On Smiling

Glares can mean a lot of things. I know, I'm a glarer. Notice, in my earlier pictures, that unless I look like an idiot I'm sending a murderous glance at one cameraman. As far as I know, I've never been a picture smiler. Even as a two-year-old, I'd scream "SSMIIIHH-UUUHHLL" while glaring. I don't think I really got this concept of smiling. People were like "oh, you should smile" and I'd just say it back. Smiling is not used to express joy, stupid.

Did you know that smiling at someone in certain villages is considered to be an insult and equivalent to calling someone retarded? Yeah, I didn't, either. So, I don't smile. I either give the "are you fucking serious" glare, or the impatient sigh with pursed lips and rolling eyes, or just refuse to take the picture all together and flick off the camera. Okay, I do the last part in my head. But still.

Smiling is not how I express my joy. I laugh when I'm scared or angry. I'm weird, I know, but I'm not smiling in your pictures.

Stop telling me to.

And yes, I know, I KNOW. I've been told so many times that a fake smile can boost self-esteem. I don't care. I'm not going to, so shut up. When I smile, you know you've done something right.

I apologize for the total randomness and obscurity of this post. Goodnight.

Depression in All Its Glory

Well, folks. It's official. It's diagnosed. It's incredibly unsurprising.

I have major depression.

I mean, it's not like I was ever not depressed. At least, not since I was nine. Seeing as I was nine, I don't remember much before that, so in essence I was never not depressed.

Although I'm not nearly as eloquent in pictures as my good compadres Matthew and Allie (authors of The Oatmeal and Hyperbole and a Half, respectively), I can try to paint a picture of words for you, my faithful lack of readers. Here goes:


no no no      no no no no   no no no   no no no     no no no no     no no        no no      no     no no   no no  no
no       no   no             no      no  no      no   no             no      no   no     no    no   no     no no   n  no
no        no  no no no      no no no   no no no     no no no          no           no        no    no     no no   o no
no        no  no no no      no          no     no    no no no             no           no     no    no     no
no       no   no             no          no      no   no             no     no    no     no    no    no     no
no no no      no no no no  no          no       no  no no no no     no  no       no no      no      no no

I didn't have room for the end. I digress. Besides, I don't really know Matthew or Allie. Like, at all.

Depression has been compared to a black dog, or a black cloud. To me, though, it's more like a really heavy backpack you have to carry all of the time. Sometimes you can feel light with it, say, after a great meal or a good rest or a fantabulous book, even if you still are a bit sweaty from the load. (Eew, forget about the sweat park, that's gross.) After a long day, though, or a fight, or an injury, holding up this stupid bag of bricks or whatever is in there anyway gets to be tedious. No, more than tedious. Hellish. You see, people say things to you like, "Oh, why don't you just take it off for a while," or "I'm sure it will naturally get lighter on its own". This is quite annoying. And their words somehow gain weight and travel into this awkward black hole that is your backpack, and all of your negative thoughts weigh you down, until eventually you are just a mess.

At this point you try to pry the bag off, but it's stuck to your back with your sweat, tears, and even blood. It will not fucking come off. Then you just dissolve in a heap and go into a really awful downward spiral of self-hatred, and self-pity for the self-hatred, and self-hatred for the self-pity, and so on and so forth.

So, I have to get back to my homework (oh god the backpack analogy it's real), but I will say this:

I'm not going anywhere. For now. Just don't push me, or one of us is gonna get smacked. (No, seriously, I have no idea who. Don't look at me like that.)

Adios, suckers.

This girl totally forgot she had a blog. Yup. Oh, well.

The pages I write now are not in order, nor structured well. They are NOT REAL. This is FICTION. So.

PART III

ONE

5 January, 2013

There’s a notebook on my pillow. I don’t know what’s going on... I don’t remember anything. Who am I, and where did I come from? I don’t know anything. I think I’m real... I mean, anyone with a name is real, right? At least I know my name.... It’s Dinah. Dinah Langford Cohen.

--------------------------

I read the notebook. There are pages missing, but it seems to me that I have a very strange past I’m a person, but I used to be a collective consciousness of four people. There was some sort of conflict, and one of them pressed a big red threatening button. Honestly, I’m not sure how a big button even got inside somebody’s head, but whatever. I’m pretty impossible either way.

