Just Me, Him, and Ten Others - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 17

It was emotional. Come on, I'm Ruth - of course leaving the hospital made me emotional. I cried far fewer tears than I expected to, but hugging Nurse Olivia for the last time definitely got my lungs aching. Then I hugged Dr Westone, Nurse Annie, even Nurse Charlie, and a few of the patients I knew on my way out to reception. Andy received the biggest hug of them all.
               'Miss Harris?' the receptionist beckoned for me when I passed her.
'Yes?'
'Here you go.' She handed me a clear wallet containing the belongings that had been confiscated from me when I entered the building. Inside it was my mobile phone, penniless purse and the diamond-studded ring Mama gave me a year ago, but most importantly, the ruby necklace Hunter bought me when I came here. It was even more stunning than I remembered. The big red jewel was surrounded by twisting, twinkling, golden vines, which emphasised the heart shape and thinned out into a gold chain.
               Quickly, I put it on and let it fall over my top. I felt beautiful instantly. I know it's illogical: obviously a necklace doesn't change the look of your face or hair or clothes, but when I felt that cold chain hang around my neck, I felt like a princess. I was no longer the plain, drab girl who had been living in a mental hospital for the last four months; I was Ruth Harris, lover of Hunter Brookes and wearer of fine jewellery.
               'Goodbye, everyone.' I said, turning back before the last set of double doors. 'Thank you for helping me find myself in here. I'll never forget any of you.' My final smile went to Westone, who nodded his head in adieu. Then Andy opened the doors and we left.

