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The Third Person

Author's note: I've always had an interest in both physical and mental disorders, but mostly mental and...  Show full author's note »
Author's note:

I've always had an interest in both physical and mental disorders, but mostly mental and especially Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). The boy, Alec is loosely based off a friend of mine and Honour is a very complex girl and I enjoy writing about complex people

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Chapters:   1 2 3 4 5 6 ... 11 Next »

Chapter One

Dear Emery… The words lie still before me, flat and unmoving, printed on snow white paper that occasionally jolts upright in the wind. The tip of the black pen flaps back and forth, leaving scribbly marks on an otherwise perfect page. This journal is brand new. The latest addition to my collection of chronicles hiding around my bedroom. They are all different on the outside, some with photographic covers of black and white images, some with fuzzy spring flowers shaded with warm colours, some that are plain coloured with a velvet feel. This one is a hard cover with a glittery black texture. However, they’re all the same on the inside. Long colour coded paragraphs gossiping about the good, bad and all things in between. That’s how we communicate. The black paragraphs are me, and the pink ones are her. It doesn’t necessarily go black-pink-black-pink though, like we were having a conversation, no, it depends whose eyes are viewing the day. Most of the time it’s mine but I guess my own mind needs a rest sometimes and hers needs to stretch. I continue decorating the white page with messy black splotches as the summer sun warms my smooth skin.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” I say to no one “Sitting under the sun not caring about getting wet or a cold”. My eyes lift from the journal to what’s in front of me. A grey tombstone decorated with roses and various bouquets, sparkling under the bright light. Ivy Emelia Summers 1997-2005 “An angel taken to young from her friends and family” is what it says. Being dragged to counselling sessions when you’re eight years old is no fun. I didn’t really understand what was going on, all I knew at the time was something horrible had happened to my best friend. She was gone. Forever. Mama told me that the couple who killed her had put her in an eternal sleep but even then I didn’t believe it. If they wanted her to simply go to sleep then why was she screaming and crying? Why did they have a knife? I shuddered remembering the nightmarish memory. Strangely I fail to recall every detail about what I witnessed, but that makes me happy. Well, less miserable. I stretch out my arms and let them fall to the ground, except for the left one which hits a hard fabric instead of collapsing on soft grass. My school bag. Oh s***. I’m supposed to be at school. Grabbing the bag and journal I leap to my feet and sprint for Crystal Creek Secondary College.

When I reached the senior hall, out of breath and covered in sweat I was greeted by unwanted test papers and various rubbish. The hall was empty which meant that the bell had rung and everyone was off to class. School started at ten o’clock and went to four. A few years ago a couple of psychologists had tried to convince the government hat later school hours were better for the student brain. Being tired in the morning prevented full concentration and resulted in a lack of listening and learning. At first our stuck up prime minister resisted but caved in after thousands of students in the state uprose to support the scientists’ view.
The year elevens and twelves had their own everything at Crystal Creek: their own hall which consisted of the year eleven and twelve locker rooms as well as a library and private study area, their own canteen, their own courtyard and their own toilets. Basically, we were blocked off from the rest of the school. We were separated from the younger year levels by a rose hedge that had only one gap in it and that was where the main building went through. The main building was the smallest of the three structures in the school, the others being the junior and senior halls; it consisted of the school office, wellbeing office and “private chat rooms”, the teachers’ offices and the canteen. The canteen was a long rectangular room that had automatic glass doors at either end, each leading to the junior and senior courtyards. It was the only place where the older and younger kids ever really mingled.
My schedule which was taped inside my locker with the subjects colour coded told me I had psychology in room 13 so I stashed away my bag, grabbed my pencil case, homework diary and psychology folder and dashed off to class as quick as I could.
My psychology teacher was a newbie. They were common around Crystal Creek Secondary because no many stayed for too long. I guess they didn’t like the smallness of our town and the way everyone knew everyone.
“I’m going to call you fairly floss” he said when I entered the room, a whopping fifteen minutes late.
“Fairy floss? Why?” it seemed and odd nickname until he pointed to the glass window behind me, I turned to view my reflection, my beautifully fair skin, bright pale red lips and candy pink coloured hair. Candy pink like fairly floss
“Are you making fun of me sir?” I asked
“Absolutely not” he smirked “I died my hair orange in the summer and told my nephew I was a leprechaun”. Ok. He was definitely making fun of me.
“What’s your name fairy floss?”
“Honour Grant”
“Risa Grant’s daughter?”
“Yes”. As I walked over to my seat I pondered how this man knew my mother. Like I said, everyone knows everyone but not when their newbies, they have to meet people first. My mother was always friendly though; she made friends quickly and was popular among the locals because of Happy Horizons, the support centre she opened a year ago. I chose the seat next to my best friend Patrick who was smiling widely at me. He was a muscled boy with tanned skin and dark hair. He enjoyed bragging about his six pack and the wonders of sport cars, in other words he was the last person people would expect me, the keep-to-herself alternative girl to be friends with.
“And we’re have you been missy?” he inquired
“Don’t call me that”
“Answer the Q”
“I slept in” it was a lie and I knew unless I came up with a realistic reason he would see right through me “only a week into school you know” I shrugged “still adjusting my body clock”.
“You were here on time every day last week”
“Mum wasn’t home to wake me up today” we were talking quietly as Mr ICantRememberHisName had begun speaking about what we did last week.
“So my memory of calling your house his morning wondering where you were, and your mum answering the phone telling me you left early for school is just a very realistic dream?”
“Yes” I nodded
“Honour please promise me you weren’t at the cemetery”
“You know we should really be listening to what’s-his-face”
“Mr Whitney. Please, please tell me-“
“Fine, I was at the cemetery”. His face fell and he looked away from me. Shaking his head he kept muttering “I don’t know what to do with you”. We stopped talking after that and I tried to pay attention to Mr Whitney and I swear his eyes darted to me more than once, in fact repeatedly during the lesson. When the bell finally rang I began to follow Patrick and the rest of the crowd out the door but stopped myself when I realised I had a query for my teacher
“Excuse me, Mr Whitney?” I tapped on his shoulder as he was busy typing away on his computer
“Hello, fairly floss, what can I do for you?” he asked without looking at me
“Um, how do you know my mother?”
“That seems like a strange question to ask in a town like Crystal Creek” he smiled
“Yeah but you’re new” I said, surprised at the sound of surprise in my voice “at least I think your new. And if you’re new, you don’t know everyone yet.”
“I guess that makes sense and I guess I’m sort of new but I lived her years ago and I knew your mum when you were only young, about seven or eight think you were”
“Oh, sorry I don’t remember you” I felt guilty but in fact I tried to forget most of young years as they were all mostly memories of me, Patrick and Ivy. And with Ivy gone, thinking about her hurt me.
“It’s ok” he smiled “It’s been years, I barely recognise you” and with that he waved me off and told me to go enjoy my break.

