Beautifully Broken: If I Break #3

by Portia Moore

  “I am going to try to break him out of this trance that he’s fallen into,” I shrug.

  “I really miss him. I miss both of them as crazy as it sounds,” I chuckle.

  “They or he? He’s in there, Lauren. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be sitting at home with you and Caylen,” she says taking a seat on her sofa and patting the cushion next to her. I plop down next to her and watch as she switches the TV from Lifetime to Nick Jr.

  “I thought for some reason knowing whatever happened that caused his condition would make things better, instead it made things worse.”

  “One of the things that’s interesting about DID is how it’s a mechanism with coping with, tragedy, pain, loss. When you think about it, we all dissociate when we don’t want to feel. We deflect. Now we don’t necessarily do it to the extent of those who have the disorder but when you think about it we’re all searching for a form of it, whether it’s drinking, using drugs or even shopping.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I say, mulling over her words.

  *

  When I make it home, the living room is as empty as I expected it to be. As I head up the stairs, sure enough I can hear the sound of the guitar being played. I stand next to the door and listen for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out my next move.

  “Make him feel something,” I say softly, reminding myself of Helen’s words. I have been doing the exact opposite since we arrived. I open the door and he stops playing.

  “You don’t have to stop on my account,” I tell him playfully.

  “I was finishing up anyway,” he says as he starts to put the guitar away.

  “I wish you wouldn’t treat me like this,” I tell him, stepping in front of him.

  “How am I treating you?” he asks, closing up his guitar case.

  “Like I’m a stranger, or a roommate you tolerate. I know you’re hurting, I just wish you’d let me help you. That you’d let me in,” I tell him, grabbing his hand.

  “I’m not hurting. Everything is fi-,”

  “Everything is not fine! Stop saying that. You are walking around like a zombie! I don’t even know who you are, anymore” I plead with him.

  “Well that makes two of us,” he says, walking past me and heading downstairs.

  I follow behind him.

  “So that’s it. You’re going to be like this forever? Not talking, keeping everything bottled up, acting like I don’t exist?” I ask him angrily.

  “You’re going to let him ruin everything? Stop living your life based on a mistake he made. How can you let anyone have that much power over you?” I shout at him and he stops in his tracks and turns to face me.

  She said to make him feel something.

  Well here goes.

  “Cal would never let him do that. He’d never let anyone else’s actions dictate his life or the decisions that he makes,” I say tightly, meeting his stare, which has gone from indifferent to intense in the span of a sentence. His eyes squint at me.

  “You don’t think he would, do you?” he says, a smug grin on his face.

  “No.” I tell him adamantly.

  He chuckles as if he’s in on a joke I’m not aware of.

  “So you laugh now?” I ask him sarcastically.

  “As much as he’s done, you still think he’s noble, that he can do no wrong,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Don’t you get it? He’s not the hero in this. He doesn’t come out to save us,” he says dismissively.

  “Well, right now, you for sure aren’t the hero,” I retort back at him. I see his eye twitch and he turns away from me.

  Is it working? I don’t know, but at least that tone and stoic expression that’s been on his face for the past month has changed. He turns back around, his arms crossed across his chest.

  “Do you want to know why he was in Venitan?” he asks, stepping closer to me.

  “He told me that his biological parents lived in the area,” I say quietly.

  “Did he tell you that he was looking for Clayton?” he asks sarcastically.

  “If that’s his dad, why wouldn’t he want to find him?” I retort back.

  “Did he tell you he wants to kill him?” he says casually, making my heart drop into my stomach.

  “W-what?”

  “And when I say that, I don’t mean like an arbitrary threat. I mean he’s hired people to track him down. That he’s kidnapped men he thought were him, and he is dead set on finding him and murdering him,” he says tightly.

  “So you see when I sit here quietly and appear to be in my thoughts, it’s not just because William had sexual intercourse with my Lisa. It’s not because I want to appear anti-social, it’s because I am trying my absolute hardest, to maintain control in one of the most trying times of my life so your beloved Cal doesn’t come out and kill someone and get me sent prison!”

  His words keep echoing in my head, blood is rushing through my ears. Is it true? Is this for real?

  “Cal wants to kill someone?” I ask him in disbelief. He scoffs at me. Since when does Chris scoff at me? He laughs dismissively and walks into our bedroom. I try to collect my thoughts. I think back when Cal and I were in bed together and how he talked about his mom and dad but he didn’t say he wanted to kill his dad. I feel like I’m about to throw up. I go into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and take a deep breath. I gather my nerves up and go into our bedroom. He’s sitting there, the television is on the news.

  “You’re not Chris are you?” I ask him hesitantly.

  He looks towards the ceiling.

  “How intuitive of you,” he says dryly. My heart starts to beat faster. The moment he started referring to his dad as William I knew something was off.

  Another one? A fucking other one?

  I hold my head in my hand and sit on the bed. This is crazy. So crazy. I remember reading that most people who have DID have more than one alter.

  “And who are you exactly?” I mumble, rubbing my temples.

  “You don’t have to give me a name but if you must, you can refer to me as Collin. I’m not an attention whore like my counterpart Cal is,” he says, his posture changing in the span of his sentence. He’s sitting upright and even has a slightly different accent.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask him.

