A young girl, no older than 16, sat in an interrogation room at the local police station. She was in handcuffs, which were attached to the metal table in front of her. The cop that had brought her in the room had left a bottle of water for her, which would remain untouched, partially from her blatant refusal to reach forward and take the plastic in her cold hand, and partially because she kept getting distracted by something. This girl, she looked stunning, even as obviously shaken and bedraggled as she was. Her hair went down to her waist, and was a striking silver blonde, so light in color it almost looked white in certain lighting. Her eyes, just as abnormally beautiful as her hair, were the green color of a cat’s eye, and her skin was almost translucent, it was so pail. The girl was tall and thin, and her limbs were almost to long for her body, but just short enough that it turned from strange and odd looking to well proportioned. On the outside, she looked perfect, like she was a model. But looks can be deceiving. This girl was broken, somewhere in her brain, she was broken.
2 years, 2 months, 1 week, 3 days, 7 hours, 2 minutes, and 5 seconds earlier:
“Doctor, what is your diagnosis?” a woman asked. She had short, black brown hair and her eyes were baby blue. Her skin was tanned and she was thin and short.
“What’s wrong with our daughter?” the man next to her asked, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde haired, green eyed girl sitting in the waiting room, looking at her lap with a melancholy expression. The man turned back, his stormy grey eyes shining with feeling, and his brown hair dull and unkempt.
“Mr. and Mrs. Terrance, your daughter Alice has multiple personality disorder,” an older man with greying hair and brown eyes said. “It usually stems from physical abuse. You said your daughter was adopted?”
Mrs. Terrance was stunned into silence, so Mr. Terrance spoke up after swallowing thickly, “Yes. We adopted her when she was 9. We’ve had her for five years.”
“Is there anything we can do to help her?” Mrs. Terrance asked, her voice shaking.
“There are some treatments; psychotherapy, hypnosis, medication, and electroconvulsive therapy. I personally would not suggest the electroconvulsive therapy. Medication is also risky, because it can make the symptoms worsen if the wrong medicine is prescribed. I would highly recommend psychotherapy or hypnosis before trying any other methods.”
A heavy set cop walked into the interrogation room. He was balding prematurely, and his brown eyes fixed warily on the girl. “Alice? There’s someone from the FBI here. Do you mind if they come in and talk with you?” he asked softly, nervously, almost like he was afraid that she might move her eyes away from the wall she was apparently trying to stare holes through and look at him with those awfully disturbing vacant eyes.
Alice Terrance didn’t respond, she didn’t even seem to hear the cop. She just kept staring straight ahead, everything about her, even her breathing and the halls of her brain, where thoughts and pictures and music and memory should reside, were silent. She might as well be a manikin from a department store. It was really creepy, from the cops’ perspective. So he hastily nodded to the door and a woman with reddish hair and hazel eyes entered. She was very tall and thin. Her appearance wasn’t model-like, but more normal and relatable. The only thing that made her stand out was the gun holstered at her waist. “Thank you officer Morgan, but I’ll take it from here,” she said. The cop nodded quickly and left the room.
After a moment the woman sat down across the table from Alice. “Hi Alice, I’m Special Agent Katharine Edwards, from the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI. I wanted to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?” she asked politely, looking up at the girl expectantly.
1 year, 6 months, 4 weeks, 12 days, 14 hours, 30 minutes, 29 seconds earlier:
Alice walked into her bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She took the image of her beautiful glowing eyes, rosy cheeks, and observant, if not a little bit paranoid, face. She memorized the image before reaching up, opening her cabinet, and pulling out a few bottles. She looked at them sadly, and then started opening the first bottle, dumping out one white pill. She sat it down and did the same with the other five bottles. She stared at the assortment of pills, various colors and sizes. With a soft sigh she grabbed the empty glass on her counter and filled it with water. She then proceeded to take each pill one by one.
After she finished getting ready she walked out into the living room, where her mom was drinking her morning coffee and watching TV, her short hair shining with water from her shower. Her dad was sitting at the table, reading his newspaper. His brown hair had grown longer, and it fell in his eyes. He looked up from his paper when he saw his daughter out of the corner of his eye. “Hey kiddo. Did you sleep well?” he asked, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite.
She nodded quietly, walking into the kitchen and putting her lunch together. “Do you want me to drive you to school today hunny?” her mom asked, walking into the kitchen with her mug of coffee.
“No mom, I’ll walk,” Alice said, brushing past her mom back into the hallway. Her eyes were already growing foggy, and her voice had gone monotone. She walked into her bedroom, and looked around at the simple white walls, adorned with posters. She had every kind of poster, from TV shows, to movies, to bands. She also had a few wall scrolls from anime shows and movies. She took a deep breath, eyes closing at the incense smell pervading the air. She grabbed her hoodie, pulled it on, and then grabbed her open backpack. She tossed her lunch inside; along with the pills she would have to take with it, and zipped it shut.
