However she knew she was an altar, she wasn’t the original one born into the body. And in truth, even though she did have desires of what she would do if she was the only one in the body, she could not really imagine what life would be like if she was on her own. She was so used to hearing noise from within most of the time, and David, their doctor had said that was something non-multiples didn’t experience in the same way. What would life be like without that noise?
The microwave beeped again, and the words “Remove food” flashed up on the display. Linda tried to pull her mind back (did non-multiples do that? Get lost in their thoughts? She would have to ask David) and focus on the task at hand. Pulling the container of steamed vegetables out of the microwave, she put them aside while she focused on the meat in the air fryer. She turned it over and was pleased to see that the chicken looked well cooked and still succulent. Using the tongs, she removed it and placed it on a plate, along with the steamed vegetables. Taking the plate and cutlery to the chair, she sat down to eat, hoping it was, indeed her that was able to eat the food tonight. Lately she had been cooking and then been replaced out here with someone else, so she didn’t get to eat what she had lovingly slaved over. Mind you, she had noticed someone else often did the dishes in those instances, so that was a positive!
Jordan
Jordan found herself sitting in the lounge, with a plate of chicken and steamed vegetables. “Shit,” she muttered. She agreed to follow the diet because being overweight made them much more vulnerable. After all, they couldn’t run or fight if needed when they were so out of shape. But just sometimes, a burger would be awesome.
More out of laziness than obedience, she ate the healthy dinner, keeping the thought in the back of her mind that she will hunt out some ice cream or something for dessert.
She flicked through Netflix and found the classic version of House of Wax had been added to the playlist. Smiling to herself, she selected it and happily devoured the movie at the same time as she devoured the food.
Dianne
Shift, switch. Di saw the empty plate next to the chair, and an old movie playing on the television. ‘Poor Linda’, she thought, fully realising it would have been Linda that did all the prep work for this meal, but she wouldn’t have been the one who ate it. Di knew this simply by what was on the television – Linda didn’t watch old movies like this.
She went to pick up the plate and get started on the dishes when she glanced over at the phone. She saw a text from the mother, and immediately a groan escaped through her clenched teeth. The mother knew just how to upset the Collective. This was probably why she found herself out here – Di had to deal with the mother the majority of the time, even though she hated doing it.
She put the phone down and then purposefully picked it back up again, and deleted the message from the mother. She didn’t want Jo or Josephine to see it, as they would feel compelled to answer her. Di knew damn well the teens were struggling at the moment, and any contact with the mother would just make it worse.
Putting the phone down again, she took the plate out to the kitchen and then started to clean up before she was gone from the front once more.
Danielle
Don’t tell, don’t tell.
Danielle’s eyes shot open. She whirled around, but found she was alone in the kitchen. She always felt like someone was lurking around the corner, getting ready to jump out at her.
Don’t tell, don’t tell.
She knew what was coming, and she tried to stop it, but she couldn’t.
The movie started playing in her head.
Flick. The-man-with-the-red-shirt was speaking, his fingers to his lips as he smirked at her.
Don’t tell, don’t tell.
Flick. The-man-with-the-red-shirt took his fingers from his lips, and slowly moved his hand down to his pants, to his belt. He gave her a smile and licked his lips. Then very slowly, he started to unbuckle his belt.
Dani gave a moan, and sank to the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest and put her head on her knees, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Don’t tell, don’t tell.
Jo
Jo opened her eyes and noticed she was sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. She could feel the heart was beating fast, and she took a shaky breath as she tried to straighten her legs. This was another thing she didn’t understand. She would find herself in sitting in strange, almost unnatural positions, and sometimes her heart was beating so fast she could barely breathe. What was that about? It was like she was really scared of something, but she had no idea what it was.
Trying to calm the thudding of her heart, she took some deep breaths, before her mind started the circling of the drain that it frequently did.
She was so alone. She had nobody who she could talk to, nobody who understood. I mean, she didn’t understand, so how could anyone else? The truth was she was tired, so tired of fighting all the time, so tired of struggling to stay alive. Every day was a struggle. Every morning when she woke up she felt the dread creep in, that horrid feeling that she had to cope for yet another day.
Jo couldn’t remember a time when she felt normal. It wasn’t a feeling she could describe or explain in any way that made sense. She just knew she felt like something was wrong, that something was broken on the inside.
As a child she didn’t realise how different she was. She didn’t know other people didn’t hear voices in their head all the time. It was as she got a little older when people looked at her strangely that she realised other people didn’t have a life like hers or didn’t feel like mere passengers in their own life.
When she was 15 or 16, the depression reared its head. She started scratching at the arm, frantically scratching all the skin off, which was the beginning of the self-injury. Later on the self-harm escalated to cutting and burning although if she was honest, she didn’t really remember doing any of that. Life careened down a slippery slope at a rate of speed Jo couldn’t keep up with, and a few years later, she had her first admission into the psychiatric ward, which was the first of many.
In the early years, she fought hard to keep going. When the depression and self-harm first hit she tried counselling, but the school counsellors were (in their words) ‘not equipped to handle her case’. She tried keeping a diary as that was supposed to help her draw out those feelings and express them. Yet once she saw different hand writings on the page, she stopped doing that.
When Jo had her first admission into the psychiatric hospital when she was 20 years old, her family didn’t bother to hide their disappointment and embarrassment. They made it very clear she had allowed herself to be dragged down by her weakness.
Jo knew they were right. She wasn’t a strong person, not like the rest of the family. She lacked the strength of character to not let life get to her. She was just one big disappointment.
She wasn’t sure if she believed in reincarnation, but she hoped it was real. She would have a chance to put it right the next life. She would not let (what her mother called) ‘normal childhood experiences’ get her down and affect her whole life. She would get it right, she wouldn’t be an embarrassment to her family for being weak and having ‘mental problems’.
Don’t tell, don’t tell.