That first breath of air was something magical. I've done drugs before and believe me, they are nothing compared to a fresh breath of freedom. We had an outside area in the hospital, but that's not free air. This, out there, in the car park, breathing in and out and crying with excitement, was a true high.
'Ready to go?' Andy asked me, smiling.
'Hell yeah.' I said.
               'So Hunter's still at the hospital?'
'Yeah.' Andy said as we got into his car. I hadn't been in the passenger seat of a car in months. It felt surreal, but also unexciting, as if no time had passed between now and my last casual lift from Andy.
'I haven't seen him in so long. I can't wait!'
'It's been like a week and a half, if that.' Andy chuckled. 'But I admire the romance.'
'What about you and Jodie? How's that going?' I asked.
'Oh, you know, we're in the honeymoon phase. It's going great.'
'Good! I'm glad. Does she...?'
'Does she what?' Andy glanced at me uneasily. 'Does she know about you? And your DID?'
'Yeah.'
'Well, not exactly. I told her you've been in a psych hospital for a little while, but not much more. I didn't really think it was my place - you ought to tell her, y'know, when you meet her.'
'Yeah, I'm sure that won't be awkward. Hey Ruth, what have you been up to lately? Oh you know how it is, Jodie, I've just been in a mental hospital because Blaze tried to kill himself by jamming glass into my leg!' I looked over and saw Andy's grim face. '- Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.'
'It's alright.' he said, shrugging it off. 'Jodie's a psychologist, you know, so she shouldn't be that easily fazed. And as for the glass jamming incident, you've got the scar, not me.'
'...Yeah.' I murmured. 'Yeah, I guess.'
               'Hey, have you got your book with you?' Andy asked a little while into the drive. His face had cheered up a bit by then, unless the shadowy sky was tricking me.
'Which one?'
'The one you're writing. Depressed and Suppressed, or something?'
'Close enough. And yeah, it's right here.' I took it out of my bag, being careful not to let my diary fall out. (I made sure to pack it so Ava couldn't get to it after I was gone.) Then I opened the first page to look at the photo of Hunter with the butterfly again. I love that photo.
               'You wanna read some of it to me?'
'What?'
'Don't be shy.' Andy glanced over at me, smirking. 'I've never read any of it, and you've been working on it for what, four months now?'
'Yeah. But, Andy it's not very good. It's just my random thoughts - it's not even in order -'
'Ruth, you've always been great at writing. You know that. You were always winning prizes when we were kids for your poetry and short stories and stuff! You don't have to read me all of it, just a page or two. We're nearly at the hospital anyway.'
               My heart started racing, not just because I was about to rip it out and put it on my sleeve for my brother who was well-known for his sarcastic, teasing comments, but because Hunter was only a few minutes away from me now. He had no idea I was coming. When I stepped into his hospital room as a free woman, his eyes would bulge out of his head, his mouth would gape open, and he'd reach for me like I was shinier than gold. We'd hug, breathe each other in, kiss, and then go down to Southampton to be with the rest of my family and friends. It was exactly what I had been dreaming about every night for the last four months.
               'Come on, Ruth, or we won't have enough time.' Andy prompted. I awoke from my fantasy.
'Oh, right. Well, what do you want me to read?'
'Anything! Preferably something I didn't already know about.' Andy slowed down at a set of traffic lights and took the time to smile at me reassuringly. 'Come on.'
'Alright, bossy!'
               I smirked too, and quickly flicked through my book to a part I knew Andy had no knowledge of.
               'Ready for this? Okay.' I cleared my throat. 'Oh and don't judge -'
'Ruth, I swear to God I will pull over and wait if you don't start reading soon!'
'Alright! It was a doctor who finally got me to understand how Hunter could suggest something as outrageous as readmitting myself to a psychiatric hospital. It's a shame I don't remember his name: I would have liked to go back and thank him. He turned my life around the day we met.
               'So tell me, Miss Harris,' the middle-aged doctor said, examining the stitches in my left thigh, 'what is Dissociative Identity Disorder all about?'
'Huh?' I asked.
'D-I-D. What's it all about? I haven't heard of it before now, and I've been practising medicine for thirty years!'
'Oh. It's, it's er, people in my head, I guess. Sometimes they come out and I'm not 'Miss Harris' anymore.'
               It was a flippant attempt at explaining a very complex disorder, but I could already feel the disinfectant stinging on my skin as he cleaned my wound, so I had to focus on not dissociating. I tried to distract myself with a poster on the wall that really wasn't very interesting.
               'Alright...' the doctor was not satisfied. 'What's it like? When somebody else 'comes out', what happens? What do you see?'
'Well, sometimes I'm watching but I can't do anything. Sometimes I can just about hear but can't see, and sometimes I'm totally unconscious and I don't remember anything afterwards. It just depends.'
'On what?'
'On who took over.'
               I sighed when I saw the doctor pick up a pair of scissors. Quickly, I continued, 'Some of my alters let us see what's going on, but some of us like our privacy. But even then it's not always certain. For example, right now I have no idea who can see what I'm doing and where I am.'
'Oh. Okay. That's fascinating.' the doctor said.
'Unlike this poster. Look at something else, Ruth, please!' - That was Julie speaking in my head. I put it in italics so you can tell it's an alter, see? Anyway:
'Oh. Okay. That's fascinating.' the doctor said.
'Unlike this poster. Look at something else, Ruth, please!'
'I suppose it is.' I muttered.
'It can't be easy to control. Can you choose when it happens - at least sometimes?' The doctor had a lot of curiosity on the subject so I indulged him. Why not?
'Sometimes I can, yeah.' I said. 'But when I'm going through a hard time I lose control more often. Like, right now I'm stressed because you're taking my stitches out and it hurts, but I'm not letting anyone else take over.'
'Why not?'
'Because you're not ready to meet anyone else, trust me.'
'Rude.'
'Okay.' The doctor smiled kindly. It didn't do much to ease the sudden tugs deep within my flesh, as the stitches came out millimetre by millimetre. 'Just keep talking to me, Miss Harris. Tell me more about yourself.'
'I-I, I suppose I have more control at the moment because I'm generally happy in life. Things are going well, although some - OW! Mamma Mia, - some people, like my boyfriend, want me to go back to a mental hospital, and I don't want to do that.' I said through gritted teeth.
'Oh? Why not? Those places can be very useful -'
'Yeah, in damaging people more.'
'I don't think so.' the doctor said. 'I'm sure bad things have happened behind closed doors, but there are good psychiatric hospitals out there too. You just have to find the right one.'
               'Let's not talk about this.' I shut my eyes to avoid seeing the small beads of blood appearing on my pink leg.
'Okay. Tell me about...your parents.'
'I've got a mum.'
               I squeezed my eyes shut when I spoke, glad the doctor was so focused and not trying to look at me. 'My mama is, hard to explain. We have a bit of a love-hate relationship. Sometimes I think she loves me when it's good and hates me when it's bad.''
               I heard Andy sigh beside me softly, but I was in the zone now.
''Oh I'm sure it's not quite that bad. From what I can see,' the doctor nodded his head towards my arm, which is heavily scarred, 'you've had a hard life. Maybe your mother's struggled with that too.'
'Yeah. I've caused her some grief, but she's caused me grief too.'
'I'm guessing she sent you to the psych hospital the first time?'
'What? How did you know that? I didn't say I'd been in one before.' I looked at him nervously. He smiled up at me.
'Instinct. You have some pretty strong opinions on them, I just presumed you'd had a bad experience.'
               I untensed, but I didn't relax. I suppose it's hard when a man is pulling wire out of your leg with no regard for your pain.
'Well, you're right.' I said. 'And when I got out the first - ow, damn! - time, I had no one. Mama kicked me out and changed the locks. I can't go through that again. Not with Hunter. I couldn't stand it if he abandoned me.'
               The doctor returned to his work.
'You felt alone. I understand. Have you ever spoken to your mum about why she did it?'
'N-no. Not much. It's in the past now.'
'Doesn't seem like it to me.' The doctor sighed, stood up straight and looked me dead in the eye. 'If that memory is stopping you from getting the help you need, Miss Harris, I would at least talk to your mother about it before writing off psych hospitals altogether. I've had patients who would have died before twenty five if they hadn't found their safe haven. Maybe that's what you need.'
                I looked down at my leg.
'I don't want to die, Doctor.' I admitted shakily. 'I didn't try to kill myself.'
'Why am I pulling these stitches out of your leg then?'
'This was Blaze - he's one of my alters. He's suicidal.' I bit my lip, thinking. '...But I suppose I let him do it. It was a dumb decision, but I learnt from it and I'm fine now.'