She jumped slightly when something brushed up against her leg, and looked down at her cat. It met her green eyes with its pretty yellow ones. She smiled softly and leaned down to pick the animal up, who mewled slightly in protest before climbing up to her shoulder with its claws, purring happily and waving its tail in Alice’s face. It was by far the most unique cat she had ever seen. It was literally half black and half white, and in some spots the black would overtake the white. She was tiny and quiet. When she was being held then she would purr, but other than that she didn’t make much noise.
After a minute of letting the cat climb over her shoulders, Alice pulled her off and sat her on the bed. “I’ll see you when I get home Bastet,” she told the cat, throwing her backpack over a shoulder and leaving the room.
It didn’t take long to get to school. No one greeted her, which was expected. The pretty popular girls looked at her with disgust and disdain, but Alice didn’t really notice anymore. She just went to her class and sat down as the bell rang. The classes went by just like every other day, no one spoke to her, and none of the teachers called her name. Alice was a decent student, she took all her notes, maybe doodled some, and did the work that needed done. But she did that work at home, when she wasn’t under the influence of the medicines she had to take, and she could think better. And she only did that because her parents were never home after school. They didn’t get home until around 8 at night, so she could go without her medication without scaring them.
Alice didn’t answer; she was trying to ignore the woman. So far that wasn’t going over very well. She was trying though, and that was something. The woman’s voice broke through her thoughts, or lack thereof, once again, “Alice, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she replied, her eyes still staring straight ahead. “If I don’t think, don’t talk, then I can keep her from talking.”
“Well I need you to talk to me,” Katharine said.
“Will you… I want my cat.”
Alice nodded. “She helps. She always helps. Bring her, and then I’ll talk.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise you that I can bring her.”
“Trying is something,” she said absently.
“What’s her name?”
9 years, 0 months, 4 weeks, 1 day, 22 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds earlier:
Alice cowered in the corner of a dingy room, holding onto Bastet tightly. She could hear the obnoxious laughter and shouts outside, which was a telltale sign of what was to come. “Hey! Kid! Get out here right now!”
Alice flinched at the sound of the man’s gruff voice. She placed the kitten back in the kennel she had found, and then the kennel in a box. The man didn’t know that Bastet existed, and Alice planned to keep it that way. “Shh, just be quiet kitty,” she whispered when the little kitten mewled and looked up at her with glowing eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise. And I’ll get you food.” She put books over top of the kennel and closed the box.
With that she turned and walked out of the room as the man shouted again. She went stumbling out into the bright light of the living room. She kept her eyes turned downward, and her hands behind her back. “Y-Yes sir?” she asked softly, staring at her ratty clothes with wide eyes.
“Come here kid!” he snapped. Alice stepped closer to the couch full of drunken men. “I want ya ta go get us more beer, got that?”
“B-But sir, I-I’m too young to buy b-beer,” she whispered. She knew full well what was coming and closed her eyes and clenched her jaw so that she wouldn’t make a noise when the hand hit her cheek. She stumbled and fell.
“Good fer nothin’ little brat.” Alice could hear the man lumbering towards her. Then she was being lifted up by her hair. She looked up at him with fire in her eyes.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice rougher than normal. The man smirked.
“Oh, ya want me ta let ya go? Fine,” with that Alice was thrown down hard. She didn’t remember what he said, or where he hit her first or last. She just remembered hearing all the other guys laughing as if it were a comedy they were watching. Eventually Alice was able to crawl away and hide in the room again, and give the kitten what food she had been given. She had smiled weakly when the kitten had licked at the cuts and bruises along her arms.
“Thank you kitty,” she whispered.
Not long after that a cop came in carrying a kennel. He sat it down on the table. “I found the thing,” he said, a scratch very visible on his neck. He glared at the crate. “It’s a wild animal.”
Alice turned a glare on the cop. “Don’t call her that. She just doesn’t like fat guys,” she snapped, her voice a lot rougher than usual. She stood, eyes flashing, the only thing keeping her on that side of the table being the handcuff attached to the metal.
“That will be all officer,” Katharine said coldly, giving him a warning look.
He swallowed and nodded turning and leaving quickly. Alice sat back down, but instead of sitting stiffly like she had before, she lounged in the chair, looking at the woman across from her with a raised brow. “So, lady cop, what do you want with us?” she asked in the same voice.
Then she sat up suddenly, and her eyes widened. “Please don’t, not right now,” she whispered in her normal voice, her frame shaking.
“Why not?” the rough voice asked.
“Bastet is here! And this lady is nice! So stop it!” she cried.
“Oh, stop being such a crybaby. That’s why you got hurt so much before,” the rough voice responded, a scowl adorning the pretty features of Alice’s face.
And then the expression was gone and Alice was reaching for the cage door, opening it with shaking fingers. A black and white cat pushed its way out of the cage and ran over to the girl, jumping up onto her shoulder and managing to sit there. Alice sighed, closed her eyes and then opened them again, looking at the agent across from her. “What do you want to ask me?”
8 years, 3 months, 1 week, 3 days, 5 hours, 55 seconds earlier:
The door was thrown open and the drunken man that was Alice’s father stumbled in. “Who’re ya talkin’ ta kid?!” he shouted.
The girl turned to look at the man, her green eyes flashing. “I’m talkin’ with no one. Who are you talking to old man?” she asked in a gruff voice.
