“The surgery was a success!” the doctor exclaimed. How would he know? When you operate on a brain for a mental disease, how can you really know if you have fixed the problem? It was two short months before I heard Tucker’s voice.


I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, when I was twelve. I don’t even remember when I was alone in my head. It must have been nice not having to listen to someone else’s thoughts, or being involuntarily sucked into blackness while your body is being inhabited by someone else. Disguising themselves as you and doing things that would make you want to wear a bag over your head when you go out in public. I barely know who I am anymore, all I know is that I am Stella Gordon, I have black hair, I wear a lot of black eyeliner, and I hide my thoughts behind my snakebites.

Before I was diagnosed, I though I was crazy. I heard someone speaking who wasn’t really there, and my mother would worry because she would always hear me talking to myself. The psychiatrist went through a lot of diagnosis’s before he stuck with DID. He thought I was schizophrenic at first and put me on medication for it when I was eleven. I lost my mother last year. She couldn’t deal with the fact that she had a psychopath for a daughter. She killed herself after she saw me removing the cat’s organs. It wasn’t my fault though. I will always blame my mother’s death on Tucker.


My first alter was Tucker, he was always quite a trouble maker. He would always be the one you would find over something dead, or broken. It was because of him that I got my juvi record; I swear I didn’t kill him. I got out of Juvi a year early because my therapist testified in court. That was when I realized that I could murder someone and blame it on Tucker, but I thought myself to be too good of a person. When I was fourteen, on my first date with the hottest guy I have ever seen, my mental state turned into one of Joel’s.


Joel was a sixteen year old skater stuck in the body and clothes of a fourteen year old emo chick. I don’t know how it works but he could skate and I couldn’t. He still wore skinny jeans like I did, but he stuck a sock in the crotch to make his figure seem more manly. He kept the piercings in and he stuck all of my hair into a beanie, and he used an ace bandage to flatten my breasts. I guess he could have passed for a guy.


When I was fifteen I was introduced to my exact opposite. My first girl alter, and she was the girliest person I have ever met. Her name was Madden and she wore pink all the time, she was always happy and up beat and she signed up for being a cheerleader. I don’t know how she pulled of being a cheerleader and cheering at most games even though she was only herself a fourth of the time.