Excerpt from “Split” (A short story by Yours Truly)

I decide I need to see my shrink, so I drag myself to his office, feeling like my head is floating along behind me on a string, I'm so tired. Because of my unique condition, I have a standing appointment. Whenever I show up, he reschedules the person he's with, and sees me, right then and there. Today is no exception. His receptionist calls him to let him know I’m there, and I sit down briefly to wait. In a few minutes the door opens, and I wave goodbye to Josh on his way out. I know all of his other patients, having interrupted them all at least once.

"Rachel, so good to see you." He greets me. I murmur my response, and head for my favorite chair. He waits until I'm settled before he sits and arranges himself comfortably in his own chair, giving me time to compose myself.

I’m actually good friends with my shrink. He’s probably the only person, besides my sister Jane, with whom I have had an ongoing relationship that I know about, and facilitate. His name is David, and he's about forty, with dark hair and blue eyes. He's too old for me, but I still like to tease him because I know he's attracted to me, and he's so easy.

"What, no kiss today, David?" I purr, smiling at him seductively. His face reddens as he glances up at me, but he doesn't take the bait.

"Would you like to start?" He asks instead, avoiding my eyes. I sigh. It's a serious day.

"Okay. I have some questions I was hoping you could answer." I say, getting right into it.

"Sure, go ahead." He responds, flipping the cover back on his notepad and preparing to write. "I'll do my best." I take a deep breath.

"I want to know all the people I become." I say, and watch as his eyebrows rise up almost to his hairline.

"What makes you think you become other people?" He asks me, scribbling madly on his pad. I stand up. If it's a serious day, then I expect a serious answer. He looks up at me and then back down at his pad.

"Can you please sit down, Rachel?" He asks, but it sounds like an order. He's treating me like a child, and I'm suddenly not in the mood to be coddled.

"No, I cannot." I tell him, taking a step forward. "I need to know what you know about me." He pushes his glasses back on his face, and tries to give me that long suffering look, but I’m having none of it. I take another step forward, and looking down at him, I narrow my eyes to show him I'm serious, as well. He snaps the notebook closed and stands up, facing me over the coffee table between us. He stands there looking into my eyes as if we are having a glare war. I hate to tell him, but I would win.

“You are going to tell me what I want to know.” I say, in my most authoritative voice, drawing my brows down over my eyes, and leaning toward him. He flinches, and I know I have him, but he’s still standing there trying to stare me down. I step around the table and stand in front of him, so close I can feel his breath on my face.

“Alright.” He says suddenly, trying to compose himself. Surprise springs my brows back up.

“Okay, then.” I say. “Good.” We stand there staring into each other’s eyes until he breaks contact by looking down. He sits and flips his notebook open again.

“I have the list right here.” I stretch, trying to see it, but he sits back and pauses, holding it to his chest. “I’ll tell you.” He says nervously. “But I need you to go back to your chair.” He eyes my cleavage, where my Sgian Dubh, a Celtic sock knife with an interwoven pattern for the handle and a green jewel set into the very end, with a plain black leather scabbard, that it fits neatly into, sticks out just enough for the jewel to show. I see his eyes flick to it, and then he looks back down to his notebook. My whole head starts to prickle with goosebumps. He knows about the blood. I don’t remember telling him that story. How did he find out? I narrow my eyes at him again, but he’s not looking at me. I sigh and go back to my chair, making myself comfortable with my legs drawn up underneath me. He watches, and when I look up, he takes a breath and begins.

“Okay, now this is a list of your different personalities that I have met.” He says, by way of explanation. “If there are more, I haven’t met them.” He looks up as he says this, making eye contact. I nod and he nods back, and looks back down at his list.

“Well, first there’s you, Rachel, and then the one that I see the most besides you, is Saul.” He says, and I frown again.

“Wait, what?” I think I just heard him say I come here often as a man. He nods again.

“Saul.” He says and then flips a page. “Saul sees himself as a man trapped in a woman’s body.” His eyes flick to me, and then back to the page. “He always comes dressed in a suit and tie, and carries a briefcase. He talks about working on wall street.” He flips back to the list. Wow, I had no idea. I’m speechless. David continues.

