Jo - Jo is the one born into the body, the original. Although the Collective does not see her as a member of the Collective, she is of course an important part of how we function so we felt it necessary to include her. She/the body is 46 years old. She was married, which unfortunately resulted in more trauma and abuse, but she has now been divorced for many years.
She also has an adult son, although she was not the one responsible for the majority of his upbringing (an alter had the sole task of raising Jo’s son).
Jo does not spend a great deal of time out front, as her severe and oftentimes crippling depression means she is not able to function very well and is also a high suicidal risk. It was primarily due to this that the Collective was admitted to psychiatric hospitals many times in Jo’s late teens/20s.
As hard as it may be for outsiders to comprehend, Jo does not believe in the existence of the Collective and says she has made ‘it’ all up.
Teens
Jodie– Jodie is 14. She is probably the happiest of the teens, and enjoys talking with ‘Dr David’. She is fairly free of the trauma and pain that most of the teens endure, although she still hears ‘the voices’ inside that can become distressing.
She loves to watch movies and eat junk food – much to the annoyance of Linda, who tries to keep the Collective on a healthy eating plan.
Josephine– Josephine is also 14. She primarily exists to try and please the mother (Jo’s mother). She firmly believes she is a bad daughter and has let the mother down and constantly strives to gain some sort of love or affection from the mother – to no avail.
Josephine and Jodie are best friends. Often the two of them ‘get up to mischief’, according to the adults.
Danielle– Dani is about 13. She carries a lot of trauma and a great deal of the pain, and is haunted by memories of ‘the-man-with-the-red-shirt’.
Rachel– Rachel is a 13 year old who seems to have a lot of anger. She also carries a lot of trauma. She is the main teen that injures the body, specifically cutting.
Nicole– Nicole is also 13 and carries trauma. She is very scared most of the time, and has been known to take off running, trying to flee from the voices or the-man-with-the-red-shirt. Nicole also self-injures, specifically burning.
For a time, Rachel and Nicole were merged together and faded more into the background, preferring to stay within. However, recent upheaval in the Collective meant they returned as individuals and started to take control of the body once more.
Rose– Rose is 12. Although she is not technically a teen yet, she is much older than the littles so is accepted into the teens ‘camp’. She has a lot of fear, and seems to get upset or frightened easily, especially when the other teens are struggling. She is one who is finding the notion that she is in an “old” body difficult to cope with as she “just wants to fall in love, get married and have a family”.
Littles/children
The littles are kept very separate from the main Collective and are heavily protected, so not a lot can be said about them other than their names (Bridget, Daisy, Piper and Cassie) and that their ages range from approximately 4-8. Stuck in loops of trauma, they tend to cycle/switch in and out quickly, and do not stay out front for long.
Jo
I feel like I am suffocating. The blackness looms overhead before it lowers to rest on my shoulders once more. It reaches out, drawing the life from everything that was once beautiful and alive. I can’t get close to anyone, for fear the blackness will find them and suck them dry as it has me.
I put on a smile, a pretence that everything is fine. Nobody knows what life is like for me. They have no idea that even the simplest of tasks are made difficult when the blackness descends.
I pray for relief, but it never comes. I pray for death, but laughing it mocks me, dancing away when I reach out for it.
This is my life. I am Depression.
Jo was in the bathroom, leaning over the sink with blood flowing freely out of her arm. She didn’t recall how she got there or how she had injured herself, yet the bloodied razor blade in the sink gave her a good idea what must have happened. She tried to look at the wound to see if she would need stitches, but the blood kept pooling in the gash and she couldn’t see to get an idea of how deep it was.The blood was still flowing freely and, seeing the amount of blood that was in the sink, it had obviously been flowing for a while. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it the best she could to try and stop the blood that didn’t seem to be slowing down at all.
Why did this keep happening? She didn’t remember hurting herself, she didn’t remember anything for…well, she didn’t know how long.
‘Fuck, she’s starting to cry again.’
‘Leave her alone.’
‘Just pull yourself together, fuckwit.’She couldn’t help it, she wanted to turn around to see who was speaking. But she knew she was alone.
It was coming from inside her head, she recognised that, although it didn’t sound like her voice. She had been hearing these voices for as long as she could remember, yet she still struggled to accept them. How could she accept them, when accepting them meant she was crazy?
She knew it didn’t make sense. Not only the voices that were obviously hers, yet sounded different to her. But she would also find herself in places without any concrete knowledge of how she got there or she would find herself doing something but not understand how or why she was doing it. Like this, with the injury and blood. If she thought really hard, she sometimes received fragments of time, and she saw her body doing things. But it was like she was in a dream, she wasn’t in control. Why couldn’t she control her life? Why didn’t it make sense? She couldn’t even string two days together.
Don’t worry, it’ll wash off. A male voice cruelly seemed to whisper in her ear and for some reason, the voice scared her. Her heart began to thud and she felt sick.
Oh God, what was happening? She felt like she was standing on a precipice and at any moment, the ground would shift and fall away and she would plunge to her death. Any maybe that would be a good thing. She couldn’t keep going like this, she didn’t understand her life at all.
Subconsciously she touched the wound through the towel and that was when the pain hit her. She felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she started to cry.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears and get a grip on the pain, and took some deep breaths. In and out, in and out, trying to calm herself just as the doctor had shown her. After a few moments, she found it helped and the physical pain had eased. Reluctantly she realised she was going to have to do something with the wound and clean the bathroom and so she opened her eyes again.
** ** **
She was no longer standing in her bathroom, and instead found herself sitting in Dr David’s office. David was mid sentence when he looked at her and stopped talking. He looked concerned, his brow furrowed as he studied her. Jo wanted to say something and felt the overwhelming urge to apologise, although she didn’t really know what she wanted to apologise for. She didn’t even understand how she ended up there, although this was something that happened often enough. You would think she would get used to it, yet she just couldn’t.
Don’t worry, it’ll wash off. That male’s voice again in her head.
“Jo?” She glanced at the doctor, who was now looking at her with what she could only describe as a kind expression on his face.
Jo, unable to speak, merely nodded. She couldn’t hold his gaze, so she looked at the floor, letting her hair fall over her face.
“Are you all right?” The doctor sounded genuinely concerned, and when Jo dared to look up again, she could see he was leaning forward