Title: Me, Myself, Him, and I

Summary: "Dissociative identity disorder?" A seven-year old Lavi's mind explored. Companion piece to Bookman; set during chapter 21. Can be read independently if you're up to it.

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Rating: PG-13/R

Content: Themes of child abuse/neglect, prostitution, and suicide. Something cheerful to brighten up your day.

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Medical Notes:

Dissociative Identity Disorder is defined by the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental disorders as a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities, each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment.

The causes of DID (also known as Multiple Personality Disorder) have not been identified, but can theoretically be linked with the interaction of overwhelming stress, insufficient childhood nurturing, prolonged childhood abuse, and an innate ability to dissociate memories or experiences from consciousness.

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"There's nothing to be afraid of," she told Lavi as they entered her tent. "No harm will come to you."

She let the flap drop shut, cutting off the glare being sent her way by the boy's master, the man she had once known but felt she no longer did. Each time she saw the one now known as the Bookman, he was different. Changed in a sense that made him seem older than his actual age and more suffered than any martyr. This child had the same look, which frightened her. Exactly what had he seen that caused his face to be such a sad, angelic little mask?

"Do not worry," she said again—for her sake or his, she was not sure—and made him to sit on the ground across the small fire pit before her. "I just want to speak with you."

"You want to hypnotize me, don't you?" Lavi asked, although his tone really didn't make it sound like the question she knew it to be.

"You heard us talking then," she said.

"Yes," was his reply.

"I should have known. You are very astute," answered she, not letting the surprise affect her expression or voice.

She was normally quite astute herself and should have been able to know that Lavi had indeed heard the muted conversation between her and the Bookman the previous night. Obviously their hushed voices carried to him. How sad, now that she thought of it, how the voice of his teacher had held no real concern for him as a person, but as a separate third party to which he appeared quite indifferent.

"Why do you want to?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in honest intrigue.

"I do not want to," she lied, her hands itching with something to do to keep herself occupied; she had no idea that a child with only one eye could have such a piercing, searching gaze. "But your teacher seems to find it in the best interest."

"Why? Can he not do it himself?" Lavi asked, again with sincere curiosity.

"He can," she replied, twisting her hands into her lap and willing them still. "But he will not."

"I see," was his reply, so adult that it was almost painful. "But what does he want?"

"I am not sure," she answered; lied.

"He wants to know why I'm broken, doesn't he?" Lavi asked, his gaze never wavering from her face; it was horrible how she was reflected in those green depths that didn't seem to see her at all.

"You're not broken," she said, hoping it to be true. "You are merely lost. Perhaps not indefinitely so."

"So you're going to do this," he stated, looking rather thoughtful. "Will I remember?"

"No," she answered. "Are you afraid to?"

"I'm not sure. I don't…remember much. Maybe because it's too bad, I don't know. And if it is that bad—so that my mind made me forget—then I don't want to remember," Lavi said.

"You will not," she assured him and he nodded.

She took that as her cue to begin. The space they occupied was warm and dimly lit. She lit incense, making the air smell spicy tinged with something sweet. It would be calming, a nice, warm, and slightly heavy air would make the easing into unconsciousness much easier.

"Lie down there," she said, indicating the mat on the floor covered with fur and afgan blankets. "And relax. Listen to the sound of my voice and follow my directions exactly."

He did as he was bidden and laid down, his left eye watching her intensely while the right remained hidden behind that black barrier. She then began the first steps of hypnosis, lulling Lavi into a state of deep unconsciousness before speaking.

"I am Elizaveta. Who are you?" she asked calmly and clearly.

At first, there was no answer. She watched as his brow furrowed slightly. Then she asked again: "I am Elizaveta. Who are you?"

"…I don't know…" answered his small voice, much smaller than it had been a few moments ago.

"You do not know? Do you not have a name, young one?" Elizaveta asked, not letting emotion color her tone.

"Mother didn't want me to have one…Mother said I didn't need one…" was his reply.

Elizaveta noticed how Lavi had curled onto one side, small and fetal-like as if he were afraid. His tone made her think of a lost and frightened child. No matter how much she wanted to comfort him, she kept on task.

"What else did your mother tell you?" she inquired.

"Why the fuck would I care?"

Instead of the tiny voice that had replied earlier, it was of a more normal volume. Only it was colored in bitterness and anger instead of fear.

"Don't talk about Mother like that…!" said the small voice again.

Elizaveta was silent. She hoped it wasn't what she was thinking of: a multiple personality disorder. She had heard of such things, in which a person could have more than one other personality inside of them…but they were never supposed to be aware of each other. Was it the hypnosis that was helping them communicate?