“Next is Sammie.” He says. I raise my brows again. I’m even stranger than I had thought. “I know what you’re thinking.” He says. “But Sammie is a woman. It’s Samantha.” He clarifies. “She is one of the most interesting women I have ever met.” There is a gleam in his eye that I interpret as desire, and I smile.

“Go on.” I say. He looks back down at his pad again, avoiding my eye.

“She’s a southern Belle. She sees herself as a rich eccentric, living off of her dead husband’s money.” That’s where the purse and the knife must have come from. Sammie had likely killed her husband, and the evidence had my fingerprints all over it. I look up to see him watching my face. I look at him sharply, gesturing for him to continue, and he looks back down.

“Then there’s Stephanie.” He stops and a blush stains his neck on its way to his face. “Stephanie is a tad extreme.” He says.

“Extreme?” I ask. “What do you mean?” He turns even redder.

“Well, she dresses very extravagantly, and her makeup usually matches.” He explains. “Also…” He hesitates. I roll my eyes, and gesture for him to continue. “She likes pain.” He says simply. Ah, that explains the leather harness.

“Is that all?” I ask, counting four already. He shakes his head.

“One more.” He says. He looks back down at his pad. “Kaliope.” There it is. That name, the man I was with, had called me last night. I look up to see David with a strange expression on his face, as he watches me. He's interested in my reaction to the name. The realization dawns in my brain as he notices me watching him. He rearranges his face quickly, and looks back down at his list. I feel something when he does that, and it makes me suspicious. There’s something about Kaliope that David doesn’t think I should know. He glances to my face again, covertly, and the feeling sharpens. I put my feet down and scoot to the edge of my chair.

“What about Kaliope, David?” I ask him, my tone warning him that I’m not taking any more shit. He feels the difference and looks up quickly.

“Rachel?” He scrutinizes my face. “It is still Rachel?” He asks. Startled, I nod.

“Yeah, it’s still me.” I look at him, puzzled. Doesn’t he know how it works? Haven’t I already told him it happens when I fall asleep? Wait, has he seen me change? I’m afraid to ask. If the answer is yes, then it’s worse than I thought. I shake my head. He almost got me off track. “What about Kaliope, David?” I ask again, making it clear that I mean to have an answer. He gathers himself as if he’d like to make a run for it, and avoids eye contact, looking everywhere but at me.

“We didn’t want you to know.” He says, so quietly I almost can’t hear him. He swallows and glancing to my face, quickly explains. “I mean, the others, they know. Except Sammie.” He adds. He really doesn’t want to tell me whatever it is. It must be bad. Did I really want to know?

“Spit it out, David.” I say before I can change my mind. He takes a deep breath.

“Rachel, you haven’t been here very many times.” He tells me. What? What is he talking about? I remember coming here dozens of times. At my puzzled expression, he tries to explain. “You, Rachel, are a new person.” He says gently, leaning forward toward me. “Kaliope and I created you, so we could begin to merge the others into one. One will be easier to deal with. You are Saul, and Stephanie and Sammie. Your memories are borrowed from them.” My brain is too full. He sighs, seeing I still don’t understand. “Rachel, Kaliope and I are trying to kill off the other three.” I look up at him with a frown. “But I think Sammie has other plans.” He says. “I hope you can hold her off until we finish.”

“Hold her off?” I ask him. “Why would I want to hold her off?”

He pales.

“She’s going to kill me.” He says. I shake my head.

“Not if I kill you first.” I growl, between my teeth.

“Sammie?” He asks, his face ghostly. He has seen me change. I slowly shake my head.

“No, it’s still Rachel.” He lets his breath out in a whoosh, and I suddenly understand. I have to go. I get up and he looks up at me, startled. I gesture for him to stay seated.

“Later, Doc.” I say on my way to the door. “I have to go tell Jane.” He stands up but I’m already gone.

“Jane who?” He asks the empty room.

***

On my way home I experience a clarity of mind I chalk up to my sleep deprived state. But for the first time in my life, I can see clearly what I have to do. First, I have to tell Jane what I've decided, though. She has a right to know. Oh, there’s something I forgot to tell you, Jane and I are more than sisters, she's my twin.