“Clint!” She called when she stepped outside, trying to ignore her hurt knee. Limping over tree limbs, Mira’s sand pails, she stepped around a rake, as well as other rubble that littered the ground. Continually wiping the deluge of water out of her eyes, she called out, "Clint! Mira!”
“I’m here.” She heard faintly and started in the direction of his voice.
“Where? I can’t see you.”
“Can’t… get up.” His voice was labored.
Charlie’s heart raced as she frantically searched for Clint. “Where are you?”
“On the grou…” He let out a low groan.
Desperate, Charlie was almost to the front yard when she saw his hand raise up from underneath a thick branch.
“Here,” he rasped.
She dropped to her knees to beside him. “Oh, God you’re hurt.”
“My leg.I can’t… ”
“Where’s Mira?” Charlie held her breath.
“I’m right here.” Charlie turned and saw Mira sitting on a step that led up to the back door,a drenched Hank in her lap. Why wasn’t she trying to help her daddy?
When Clint moaned again, Charlie put both hands underneath the wood, laced her fingers together, and drew in a deep breath. But no matter how many times she tugged and pulled, it wouldn’t budge.
“I’m dizzy… Think I’m going to pass out,” Clint let out.
“I’ll get help. Hang on, honey.”
Charlie tore past Mira. “I’m going to call someone for help.”
She only hoped the storm hadn’t knocked the phone lines down. Trembling, she let out her breath when she heard the dial tone and punched in 911. “We need help!” she said when the operator answered. “Abbott farm. My husband… he’s pinned under a branch. Please hurry.”
Slamming down the receiver, she noticed Mira sitting at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead.
“Mira, go get out of your wet clothes. I’m going to stay with your daddy until help comes.”
“Okay, Charlie.”
Charlie froze. Slowly, she turned back around.
“I told you before,” she stated clearly, staring coldly at Charlie. “I’m not Mira.”
Speechless, Charlie watched her casually walk underneath the archway and into the living room, leaving droplets of water behind her.
CHAPTER FIVE
IN SPITE OF CLINT’S PROTESTS, Charlie had taken Mira to see a child psychologist in Omaha.
She felt guilty that she’d gone behind his back. She’d even gone so far as to swear Mira to secrecy, telling her that Daddy had enough on his mind without him worrying about them being on the road.
She’d combed Mira’s room looking for anything that resembled the black bristle she’d found in Mira’s hand, she’d found nothing, She’s thought about it for days before she’d taken Mira to see a psychologist in Omaha. It had felt like the longest fourteen days of her life before she’s heard back from Harper’s receptionist to set up an appointment for a consultation.
Before she set out she’d told Clint she was going to Omaha to find Mira a winter coat, lying to him again. Sitting in Harper’s waiting room Charlie fidgeted with her hands and purse, anxiously waiting to hear Harper’s thoughts.
“Mrs. Abbott?” Charlie looked up and saw Jason Harper standing in an open door.
He was a dowdy-looking man Charlie guessed to be in his late forties, with what looked like faded chicken pox scars or a bad case of acne on his forehead and cheeks. She’d found Harper’s name when she went through newspaper articles in the library and he’d been cited as one of the best child psychologists in the Midwest. In the past few days, her mind went to the dark side, thinking maybe Mira had a brain tumor or cancer. Lately, however, Mira hadn’t mentioned Faith and clammed up whenever Charlie asked about her new friend.
Her stomach bubbling with emotion, she forced a smile, stood and followed Harper down the frayed beige carpet to his office.
Since the tornado hit a few weeks ago, Mira’s mood swings had been getting worse. One minute she’d be the sweet child she’d always been, and the next she’d be screaming at the top of her lungs that she didn’t like Charlie and wished she’d go away. There had been many nights Charlie spent on the couch crying, not knowing what to do or where to turn.
But whenever Clint was around, Mira was an angel. Charlie wanted to wait and see what Harper told her before she reopened a volatile discussion with Clint. What she was hoping for was that there wouldn’t be anything to discuss.
Harper nodded at the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
The small office with no windows made her feel closed in and claustrophobic. A bookcase on one side of the room was crammed with psychology books. A few frames of what looked like certificates or diplomas hung on the wall behind Harper’s desk.
It wasn’t a plush office, but she assumed that not many parents could afford these kinds of services, given the hourly rates. Charlie had never asked her parents for money before, but needed the three hundred dollars to pay for the two sessions with Harper. They hadn’t even asked her why she needed the money and Charlie didn’t offer an explanation as it would be too difficult to explain.
Harper took the chair behind his desk, piled high with paperwork. “Thank you for bringing Mira to see me,” he began. She clasped her hands together and put them in her lap.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He picked a pen up off his desk. “If that’s all right.”
“No problem.”
“As you know, Mira went through some extensive testing by my associates,” he said, dangling his pen between two fingers. “At first, she was cooperative and appeared well adjusted.”
What did he mean at first?
“As you know”—he cleared his throat— “she was given a battery of psychological profile tests.”
The way he was staring at her made her feel uncomfortable. It was as if he was waiting for a reaction.
