|ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ|
|ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ|
☯︎︎ ❣︎
One night stands were Yora's thing. Michael Jackson was no different. One night was all they had.
*Dissociative Identity Disorder*
A disorder characterized by the presence of two or more distinct per...
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☯︎︎ ☯︎︎ ☯︎︎
Friday Afternoon
☯︎︎Michael☯︎︎
"So who am I speaking with today?"
"It's me." I said.
"Which you?"
I gave a subtle eye roll. "Michael."
She smiled. "Good to see you Michael."
I didn't respond. If I had to go through another one of these agonizing therapy sessions, I was going to lose it.
Well, I already have. Multiple times, actually. But it technically wasn't me.
"How've you guys been?" She asked.
I sat back and crossed my arms. "We're fine."
"That's good." She said. "Can you hear them right now?"
I nodded. "All the time."
"What are they saying?"
I'd been tuning them out as much as I could the entire time, but I tapped in to listen.
"I hate this bitch. She's trying to get rid of us!" Rafael scowled.
"That's a nice watch she has on. I want one like that." Emmett said.
"She decided to show some cleavage today. I'm loving it." Leon said.
I made eye contact with her again, but I didn't answer her question.
She tilted her head slightly. "Well?"
"I'd rather not say."
She breathed out a laugh. I'm sure she wouldn't be laughing if she could hear them.
"Anyway, have you done the exercises we did last week?" She asked.
I shook my head. "We don't have time."
She frowned. "If you don't do them, this won't work." She said. "You seriously mean to tell me you don't have time to write positive letters to your alters?"
"Yes, exactly. It's not working, so I stopped trying. After six months of this, nothing's changed." I protested.
I stood up from the chair. "Mr. Jackson, please sit back down. I'm only trying to help." She said.
