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“Why would an alter harm your system?” She jumps right back into it. I fight the urge to smile at her endless curiosity.
“A persecuting alter holds self-hatred and internalized abuse. They abuse the rest of the alters to teach everyone how to behave in order to prevent more abuse—especially from the real Absinthe.”
“Oh my god. That’s awful.”
“She would reenact abuse to make sure future abuse wasn’t harder on us. It’s fucked up, I know. But she never comes to the front. We’ve found a way to keep her hidden and locked away so she can’t hurt us anymore.” I really need to talk about a lighter topic. I can tell by how her brow furrows and her fingers curl into her palms that this is upsetting her too much.
“There is a female alter that stays hidden from everyone,” I say, searching for a lighter topic. “Her name is Bloom.”
“Bloom.” Skylenna smiles. “What kind of alter is she?”
“A memory holder. She keeps bad memories from the other alters. Occasionally works with other trauma holders, like me.”
“What’s she like?”
“Honestly? Soulless. Inhuman. She has to be, though, in order to cope with the memories she bears alone.”
“Does she hold the worst of all the traumatic memories?”
I shake my head. We’re supposed to keep this light. But now that the truth is out, I’ll never keep her in the dark again.
“There are deeper alters. I’ve never met them. None of us have, actually. They reside so deep in the inner world, so far away from all of us, that I’m not sure if we could even find them. They hold the most severe, devastating memories that would likely kill us if we ever knew about them.”
It’s dark. I know.
“How horrible could something be that they can’t come anywhere near you?” she asks, voice trembling.
I shrug. “Memories can sometimes bleed from one alter to another. Not intentionally. The ones the deeper alters cope with are too horrible ever to risk coming to light.”
Skylenna holds me closer, pressing our bodies painfully against the bars.
“Is this why you never talk about it? Because of how heavy the topic is?”
I nod. “It isn’t a happy story.”
At that, her stomach gurgles loudly.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back to the bars in silent hatred for this place. Our situation. The fact that they’re all probably starving right now.
“When we fall asleep, maybe I’ll join you in the inner world,” Skylenna breathes, sleep draping over her eyes. “Maybe we can stay there a while.”
I kiss the top of her head.
“It’s a date.”
5. Night Lurkers
Ruth
The floor is cold and sharp. It’s like trying to sleep on a bed of glass.
There is no blanket, no pillow, no silk sheets to caress my skin. I’m not lathered in body creams or hair oils. I’m not soft from my lady-doll regimen in a bathtub of milk and honey. The only familiar sensation is trying to sleep with an empty tummy.
I haven’t voiced my terror to others, but it’s there. Screaming in my bloodstream. Banging on the inside of my skull like a child throwing a tantrum. I’ve seen the inside walls of the asylum. But I was never a prisoner. Never helpless at the cruel hands of the staff. The constant urge to run and hide, stay in my cage, and avoid all signs of human life is unbearably intense.
But they can’t know that. I don’t want to be the weak link. I want to be fierce, strong, an asset to this family. But right now, as I shiver against the cold draft in the air, I feel like a massive liability. A burden they can’t get rid of.
I roll over to my side, noticing Warrose staring at the cage ceiling. No doubt annoyed at the constant eerie music of a distorted trumpet and an old-fashioned pipe organ. They play it constantly—no peaceful silence.