“After the tests were completed, I visited Mira again.”
Charlie hung on to his every word waiting impatiently for him to get to the point.
“But she wasn’t the same child I met when you brought her in.” Harper leaned back in his chair. “Her personality was distinctly different.”
Charlie felt a twinge in her left temple which happened when a headache was coming on. “I’m not following.”
“What I found was an aggressive and irritable child. She wouldn’t cooperate and refused to do a few of the puzzles I asked her to do.” Harper scratched his forehead. “The mood swings and faraway look in her eyes led me to believe there was much more going on than I originally thought.”
Charlie knew what Harper was talking about as she’d seen that distant stare many times lately.
“Have you noticed any changes in her personality?” Harper asked.
Charlie looked down briefly. “Yes, but I thought maybe she was just tired.”
“Could be,” Harper said. “But I’d like to ask if she’s ever experienced a traumatic event?”
“Like what?”
“Maybe the loss of someone she cared about.” He shrugged a shoulder. “A grandparent? A pet, maybe?”
“Clint’s parents passed before Mira was born. And we only have had one pet, and Hank is still with us.” Charlie didn’t want to bring up Faith, thinking Harper would think she was the one who needed help.
“The next question is a bit more difficult.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose, eyeing Charlie. “Do you know if Mira has suffered any abuse?”
A surge of anger shot through Charlie. She leaned forward, her unblinking eyes meeting his. “How dare you suggest that anyone in my family—”
Harper put up a hand and shook his head. “I apologize, but needed to ask.”
Charlie was so angry that she couldn’t see straight. She put a hand over her chest. “Clint and I would never—”
“I’m not accusing you. I’m asking if there is anyone Mira has been around who could
have sexually or physically abused her.”
It felt as if a hammer hit Charlie between the shoulder blades. “No! The only people Mira has been with for any length of time is my parents, and I can assure you that—”
“I believe you,” Harper said calmly, putting up a defensive hand. “Many times these types of cases stem from abuse, but not always.”
“These cases?” What the hell was he trying to say?
“Have you ever heard Mira speak of someone named Faith?”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly.
“The first time we met she introduced herself as Mira Abbott, but the second I spoke with her she told me she was Faith.”
The lump in Charlie’s throat grew larger.
“Is this the name of the imaginary friend you told me about?” Harper asked.
Charlie tried to process what he was trying to tell her. “Yes.”
“Is this a random name, or does she know someone named Faith?” Harper asked, taking notes.
It took a few seconds for Charlie to answer, arguing internally on if she should be honest. “I think I should tell you something.” While Charlie told Harper about the twins and how Faith died, and Mira survived, he listened intensely with no interruptions.
When she finished, Harper said, “I’m so sorry that you and your husband had to go through this. It had to have been difficult losing a child.” He drew in a breath and looked up, as if pondering what Charlie had just told him. “My thoughts are that Mira probably overheard someone mention Faith, and yet I don’t believe that hearing her sister’s name has anything to do with what is going on.” He paused. “My professional opinion is that Mira could be suffering from either a split personality or a mental illness called DID.”
He waited for Charlie to say something, but she didn’t have any questions as she had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
“Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
Charlie could hardly breathe. “Are you saying Mira is mentally ill?”
Harper changed positions. “In lay terms DID is the name for someone who has multiple personalities. For those who experience DID, there is more than one personality that makes up the core of that e person.” He cleared his throat as Charlie stared at him. “What’s complicated is that the identity fragments may have very different characteristics, including their own history, identity, and mannerisms.”
“So your diagnosis is that Mira has multiple personalities?” Suddenly feeling dizzy, she bowed her head and drew in a deep breath.
“I know this is upsetting,” Harper said and leaned over his desk. “More often than not DID is a result of an upsetting or traumatic childhood event.” Harper spoke slowly and clearly. “The fragmented personalities become the safeguard, or shields, the person from the painful memories of a disturbing event.”
She pointed an angry finger at him.. “I told you nothing bad has ever happened to Mira.”
“I don’t specialize in these types of disorders and wouldn’t be comfortable treating Mira,” Harper said, ignoring Charlie’s outburst. “But what I can do is give you names of psychiatrists who I trust and specialize in personality disorders.” He opened a drawer and took out what looked like an address book and then wrote something down on a piece of paper. “We all have different sides to us; anger, sadness, happiness. That’s normal behavior, but most of us don’t go by different names. In Mira’s case, one of her alter identities is named Faith.”
Charlie swallowed hard. “You’re positive that your diagnosis is correct?”
“Well like I said, you need to have a second opinion, but yes”—he stopped writing and looked across the desk at Charlie”—I’m fairly certain.”
Her mind was spinning. She wished Clint were here. She wished she wasn’t sitting here listening to a stranger talk about Mira. It was too much to handle.
“Could I have a glass of water?” Charlie asked.
“Absolutely.” He pushed his chair back and stood, putting a sympathetic hand on Charlie’s shoulder when he passed on his way to the door. “I know this is a lot to digest.”