"That so called 'mother' didn't give a damn about ya, so just shut up and stop cryin', ya idiot," said the angry voice.

"Who are you?" Elizaveta asked, earning a snort from the redhead's unconscious form.

"Fuck if I know. The vermin of the world dun ain't got no names and Imma one of 'em," was the answer.

"All right. Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" Elizaveta said calmly, eliciting another snort of derision.

"Whatever ya want, lady. Not like I ain't got nothin' better ta do," was the answer. "…just stop yelling…and stop yer cryin', stupid."

"Now, don't fight," Elizaveta said, unsure of how to proceed. "The first boy I was talking to will be One and the second will be Two, is that all right? Both of you will get to talk, but it needs to be one at a time."

"Be careful, lady. That other one might go and get all mad on ya fer that. He's damnright bossy," said Two.

"Whom do you mean?" asked Elizaveta.

"Dunno. That one there that y'all talk ta like he's all great. La-somethin'-or-other. At least the other one is quieter than him," was the answer.

"You mean Lavi," Elizaveta said.

"Yeah, that one. He's so gorram controllin', fuckin' prick. But like I said, at least the other one ain't like that."

"So Lavi is the one controlling you and One, is that correct?" Elizaveta asked.

"Yeah, and the other one. Don't ya listen or is yer brain broke or somethin'?" asked Two.

"Wait, so you're telling me that there is another one of you?" she inquired.

"Well, duh. At least he's quiet though. Spends a lot of time doin' nothin'. But at least he ain't botherin' me like that other idiot," said Two.

"I'm not an idiot! Stop being so mean!" said One.

"Both of you, calm down," Elizaveta said. "Now, Lavi has become dormant for the moment. I want to talk to you…all."

"Why would ya want ta go and do somethin' like that?" asked Two.

"I need to find out a few things. Now, this is how this is going to work," said Elizaveta, adopting a serious tone. "I am going to speak to you each in turn. Whoever's turn that it is gets to speak. If it is not your turn, you remain silent. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever the fuck ya say," was the grumbled answer from Two.

"You really should clean up your language. It's disgusting. Dakshina wouldn't like it at all, you know," admonished another voice, much different from the frightened and angry personalities that had surfaced.

"Bite me, bitch."

"Childish wretch."

"And who are you?" Elizaveta asked.

"I'm Rohan. Don't let him be mean to you. He's just angry. Dakshina would slap him upside the head if she knew," said Rohan.

There was only a snort from Two and nothing else. Elizaveta had to wonder where Rohan came from and who this Dakshina was that he kept referencing. Perhaps all of her questions would be answered later in the session.

"All right, Rohan. I'd like to talk to One now. Only One, do you all understand?" she asked.

"Hmph. Good luck getting anythin' interestin' outta that crybaby!" said Two.

"Just ignore him," was Rohan's advice.

Then it was quiet for a moment and Lavi was still curled up on his side as if he were a frightened child.

"One? It's just you and me now. I want to talk to you," said Elizaveta.

"Why?" One asked.

"Because I want to. I need to know about you and your life. It's important," she explained.

"Okay."

"That's good. Tell me, what is the first thing you can remember in your life?"

"Mother."

"And tell me about your mother."

Lavi's head moved in his unconscious state. He was shaking his head defiantly, one of his hands gripping the blanket below him.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna."

"Why not?" Elizaveta pressed.

"'cause she was an abusive whore," interrupted Two.

"Two, leave us! This is between One and myself," said Elizaveta with enough venom to get the second personality to abandon their conversation.

"Mother didn't hurt me because she wanted to," said One. "She hurt me because she had to."

"Why is that?" Elizaveta asked, unsure of what this meant.

"Because a devil made me. What else are you supposed to do to a demon?" asked One.

"Why did she think you were a demon?"

"I dunno. I'm just bad. She got angry looking at me. It's prolly 'cause my face is different and my hair, too," was the answer, one of Lavi's hands reaching up to unconsciously touch his eye patch.

"And she'd hurt you because of this?" asked Elizaveta.

Lavi nodded and Elizaveta paused, not knowing how to continue. So Lavi had been abused at a very young age all because of whatever was underneath that eye patch…Her fingers itched, wanting to look and see exactly what it was that had made this boy's life so miserable…

"Do you have a father?" she asked.

"No. Mother said an incubus came to her while she was sleeping."

"All right, let's move on to something else. What do you remember of your childhood with your mother?"

"We walked a lot."

"Is that all? Where did you live? In the desert? By the ocean? In a house? On a boat?"

"We lived wherever we were walking. We walked in deserts and by water. We didn't have a house."

"Why did you walk so much?"

"I dunno. Mother said it was for her work."

"What did your mother do?"

