Harry, a shy, awkward college student by day, and Ames, a confident, seductive performer and sex worker by night. Struggling with Dissociative identity disorder, Harry is caught between these two worlds. When a mysterious man enters his life, he sti...
Oh, baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that I'mma buy her? Do you know just what she likes?
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Harry had always prided himself on being in control. By day, he was a model student—quiet, neat, responsible. His life revolved around routines, structure, and order. Mornings were filled with early classes, afternoons with study groups and hours spent in the library. He never partied, rarely drank, and avoided anything that could jeopardize his academic future. He wore simple clothes, spoke with caution, and kept a low profile. In many ways, Harry was the epitome of the perfect man—focused, reserved, and completely remarkable.
But when night fell, that control slipped away. Harry would go to bed, exhausted from the day's work, and wake up the next morning with no recollection of the night before. Ames had taken over again.
Harry couldn't explain how or when it started, but Ames—the second life he led—was nothing like the one Harry carefully maintained. Ames was wild, uninhibited, and reckless. He partied hard, indulged in drugs, alcohol, and sex, and lived a life of excess and chaos. While Harry wore button-down shirts and jeans, Ames dressed in tight leather pants, sheer tops, and dark eyeliner. While Harry preferred quiet dinners with a few close friends, Ames thrived in loud, neon-lit clubs, surrounded by people who lived as fast and dangerously as he did.
Harry knew about Ames, or at least what he did. He woke up to find receipts from lavish steak dinners, the smell of cigarettes on his clothes. There were bruises on his arms he didn't remember getting, phone numbers scrawled on napkins, and cryptic texts from people he didn't know. Ames' friends, faceless names Harry never met, lived in a world Harry could barely comprehend. It was like someone else was living his life when he wasn't paying attention. In fact, that's exactly what was happening.
The only person who knew about Ames was Harry's therapist, Dr. Ellis-Ross.
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It had taken months of therapy before Harry had even admitted that something was wrong, that he couldn't account for entire nights. And even then, he had downplayed it, unsure if it was something worth worrying about.
"It's not like I'm losing time," Harry had said once, early on in their sessions. "It's more like I'm...sharing time."
"Sharing time?" Dr. Ellis-Ross had leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. "Can you explain what you mean by that?"
Harry had hesitated, unsure how to explain it. "It's like...I know what Ames does. I can remember it, but it doesn't feel like me. It's like I'm watching someone else, like a movie, but I know I was there."
"And this Ames," she had pressed. "Who is he?"
"He's..." Harry struggled for words. "He's me, but not me."
Dr. Ellis-Ross had raised an eyebrow at that. "In what way?"
"He's...confident. Charismatic. He doesn't care about consequences. He's...free." Harry had smiled bitterly at that. "He's the opposite of me."