There is an envelope next to the notebook. I think that might be where the missing pages are. The envelope has a name on it - Malcolm. I was told in the notebook that I have to find this boy and give him his letters. If I don’t... I’m not sure what will happen, but I have a feeling that it won’t be good.

The four people who created me - my “mothers” - were very young. I may only be a few hours old, but they were fourteen years old. I haven’t the faintest idea of how they dealt with the problem of being intellectual and mental freaks. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.My main problrm now is getting out of this asylum I’ve been forced into. These people believe I am schizophrenic, that there are voices in my head. But there aren’t, not in my head. I keep telling the doctors, but they won’t listen.

I honestly don’t know why the doctors won’t listen to me... they keep saying I can’t b trusted. But whyever not? I was just born, it’s not like I’d make a very good liar. They have no reason not to trust me.

----------------------

It just occured to me why the doctor’s don’t trust me. They have no reason to trust me in the first place. If they don’t believe that I’m new to this life, how will they know I can be trusted? The answer is that they can’t.

I wish Malcolm would come to see me. He knows what is going on, and I’m absolutely positive he could pull enough strings to get me the hell out of here. So why doesn’t he? Does he think I’m still the way I used to be? I’m not. There is nothing that can compare me to my mothers except genetics and history.

As far I know, Malcolm was a love and a lover to my mothers. He was an accomplice and a frenemy, he was a follower and an innovator, he was a thinker and a doer, and he was a blood-brother and a traitor. He was everything to them, their hearts broke, and yada yada yada. It doesn’t matter, truly. I’m here now, and damn it if I’m not going to break out of this place and take over the world with the future love of my life.

Mrs. Dinah Regado

Mrs. Dinah Cohen-Regado

Mrs. Malcolm Regado

Mrs. Regado

Oh, what am I doing? You can’t fall in love with someone you don’t know, can you? No, of course not. So why on earth should I fall in love? I won’t even be able to get out of this joint and tell it to his face.

-----------------------------------------

I have a plan. I am good with numbers, and I have a few ideas of what the combination could be. All I have to do is hack into the asylum system and type them in, and they’ll never know it was me if I replace my memory drive... did I mention that I’m rather good with computers? It’s something my mother learned from Malcolm. He may be an ass for not breaking out of this place, but he did show me the way unintentionally, so I might forgive him someday.

Now, if I could only pull up the program...

--------------------------------------------

I’m backing out. I can’t do it. It finally occurred to me that, well, maybe there’s an actual reason for why malcolm isn’t getting me out. I think he wants me to find the ingenuity to trick them into letting me out. So that’s what I have to do. Learn the people to learn the place, and learn the place to escape it. That should be relatively easy shouldn’t it?

My only dilemma is taking myself out of the system. I don’t believe in hypnotism, so I can’t brainwash these people into actually believing that I’m sane, but I might be able to create a false record and forge a doctor’s signature onto it. In case anyone asks questions, I’ll have to find a doctor who I can easily convince to help me “pursue my dreams of immersion” in a something something -or-other thing. I’ll figure it out when the time comes. I really hope I’m a good liar.

I have a lot more, but it's all in a random order and there are parts missing. Enjoy this while you can. It might be finished soon, and who knows where we'll be then?

Catching up in school... so not 21 chapters.

BLAA SO BEHIIND

<3
I actually don't have 21 full chapters. Now that I'm caught up, I'm making it 1 a day. It is, after all, only a Novella.

And I have time. It's not like I'm actually getting this done in a month. I'm really just trying to catch up in school right now... I'm almost there!

SIXTEEN

Hello, world. I’m Nêm. It sounds like “Name:”, but it’s not. I have a name that is representative of myself. I am me.

You are tiny. You are nothing. You will die.

I will not. Not before you.

What are you talking about? Pray, tell.

Oh, nothing. I can see how this is going to end, all of this. I will wait for you. You and I will be closer than anyone. And we will die, together. How can you not see this? You must be blind to not know these things...

I am not blind, I am all-seeing! All-knowing! And you will die!

You are tiny. You are nothing. Nothing you will do can stop the truth. You are not that powerful, my love.

We will see about that, little duck. Stay alive.

Oh, I will. You shall see, but hopefully not too soon.

Juliet, what the heck is going on?

I honestly have no idea. They fight, but at the same time...

I know. It’s like they are the same person because they are so different.

When - if ever - do you suppose they will band together? I am certain that if they did, they would immediately find a way to break out of us.

