Me & Her

Me

For a heart-wrenching moment, I know I'll never her voice again, never feel her presence in my mind. Then...

Their silhouettes strike me first. Their coats, so white my eyes squelch shut, flap in the none-existent breeze. They're here. Four young doctors with eyes of steel, each one trying to convince themselves that I'm a diagnosis and not a human being.

I have no idea how long I've been here, because each second has stretched into a million. A million moments of an ache in my chest that just refuses to relent. Alyssa is gone. I'm no use to them now and it's only a matter of time before they figure that out. Before they kill me. Before I vanish from the world before truly becoming a part of it.

The coats with cold stares busy themselves with checking my vitals, tapping codes into the horde of machines hooked up to my bed. Brain waves. Blood pressure. Bone density. Neuroplasticity. They scribble hollow notes onto their clipboards, trying not to look at me. They only focus on my stats, my numbers. I guess that's what I am to them: a long and complex number in need of dissecting.

Alyssa. My throat burns. I wish she was here. Here with me. Then maybe I wouldn't be crying every other hour. Maybe my heart wouldn't be faltering.

The doctors try not to notice the sniffles, or the long bead of snot running down my face. One of them is callous enough to wipe my face with her sleeve. Rough. Itchy. I see stars as she rattles my head. The beeping of a machine – I don't know which – intensifies. They all look up. Glance at their clipboards. One of them leans over to the machine, taps it. I frown.

It wasn't supposed to do that, was it?

When nothing happens, they seem to shrug with their pencils.

Alyssa. I would give anything, anything, to hear one of her sarcastic remarks or her laughter to cover the fear in her voice. It's strange. Now that she's finally gone, I understand so much more about her. I don't want her to be gone, I want her to be here. I've never wanted her inside my mind more in my entire life. She was never a monster, never fearless. She only acted that way to cover up the scars. As I acted as if my body was made of self-doubt.

We were both so afraid. Just in different ways.

To my left, the door opens. And I want to scream. To cry. To ball until I choke on my own vomit. Karen Hill. My heart rate rises. Where is Alyssa? I need her. Where? Where? Where? Alyssa, I need you. I need you. Hill steps up to the bed, mutters something to one of the doctors. Then she speaks into her stupid little Dictaphone.

"Time: 2000 hours. Subject's vitals are stable, though there was a discrepancy in her brain waves. Most likely a technical error. Commencing sample collection for analysis". She puts the Dictaphone away.

Sample collection. I want to scream. I don't, though. I'll be screaming soon anyway. Sample collection. Lumbar punctures were the more popular method. I had to be unconscious for brain fluid and something tells me they don't want to put me under again. After all, I think bitterly, they might ruin their sample. I square my shoulders. Brace myself. I will be like Alyssa. I will fight. I won't they them do this to me. To us. But the longer I exist without her, the more I realise there will never be an 'us' ever again. There will only be me. Alone here in this horrible place until they decide to get rid of me.

Karen Hill orders the doctors to prep me. Hands grip my arms, unlock two of the restraints. I'm ready. But as soon as I struggle, pressure builds. Hands on my back, turning me over. Me, screaming. Weeping. Tensing up even though I know that will make it hurt more.

Alyssa, please. You were always so much braver than me. Help me, please. Help me. Alyssa!

Every part of me tries to move, but they're too strong. They hold me in a vice of flesh. I can't move. Can't breathe.

The needle is an ice-pick in my spine. Pain becomes a constant. An instant constant, never fleeting. It is as if my spine is being slowly wrenched from body. And it takes me minutes to realise that the shrieking is coming from me. Shrieking and screaming, while the doctors stoically take DNA samples which are rightfully mine. Strip me of my spinal fluid. And the pain. The pain. I wish Alyssa were here. She is the better half. She always was. I am the weak persona. I am the secondary personality, not her. She must be the one who is supposed to exist, not me. Never me.

Hands. The grip me so tightly. Fresh wounds. Nails become claws. It hurts. Mummy, where are you? Alyssa, where are you? Where am I? Who am I?

In a bolt of searing horror, the hands vanish. Pain pulses at the base of spine and all along my back. I am breathing but the air is so thin.

"We need to perform an MRI. CT scan. We can monitor her brain activity more closely. Figure out her triggers," says a stale voice. Male. Nasal. One of the Doctors. I want to scream at him, to ask him how he can sleep at night after doing these horrible things. But my voice is raw, and the silence drowns me.

Karen Hill steps around to where I can see her. She runs her hand across my forehead. Alyssa would have bitten her fingers off. Or spat in her face. Me... I lie there, in too much pain to move.

"What is your trigger, my dear? Is it pain?" she asks. I want to tell her that she might have destroyed the only person in the world who ever understood me. I want to tell her that Alyssa is dead and without her, I might as well be dying.

Karen Hill removes her hand and speaks to the doctors about prepping the MRI. She snarls when they reply it will take them at least an hour or so and even then, they tell her my mind will need a reprieve. I want to stick my tongue out, but I don't even have the energy to part my lips.

Alyssa, I need you.

Alyssa, I'm sorry.

I lie back on the bed. Let them re-fasten my restraints. I am alone now. And I am sorry.

Alyssa. I love you. I love you and I'm sorry and I wish you were here.