Being Part of a Multiple | Teen Ink

Being Part of a Multiple

November 29, 2013
By invisible.ink.pen PLATINUM, Pacific, Missouri
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invisible.ink.pen PLATINUM, Pacific, Missouri
30 articles 0 photos 8 comments

Favorite Quote:
"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them,"
-Kahlil Gibran


I sat self-consciously in her reflection absent mindedly rocking. A sudden thought sent a surprising chill through me making me wrap my arms around my drawn up knees. I looked closer at my reflection and grimaced at what I saw. My long dirty blond hair hung in front of my dark silver colored eyes that almost glistened but then I saw that it was only because of the tears forming in them.
'Do it,' A unseen person encouraged me.
I shook my head trying not to think about what I was doing. I listened carefully and heard my Mom singing to the radio as she cooked dinner then gave a five minutes till warning to me and my brother Michael who must have come home early from basketball practice.
Michael. I felt a thick lump in her throat form. Even though he was almost a year old than I was Michael and I were rather close. The two of us always hung out after dinner and shot hoops together. However, lately I hadn't seen much of Michael and he'd act snub to me when I had. I really didn't understand.
'Do it now,' The unseen person demanded with more force.
"I can't do it," I cried.
'Do it,' The unseen person growled.
Quickly I unfolded my arm and began cutting up my arm repeatedly getting deeper each time. At first I only watched my blood in amazement at the sight of so much blood pulsing out of me. Then I clenched my eyes shut lying back on the floor listening to my mom talk to Michael over his blaring music.
I laid on my bedroom floor feeling my blood pulse out of my arm as my Mom entered the room. I heard her panic and start to scream. I tried opening my eyes to reassure her that I was fine but my eyes felt too heavy to open. Then I slipped into a comfortable darkness. . .
Roxy
"Are you going to make an effort today," The balding man with overbearing glasses asked her.
Clearly annoyed I decided not to answer.
"Anya," The man began.
"I will not tell you again," I said clenching her fists,"My name is Roxy. Roxy. Say it."
Clearly confused the man checked his paperwork. He was taking over for the usual doctor in this ward and it was possible to mix up patients. He looked at his clipboard and shook his head re-reading the file he read this morning.
Ms. Matthews admitted her daughter, Anya, after she attempted to kill herself and admitted to having several suicidal thoughts. Ms. Matthews admitted that her daughter had been acting strangely for several months and her moods were constantly changing. Wanting what was best for her child Ms. Matthews admitted her daughter to St. Anthony's a mental hospital two hours from her home. In the past week Anya had been here she'd exhibited strange behavior such as refusing to acknowledge her name, introducing herself as someone she wasn't, and having bouts of confusion for no reason.
"Your file says your mother admitted you some time last weekend," He tried to explain.
"How dare you," I growled, "My mother died when I was eight years old. My name is Roxy just say it. It's not that hard."
The man paused for a second looking exhausted already by his thirty minute session with her.
"Keep this journal," He said suddenly pulling a thick cover journal out of his desk, "I'm going to send you home today but you're going to stay on your anti-depressants and anxiety medication."
He paused looking at her.
"Roxy," He tried.
"Who," I asked, "I'm Anya. Where am I? Where's my Mom?"
The man stared at me speechless then carefully explained that I had been here for a week and today I was going home. I sat disbelieving what he told me. He re-explained his request for me to stay on my medication and keep the journal and made an appointment to meet with me twice a week.
I didn't understand anything and just stared at him. Only a few minutes ago Mom was yelling at me for doing something as stupid as cutting up my arm, I looked and seen it was still bandaged, how could it be possible I had been here for a week and not known?
"Are you sure it's okay for me to go home," I asked after listening to his report of my past week.
"Usually we only keep patients who are a harm to themselves or others and you seem to be neither so without a reason we can't force you stay," He answered.
"Oh." Was all I could manage to answer.
Something was definitely going on but she couldn't place what. Why did the man call me Roxy before? Why didn't I remember the drive over or the entire week I'd apparently been here?
I let the man guide me to my room where I saw a girl sitting on a bed adjacent to what must have been mine and started packing my few belongs.
"Hi," I said quietly to her, "I'm Anya."
The girl smiled kindly but didn't seem to believe her.
"You're not Anya," The girl said quietly.
"What do you mean," I demanded.
"You told me your name was Layla,remember," The girl asked given a shy smile.
"I never said that," I said defensively.
Shocked the girl stopped smiling and dropped her gaze with me and started crying until she wad led away.
"She doesn't do well with confrontation, Samantha," The nurse explained.
'My name is Anya," I demanded.
Surprised the nurse stared at me.
"You told me your name was Samantha. Not Sam, not Sammy, your name was Samantha. You explained that much yourself when you first got here," She struggled to explain to me.
"Why would I tell you my name was something it wasn't," I said crossing my arms
"I'm sorry sweetie it's just what you told me," The nurse apologized and left quickly leaving me to pack.
Several more people came in and no one called me Anya and each time I corrected them. Not soon enough Mom arrived to take me home and I raced for the car anxious to leave not wanting to go into detail of my experience with mom I closed my eyes pretending to be exhausted.
'Maybe I look familiar or there's another patient who lied about who she was,' I thought falling asleep. That had to be it. A similar case to mine was making people confuse the two of them. That could be understandable. There were lots of patients in and out of the hospital so it was possible everyone was temporarily confused.

Samantha
I woke up not sure where I was or how I got here. I flinched at the banging on my door and a deep male voice telling me I better be ready for school. Of course I wasn't ready! I must have over slept I didn't have time to get in the shower, do my hair, fix my make up. I couldn't possibly be ready right now.
I jumped out of bed and quickly rushed to the shower deciding to do my make up lightly as I dried my hair. I quickly tried to straighten my hair burning myself multiple times in the process. I quickly applied some lip gloss and eye shadow deciding against anything else. I headed for my closet and almost screamed at the sight of it.
A mix match of clothes were thrown about the closet and almost all of them were dark colored. I never bought these. I would never even think to wear these. I quickly rushed searching for something that was my favorite color; pink or purple. I sighed in relief finding a pink jacket and matching skirt stuffed inside of a shopping bag. I throw it on hearing again the male voice telling me it's time to go. I smile at my reflection in the mirror and head out of the door putting on my shoes.
"What are you wearing," I hear him ask.
I twirl around to face him and say confidentially, "A skirt that was in my closet. Cute huh?"
"Sure I guess," He mumbles, "It's been awhile since I've seen you in a skirt let alone pink."
I stare at him for a moment then decide he's kidding and laugh. And head down the stairs to the door and look back to find him shaking his head. Me not in a skirt that's pink now that's a joke. He quickly came down and we got in the car and sped off to school.
"Anya," I heard someone call as I got out of the car, "What are you wearing,"
I kept walking thinking of the odd coincidence some other girl was getting the same degree I had this morning. I smiled at the thought of it.
"Anya," The person sounded more urgent, "Wait up."
I don't know what possessed me to stop and turn but I did and nearly collided with a girl dressed head to toe in black. Even her lipstick was dark colored but her eyes looked at me with genuine concern.
"Anya," She said, "What's gotten into you? You never wear pink."
I laughed a short laugh, "Do I know you?"
"Come on Anya don't be like that," She said looking hurt, "I said I was sorry."
"My name is Samantha and I don't know why you're apologizing I don't even know who you are," I said walking back to the school building.
"Anya knock it off," She said following me," It's you and I can prove it."
"Okay," I said stopping abruptly," Go ahead prove it but I'm not Anya."
The girl grabbed my arm and pulled me into the girls bathroom as a group of girls pushed out.
She lifted up my shirt to expose my side but I slapped her hand away.
"Don't touch me," I snapped.
"Anya what's gotten into you," She cried.
"My name isn't Anya," I almost screamed.
"Look at your hip. We both got matching tattoos this summer," She explained looking ready to cry, "When we stand together it makes a star."
I rolled my eyes at the cliche impossibility of it. I would never get a tattoo and I told her so. Quickly she raised up both our shirt and stood beside me where sure enough we each had half a star. I gasped at it and blinked several times not wanting to believe it.
"See,"She said smugly, "You're Anya. I don't know what's gotten into you calling yourself Samantha and wearing such girlie clothes but as your best friend I'm concerned."
I almost laughed but found I couldn't. I sat on the sink and thought for a minute. I suddenly felt lightheaded and closed my eyes.
"Anya,"
"Yes," I answered opening my eyes surprised to see my best friend Nicole.
I screamed. How did I get here? I looked down. What was I wearing? I stored this away in the never ever wear this bag of clothes my mom still bought me thinking my dark wardrobe my suddenly change. I burst into tears feeling scared and helpless. I didn't remember waking up or putting this on. I looked in the mirror and groaned. Make-up. I hadn't used this kind of make up in years.
"Anya what's going on," Nicole asked me.
"I don't remember," I stammered. Then I blacked out and woke up in the nurse's station.
"Hey sleeping beauty," Nurse Jan smiled down at me.
I sat up and felt woozy.
"I called your mom she said she'd be here shortly," She said hoping to calm me.
"Okay," I murmured laying back down.
I closed my eyes welcoming the darkness that swallowed me.