I don’t know. Her predictions scare me. What are we going to do?

I think we should wait... absolutely wait and just keep going.

Then you’ll have to wait alone. I’m getting out.

NO! You can’t do that, Sarah Jane! I can’t hold them both back alone!

That’s your problem. You’d better hope that they don’t want out for too much longer, because if they do you’re screwed. Good luck.

PART II

3 YEARS LATER

ONE

I got a B on my Algebra test today. I’m not exactly sure what went wrong, because I thought I did really well, but I wasn’t able to scrape my usual 91-without-studying. My head is starting to deteriorate with all of these voices inside of it. Seriously, they don’t even seem not real sometimes. They don’t just talk to me, they whisper among themselves and I can feel them having conversations behind my back. I swear, I thought if I was crazy I would know it, but it’s not that obvious. Well, except for the fact that I hear voices in my head in the first place. That’s probably not a very good sign on the crazy-front.

Oh, Sarah Jane. You’re not crazy. Why can’t you see that? Why don’t you remember that the voices are real?

Because you never have been. So I don’t remember being alive until I was 1. Okay. I didn’t know I was crazy until I was almost 12. So? Early-onset schizophrenia isn’t uncommon in countries in South Africa, and-

Oh, come on. Everybody knows that’s a scam. Seriously, you have problems.

Yeah, I do. I have flipping VOICES in my HEAD. I hate this. Dang it, why do you all have to seem so real? And for goodness’s sake, my name is JULIET CARTER. Not Sarah Jane, not anything else. JULIET. So get out of my head or just get out of my life! Better to do the latter, because I’m getting sick of this. I write and write in my stupid hallucination notebook, and then as I hear your voices different handwriting appears on the page. People think I’m making this up for attention, but gods, this isn’t fair. I need this to be over. I can’t even remember most of my day anymore, and you won’t leave me alone.

Jesus. YOu just won’t shut up about the fact that we don’t exist. Have you ever known anyone as crazy as you? Crazy enough that you talk back to your voices? No. There's never been a case like yours, Sarah Jane. You know you’re not crazy. People convinced you when you were 11 that you were crazy, which you never believed before. Let yourself be convinced the other way, stupid face,

I’m not stupid! And for once, the little voices in my head are right.

Go on... say it...

I will never shut up about the fact that you don’t exist.

If you really didn’t believe her, then you wouldn’t respond when they argue with you.

Oh, gods. If any of my voices were real...

then let me out. Come on, SJ. Let me out.

TWO

There is one voice that doesn’t seem to care that I know just how screwed up I am. I don’t know why. In fact, I’m not sure I like it: it’s really eerie with two wanting me to free them and one voice silent.

That’s because I’m good natured.

No, I don’t think so. I think it’s a bit more than that. You have a reason that’s bigger than that. You’re not quiet, I don’t think. You have something you don’t want to say - or you can’t. What is it?

If I couldn’t say it, would I tell you?

Oh, come on, SJ. The first time I’ve ever asked someone inside my head to talk and you won’t do it? What kind of treason is that?

Christ, you sound like I used to in the days when I was you. Fine, then. You really want to know? I don’t tell you you aren’t crazy because it’s good that you think you are. Thinking you’re crazy is better protection than you ever helped me form. Maybe the belief that my sisters don’t exist is all you need to contain them.

Don’t forget that you are this crazy. Know what it feels like to be truly terrified, and please, for the love of all things sane, do not let them wear you down to that. If they do... well, all I can say is that all my efforts - and all of yours - will be worth nothing.And you will be destroyed for it. All you are worth and all you ever were will vanish entirely, leaving a little voice in someone’s head.

It was you who made me crazy, wasn’t it?

No, my darling ‘Juliet’. Oh, no. You did that yourself.

Wait, what do you mean?

Oh, come on. Don’t shut up now, not when I’ve just gotten you talking. That’s not fair. Come on!

Damn you, Sarah Jane Loisette.

Damn you.

They’re just words, my love. You cannot damn somebody with them unless you mean them. I know, I know, you do, you do, you do. But you don’t. You know you don’t mean them. It’s like trying to kill someone you love via a spell. You don’t remember loving her. And you never loved me.

But, Jenny, if I never loved you, how could I love you now? Not that I love you. I mean, you’re just a voice in my head.

