Voices in My Head

Chapter 21: Parallels

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She was just like her brother.

I wonder if it runs through the family. I don't think I would want Arthur to end up like them. But who am I to give advice? My life is even more messed up than theirs.

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"Are you always so....peppy?" That was the best way to explain it as I watch the childish alter jump around, gesturing wildly, telling a story I wasn't really paying attention to.

Like before, I was sitting on the floor, back pressed up against a wall, an invisible wall separating us.

Unlike before, I didn't feel confusion or pain. I felt oddly happy. I blame it on the influence of the alter on the other side.

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"Wanna run that by me again, Adam?" Aggressive, biting voice I did not expect from Emma.

I watch her from afar with awed eyes as she stood her ground against unkind words spat out by bullies.

"Aww," the main guy ---Adam? I think. He was a familiar face. I think I went to middle school with him but I'm not sure--- taunted and his goonies made mocking noises. "Sorry. I knew you were stupid, but I didn't realize you were deaf too."

She raised an unamused eyebrow. "Wow. You have to talk trash to me just to feel better about yourself. That's pretty pathetic."

Spluttering in rage, face red in anger. "I didn't ask for your opinion!"

"Apparently you did since you're talking to me."

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Too young to smoke, but she never cared for the rules. Too young to do this. Too young to do this.

It wasn't her fault.

This world was too old to be relying on its traditional ways. She was not young. She was old enough to live her life the way she wanted.

She glared up at the shining moon before stubbing out her cigarette, heading back inside the booming loud party.

The feelings of hating to be contained, locked up with rules and structure. The feelings of wanting to free, to escape the cage she was put in. Was what gave rise to Ceila, the carefree alter.

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She was different.

She faced her problems head on. Instead of running away from the pain, she took it on, dealt with it head held high.

Me?

When faced with difficulties, I just hightail it out of there. Seeing how she dealt with them made me ashamed of how I dealt with them. I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. When the going gets tough, I just pull out the knife.

Weak. Coward. You must be thinking that right?

I was never strong enough on my own. I needed to cut to get through life. Pathetic, right?

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Out of all the personalities, she was the only one who has the memories of every single one of them.

Having all of their memories is an advantage. After all, information is key when gaining dominance in the underground dealings and among gangs. Drugs and murder --- that's the kind of things she deals with.

A shady business, yes, never knowing who is truly an ally or an enemy.

But for her, it's not a problem.

She lives for no one. She only does things if she gets something out of it. She plans every move on the chessboard, deciding which is the best way to checkmate her opponent. She plans everything carefully, which way will benefit her the most, which way will hurt her opponent the most.

No one is an ally. Everyone is an enemy.

Because Allan's doctors says his personalities are not real. They are something he made up out of weakness. They say she isn't real, she wasn't supposed to exist, she has no feelings.

Then so be it.

She'll show them who is truly in control.

The world chose to reject her so she will reject the world.

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"Oh, hey Allan." Was it just me or did Emma's voice sound kind of forced? Was she not happy to see me? If so, then why even bother saying hi? Maybe she was just having a bad day? She did run into those bullies earlier.

I nodded in greeting, trying not to seem uncomfortable.

"So how have you been?"

Oddly enough, as we talked and walked together, her words and smile didn't seem forced as time passed. And I don't think I ever saw her that relaxed before. Not even at all the times I've been to her house to hang out with Oliver.

But the weirdest thing was I felt more at ease with her. I actually talked to her. Albeit with a few words, but that's still something.

"Sorry if I seemed a bit off before." Her voice was sheepish, her face tinted red. "I heard some bad rumours about you and wasn't sure if I wanted Oliver being friends with you. But now it's okay because you're not like that at all."

I just gave her a blank look, not understanding why she was apologizing. Sure, she listened to rumours but everyone did that so what's the point of blaming yourself? I'm used to dealing with anger and bitterness from family so what's the difference with strangers hating on me for something I can't control?

"Are you mad?" There was something different about her voice this time, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Am I supposed to be?" I looked at her, confused.

She's worried about Oliver hanging with the wrong crowd. Considering he's in a gang, that's understandable. But then she's part of the same gang so does that cancel out or something? I'm not really sure.

But at least she's watching out for her brother. That has to count for something, right?

"It's just that I accused you of being a troublemaker."

I still don't get why she's so embarrassed because "It's true."

"No, it's not. You're not really the bad guy, are you?"

I didn't know how to respond to that.

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I knew what was happening as the cracks resounded loudly. I was expecting Sunny to freak out or ask millions of questions on what was happening, but oddly enough, she was quiet and calm.

A bright smile on her face, waving enthusiastically at me.

"Thanks for talking to me. You were the first person who listened."

And before I could respond to that, the wall shattered in thousands of shards, darkness enveloping me.

Like before, I felt a gaping hole in my chest.

But unlike before, I felt no pain, no hurt. Instead, it was a sort of peaceful feeling soothing my brain. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome.