My body

I missed the next day of school.

My mum had come home, finding me hysterical and still faint. She’d let me have the day off, probably worried I was losing it. Everyone was going to eventually think that if I didn’t start getting her in check.

When she’d first shown up, two years ago, she’d been groggy and seemed to be just as confused as I was. She was easily pushed aside and forgotten. But then she’d show up every couple of months, her mind slowly starting to grasp what was happening, what she could now do.
I still didn’t know what she wanted to do.

It wasn’t fair that she could exist in my head, and I couldn’t know her thoughts, her intent. Why she’d decided to stab Travis that day, why she’s crazy.

Maybe the insanity is what prevents me from getting to her mind.

I walk out of the school, the dreaded day finally over. I’d spent the whole of math ignoring Travis. He hadn’t tried to talk to me, only glanced at me every now and then, speculating. I hated that look. It was like he was trying to unravel me.

“I’ve worked it out!” Someone calls from behind me. I turn slowly, rolling my eyes. I thought I was so close to freedom. Travis is standing at the doors, hurrying towards me. I feel vexed, and want to turn and run as fast as I can.
My car was at the shop being repaired after my little brother crashed it.
I’d practically forgotten about him. I tend to block out annoying memories.

He was at a basketball camp that went on for three weeks, starting at the end of February and ending in March. He as a nuisance and I was glad for the break. Of course I would start missing him if the camp was any longer, even if he had totaled my car.

“Worked what out Travis?” I sigh, putting a hand on my hip. He reaches me, stopping a foot or two in front of me.

“You have multiple personality disorder!” He accuses, pointing at me as he says it. I raise my eyes brows incredulously.

“I do not!” I snap, heat rushing to my face, feeling embarrassed and angry all at the same time.

“Then explain how you acted the other day. You were arguing with yourself!”
I grit my teeth and my hands ball into fists. After her appearances had become more frequent, about a year after the accident, I’d thought maybe I had multiple personality disorder. But after some research, I just couldn’t accept it. The situation was just… different.

“I do not have multiple personality disorder, and even if I did, it is not something I should have to explain, and it isn’t something someone can control! You arrogant jerk!” I spat, storming away. I reach a hill that lead from the parking lot to the road. I step onto the road.

“Ally!”
I spin around just as he slams into me, knocking us both onto the road. His arms stop my back from directly hitting the ground, but it still hurts a little.
A loud crunching sound distracts me from Travis’s strange behavior, but I can’t see what’s going on because his chest is in front of me. After a short moment his tight grip around me loosens and he looks me in the eye.
“Are you okay?”
I blink, still puzzled by the whole situation.

“Uh, yes,” I ask, a questioning tone to my voice. He climbs off of me, helping me to my feet. We both become aware of the fuming car in front of us. The driver stumbles out, pale and as stunned as us. She has a cut above her right brow, but it doesn’t look very deep.

“Are you okay?!” Travis repeats, this time directing it at the woman who was driving. He races over to her, helping her over to the curb where she can sit.

The front of the car is crushed, the windshield broken by the air bag. Besides that, the drivers compartment is relatively undamaged. I hurry over to the woman and stand in front of her and Travis, feeling unhelpful.

“Call 911,” Travis orders, briefly look at me before concentrating on the woman again. I nod, reaching for my phone. My hand is shaking so badly that it takes me a few tries to get my cell out of my pocket, and when I finally do it falls to the road. I picked it up, and dialed quickly.

It all seemed to go by so quickly. Or maybe I’m in shock. The paramedics arrived and some policemen. They talked to me a bit, but Travis was more helpful. The driver was taken away in the ambulance and I apologized profusely even as they slammed the doors on me.
Then Travis was driving me home and making sure I was ok.

I sit down on my couch, sighing and leaning back. Travis stood in front of me, awkward.
And then I start crying.
“Ally what’s wrong?” He asks, seeming as shocked as I was over my sudden tears. I took in some struggled breaths, trying to control myself. Unsuccessfully.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry!” I wail, covering my face with my hands. How old am i? I’m crying like a five year old.

“For what?” Travis inquires, rubbing my back soothingly. Who is he? One week he’s a huge stoner, then he’s an idiot who accuses me of having multiple personalities, and now he’s caring?

“Not being thankful,” I answer, wiping my eyes, even though the flow of tears hasn’t stopped. My makeup probably looks awful and my eyes are definitely puffy. But I don’t care. Because I haven’t cried in two years since today and two days ago. I feel relieved.

“What aren’t you thankful for?”
I’m not helping to prove my sanity to him, but I can’t seem to stop the constant outpour of my feelings

“You saving me!” I cry, sobbing harder. I look up at him, my vision fuzzy from the tears. I can still see the perplexed expression Travis is displaying.

“Well that’s ok you don’t-“

“No you don’t understand!” I cut in, burying my face in my hands again.
Stop talking she urges, suddenly coming to life since the dream.
“I want to be dead!”
Travis’s eyes widen and his hand suddenly stops moving down my back.

“What?” He asks incredulously, his eyes still huge. “Why?”

“Two birds, one stone!” I say as if it’s obvious, the phrase starting to become my motto. Travis’s expression doesn’t change.

“Listen, Ally, I think you’re going into shock,” He says slowly, as if I suddenly don’t understand English. But I do, and so does he. What am I thinking? He must be right. My brain is jumbled and I’m clearly hysterical.
Let me take over, She says, as if she really thinks I’d just let that happen.

“As if!” I laugh, my voice high pitched and wrong. I realize I’ve spoken my words to her out loud, and Travis is assuming I’m replying to him.

“I’m serious-“

“I know you are. Do you want to know what’s wrong with me, Travis?” I question, leaning towards him. His brows are furrowed, and I’m certain he’s considering running out of my house, away from me. “Do you want to know, why I stabbed you, why I argued with myself, why I’m acting the way I am right now?”
Shut up, Ally!

“Yes.”

“Because my dead best friend is living in my head!”