Page 54

I stand from the table and walk to the porthole window, staring out at the vast open ocean. The whitecaps glistening in the morning sun ease my mind. Not wanting to look anyone directly in the eye, I keep facing the water and slowly let my thoughts drift to a time I’ve tried so hard to forget.

“I was eight years old when my mom first met the man who would become my stepfather. His name was Dave. He was one of the most manipulative people I had ever met. At first, he was so nice and charming, treating my mom like a queen. He put her on a pedestal and she loved every minute of it. She left my father a few months before I turned seven—she caught him with another woman. To this day, I haven't heard from him.” I pause and steady my trembling hands. “My mom was grieving at first, as any woman would after catching her husband cheating. Dave saw my mother’s emotional state and used that to his advantage. At first, he was nice to me, so when he asked my mom to marry him, I was excited. I even asked if it was okay if I called him Dad. But that all changed shortly after the wedding.

“Dave became mean and more controlling, telling my mom what she could and couldn't do and who she could and couldn't hang out with. She wasn't even allowed to hang around or talk to any man unless he was with her, including her girlfriends' husbands. I only knew all this because I could hear him yelling at her through the walls of my bedroom throughout the night. My mom started staying home more and more and her friends stopped coming over. All except one woman—Sophie. She was my mother's best friend.” I let out a small laugh and smile, remembering her.

“Sophie and my mom had known each other since they were kids; growing up, they did everything together. Sophie approved of Dave at the start of their relationship. Dave could charm anyone he met. He charmed Sophie, and she thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to my mom. She was even my mom's maid of honor.

“Sophie's vision of Dave quickly changed after the wedding as well. Sophie noticed my mom had changed, becoming someone she had never been. Whenever Sophie questioned anything, my mom would always brush it off with every excuse in the book. It wasn't until Sophie stopped by our house to surprise us that she realized how bad it had really gotten. My mom had a black eye and swore it was from walking into a cabinet. Sophie knew my mom was lying to her. Sophie was protective of both of us; she refused to leave that night until Dave came home.” I glance back to see if everyone is still listening. Then I turn back to look out the window.

“My mom begged Sophie not to say anything, but Sophie was not having any of it. Dave came home from work that night, and I was in my room. Sophie and my mom were in the living room. As soon as he walked in the door, Sophie started yelling at him about my mom's black eye. He said that he didn't give her the black eye and that he loved my mom, saying he would never lay a finger on her. I was terrified, but hearing Sophie defend my mom the way she did made me feel so alive and happy that my mom had someone like Sophie by her side, standing up for her.

“After that night, I didn't see Sophie for a while, and I believed things were getting better. My mom still stayed quiet and did whatever Dave told her, but the yelling and screaming stopped for a couple of weeks. That was until Sophie showed up again unannounced. Dave wasn't having it. He told Sophie that she was no longer welcome in his house. Sophie knew my mom wouldn't argue and was too scared to stop him. Sophie must have known that she would make things worse for my mom if she intervened, so that night she agreed to his terms. She only came over when he wasn't home. I don't have many memories of my mom anymore, other than the times Sophie was over, and I think that's because that was when my mom was at her happiest. This went on for years, and my mom continued to do exactly what Dave said, when he said it.”

I turn back to look at the group at the table, all eyes still fixed on me. I glance at Tyler and notice he is listening intently. Then I shift my gaze to Sara, who is fidgeting with her hands, looking down. Sara knows how difficult it is for me to share this story. I wipe the tears from my face and rub my belly, thinking about my unborn child. I walk from the window to the table and take a seat next to Tyler.

“Take all the time you need, babe. We are all here for you,” he says as he rubs my back.

I smile at him, then continue.

“Around the time I was thirteen, Sophie started getting sick; she was diagnosed with a terminal illness and had stopped coming over entirely. My mom did her best to be by Sophie's side as much as possible. Other than an aunt that we didn't really speak to much, Sophie was all we had. Dave got angry at my mom because she was spending so much time with Sophie at the hospital, and started telling her she needed to stop going there so much. But Mom started standing up for herself. She told Dave that if he had a problem with her visiting Sophie, he could pack his things and leave. I expected him to hit her or, at the very least, start screaming. But he never did. He agreed to her seeing Sophie. I think, deep down, he knew Sophie was going to die soon and that she was all my mom had left.

“A few months later, Sophie passed away and my mom was a wreck. Something inside her had broken, and she no longer cared about anything but me.” I take a breath and sigh. I can do this, just tell them the truth. “She told me she was sorry that she let Dave’s behavior take hold of our lives for so long, and she was going to figure out a way to leave him and get us out of that life and the tiny apartment we were living in. She promised me all kinds of spectacular things. The type of things that made me dream of a new life. Later that night, my mom cooked the most extravagant dinner she’d ever made us. The table looked as though it were a Christmas dinner straight out of a magazine.” I take another deep breath, doing my best to control my emotions, knowing the next part is something I’ve tried to hide my entire life.

Sara reaches over and rubs my hand. “Everything is going to be okay,” she says.

I exhale and do my best to relax. I don’t get up and walk away, even though everything in my body is screaming to run. “The food looked and smelled amazing. She’d made everything you’d expect on a holiday: ham, mac and cheese, green beans, stuffing. And my favorite– homemade mashed potatoes with tons of butter. I was starving, eager to dig in. My mom stopped me, saying we had to wait for Dave. I rolled my eyes. I hated that everything revolved around Dave.

