The sound of my nail scratching the skin around the tips of my fingers was deafening in the quiet, cold, white room.

The silence was so loud it created a muffled ringing in my ears that blended together with the buzzing of voices overlapping with fragments of stray thoughts that didn’t feel like mine.

“Do you ever lose track of time?” The sharp but kind voice of the psychiatrist filtered through ears that felt stuffed with cotton.

“Do you ever lose track of time?”

“I don’t know.” My voice didn’t sound like my own through the static in my head.

It doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people zone out. Lots of people lose track of time. That doesn’t mean I’m-

“Do you find yourself having gaps in your memory?”

I swallowed thickly before replying, “yes.”

I was always exhausted before West. Any normal person would forget things under the circumstances I used to live in.

It’s normal. I’m normal.

This hope I was clinging to dwindled each time I answered yes to something.

“Do people ever tell you you’ve done or said things you don’t remember?”

Each answer made me feel more like the sick creature I’ve always thought of myself as rather than the person I’ve been trying desperately to be since living with West.

“Do you hear inner voices that feel separate from your own thoughts?”

Yet I still clung to the hope that I wasn’t sick.

Until I was standing outside the office door with my torn and bleeding fingers shaking around the paper in my hand.

Dissociative Identity Disorder.

I read over the words multiple times as I numbly stared down at the paper.

Even though I had ample time to accept this outcome it didn’t feel real.

I didn’t want this to be real.

I slowly drag my feet down the hall, eyes fixed on the words in front of me, until I’m standing in the doorway to the waiting room.

My eyes break away from the page when I hear West stand up.

I lock eyes with him. I watch as his whole face softens. He hasn’t seen the paper yet, he doesn’t know the diagnosis but I’m sure the results are written clear across my fear stricken face.

“Hey… how’d it go?” West’s voice is soft and comforting as he takes a step closer to me.

I don’t answer him as I look back down at the words on the paper. I swallow thickly as I slowly hold it out to him.

West steps beside me and takes a moment to read it over.

He releases a slow, anxious breath, “Blue…”

“It’s real.” I whisper, flatly.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “this doesn’t change anything.”

I step away from him my voice coming out loud and pleading, “it does. It changes everything! I don’t even know who I am! I’m-“ I stop myself short as I look around. My cheeks burn as I realize people are staring at me.

“Blue…” West whispers as he reaches for my hand, his fingers brushing mine gently. I let him guide me out of the building.

The hand the paper is clutched in is still outstretched like it’s going to catch fire at any moment. As soon as we’re in the car I set the paper face down on the dashboard. I stare at it, willing for it to just disappear as I pick at my fingers again.

West breaks the silence, “Blue, if you want to talk-“

“Don’t.” I snap and immediately regret it. I bring my knees up to my chest and avoid looking at the potential anger I might see in his eyes. “Please,” I add, my voice cracking.

I hear West sigh beside me before the sound of his seat belt clicks into place and the car starts to move.

We sit in silence for a long while but there’s a loudness in my head that I can’t get rid of. So many thoughts and opinions. They’re going by too fast for my muddled mind to grasp them. And I know now, they are not my own.

That thought seems to trigger the ever looming numbness away as I take in a deep shaky breath, overwhelmed with all the emotions I’ve been bottling up. Fear, sadness, worry. It all comes flooding out in the form of tears and loud sobs.

“What if I’m not even real? What if this isn’t my body and I’m just one of the personalities? I don’t know who I am.” I cry.

West glances over at me carefully as he starts switching lanes, “Blue, you are real. You’re right here.”

I don’t respond as I cover my face and cry into my hands.

The car comes to a slow stop on the side of the highway, West quietly reaches for my hands and pulls them away. I stare at his calm expression as he gently rubs his fingers across my knuckles, waiting for me to calm down.

I let myself feel sad and cry for a little while longer before I finally will myself to calm down until I’m left with stuttering breathes and watery eyes. I look back up at West as he gives me a soft, encouraging smile.

He lets go of one of my hands to brush a few stray tears away before he gently begins speaking, “you’re you, Blue. Whatever that paper says, doesn’t erase that. It just… gives it a name. And names aren’t meant to shame you, they’re just a place to start.”

I sniffle, “but I don’t want to start anything. I just want to be normal,” I plead.

“You don’t have to be normal. You just have to be you.”

“I don’t know who I am.” My voice breaks, as I’m brought to the verge of tears again.

“I don’t have all the answers right now,” West says softly, “but I’ll be here every step of the way no matter how hard it gets. We’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone.” West’s voice is steady and patient as he speaks and it brings a calmness over me.

I nod and wipe my eyes as I collapse into him. He immediately brings his arms up, enclosing me in a comforting hug. I feel his chin rest against the top of my head. He squeezes tightly, holding all my broken pieces together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into my hair.

🌊🌊🌊

The rest of the car ride back is quiet, but it’s not heavy like before. It’s tired and muted. I lean against the window and watch the city blur past through red puffy eyes.

When we get home West opens the door for me without a word. I step inside, kick my shoes off, and stand there in the entryway not knowing where to go from here.

West carefully stands in front of me, “want to lie down? Or… I could make you tea?”

“I don’t know…” I shrug my shoulder, my voice coming out soft and broken from crying.

I watch West walk towards the kitchen and hear the clanging of pots, the click of the gas stove, and the sound of water.