The senior courtyard was abuzz with all different activity. You had the quiet, responsible teens with folders and laptops on their laps, except for the ones giggling at videos at YouTube, you had the constant exposure of PDA , hands being held and couples engrossed in each other, you had the girls whose dresses were way to short and mouths were too busy talking about crap like who was a real backstabbing b****, when all the outside viewers knew they all were, you had the teachers who were supposed to be on guard but instead they just stood behind the students chatting, the only one that ever really watched us was the assistant principal, who also happened to be my English teacher, and last but not least you had the average friendship groups who were scattered all over the place just talking, laughing and easing. Pat and I found an empty spot on one of the benches and sat next to a group of studiers, I knew they wouldn’t bother us and I was going to try to not distract them from their learning. Instead of immediately conversing with Patrick I looked up at the sky at an angle so my eyes didn’t ache from the sun. I liked watching the simplicity of a blue sky when there was so much chaos in front of me. It made me forget I’m in the middle of a zoo.
“I think you need to see a counsellor again”. At first I didn’t realise Pat was talking to me until he nudged me in the arm
“I said I think you need to see a counsellor again”
“No way is that happening. And why?”
“Because it’s been nine years and you’re not moving on from Ivy’s…..you know”
“Death? Murder? Which one were you looking for?
“So what, I’m not allowed to visit my friend? It’s the first time I’ve been there in months. I never went all summer holidays, I avoided her, for you ad for mum I avoided my best friend”. The hurt in Pat’s eyes made me feel guilty immediately and I looked away from him, apologizing quietly. He was my best friend now. Ivy was gone. Move on. That’s all they wanted, for me to move on and be happy with my life, but how can you be happy after you saw what I saw? My thoughts were interrupted by an unpleasant smell in the air. It was unpleasant but at the same time tempting and familiar
“I think we should find somewhere else to sit” Pat sounded concerned and I felt him stand up. The study group beside as had noticed the smell too because they scrunched up their noses and one looked up to investigate
“What is it?” one of the students asked her friend
“Tobacco” she answered “Someone’s smoking”. I heard the words “disgusting” and “druggie” from the group and turned away from them back to Pat who was now standing.
“Come on” he beckoned “Let’s go”. I followed him as we weaved through the crowd of gossiping teenagers and I realised unhappily that we would have to walk past the smokers to get the senior hall where I assumed we were heading. One of the boys smoking had floppy brown hair that fell over his right eye, his skin was pale and his chin was decorated with lots of lovely red pimples, a ring pierced his lip and another two his left eyebrow, he pulled the ciggy from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke our way as we tried to go past them without being noticed
“Hey you” acne boy addressed me “I know you. Yeah we used to be buddies” he grinned, I could see a glimpse of yellow teeth as his lips were partly opened “You remember her, Nelly?”
“Oh yeah!” the girl next to him exclaimed “Honour! You dyed your hair!” she waved her cigarette around carelessly “It used to be blue I think”. I nodded trying to ignore the smell of tobacco tickling violently at my nose
“Come on, Honour let’s go” Pat pulled at my arm. I nodded at the smokers and tried not to look to desperate to get away as I followed him.
“Who were they?” he asked when we walked into the year 11 locker space. I didn’t even look at him when I answered “Chris and Nelly” I said quietly
“And you know them, how?”
“Everyone knows everyone, remember?”
“I don’t know them” he sounded sort of angry and had his arms crossed. His big muscly arms folded across his skinny little chest. He softened though and looked at me in a concerned way “I mean, I know you used to…you know”
“Smoke?” I opened my locker door in a quick angry movement and looked for my next class “Yeah Pat, I used to smoke and when I did I hung around with others who understood me and why I did” I didn’t meant to sound like a b****. I preferred to be the quiet innocent girl so that people wouldn’t remember I used to be one of the rebels who smoked, drank alcohol and wagged school because it was how I coped with my pain .A year ago I managed to quit smoking with help of one of the support groups my mother forced me to go to at Happy Horizons, I put down my last alcoholic drink and in the last twelve months I’ve been to ever single class except for the occasional sick day. But still, people swapped from worrying about me to judging me. I suddenly felt the need to pull up the ends of the black fingerless gloves I always wore. Not every piece of evidence was as easy to remove as cigarettes and beverages. The bell rang for next period and Pat, who must have been in his own head hugged me from behind “I have to go to sport now” he said
“Ok, have fun” I looked back at him and forced a smile. I had a study period and made my way to the library on the upper level on the senior hall. Halfway up the stairs I was still in my own head, going over the run-in with Chris and Nelly in my head when I bumped into a blonde haired boy, causing him to spill his open pencil case and drop the A4 sketchbook he’d been carrying.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I knelt down quickly to pick up the pencils that were rolling down the stairs. I dashed downwards to grab a couple that had already fallen. The boy picked up his sketchbook without saying a word. I packed the runaway pencils in the pencil case and handed it to him. When he reached out his hand to take it I noticed he was rather skinny, not anorexic but not as much meat on his bones as he probably should’ve had. He had hazel eyes and longish blonde hair that was tucked behind his ears. He didn’t say thankyou, just sort of half smiled for a second without really looking at me and then walked past me and down the stairs. I couldn’t help but watch him and also couldn’t work out why. But I t only took me a minute to realise I’d never seen him before.
Chapters:   1 2 3 4 5 6 ... 11 Next »