  “It depends on what you mean,” he says simply. Then he turns towards me.

  “I am always here. I have been transitioning in and out when Chris needed me since he spoke to Lisa. However if you mean when I came to the forefront completely would be just a few minutes ago when you tried to trigger Calvin,” he answers.

  “However, in actuality I am always there. We all are.”

  “We? Oh Jesus,” I say, covering my face in my hands.

  “How many are there of you?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “I won’t worry you with those details,” he says, walking over to our closet. He opens it and sighs.

  “Calvin isn’t one of my favorite people, but I must say I prefer his style of dress than Chris’. If you don’t mind, since you’re aware of the situation, can I be free from these off the rack jeans and department store t-shirts?” he asks.

  “I don’t care what you put on. Why did you come instead of Cal?” I ask, watching him as he sifts through the boxes of Cal’s clothes packed in the closets.

  “Calvin is the most dominant part of us. He can execute more control in most cases. Christopher lets him do so. However, with Christopher having checked out, so to speak, and you goading him as you just did, Cal was very close to gaining control, which at this moment is not in the best interest of any of us,” he says

  “We can peacefully co-exist if all of our agendas are aligned,” he says.

  “What do you mean, Integration”?

  “If that’s what you’d like to call it. Prior to Christopher falling in love their agenda’s clashed. You have made it where they share a commonality. Christopher finding out about William sent him into a bit of a shoc
k, again which would have allowed Calvin to transition as you all like to call it. However, Calvin's urge to kill Clayton will not work for any of us. It would destroy Christopher and none of us are interested in seeing if prison is like what they show on TV.”

  I look at him, his mannerism, his expression, everything about him is so different. He seems to be a lot more sophisticated than Chris and Cal. He actually reminds me a little of Dexter.

  “Would you like a glass of wine, Lauren?” he asks, with a knowing grin.

  “How much do you remember?” I ask him, skeptically.

  “I know everything,” he says with a quick smile.

  “Everything?” I ask him.

  “Everything,” he says with a wide smile.

  “Chris doesn’t know everything. Does Cal?”

  “Calvin thinks he does, there-in lies the problem,” he says once he’s completely dressed. He’s wearing a suit of Cal’s but it looks so different on him the way he put everything together.

  “And are you going to tell me everything?” I ask him hesitantly. He walks towards me and smiles.

  “I am going to help you Lauren. However, there are a few things I’ll need you to assist me with, and tonight it will require you in a nice dress and your hair to be a tad more presentable,” he says before heading into our bathroom.

  “Oh, and if you can go into the guestroom and get those pills Christopher has in his guitar case and toss them out, that would be fantastic.”

  “Pills?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Yes some experimental drug that Dexter convinced Christopher would get rid of Calvin. All it does is make us queasy and it's hard to sleep,”

  “Dexter gave Chris pills? Why would he do that? I thought…”

  “Remember Lauren, everyone has an agenda. No matter how much they pretend not to,” he says before closing the bathroom door.

  Is this really happening?

  *

  When we pull up to a valet with half a million dollar cars in front of us I wonder where exactly Collin has taken me and if maybe I should text someone and let them know what’s going on. I don’t know anything about this side of my husband, a side that grooms his hair perfectly. He seems harmless enough and has been more forthcoming than Cal ever has, but he hasn’t told me where we are or why we’re here. We walk into the beautiful completely filled lounge and the maître de greets us.

  “Do you have a reservation?” she asks.

  “I am a party of Dexter Crestfield’s,” he says confidently. She takes a moment to look at her screen and in a moment she smiles brightly. She calls to another waitress.

  “Can you show them to Mr. Crestfield’s area,” she says. We follow behind the waitress and Collin puts his hand behind my back. Ushering me forward.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask him. This place doesn’t look like Dexter and Helen’s style. When we’ve dined with them it’s been at more modern exclusive places. This place, while very upscale, seems a bit mature for them. When we reach the private area my knees almost buckle.

  It’s Dexter Crestfield Sr. He looks over at us curiously before a wide smile spreads across his face and he gives a signal for the two very intimidating security guards to let us in. Collin starts to move forward but my legs won’t.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks simply.

  “I-I don’t like being around this guy. What are we doing here?” I ask tightly.

  “If you want me to help you, you help me,” he says, pulling me forward.

  “Lauren, how nice to see you again,” he says, standing as the man seated with him at his table does the same.

  “Senator Garvin this is my lovely granddaughter,” he says enthusiastically.

  “She is quite stunning,” the senator says, looking as if I was brought in on a tray for dessert. His date, who looks young enough to be my little sister, shifts in her seat as she glances over me.

  Relax, I am not your competition.

  I haven’t been in a dress in a while and I pull down the short white cocktail dress Collin insisted I wear.

  “Senator, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, can you and your guest excuse us? We have an immediate private family matter that we need to discuss,” Collin interjects. Mr. Crestfield's eyebrow raises as he eyes Collin, but without missing a beat he turns to the senator and his companion.

  “If you could excuse us for just a few moments?”