“Not too long later, Dave finally walked in the door, filthy with grease and smelling like he'd been drinking all the way home, as usual. We both knew not to say anything, having been used to his abuse and drinking for years. She went to kiss him, but he pushed her away and demanded that she get him a beer. My mom didn’t argue but I remember watching her smirk as she walked away, like she had something planned. I watched her slowly walk to the fridge, grab Dave's beer, then set it down in front of him at the dinner table. He’d already started to eat. My mom sat right beside him, as she always had, and I sat as far away from him as possible, as usual.

“Together we ate in silence, well, other than Dave's loud ass chewing and moaning. I always hated the way he ate; it reminded me of a cow. When he was finished, he stood up and left, as usual, leaving his mess for one of us to clean up. But this time, my mom stopped him by gently grabbing his hand. He yanked it away and called her vulgar names, telling her not to touch him again. She flinched a little but then she calmly told him she had dessert. She left the table and fetched two plates of cookies. One was chocolate chip, Dave's favorite, and the other was snickerdoodle, mine and my mom's favorite. Dave ate the entire plate of chocolate chip cookies, which was expected. When he finished, my mom smiled and asked how they were. He didn't answer, and I noticed my mom still had that smirk on her face.”

I bring my hand to my face and cover my eyes. My heart is beating rapidly, knowing where this story is going. “My mom then stood from the table and started picking everything up. She stopped in front of him and told him she wanted a divorce, and she and I were leaving. He reached up and slapped her across the face so hard that it left a full handprint. She didn't say anything; instead, she continued cleaning up the dishes. Once she had an entire stack of plates in her hand, she looked down at the plate that had his cookies and then looked him dead in the eye and said, “I’m so happy you ate all of those cookies,” and smiled. Standing in the middle of the room, she slammed the plates to the ground. I was shocked.

“She also told him that if he laid a finger on her or me again, she would call the police. Dave's face turned bright red. I'd never seen him that mad before. I was petrified about what he would do next. My mom was terrified too, because I could see her hands trembling, but she refused to let him have the power any longer. She stood her ground, still with a smile on her face.

“Dave grabbed a plate from the table and threw it as hard as he could at my mom. It hit my mom in the face and then shattered against the floor. Blood instantly began to pour from her face— it’d knocked out a tooth and split open a deep gash above her eyebrow. My mom dropped to the floor, grabbing her face. She didn't scream until she looked at the blood on her hands. Dave ran to her and lifted her off the ground by the neck with one hand, telling her that if he couldn't have her, then no one could. He then went on telling her that no one would ever want her, that she was a nobody and a whore. She was an arm's reach away from a glass candle holder; she reached for it as he choked the life out of her. She used all her strength and grabbed it, then she swung it as hard as she could against the side of his skull.

“He let go and started screaming. His head was bleeding so badly. I remember watching my mom crawl away as fast as she could, screaming at me to run. But I couldn't move. Bloody handprints covered the front door by the time she was able to get up and open it. As soon as she opened the door, Dave jumped up and ran toward her, screaming for her to come back. I remember him grabbing her by the hair, stopping her. She turned around and let out an ear-piercing scream.

“The last thing I remember Dave saying is, ‘I told you…you… are…nobody. If I can't have you, no one can.’ Then he shoved her, and she flipped backward over the railing. She fell three stories down onto the concrete. Everything that happened afterward was explained to me by my psychiatrist.”

I take a moment to catch my breath before I finish the story. Sara reaches for my hand again, and I look up at her. “Want me to finish it? I know everything from here,” she says.

“No, thank you. I need to do it,” I say, wiping a tear from my cheek. “After that night, I don't remember anything until six months later. I remember waking up in a hospital and asking where I was. I later found out it was a psychiatric care facility.”

30

KELLY/SOPHIE

“They told me I’d been admitted six months earlier and that I had told everyone my name was Sophie. They believed that I had a mental breakdown after witnessing my mother's death, that my psyche had broken, and my mind created a second personality named Sophie. The medical term for it was Dissociative Identity Disorder. I was questioned about the events that had happened— for me, it felt like the night before, so I remembered a lot of details. That's when the doctors explained to me that seeing my stepfather murder my mom and then attack me was so traumatic that it must have caused my mind to break, creating the alter.

“Apparently, I stabbed Dave multiple times in the neck with a fork. But if I hadn't stabbed him, he would have died within minutes anyway because the autopsy showed that he had been poisoned. I'm not sure if they found out where the poison came from, but I knew. I knew my mom did it with the cookies.

“I stayed at that psychiatric facility for the next year, learning about DID and what triggers my alter, Sophie, to emerge. A big trigger for me is stress or some kind of trauma. Sophie has been hiding deep in my mind since I was a little girl. I thought she was gone, but that all changed when I learned that she killed John. That's also why I can't remember anything that happened that night either. But I remember sitting in the Stardust Lounge right away after the incident. Sara is the only one who knows about Sophie, and she’s the only one who knows how to make her go away when she comes out. The last time Sophie came out was when we were in the medical center and I looked down and saw myself bleeding. I remember thinking that my baby was going to die. Then the rest is darkness. I'm grateful Sara was there to help. I'm so sorry for not telling you.”

“It's okay, babe—I get it. That’s a lot,” says Tyler, rubbing circles on my back. Thank you for not hating me.

Everyone is silent, staring at me. I look away to the window, embarrassed and ashamed.