"Mother went and did things for money."

"What kinds of things?" asked Elizaveta.

"Anything. Mostly she was with a lot of men that I didn't know."

"Like I said before, she was a whore," Two interrupted again.

"Two, if you interrupt one more time…" Elizaveta let her voice trail of dangerously and he was silent again.

"I don't know what that is," said One.

"What what is, honey?" asked Elizaveta.

"What's a whore?"

"A whore is a bad name for a prostitute," Elizaveta explained, trying to be gentle. "It can be a woman—or a man—who offers sexual favors for money."

"She did that, then."

"Your mother was a prostitute?"

"She did things like that. She would take off her clothes and share a bedroll with someone. We'd have money after that."

"And what did your mother do with the money?"

"She'd buy food and bottles of stuff that smelled bad. Mother never shared."

"Never shared her bottles with you?" Elizaveta asked, glad because it was most likely alcohol.

"Never shared anything with me. She'd hit me if I said I was hungry. I learned not to talk about it after a while."

"How did you eat, darling?"

"I didn't. Not a lot. I'd just pretend that I had eaten and that there was no reason to be hungry. It worked for a while, but then it didn't and… I learned to steal. I felt bad, but I was hungry…"

"It's all right that you did that. It was the only way for you to survive," said Elizaveta, wanting nothing more than to pat Lavi's hair, but thought better of it, not wanting to break the hypnosis. "Now, tell me what you remember most about your childhood with your mother."

"We walked a lot. It was hot. Mother said that demons shouldn't get to wear shoes so I didn't have any. I'm hungry and at night it's cold and I'm cold…I don't like the men who like me; Mother, don't give me to them because they hurt me and touch me places I don't like and it hurts, and I'm sorry that I'm not human but make them stop what they're doing…"

Elizaveta was still, listening to the trauma of this boy's childhood. Starvation, abuse, neglect, rape…it was enough to make her want to cry. Lavi's body had curled up even smaller, his tiny shoulders shaking. He might have been crying, but Elizaveta was unsure, as no tears slipped from under that black eye patch.

"All right, honey. That's enough. You don't have to remember any more than that," Elizaveta said, in her most soothing voice that she tried not to let crack under the emotion she felt. "But tell me what happened to your mother. Did you run away from her?"

"No…no, I couldn't leave Mother. Mother needed me. Sometimes she'd get nice and hold me like other mothers did…It didn't matter that she would leave me alone for a long time and it felt like she'd never come back, but she always came back…"

"Okay, but what happened then? Tell me."

"Mother got angry with me one day. We were walking again. I'm sorry, Mother, I'm tired and hungry can't we stop for a minute? And she gets angry and grabs me and throws me down on the ground. It hurts because I hit my head on a rock and there's blood but I don't know what to do. She keeps hitting me and I just stay still because it goes faster if you don't fight. But then she drags me over to the bank and then my head is under the water and I can't breathe and all I wanna do is breathe but she isn't letting me…

"Then she stops for a minute and lets me go and then does it again and again until I think I'm going to die and then she really stops and then she's not there anymore. And I look around but she's not there and I don't know what to do and then I see her up on the bridge…

"Mother jumped. Mother jumped off the bridge and into the river. It was so high and rushing and brown and she jumped right in like it was fun…I told her not to I said Mother get down from there because it's high and you'll fall and she just smiles and tells me that she hates me and it's the only way for her to be free so she jumps right off into the river and it washes her away…

"Mother died. I don't know what to do."

Elizaveta was completely still and quiet again. She was repulsed that someone could hate a child so much that they would attempt to kill their own kin before committing suicide right in front of them.

"What happened after that?" she asked, her voice choked.

"Then I came along ta show this whinin' kid how ta do shit," said Two.

"Two, that isn't very nice of you to say," Elizaveta admonished him.

"Ain't nice of me ta say, but it's the truth so there ya go," was his answer.

"So you helped One out, then?" Elizaveta asked, curious as to how the two personalities, so different from one another, had formed.

"I'd always been there. Who do ya think was the one who gave him the balls ta go steal? Me. I was the one who learned ta keep quiet durin' the beatings and when those fuckin' pigs were inside me. Do anythin' more and they just hurt ya worse. I'm the strong one. He just cries about it."

"He's traumatized, but you came and saved him from that," she said, trying a compliment to the aggressive personality to see if it would gain her any favors. "So what happened?"

"Don't remember much about it. It's all kinda in there but not really, if ya know what I'm sayin'. There was a lotta stealin' and runnin' after that. A lotta hidin' and trespassin' too, but who gives a shit, right? I'm alive, so it dun ain't gotta matter none what I did ta do it."