Charlie had watched a movie about a young woman with multiple personalities. It wasn’t pretty. By day, the girl was a sweet loving person, and by night, she was a prostitute. Nothing Harper told her made sense.
Trying to digest what she’d just been told, when the door opened, Harper handed her a glass of water.
“Thank you.” Charlie took a sip, trying to tell herself everything was going to be all right.
“I wrote down a couple of names you might want to contact.” Harper handed Charlie a slip of paper as he escorted her down the hall to the door that opened to the waiting room.
“Thank you,” was all Charlie could manage, her mind wandering to what not only Mira’s future would bring, but what was in store for her and Clint.
“I wish you the best of luck,” Harper told her, dismissing Charlie.
When she reached the edge of town, Charlie pulled into the grocery store parking lot, remembering they were almost out of milk. Inside the store, she spotted a pay phone, put in a quarter in and dialed home to see if Clint needed anything. She’d told him she was going to Omaha to do a little shopping and thought she’d be home around four, but the session with Jason Harper had gone longer than she thought it would and it was 5:15. Charlie couldn’t tell him about Harper. Not now. And the diagnosis would be as foreign to Clint as flying saucers.
“Hi honey, I’m sor—” She stopped, hearing a commotion in the background. “What’s going on there? Is that Mira crying?” Her heart sped up
“Where are you?” he asked, his voice sounded stressed.
“At the grocery store. What’s going on?” It sounded like whoever was screaming was in terrible pain.
She heard another blood curdling cry. “Clint, damn it, what’s going on there?”
“Your mother’s here,” he told Charlie. “It’s Mira.” She could barely hear him over the commotion.
“My mother’s there? Is Mira hurt?” Something was terribly wrong. She’d never heard Mira so out of control.
“No, she’s…”
“She’s what?” She put a hand over her heart, willing it to slow down.
“Her teacher called me. Asked me to come get her at school.”
“Why?”
“She was causing a disturbance and—”
“But she never—”
“Just listen,” Clint told her. “She… Mira told her teacher that she was Faith, and when the teacher told her to take her seat, she became belligerent.”
“Oh, God.” Charlie pressed her forehead into the top of the phone box.
“She said something about how Faith didn’t want to be dead… I don’t know. Something about how Faith said it was her turn.”
“Her turn? What does that mean?”
“I have no idea,” Clint said. The shouting and the noise in the background grew louder.
“Stop it!” she heard Mira cry. “Leave me alone!”
“Who is she talking to?” Charlie was beside herself.
“She… She looks like she’s fighting with someone, running around kicking and slapping her arms in the air, but no one’s around. I think she’s having some kind of a breakdown.”
“Put Mira on the phone.” Charlie heard her mother in the background trying to sooth Mira.
“Mira! Mommy wants to talk to you.” Immediately the screams stopped and all Charlie could hear was heavy breathing. “Mira? Are you there?” Charlie asked. “Mira?” she asked louder when no one answered, pushing the phone into her ear harder.
“You.” The angry, low voice that didn’t even sound like Mira took Charlie’s breath away. “You killed me, Charlie,” she said hatefully before the line went dead.
CHAPTER SIX
BARRELING TOWARD HOME, Charlie turned into the gravel driveway, a cloud of dust trailing behind the car. She slammed on the brakes, barely putting the car into park before jumping out and running up the steps to th
e back door.
“Mom?” she called when she threw open the screen door. When she saw her mother at the kitchen table, Charlie asked, “You okay?” Her mother’s head was bowed and all Charlie could see was her tightly permed white hair.
Slowly, Charlie’s mother brought her head up, her eyes rimmed in red.. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Mira. I tried to calm her down, but she was too worked up.”
“Where are they?” Charlie started through the arched entry into the living room.
“Charlie, wait.”
Charlie stopped and turned around.
“Clint’s trying to get Mira to sleep.”
Sick with worry, Charlie said, “I have to see her, Mom.”
“Please,” her mother pleaded. “Just let her get some sleep. I’m afraid if Mira sees you, it might get her all riled up again. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Ruth leaned back in her chair. She looked tired, her face pale.
“Tell me what happened?” Still trembling, Charlie pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Clint called and said he couldn’t do anything with her. When I got here, Mira and Clint were upstairs. Her bedroom was in shambles. She’d thrown all her dolls around the room and was running around like she’d lost her mind.” Charlie’s dabbed underneath her nose with a tissue.
“I’m so sorry.” Once again, Charlie felt guilty. She should have been here, not her mother.
“I tried everything to calm her down, but it was like she didn’t hear me. But she said something that was very disturbing.”
“What?” Charlie leaned toward her mother. “What did she say?”
Ruth drew in a breath, her sad eyes meeting Charlie’s. “She said she doesn’t want to see you.”
“Did she call me Mom? Or Charlie?”
“Charlie,” her mother answered. “She said she didn’t ever want to see Charlie again.”
“I don’t understand. Why all of a sudden would Mira call me Charlie?” She shook her head, tears rushing into her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “Mira told me over the phone that I killed her.” Charlie put out a hand. “What does that mean?”
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