Oh, SJ. There’s nothing “only” about being a voice in someone’s head. You were once. Most people’s voices in their heads are their consciences. You have the benefit there. Your voices are souls.

THREE

I woke this morning with a gasp. I dreamed of living in someone’s head. I’m so glad my voices aren’t real, they would be in so much pain... I suppose that’s proof that they aren’t real. They don’t break free, and I’ve never heard them screaming. Not for as long as my dream lasted. The dream seemed familiar, and I haven’t remembered my dreams for the past few nights, so I think it may have been recurring... or maybe a sequential dream. With all of these psychiatrists I’ve picked up on a few things.

1. I’m really, really crazy
2. I am mildly psychic, which I’m sure is just coincidental and subconscious
3. I have serial dreams that I never remember after a week and never remember talking about

Living in an asylum is not as great as it sounds. I feel really bad for all of the sane people in here. The ones who threaten suicide to see what will happen, or had drugs pushed on them at a party and got caught, the ones with mild depression and autism... they don’t belong here. They belong in a haven, protected from the false gods of government, not put away in a place that shoves more pills down your throat than the poor normals ever would.

My dream was really, really odd. I actually don’t know what it was about. I’m writing this down so that I’ll read it and maybe remember it later on. I was 6, and I was cupping the cheek of a Spanish boy. He grinned at me, and somehow I recognised the grin. Except, the person cupping the cheek wasn’t me. The hand was my hand and the face in the reflection of his eyes was my face, but I wasn’t moving. I was trapped inside the person’s consciousness, screaming and clawing to get out. Screaming the boy’s name. I don’t remember his name. I think I loved him, why can’t I remember his name? I just did, why can’t I?

I took it away from you.

Give it back! Give me back his name! I need his name!

I can’t. I’m sorry. You want to remember. Inside you are dying to remember, but you’ve blocked it. That’s why you can’t remember anything. You can’t remember your dreams, and you can’t remember his name.

Whose name?

The boy in your dreams.

Dreams? What are you talking about?

Read your journal, my darling.

That wasn’t me. I don’t remember any of that...

Oh, J...

Why won’t you just say Juliet, Sarah Jane?

I can’t...

Fine. I can’t help you.

FOUR

A boy of 16 walks through the doors of the asylum and into the waiting room. He looks sheepishly around the room and shuffles up to the desk.

“Hi, sorry,” he says nervously in a slightly noticable accent from the depths of Spain.

A young woman with bags under her eyes asks him what he needs.

“I was wondering... could I visit an old... friend of mine?”

“Sure, as long as she’s not in isolation right now. What’s her name and yours, son?”

“She’s Juliet Carter. Oh, and I’m Malcolm. Malcolm Regardo.”

“All clear, dear,” the girl says after typing some commands. “But I must warn you, she may not be what you expect. Even her parents don’t visit her. Room 36”

The boy ignores her and enters the series of walkways that bring him to his lost love. He sees her, and grins that old grin. “Hello, Juliet.”

FIVE

A strange boy just walked into my haven and said hello, which is odd. Nobody comes to me except the doctors. I don’t know how he knows my name. I can’t remember him. I don’t know, actually, because he sort of looks familiar. His grin certainly did. Perhaps he’s the boy from the dream I had.

Malcolm walks over to Sarah Jane and gently reaches for her hand.

“What are you doing?” Sarah Jane asks. She then opens her eyes in shock and pulls her hand away, shaking her wrists violently and kicking away from her cross-legged position on the end of her bed. She grabs her blanket and wraps it around herself, still shaking, covering every part of her except her eyes.

Malcolm grins and replies “Oh, haven’t spoken in a while, have we? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have, seeing as you can’t even remember what you are.”

NO! He can’t do this! Tell him he can’t do this! Please, Sarah Jane! He can’t let us loose! Get him away!

“NO!” The strength of her body’s voice surprises Sarah Jane. She wasn’t, however, the one who screamed.

“Oh, hello, Juliet. Yes, I know. You think I’m doing the wrong thing. I just can’t live without you anymore. Whatever it takes to get you out of there, I will do it. And don’t look at me like that. You know I can see you. Arguing against this isn’t going to do anything. I’m going to give her the rest of whatever story you told her. Because I know when you’re going to die, and you might as well get a chance to live a little before you do.”