'If you say so.' the doctor mumbled, shaking his head.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'It means you should probably be a little more worried about yourself than you are right now, Miss Harris.'
               After a short pause, the doctor went back to work and continued, 'Stabbing glass into your leg was a dumb decision, I agree with you there. But what if you make another dumb decision, and this time you don't get so lucky? It's a risky way to live.'
'I don't need your lectures, Doctor.' I snapped. 'I'm fine.'
'And how long will you be fine for this time?' He raised an eyebrow at me. 'I'm just trying to give you a reality check. If you leave here today and try this again in a week's time, I will have failed as a health professional. So, can you trust everybody in your head to refrain from making dumb decisions?'

I thought about it. Self-destructive Blaze. Bipolar Hailey. Lascivious X. Vulnerable Emilia. Depressed Jim. Injured George. OCD January. Selective mute Julie. Condescending Dr Fischer. Naïve Charity. Neurotic Ruth.
               We were all flawed, but we were all me. All of us had a long way to go, but all of us also had something to offer. Blaze is brave. Hailey is assertive. X is confident. Emilia is innocent. Jim is loyal. George is wise. January has her crap together. Julie knows what's best for us all. Dr Fischer is intelligent. Charity is an angel. Ruth is a survivor.'
               I glanced over at Andy and gulped. He was staring at the road ahead.
''No. I suppose I can't trust all of us.' I finally replied to the doctor, with wide, epiphany-stricken eyes. 'But we all have potential. And we won't reach our full potential on our own.'
'You need help. Do you want it?' The doctor was grinning.
'I - yes, I do. But I'm not ready to accept it yet.'
'That's okay. Give yourself time, you've been through a lot lately. Take it easy for a while.'
               The doctor patted me on the shoulder and I smiled back at him.
'Thank you, Doctor.'
'Don't thank me yet! There are still a few bits to do - and I'm afraid the pain isn't over yet.'
'Okay. Go ahead.'
               I balled my fists and shut my eyes.'

'Ruth...' Andy said, a long time after I had finished reading and he had parked. Half of me was desperate to jump out of his car and run to Hunter, who was lying in a hospital bed mere paces away, but half of me wanted to wait and hear what Andy thought of my writing. It isn't just a story, but my innermost feelings, thoughts and secrets. He appreciated that.
               'What did you think?' I asked gently a few moments later. Andy turned to look at me.
'Er, I-I think, it's well written. And, I think I understand you a little bit better now. I think if you show the world something like that, plus the rest of what you've written, it will become a more understanding, more accepting place.'
               Trying not to cry (much more than I already had that day), I looked up at my smirking brother and smiled.
'Thanks, Andy.'
               He gave me a small pat on the knee, we both got out of the car, and as if our calm heart-to-heart had never taken place, we started dancing towards the hospital.