Journal #1-8/14/13
Dr. Johansson suggested I write each day but I haven't wrote anything for two weeks. I didn't even plan to until Mom told me that she didn't want me seeing him anymore. So, now having no psychologist to turn to twice a week I must turn to paper and write all that I can in hopes to solve my problems by myself. I will begin by explaining who I am. All problems begin at the beginning.
I come from two loving parents who met and instantly fell in love. My Mom is an artist and spends her free time painting using unique objects as her utensils. My Dad was unemployed when he died. He had taken to drinking and wrecked his truck around a tree and died instantly. I would say I'm still sad about it but my Dad isn't a man you could say I was very close to.
I have to go now it's time for dinner.
xx
Journal #2 8/17/13
So far the school year stinks! I got into a fight with Nicole because occasionally I liked to dress up and now she's snippy that I'm expanding my friends. This year is so tough.
xx
Journal #3 9/1/13
It's been so long since I've written. I have been really good lately, but today I felt I had to write. I was sitting in Spanish and I had my first anxiety attack in almost 3 months. Here's what happened:
"Excuse me, Ms. Gonzalez? May I be excused," I asked quietly.
"No entiendo. Sòlo hablo español. Lo siento," She said in Spanish.
I groaned remembering her only Spanish rule trying to remember how to ask to be excused.
"¿Baño por favor?"
She nodded as I bolted out of the door. I just shut the door when I felt my body jerk signaling the beginning of an anxiety attack. I tried to walk when I felt my body slam to the floor with me barely having time to react I caught myself and curled into a ball by the door. I started shaking and tried to remember my breathing as I started breathing faster and faster. My vision became warped and blurry so I quickly shut them becoming trapped inside my mind. I slowly rocked side to side. Somewhere along the lines of rocking I bit my tongue and started crying. Occasionally my eyes would jerk open afraid of the unseen but I'd only become afraid again and close them tighter.
"Anya," I heard a voice say from beside me.
I brought my eyes open and quickly wrapped my arms around me digging my nails into my arm nearly drawing blood.
I narrowed my eyes trying to focus on where I knew the boy from. We had a few classes together but I couldn't remember him instantly. He offered a kind smile to me and brought his arms around me bringing tears to my eyes again. I was grateful for his kind gesture yet terrified and instantly wanted out of my skin. I clawed deeper and my breathing got sharper and then I heard it.
The boy started to hum. It was quietly at first then got a little louder. I turned my eyes to him and tried to focus on his soothing voice. I closed my eyes listening to him and felt my body shudder signaling the attack was nearly over.
"Are you okay now," He asked me.
I could only nod now. He stood up and offered me his hand to help me stand up. I took a deep breath and took his hand jumping at his warm touch that sent a spark threw me.
"Sorry," He quickly apologized realizing the shock that went through us.
I cracked a tiny smile as he helped me back to class and to my desk.
"Thank you," I whispered still shaken by the attack.
He nodded then left.
I still don't remember his name but I'm grateful he was there when I needed him. Even Ky wasn't there during my anxiety attacks and even if he was he usually just left me alone. Who was this guy and why did he help me?
xx



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