A tear finds its way out of Juliet’s tear ducts as Sarah Jane scrambles to grab her notebook and writes excitedly:

Tell me what? Say it. Now, please.

“Impatience isn’t a virtue, Sarah Jane.”

That’s not my name. My NAME is Juliet Layne Carter. And I would appreciate it if you would tell me now, because I’ve supposedly been waiting for two years.

“The girls haven’t told you? Oh, dear, I have a lot of explaining to do.”

Sarah Jane blinked at him.

“Oh, hell. They’ve convinced you your girls are just voices in your head, haven’t they? Juliet sides with you not knowing, of course, and she never was one to let Jax get past... nor Nêm.

Who’s Name? And Jax... Jaquelin?

“Yes, Jax is Jaquelin. And that’s not how you spell it. It’s N-E with a triangle thing-M. That worries me, though, that you don’t know that.” He pulled her chin up to look at him. “You in there?” he inquired. He saw a motion in the corner of his eye and saw written: Yes. Yes, I’m here.

“Then what are you doing? What are you hiding for?” Sarah Jane looked down to the paper to see the words, and wrote.

Her name isn’t Nêm. It’s Jenny. She’s my Jenny.

Oh, Sarah Jane...

For the last freaking time, my name is Juliet. Not Sarah Jane, not J. JULIET.

“Sarah Jane is your name,” commented Malcolm. “You’ve just convinced yourself that it isn’t. Juliet, talk to me, please. I need your voice here.”

You traitor. You flipping traitor. I trusted you, you know.

“Oh, yes, I know. And now,” he said, “I get to bring you back!”

Have I ever mentioned how terrible you are?

“All the time. I know it’s not, but I’m going to take that as permission.” Malcolm led Sarah Jane to the bad and sat down with her. “I’m not here to visit you. I’m here to get you out. But first, my love, I’m going to tell you a story.”

SIX

“When Juliet was born, she was already incredibly intelligent, although that wasn’t evident until later. She had no friends, to be honest, except for one boy. That boy happens to be my arch enemy, George Wicks. Even he wasn’t really her friend, though. He was just in it for the food. Juliet couldn’t speak and didn’t care much, so she let him take advantage of that.

“Because she felt so horrible without social interaction - and because her parents thought she couldn’t speak so didn’t allow her any - she decided she needed to make a person inside her head. That person became a soul. Those thoughts of friendship turned into you.

“You were by no means the best companion, mostly because you held resentment for not being allowed friends other than Juliet. Juliet loved you, but you needed to be in charge of something. So you decided to make Jaquelin.

“Before you began, both of you noticed me. I was one of the smarter children, and although I was disobedient, I was very good at reading your conversations just from your facial expressions. When I started to fall in love with Juliet, she told me her secret to keep me from doing so. But by that point I already knew. I knew that there was a quiet girl who loved loving people and a girl who was violent but loved to sneak kisses.

“Because I had known about you, you gave me something very special. You had found a way to split a talent and give part of it to someone else. You split your ability to see death, and thankfully gave me the larger piece. I say thankfully mostly because of Jaquelin. When you made her, you also gave her the rest of it.

“Since early babyhood, Juliet had sensed a cruel presence inside her head. This was the bad side of her, but you never seemed to notice the real evil. Because you made Jaquelin in anger rather than need, the monster - which had by then become sentient - crawled into your mind and transferred into its own.

“None of us were entirely sure that the monster was all of Jaquelin. In fact, your sister was sure that there was more to her. Although she called herself an experimentalist, she believed that anyone capable of passion and self-loyalty was capable of love.

“I think we knew that more than anyone. Although I loved Juliet, I was your accomplice and your best friend. We would’ve made a much better couple had we actually been romantically interested in each other. The point is, Jaquelin started to make predictions about your deaths. The problem was, I could confirm it. She didn’t get the whole picture, but I knew when you were all going to die - including Nêm, who wasn’t even alive yet. And I told you.

“You were terrified, but you didn’t let it show. You just tried to find a way to stop it. What you came up with was interesting, but I must say it was pretty cruel. You knew that Juliet could bring life but couldn’t bring herself to destroy it, and you took advantage by suddenly and passively suggesting that you make a girl who was the opposite of Jax in order to calm them both down.

“What you didn’t tell Juliet was what you knew would happen next. Since Nêm was the opposite of Jaquelin, they bonded immediately and irrevocably. You and Juliet tried to keep them separated as best you could for a while, then you made the final move - what ended up checkmate.

