[Post-rave: For Jeff & Danny]
Kate had no idea how she'd gotten to the Compound.
She didn't know what time it was or where any of her friends were or why she was at the Compound instead of at the rave. Maybe it was over. Maybe it was so late that it was done and she'd tried to stumble home and had instead found herself in the rec room, surrounded by books and movies and things she didn't want.
Earlier, she'd been feeling good. Well, not good. Good enough. For some reason, good seemed to be escaping her lately, like maybe she wasn't capable of feeling it right now. But the rave had offered an escape; a distraction she'd snapped up greedily, but she couldn't remember the last hour or how she'd gotten into the rec room or why she was even there and although the drugs were still coursing through her, they felt dark and unhappy. She didn't know where Harry was and she didn't know where Marshall was and it was late. Everything was dark.
People were still moving about, she could hear them, like she always did when she was in the Compound. It was never silent, never completely still, not like home had even managed to be now and then.
She wandered toward the bookshelf, even though she didn't want a book. She wanted to go back to her room and sleep until the world stopped spinning and she wanted to be sure that the people she loved were okay -- her mom and her dad and Charmaine -- and it wasn't until she leaned against the bookshelf that she realized what every single shelf was filled with.
A Doctor's Harrowing Journey of Treating a Woman with 17 Personalities and The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook. Kate frowned as she scanned the rest of the shelves, finding more of the same. A Shattered Mind and The Stranger in the Mirror and book after book on trauma and attachment and it was stupid, it normally wouldn't have bugged her much, but she couldn't take it right now.
"Fuck you, you bastard," she whispered, pulling one book off and letting it drop to the ground. It was strangely satisfying and Kate grinned, pulling off another and another, each thump on the floor causing her smile to grow. She didn't realize that the noise was louder than she thought, didn't realize she wasn't actually whispering, but shouting at the bookshelf. Each book she pulled off was replaced with another, all of them about DID, all of them about the disorder, but nothing about her mother.
"This is all bullshit!" she shouted, getting her hands on the shelf itself and trying to pull it out. Maybe if she toppled the whole damn thing, maybe if she burned it, then it would stop. In the middle of a pile of books and movie reels, Kate began to search herself for a lighter, finding a book of matches in one pocket of her shorts. Like most of the night, she couldn't remember how they'd gotten there, but it didn't matter.
She was going to burn this fucker.
She didn't know what time it was or where any of her friends were or why she was at the Compound instead of at the rave. Maybe it was over. Maybe it was so late that it was done and she'd tried to stumble home and had instead found herself in the rec room, surrounded by books and movies and things she didn't want.
Earlier, she'd been feeling good. Well, not good. Good enough. For some reason, good seemed to be escaping her lately, like maybe she wasn't capable of feeling it right now. But the rave had offered an escape; a distraction she'd snapped up greedily, but she couldn't remember the last hour or how she'd gotten into the rec room or why she was even there and although the drugs were still coursing through her, they felt dark and unhappy. She didn't know where Harry was and she didn't know where Marshall was and it was late. Everything was dark.
People were still moving about, she could hear them, like she always did when she was in the Compound. It was never silent, never completely still, not like home had even managed to be now and then.
She wandered toward the bookshelf, even though she didn't want a book. She wanted to go back to her room and sleep until the world stopped spinning and she wanted to be sure that the people she loved were okay -- her mom and her dad and Charmaine -- and it wasn't until she leaned against the bookshelf that she realized what every single shelf was filled with.
A Doctor's Harrowing Journey of Treating a Woman with 17 Personalities and The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook. Kate frowned as she scanned the rest of the shelves, finding more of the same. A Shattered Mind and The Stranger in the Mirror and book after book on trauma and attachment and it was stupid, it normally wouldn't have bugged her much, but she couldn't take it right now.
"Fuck you, you bastard," she whispered, pulling one book off and letting it drop to the ground. It was strangely satisfying and Kate grinned, pulling off another and another, each thump on the floor causing her smile to grow. She didn't realize that the noise was louder than she thought, didn't realize she wasn't actually whispering, but shouting at the bookshelf. Each book she pulled off was replaced with another, all of them about DID, all of them about the disorder, but nothing about her mother.
"This is all bullshit!" she shouted, getting her hands on the shelf itself and trying to pull it out. Maybe if she toppled the whole damn thing, maybe if she burned it, then it would stop. In the middle of a pile of books and movie reels, Kate began to search herself for a lighter, finding a book of matches in one pocket of her shorts. Like most of the night, she couldn't remember how they'd gotten there, but it didn't matter.
She was going to burn this fucker.