I stand there just breathing for a few minutes until the sent of herbs reaches my nose. I slowly make my way down the hall and towards the kitchen, dragging my hand across the wall to steady myself.

I lean in the doorway as I watch west pour hot tea into a white mug, navy blue smiling stars scattered across it.

He walks towards me, not saying anything as he flashes me a kind smile.

I give him a small smile in return as I move towards the living room with him following behind me. I take a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch with my knees to my chest I stare ahead at the wooden coffee table where West sets the mug down onto.

Without a word he lowers himself to the floor next to me, just close enough to be near and not enough to crowd.

I carefully pick up the mug and take a small sip before I set it down. I let my head fall back onto the couch as I let out a breath. “You’re not gonna ask questions?” I speak into the quiet.

“Not unless you want me to,” West replies, speaking softly.

My eyes slowly drag over to him and I tuck in my lips and nod. That answer means more to me than he’ll ever know.

I stared ahead again but I wasn’t really looking at anything in particular.

I breathed out a shaky breath as I spoke up about my thoughts, “I’ve always thought I was broken. Broken in a way that, with time, I could be fixed. But I don’t know anymore.”

“You’re not broken,” West breathed.

“Then what am I?” I turned toward him with hopeful eyes.

It was quiet for a moment as West stared at me with a million affectionate words in his eyes. But he settled on just two.

“You’re Blue.” He said adoringly. “That’s who you always have been. And I…I like who that is. No matter what comes next you’ll still be Blue.”

There’s a quiet, comfortable moment between us. I slowly lean sideways until my shoulder brushes West’s.

I smile gently as I look down at my hands that are wrapped around my legs, “thanks for saying you’ll stay. I was afraid… you wouldn’t.”

“No worries, Blue.”

My smile warms at the comforting and familiar phrase. “I love when you say that.” I confess.

West bumps my shoulder playfully, “do you, now?”

“Mhm,” I hum. “Can we just stay here like this for a while.”

“As long as you want.” He says softly, shifting so that are shoulders align more comfortably and I’m more so leaning on his chest.

I sigh contentedly, letting myself relax in the presence of someone else without feeling like I’m in danger.

I lean into him more, feeling his steady breath beside me. A familiar warmth blooms in my chest, soft and calm. The kind of feeling you don’t realize you’ve been starving for until it’s there. And I want to hold onto it forever.

🌊🌊🌊

I can hear West unpacking our bags in the other room as I slowly brush my teeth, distracted by my reflection in the mirror. I can’t help but smile as I run my hands through my short hair.

My smile falters, when I take in my red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. I feel insecurity creep up on me as I think back on the events of the day. I cried so much I probably looked so weak. What if he gets annoyed by all my whining?

A sharp voice cuts through my thoughts, “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all day! You shouldn’t let your guard down like that. West or not.”

I flinch, his tone is protective but harsh and I can hear the panicked undertone in it.

“Zack?” I whisper, recalling the name from somewhere deep in my memories.

The image of my reflection flickers and the edges of my vision go slightly fuzzy. It’s a familiar feeling but knowing what it is now feels jarring.

I don’t feel fully in my own body.

I lean forward and grip the edge of the sink to ground myself as I breathe hard. The voices in my head grow loud again but I can’t make them out. It nearly overwhelms me until I hear a quiet knock on the door beside me and suddenly everything very slowly calms as I realize where I am again.

“You okay?” West calls through the door.

I don’t answer but I open the door just a little bit and stare up at him. His brows furrow in concern, “you look a little shaken did something happen?”

I breathe, “I feel weird. One of them is… Zack is…” I break off as I feel fuzzy again.

There’s a prominent defensive feeling all over my body but below that I can feel a bit of pride.

“You said my name.” The voice, Zack, answers my unspoken question and I almost feel like laughing at the simplicity of the root of the pride he’s feeling but West brings my attention back to him.

“Come sit with me until you feel okay again.” West says as he gently takes my hand and leads me back to his room.

Zack’s guard doesn’t drop until a long while after. West talked to me for a little while before he decided to turn on a movie. Halfway through, West fell asleep beside me and Zack finally started to relax.

“I guess he’s okay,” he said.

I couldn’t help but smile and playfully roll my eyes.

The action made me freeze after and take a deep breath. There’s someone speaking to me in my head.

I took another deep breath, tossing and turning as I thought. Am I even the one in control of my body right now?

I sighed again and settled flat on my back with my arms wrapped around myself. I squeezed my arms and closed my eyes as I thought softly, “are you guys there?”

At first it was quiet before a deep older voice with a slight British lilt spoke up gently, “we’re always here. You’re not alone, Sam.”

His calm familiar voice relaxes me. I remember this voice. Whenever I was conflicted on something or needed advice I always heard it. My voice of reason. This soothes me enough to keep going, “Am I me right now?”

A soft feminine voice chimes in now, “you are. You’ve always been you. We’ve always been here but that doesn’t stop you from being you.”

Suddenly a younger, more high pitched voice shines through, “are we going to be okay?”

I hear soft little chirps of laughter float through my head and it warms me.

Finally I hear Zack again, “you did good today, I’m sorry I scared you” he sounds reluctant to be apologizing but I can feel the protectiveness he feels over me, “and crying doesn’t make you weak. Don’t think that,” he snaps, harshly.

I don’t flinch this time. Instead I smile a little. My chest is tight with worry still but… it feels less lonely.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

I turn over and let my tense muscles relax. I fall asleep, feeling held and kept safe by an invisible force.