“You abandoned Juliet. You knew that with two bonded people to keep from getting out, she wouldn’t be strong enough to prevent or even notice you taking over the body. You gave yourself amnesia and when you woke up they were only voices in your head and you thought that you were a young and schizophrenic Juliet Layne Carter.

“You remembered all of these voices for years, and you convinced your poor parents to give you a chance in an asylum. You were diagnosed short-term schizophrenic and you’ve lived here since. But you were my girl, and Juliet was my love, and I’m getting you out.

“What I didn’t tell you at the time was that you were wrong. Nêm knew this, too, though I’m not sure how. She knew of her own accord. We both knew that you could never stop the death, you couldn’t postpone it, and you couldn’t avoid it. You could only let it happen, you do what you did.

“You made it happen.”

The girls screamed aloud. Juliet in anguish, Nêm in terror, and Sarah Jane in pain. Jax was busy searching the back of her mind for a big, threatening button she had found ages ago, alright, that she had made ages ago. Juliet wasn’t the only brilliant one in the body.

Jaquelin found the button, and slammed her fist on it. Sarah Jane collapsed, convulsing on the bed. “I love you,” whispered Malcolm one last time before the nurses came in and dragged him out forever.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Well, little ducks, NaNoWriMo Jr. (camp NNWM) is officially over, and I officially did NOT meet my goal. Since I wrote 1000 words ahead of time, I assumed I'd be fine with the low 12500. This didn't work out. I finished less than halfway there, with 6239. Boo-hoo. I hit a block today, but here are your chapters. My book is going to ruin.

THIRTEEN

Juliet?

Sarah Jane.

I need to talk to you about something. It’s about her.

Her? Oh, her. Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about her, too.

Please, Juliet. Don’t antagonize me.

Who’s antagonizing? Tell me what you want to do.

I think we need to help her by...by...

You think we need to make another.

Yes... I mean, if you don’t want to then that’s okay, I just think it might be a little good idea but again if you don’t want to-

Sarah Jane Loisette Smith! Stop that!

Stop what?

This is the first time you’ve been submissive or passive-aggressive in your entire life. It doesn’t suit you. I agree with you. We have to stop this. You changed me. She changed you. If we can help each other to make a beautiful creature out of the best of us, she could potentially rub off on Jaquelin.

You’re beginning to sound like me.

Likewise, little sister. Do not ever become like me. I am the worst thing to ever happen to any of us.

Don’t be stupid.

It’s true. If I had been less of an experimentalist as a babe, none of this would’ve happened.

Oh, blame it on your grandmother’s boss, why don’t you? If he hadn’t placed her as secretary to your grandfather, your mom wouldn’t have been born.

Irrelevant. Also, try not to snort, it is not very becoming.

You want to talk about things that aren’t becoming? Look at yourself! Always blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault!

...you’ve never blamed yourself before.

I’m not blaming myself. I’m just saying that maybe this one particular thing is less your fault than you think. That’s a first, I know, but... whatever. Screw it. I’m done with this.

Let us do it.

Nerd.

FOURTEEN

I think we may have started something. Sarah Jane and I carefully fished through our minds for anything pertaining to good and calm and kindred spirits and I really, truly think it may have worked. This is not to say that Jaquelin has calmed down even in the slightest, but that she may soon begin to notice herself warming to calmer feelings than she currently has. I don’t know if this was a good idea or not, but it certainly seems as though things are going slightly more smoothly than before.

This was a horrible idea. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it  at the start. I trusted Juliet, and now she’s about to get us both killed. I may hate Jaquelin, but she was mine and now she’s going to change. If she doesn’t, the child I share with my older sister - though she’s not much of one, if you ask me, the bossy twerp - is going to die. Jax used to say she would kill three people to take over. I think Juliet thought it meant she killed herself, but I don’t think that’s the case, and never have. She’s going to kill all of us, and it’s all Juliet ‘s fault. She calls me her sister, but she’s not mine and won’t ever be.

I don’t want to die yet.

Something is amiss here. I hear whispered conversation in my head instead of yelling from the two people in my body. They think they can hide from me, but nothing remains hidden forever. I will figure out their little secret.

FIFTEEN

It worked. The two of us are supporting a new little girl. Since we gave her no name, she can pick her own. I do not know that she understands that yet, however, because whenever one of us asks her what her name is she smiles and says “name”.

