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“How long would something like this typically last?” I ask.
“They are both such rare phenomena there isn’t a one-size-fits-all answer to that,” she explains. “Some people have gone weeks or months in a fugue state. Others have gone years, but those cases are not common by any means. With dissociative identity disorder, it’s a complex condition that can be treated, and it’s possible to integrate the personalities over time with therapy. But there have also been cases where the alter personalities have disappeared completely. The research on these individuals is quite limited and not always well documented, so it’s hard to say what’s typical. I think it’s far too dependent on multiple factors to give you an easy answer.”
I take a sip of coffee and stare out the window. I don’t want to believe something happened to Bianca to make her shut down completely. If that’s true, then it would mean I’ve been tormenting her over something she really can’t control. It would mean I failed her far worse than I ever could have imagined. And just the idea of it guts me. Seeds of doubt begin to plant themselves in my mind, and I don’t have a fucking clue how to fix any of it at this point.
“Is it possible for someone to come out of something like this on their own?” I question.
Leslie is quiet, and when I meet her gaze, I can tell she’s torn. I’m no armchair psychologist, and we both know it. But bringing Bianca to her isn’t an option, especially if it means she might confess to something criminal. Even if I could trust Leslie to treat her, I don’t know that Bianca would ever agree to it as resistant as she is to the idea. She seems determined to keep Bianca’s memory dead at any cost.
“Anything is possible,” Leslie says. “But I would never recommend someone attempt it on their own. The best course of action would be to have a professional assess how fragile their current state of mind is before determining a path. If they’re willing to participate in therapy in a controlled setting, different options could be used to elicit a memory response. But that truly is up to the patient. Often, if they are too fragile, the focus becomes preventing stressors, so another fugue isn’t triggered or other alters don’t take control.”
“What do you mean, another fugue?” I set my coffee aside and study her.
“There has been some evidence with patients that fugues can be recurring,” Leslie explains. “Particularly during stressful times. It’s entirely possible that even while they are in a fugue, they can disappear again and forget their current memories. Or they can sometimes recover, only to have a repeat episode.
A weight settles into my chest as I let that sink in. Bianca could forget everything that’s taken place between us all over again. She could emotionally check out, and we’d be back at square one. It feels like a hopeless fucking situation, and for a minute, I actually consider that it would be preferable if she was lying.
“What can be done to keep it from happening?” I ask.
“Preventing stress would be key,” Leslie says. “Maintaining a comfortable home environment and ensuring their emotional needs are met is important. Often, a patient won’t be able to recall suppressed memories until they feel safe again. That can take time and patience. But getting back to some sense of normalcy, the way things were before the event, might be helpful.”
The way things were before.
That sentiment shreds any notion I may have had to consider her suggestion. I can’t replicate her old life. She was with Adam before, and whatever we had wasn’t meant to be.
I’ve already fucked this up by letting myself inside her again. I’ve touched her, kissed her, fucked her, and there’s no coming back from that. I’ve imprisoned her, spewed my hatred at her, and made idle threats about turning her in—that’s about as far from safe as she could get. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were too far gone to turn it around. But what if I don’t? What if Bianca wakes up one day and decides her current circumstances aren’t worth remembering, either?
I swallow the acid in my throat and acknowledge what I’ve chosen to ignore.
“She does seem fragile,” I confess. “When I said her emotions were volatile, I meant it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. She was a different person. Something snapped in her, and she didn’t understand what was happening as it took over her. She said she felt like she was being betrayed, but it doesn’t make sense. If she can’t remember, how can she feel that way?”
Dr. Woods wraps her palms around her mug and lifts her gaze. “There’s a theory that unresolved trauma lives in our bodies. It can manifest in many different ways, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes we don’t even know it’s an issue until something triggers us and unearths it unexpectedly. There’s still so much unknown about dissociative disorders, but just because someone mentally severs a tie to their trauma, it doesn’t change what happened to them. Whether she knows or understands it, it’s still there. And perhaps her body may be remembering what her mind cannot.”