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This book has 8 comments. Post your own now!

turntechGodhead said...
May 17, 2016 at 2:45 pm
this is actually very good, tbh i expected that it would be some bad story about some weird thing or whatever. its well written and had a lot of very descriptive words, which painted an image in my mind
amandamorris said...
May 11, 2016 at 5:40 pm
I really love your choice of vocabulary!! pls check out my first story and comment on it, nobody has read it yet :{ !! I also love how brave you are to write that type of story!
JeepHer said...
Feb. 23, 2016 at 12:11 pm
I LOVE THIS STORY! I am only in chapter 5 , but I'm hooked, keep up the AMAZING work! :)
GabbyHernandez2 said...
Nov. 4, 2015 at 10:11 am
“Honour has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) as a result of witnessing her friends murder. She developed two new personalities however one became over protective and aggressive so Honour wished her away, and strangely the third personality disappeared.” I enjoyed reading this and liked the way you used a lot of descriptive words to make the story more fascinating.
amandamorris replied...
May 11, 2016 at 5:41 pm
yes I definitely agree with you. she uses words to make it more realistic, and alive!
Jassie said...
Oct. 6, 2014 at 3:22 am
Very impressed. Just finished chapter four and looking foward to reading the rest and seeing where this story is going. Good use of descriptive terminology.
real_saxman said...
Aug. 17, 2014 at 9:48 pm
No major problems I can see. You have great description, dialogue and plot. The only thing I would reccomend is adding commas to the end of your dialogue. It's a very minor fix.
maddeeilea said...
Jul. 22, 2014 at 6:31 am
Finally commenting!! aha. I seriously love this! Psychology and mental disorders have always been something i found facinating and i love the way you portray it in this!  the fourth chapter was a bit confusing at first, but i soon got the hang of it and figured it out :D  let me know when the next chapter is up!! xx

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