Jaquelin still has not figured out what is going on, but I think she suspects that we are trying to do something behind her awareness. I am having a hard time keeping Sarah Jane together. Since we gave the good in her to the baby, I think she may have reverted back to her old self. That is something we cannot have.

I am afraid of what is going to happen now. If the baby was the cause of my SJ’s return to judgmentalism and anger, what will she do to Jax?

I knew all along that this was a terrible idea. The creature I shouldn’t’ve made is a complete idiot, unable to talk or even have a stupid name. What the heck did I do wrong? This kid was supposed to make Jax better, and Juliet is hiding them from each other in fear of the future.

Fortunately for us, Jax still hasn’t found a way to get past our shielding for more than a few minutes at a time. I’m sure she’ll find her way out for good eventually, but the conspiracy against her is sure to distract her for a bit longer.

This can’t possibly be safe. There is no way this is going to work...

My pesky siblings are still trying to hide something from me, I know they are. I will not be denied. I will find out exactly what is going on. This is big. Hiding something big from me is even more inexcusable than trying to kick me out.

The only place I haven’t looked is behind them. As though they’d let me out. HA! I will find a way, I’m sure.

Catching Up

Hello, my loves. Since I already broke my promise to you, I will be giving you NINE chapters today!

[insert reactions here]

I think I love you.
~me, of course!

ps Jax only talks about once, I'm still trying to figure out how to change fonts on this thing. Good luck, and let me know if it's unreadable! <3

FOUR

The monster will still not leave me alone. If the monster stays I am afraid I will not remember it is there. Then I will be lost. My friend will not be Sarah or Jane. She will be Sarah-Jane. Why choose when anyone can be anyone?

FIVE

Sarah-Jane is alive today. She is like me, but louder. She likes to talk out loud. Maybe my parents will not worry so much about me now. I will call Sarah-Jane SJ and she and I will be the best of friends. SJ doesn’t like blueberries.

SJ and I went for a walk. I was in the stroller, and she was in my head. She likes to sleep today. Maybe she does not always like to sleep? I don’t want her to always sleep. The monster is still in me. I must make the monster go away.

SIX

SJ started to talk today. She talked about food. My parents still cannot understand her, but she can talk, and maybe now they will stop making me look at strange people who try to make me talk. I don’t want to talk.

SJ said “poo” next because I made a poo. I scooted over but I couldn’t go far enough and I still smelled it. My parents were happy and didn’t notice what poo means until I cried because I don’t like poo. But I like poo. You should like poo, too. No. Don’t like poo. Really. Just... don’t.

I can talk and you can’t. That makes me right about poo.

4 Years Later

SEVEN

I am Juliet Delaney Carter. My parents didn’t name me. I named me instead of taking a name I didn’t know. I am 5 years old. People tell me I am very smart, and also very insane. I can’t talk, but I have another person living inside of my head. Her name is Sarah-Jane. She is my very best friend. I dislike her quite a bit, but I have no friends except her because nobody likes me. I am in the second grade at Orchid Stream Elementary school.

Sarah-Jane is good at talking. I can type things, but she can only speak. So I type what one of us thinks and she says what she thinks. We are very different in this. My parents havent noticed that we are different. I am quiet and I don’t like humans, and she loves watching and sorting the actions of everyone she talks to- a lot of people.

My name is Sarah-Jane Loisette Smith. I am the smartest person in attendance at Orchid Stream Elementary School, although that is very obvious as the student population is made up of idiots except for the girl living in my body who is merely mediocre. I want somebody smart living in my head, not someone who can only type and can’t talk. People who cannot talk have mental problems.

The girl living in my head has a name. Her name is Juliet. I like that name. That is all that I like about her, other than that she likes people less than I do. She avoids them, and I just laugh at their foolishness. Although I am only in the second grade, I am the only smart person in the school.

I hate having Juliet live in my head. I want her to go. Or to spite her I could do something else- make her an enemy. Not make me her enemy, but make a mind. I’m sure if she could do it, I can. I will name my sister of mind Jaquelin. I will not tell Juliet. It will make her mad.

I like to make Juliet mad.