“Do you want me to slap that smart ass mouth of yours?” he snapped, taking a threatening step forward.
The girl blinked. “I thought I was stupid and useless. Oh, and good for nothin’. When did that change, old man?” she asked, smiling.
“So you got home, at what time?” Katharine asked, looking at the file in front of her.
“Around 3:30, when I always get home,” she answered slowly, petting the cat on her shoulder.
“And what did you find?”
“At first glance everything looked normal. The paper was sitting on the table. My dad’s… his coffee mug was sitting there. And so was my mom’s. I put my bag in my room, and skipped taking my medication for a while, so I could do my homework.”
“When did you realize something was wrong?”
“Around 5, I guess… I uh… I heard my mom crying. It sounded like it was coming from down the hall. I walked down there and opened my parent’s bedroom door. My mom was tied up on the bed, and my dad was… umm… he was on the floor… not moving…” she said, her voice quavering more and more with each word.
“Take your time,” the agent said in a soothing voice.
“That’s about when I was hit in the face,” she said, touching her bruised and swollen cheek and nose.
“A pipe. He… he uh, always liked pipes,” she said, looking at the cat when it mewled.
“What happened next?”
“I fell down. I wasn’t… wasn’t really expecting it. Umm… I don’t really remember what he said to me… I usually don’t remember what is being said to me when…” she said, making a vague gesture with her free hand. Alice left out the fact that her other self, Melody, remembered everything.
“I understand. It’s okay.”
“After that my other personality, Melody, she took over. Then it’s like sitting in the back seat of a car as it crashes and flips over and over. Everything I can tell you is going to be sketchy at best,” she warned, petting the cat repetitively.
0 years, 0 months, 0 weeks, 0 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes, 47 seconds earlier:
Alice cried out in shock as she fell. The floor felt hard under her when she hit it. She spun her head around to look at the fat bald man above her with green eyes and pale skin. Her eyes widened in horror. “Y-You… what are you doing here?!” she gasped out, staring up at the man.
“Gettin’ ya back. Yer mine kid!” he shouted, going to swing at her again. That’s when Melody took the wheel. She rolled out of the way, and kicked, hitting him hard in the knee. When he cursed and went to hit her again, she stood and jumped back out of his reach.
“You’re slower than before, old man. What’s wrong? Prison not treat you good?” she asked, smiling.
He cursed foully and ran after her. Melody turned and ran down the hall and into the kitchen. She grabbed the first thing she saw, the salt and pepper shakers, and threw them at him, hitting him in the face. He roared in pain and stumbled a little. The petite girl grabbed the pan off the stove and threw that at him too. She turned on all the units on the gas stove and then jumped over the counter as he came at her again. She ran into her room and closed the door, locking it quickly. As she sprinted over to the window he started pounding on the door. She grabbed Bastet and stuffed her into her kennel. She could hear the wood starting to give under the abuse it received from the pipe. She threw her window open and jumped out, kennel in hand. She managed to grab the branch of the tree outside her window so that she wouldn’t fall out her second story window. She tossed the kennel into a bush a ways away, and swung up onto the branch.
The man broke through the door then. “Hey old man. About time,” she said. “Come and get me.” She stood on the branch and jumped to another one, grunting. She heard him clambering out the window, and heard him throw himself at the tree. “He got even stupider…” she muttered, jumping to another branch. And then she was within reach of her parent’s window. She broke off a branch and swung, breaking the window easily. She dove through the window, ignoring the glass cutting her arms and legs. She grabbed a sharp piece of the shattered window and cut the rope on her mom’s legs and arms with it.
“Run. Go, go, go,” she hissed pushing the woman ahead of her. She didn’t spare a glance at the window; she knew he was coming through it from the curses he was saying and the glass crunching. The whole time Melody kept the woman ahead of her. She screamed in anger when she was tackled. “Keep running!” she ordered the woman, turning and punching the man as hard as she could in the face. She felt a finger or two break, but the adrenaline racing through her kept her from knowing which ones or how many broke. She wrinkled her nose at the putrid smell coming from the man above her and when he tried to cover her mouth with his hand she bit his arm as hard as she could, drawing blood. He cried out and jerked away from her. She took the opportunity to scramble free and run down the hall to the kitchen. She grabbed the zippo lighter off the counter and stood in the window, flicking it open and lighting it as her biological father appeared around the corner. She let go of the lighter and jumped as the gas hit the flame and exploded.
“So… that’s pretty much what happened…” Alice said, shifting her weight a little. “Melody killed him.”
Special Agent Katharine Edwards was silent for a long moment, looking at the girl in front of her as tears rolled down the teen’s cheeks. “Okay. That’s all we really needed. Your doctor is sending your medicine over so that you can take it again,” she said, standing.
“Y-You’re not going to arrest me? Throw me in juvenile detention or whatever it’s called?” she asked incredulously.
The woman smiled kindly and shook her head. “No, I’m not. From what you told me, that was all purely self-defense, and as long as you take your medicine then Melody is under control and can’t hurt anyone.”
Alice smiled gratefully, hugging her cat close to her. “Thank you so much,” she whispered.