  “Of course,” the senator says as he and his date leave the table.

  “Now, who is it accompanying you tonight?” Mr. Crestfield says, eyeing me.

  “Honey, take a seat,” Collin says, pulling out my seat. I take it and Collin does the same.

  “We haven’t met before, how would you like me to refer to you. Mr. Crestfield?” Collin says sarcastically.

  “Is this a joke?” he says, looking at me. I focus my eyes on the table.

  “No, this is farce. My name is Collin and, unlike Christopher and Calvin, I remember everything,” he says smugly. Mr. Crestfield takes a sip of what looks like brandy and sits it down, appearing unfazed even though my stomach is doing flips.

  “What is it that you want?” he asks.

  “I want what’s owed to us. A third of Crestfield Corporation,” he says, folding his hands calmly.

  “What?” I ask him, confused.

  “I am sorry and what makes you think that you’re owed anything that I have?” Mr. Crestfield asks, amused.

  “Would you really like to get into those details? Because I, for one, prefer not to repeat myself. Maybe we should have a reporter present for the conversation so everything is on record and there are no misunderstandings,” Collin says easily. He and Mr. Crestfield stare each other down for what seems like forever, all while my heart tries to jump out of my chest and make a run for it. I know that something big is being referred to that I have no idea about, and the way Collin just strode in and asked for a third of Crestfield Corporation makes me realize that he knows something he isn’t supposed to. Finally, Mr. Crestfield laughs. I glance over at Collin, whose face is like stone.

  “I like you Collin. You remind me of a younger version of myself,” he says, taking another sip of his drink.

  “I too took a lot of risks when I was younger, against men that were more powerful, richer and supposedly a lot smarter,” he says.

  “Are you sure you want to travel down this rabbit hole with him. Mrs. Scott?” he says, his eyes now on me. No I don’t want to go down any freakin' rabbit hole! Even though it doesn’t matter now since my name might as well be Alice at this point.

  “You talk to me. Only me,” Collin interrupts him.

  “Okay Collin,” Mr. Crestfield says calmly. He makes a signal and a moment later a woman approaches the table.

  “Could you bring me a pen and paper please,” he asks her.

  “Right away Mr. Crestfield.” She’s back in an instant, handing Mr. Crestfield the items he requested and disappears right after.

  “Would you like a drink darling? You look so nervous,” Mr. Crestfield chuckles.

  “She’s fine. You have,” Collin looks at his watch, “about two minutes to give me your answer.”

  Mr. Crestfield just smiles, scribbles something on the paper and then holds it out to Collin.

  “What is this?” he asks, irritated as he looks at it. I look at it too. It’s an address.

  “You may not be very interested in it but Cal is,” he says, smiling so widely you'd think he’d just won the lottery. A look of realization comes over Collin’s face. He stands up abruptly.

  “Let’s go, Lauren,” he says, grabbing my arm, almost pulling me out of my chair and dragging me across the floor.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask him, tired of being clueless in all of this.

  “It is Clayton’s Rice address,” Mr. Crestfield calls out. I look back at Mr. Crestfield, my eyes widening in horror. The grip Collin had on me has completely loosened. I look at his face, the taut expression that he’d worn before
gone, relaxed and a smirk replaces it.

  “Hey Gorgeous, you look especially sexy tonight.”

  “Cal?” I ask, hesitantly afraid to hear the answer. Out of all the times for me to want him here, now is not one of them. He walks back over to the table where Mr. Crestfield sits, looking especially pleased with himself.

  “It’s been a while Cal,” he says, a grin on his face.

  “Yes it has. You are a lot easier to do business with than your son,” Cal says, happily snatching up the address on the table. I rush over to Cal and grab his arms.

  “You cannot do this,” I tell him tightly. He rolls his eyes and sighs as he continues walking away from me.

  “Mellissa, can you make sure that Mr. Scott’s car is brought around ASAP,” I hear Mr. Crestfield say.

  “Cal, this will destroy you. You cannot do this. Cal!” I plead with him. He lifts me off my feet and kisses me, and puts me down

  “It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry,” he says simply and gives me a wink. I try to keep up with him but it’s hard in these five inch heels. I stop to take them off as we’re near the entrance and as his luck may have it, our car is pulling up. He walks to the driver's side and hops in. When I run to open the door it’s locked. He lets the window down.

  “I’ve got to do this babe. It’s all going to work out. I promise,” he says and pulls away. I throw my shoe on the ground and rush back into the restaurant to where Mr. Crestfield is.

  “Tell me that was a fake address!” I say desperately.

  “I have a dinner to finish, if you don’t mind my dear,” he says dismissively as his companions approach the table.

  “You’re welcome to join us. However, I think you have more pressing matters to attend to,” he says condescendingly. How dare he? How the fuck dare he? Every bit of intimidation I felt has gone out the window. I pick up the glass of water in front of me and toss it in his face before quickly heading to the exit.

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what the hell to do! I don’t know who to call, who I can trust. Dexter’s father just gave him the exact location of the man he wants to kill. I don’t know who can help me. I settle on calling his mom, who doesn’t pick up. I groan and call Mr. Scott.