EIGHT

There is a boy at my school who is far less stupid than the others. I think he hates me because I don’t like people. He is interesting to watch, though. He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and cocks his head when he’s working. It’s funny when he scratches everything out and then grins. His name is Malcolm. He cannot be as stupid as my SJ thinks he is. She makes me angry with her hatred towards everyone who’s not as smart as she thinks she is. She’s not as smart as she thinks, though. I could never tell her that. She would hurt me.

Jaquelin is growing as an idea. She is slowly turning sentient. I am excited that Juliet hasn’t noticed. It does worry me a bit, though. If Juliet hasn’t noticed something new, that could mean that it’s all only happening in my head. Though if it’s happening in mine, it’s sure to be happening in hers... either way, I will have plenty of time later to think about it, I’m sure...

Malcolm Regardo is a horrible person. He ignores his teachers and so-called friends, and then antagonizes them. He purposely gives people false hope that he’ll do something right. He makes it look like he’s working hard and then scribbles everything out, crumples his paper into a ball, throws it into the bin and snorts with his stupid little laugh. I don’t like the boy, but, oh, is he cunning and incredibly charming. I must get to know him better.

NINE

I am! I exist, I think, I eat, I sleep, I breath! I am sentient! I will not be kept silent. I want noise!I am Jaquelin, goddess of destruction and pain! I am the greatest monster and villain in all of history, and I always will be! Everything tastes better when it is mixed with a dash of blood.

What have I done?

TEN

I don’t know what I did wrong. Jackie was supposed to be like me, so we could be together forever without killing each other. Juliet isn’t as mad at me as I hoped she would be. In fact, she isn’t mad at all.

I hoped that she would be mad. What does that make me? Is Jackie just an incarnation of the worse part of me? I’m scared. I’m so scared...

Poor Sarah-Jane. She knew not of the monster in my heart until it turned sentient. She could not have know that she would do this to us. In fact, I had forgotten. I only hope that I can calm the monster down before it destroys us completely.

You will never be able to win this battle. I will always win. I want not to battle you. I will never battle you. I mean to make you my brethren. And you will never win. Actually, she would, but she won’t, for one reason and one reason only: It’s my turn.

Six months later

ELEVEN

Jaquelin has started to calm down. I think that she may not be the monster I thought she was. She is, of course, rooted in hatred, but perhaps she is more than just that. She is, after all, capable of restraint, and protection, and loyalty. Perhaps she is therefore capable of love.

I do hope she is capable of love. She seems to like Sarah-Jane alright. I don’t know... perhaps she needs someone to love in order to do so. I can try to help on that account. But I do feel bad for Sarah Jane. She tried so hard to be happy, and was left with guilt and fear and damage. I only wish I could help.

I made the biggest mistake of my life when I created Jaquelin. I should’ve kept to myself and starved rather than created a monster out of the worst of myself. Juliet said that there was a monster already and that I only gave it the opportunity to emerge, but she’s wrong. Jackie is far too stupid and rash to have been that clever or patient to wait so long for her time. Oh, god, I hope this isn’t her time. I’m not ready to die. I can’t die yet- not by her.

Maybe I was wrong...? HA! Jaquelin is never wrong. Jaquelin’s creator was right only in bringing her to life. Jaquelin is forever. Jaquelin will kill 3 before she will breathe her first breath outside of this body.

Bodies are for living in- alone. No “Sisters”, no aliens, no voices. Only one will live here. I promise, I will prevail.

3 YEARS LATER

TWELVE

I know what I have to do. I have to get Juliet to help me. It feels very wrong to be asking her for help, but I’ve got to. Otherwise, I’ll be living in hell for the rest of my life before I actually get there.

The problem isn’t even the asking, really. I find it hard to ask people for things, but even subconsciously I now know I have no other choice. The problem will be to get Juliet to agree. Don’t get me wrong, I know Juliet loves pretty much everybody, but I don’t think even she would be willing to help me with this. I jacked p everything the first time, and I know adding another person might be even more dangerous for the then four of us than it is for three now. For once I want somebody not to be hurt. It’s a strange feeling.

I think I’m going to have to create another soul. I’m afraid, though. Last time, I created someone out of the worst of me, who then brought the monster inside us to life. I don’t know that I can do this on my own. I need Sarah Jane. She would never help me, though. She thinks that this is entirely her own fault, when I am the one who holds the blame.

I must ask my sister to help me.

Blood will be spilled until the end of time. Human blood - the blood of souls.

(that last bit was also Jax)