feel lonely even when you’re with friends, what it’s like to go home to a family who will never see you as good enough for them. You don’t know what it’s like to go through all of this, unable to act for fear of the consequences. You don’t know what it’s like to live with the torturous knowledge that each day, someone will mock you, call you a freak, and tease you mercilessly, all the while being able to do nothing about it. I’m not built for such circumstances,” I say. “I can’t handle that kind of continual pain without having some sort of coping mechanism. I made my escape by repressing my emotions into new, stronger personalities, versions of me who could deal with the pain, and make it go away.”
I stand up, confidently stride over to his desk, and slam my hands upon the surface. “Dolcé is strong. She cannot feel; she has no conscience. She has no remorse, no ability to comprehend the consequences that constrain my own actions. I know,” I hiss, “that she is a psychopath, because I made her that way. With her, I can protect myself, and not be burdened by my own conscience. And the others, they comfort me, they help me, guide me. They are the only things keeping me sane, don’t you see? That is why Dolcé killed Trina.”
My voice takes on a desperate quality as I see the doctor trying to work through it all. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. I sigh. I fear I may have revealed too much, my greatest flaw. I turn and sit back on the chair. I can’t believe I blurted out so much. I should fix this before he figures it out. “Doctor, what I mean—”
He holds up a hand, and glances up with a huge smile. “I think…I think we’ve done enough for today, Michiko,” he says. “You…you’re a brilliantly intelligent girl, you know?”
I furrow my brow curiously. “Um…thank you?”
“I mean it, Michiko,” he says. “We’re done for today. You can go.”
I nod, still not understanding, but happy to leave anyway. I get up and open the door, glancing back once before I leave.
Not even five steps down the hallway, and I am besieged by Nicola Vespertucci, the paranoid schizophrenic who managed to befriend me on the day of my arrival.
“S-s-so? H-how did it g-g-g-go?”
Behind him I see…
“Phin? Or Max? Who is it this time?” I make sure to ask. You can never be sure whether it’s Phineus Attrell or Maximillian Fortuna, his split personality. Phin is the happier of the two, Max is rather violent, and they constantly switch, but we all love them both.
“It’s Phin,” he says. “Now tell us, how’d it go?”
I look around trying to find Phin’s little shadow, Dante Niedame. He has avoidant personality disorder, but surprisingly, ever since he ran into Max, he’s been doing better. I see him standing off to the side, a small smile on his face.
“Spying, are we?” I shake myself free of Nicola’s embrace and start walking down the hall.
“Oh, b-b-but, b-b-bella ragazza, I was n-n-not spying, m-merely aw-waiting your return w-w-with b-bated b-b-breath,” he exclaimed, running after me.
“Hm,” I say, “and you, Phin? Your defense?”
Phin shrugs and gives me a bright smile. “Sorry, I was spying. No bated breath here.”
I laugh, and not for the first time realize how well the six have protected me. Without them, without Dolcé, I would never be in this place, with people who truly care for me. The doctor, Nicola, Phin, Dante. Real friends, at last. My heart soars with joy.
