“And it doesn’t bother you at all that you nearly killed her?” The therapist (Julie? Jackie?) leaned forward, scrutinizing me.
“Nope.” I said, popping the “p.” I leaned back into the chair, rolling my eyes. I didn’t want to be here—I was forced to be here actually. I didn’t see what the problem was. The girl deserved to die.
“Hm.” The therapist (Jamie!) hummed. She sat back in her chair, writing down something or other on her notepad as she crossed her legs. I rolled my eyes once more, finding this to be ridiculous.
“Can I go now?” The therapist shook her head, and I crossed my arms, huffing. I glanced around the room, taking in the shelf full of psychology textbooks and little pop-up books about phobias, types of mental illnesses, and other various things. The couch I was laying on was not the most comfortable, causing me to shift every few minutes. The walls were a dull red, and the carpet, worn down from years of people walking and standing on it, was an ugly dirt brown.
“Tell me then.” My eyes snapped to Jamie. “Why did you try to kill her?”
I huffed once more but sat up a little straighter. Finally, I had someone that could listen to my reasons—understand my reasons.
“She didn’t deserve to live. She took over my life. With her there, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t be myself. If she was there, I couldn’t be me. So she had to go.”
“But you failed.” I paused, frowning—nodding hesitantly.
“Yes, I failed...It was a moment of weakness. But I won’t be so weak next time.”
“Will you? It’s a pretty tough decision, killing someone.”
“Like you would know.” I rolled my eyes. She was right of course. It was a tough decision, especially for me. Emily had been with me my whole life. Without her, I didn’t exist. But with her, I couldn’t exist either. So she had to go.
“Next time, I’ll be sure to succeed. I don’t have a choice. If I can’t live my life, then neither can she.” I was certain of my decision. I would not back down.
“Then I have no choice.” For a moment, Jamie looked truly sad. “Jessica, I really do want to help you, but I need to help Emily too. I can’t help Emily if you’re trying to kill her.”
“SHE DESERVES IT.” I stood up, screaming at her. I couldn’t help it. Didn’t she understand? I couldn’t live as long as Emily lived. “I WANT TO LIVE.”
“But how can you live if you kill yourself?”
I paused for a moment. I had been asked this question multiple times. The question always sent a sliver of doubt through me, but I always quickly shook it off. I knew what I wanted, and I understood the consequences.
“Emily has been living in my body for my whole life, taking away chunks of my life so she could live. If I can’t have my body, then neither can she.”
“And that’s why you tried to commit suicide?”
“If I kill my body, then she’ll die too. If it means dying in the process, then so be it.”
The therapist paused, thinking for a moment. Finally, she wrote something else down on the notepad and closed it.
“Well then. I’m sorry to say this, but you will continue to stay here until we can find a way to communicate with Emily or until you can get better.
I began to scream, lunging for her, but the orderly standing behind me grabbed me. Two more orderlies came in and held me down. I bucked my body, trying to get them to loosen their grip, but I was overpowered and injected with a sedative. My body began to calm against my will, and I began to cry.
“I just wanted to live...”
Everything went black.