"And what do you remember most about this time?" Elizaveta asked.

"Sleepin' outdoors a lot. So goddamn cold it was unbelievable. Ya shoulda seen what I had ta do ta get this sobbin' wreck ta eat bark and whatnot."

"Anything else you remember? Were both you and One together on this or was it mostly just you?" she asked, wondering if the two personalities could communicate simultaneously.

"Damn right we were tagether a lot. Shit, he's scared all the time. Had ta tell him to buck up a lot and not cry none about it, ya know? Durin' the day he was real quiet, because I was stealin' most of the time. Gettin' whipped for the rest of the time. He'd never have made it five minutes, so it was mostly me, but I ain't boastin' nothin'. I saw some bad shit out there. Makes me hate people even more than I should, but I ain't got nothin' else to go on. Watchin' 'em shoot each other and kill each other and rape each other. It's fuckin' horrible."

"So because of this, do you have any faith in humanity at all? In God?"

It was frightening how Lavi's small little body could produce such a dark laugh.

"God? Ya ask someone like me about God? There ain't no such thing as God. If there was, would there be all these people out there killin' each other and rapin' each other and abandonin' their kids and prostitutin' them? No. Would God stand by and let his earth get all wasted by humans and let them rip it up everyday for their own fuckin' selfish needs? No. God wouldn't let that kinda shit happen. God would stop it. But since there ain't no God, that's why all this crap happens. And since there ain't no God, there ain't nothing anyone can do about it."

"You have no hope then?"

"Hope? I might have had hope. Might've if I didn't have ta live through everyday gettin' beat on by what he thinks is his lovin' mother and I wouldn't of had ta get raped every time some fellow decided he wanted cock that night. Might've had hope if I didn't have to see some little girl get shot between the eyes in front of her parents just 'cause they couldn't pay their land taxes. Might've had hope if parents just didn't go and abandon their kids in the streets and then beat on them when they were caught stealin'. I might've had hope if maybe someone woulda tried to save me. But no one gave a good goddamn what happened to me. I ain't got no hope. I don't think I'll ever have hope."

"So what happened?"

"I gave up," was the reply, the angry voice sounding somewhat tired. "Fuckin' sick of watchin' all this shit day after day. Might as well just die and end it all, why live in a world that's so messed up no one can do a damn thing about it?"

"And what happened when you gave up?" she pressed.

"He left me all alone again," said One.

"So what did you do?" Elizaveta asked.

"I gave up, too."

"But something happened that made you not give up. Because you are here now, and that means that you somehow acquired the will to live."

"It's because she came along. She made it better."

"Who is 'she'?" asked Elizaveta.

"She was a lady that came into the market one day. She talked to me really nice, like she didn't care what I looked like or that I was dirty. All she wanted were some directions, so I gave them to her. She patted my head and gave me this for your troubles, she said," One said, his fingers fumbling with a coin around his neck.

"And did she take you away with her?" Elizaveta asked.

"No…she left. I was going to use the money to buy food, but she was so nice to me I couldn't give it away…so I kept it and stole again. A man really hit me hard when he saw my face and I thought I was going to die. But it would be okay, I thought, because someone had been nice to me at least once before I died, and that made it okay, didn't it?"

"So what happened?"

"The injuries were bad, but not fatal," answered Rohan. "Dakshina-san was able to heal them up in no time"

"This lady that showed you such kindness was Dakshina, was it not?" Elizaveta asked and she received a nod in return. "She came back for you, then?"

"Dakshina-san did come back. She took care of me and treated me like she would her own child, with such gentle hands that I don't even remember the medicine hurting at all," Rohan replied.

"So she patched you up. What happened after that?"

"She needed a favor. She told me that she needed me to be someone. Someone special. I told her that I could do it, because I remember stuff good. It was a game that me and Mother used to play and I would always do real good because I could remember everything. So the nice lady taught me a lot of things that I had to remember perfectly. She told me that my new name was—"

"Rohan," was the answer from the persona. "Rohan aged six years, born in Augustus's month. Both parents killed before my eyes in the Blood Rebellion of Syangboche in the year of the giant earthquake. I am friendly, intelligent, inquisitive. I do not like thunderstorms, because it reminds me of the time when our home was nearly washed away during a monsoon. I hate the government for killing my parents and I seek only peace because of it."

"Those are the thoughts and feelings of the true Rohan, correct?" Elizaveta asked.

"I am Rohan. Well, a mere imitation of him, but as close to the real thing as there ever was. Dakshina explained to me everything, every detail and aspect of his personality as well as personal history. It is easy to be him," was the answer.

"Yeah, 'cause it's like a fuckin' fairy tale fer ya, ain't it? It's just like playin' pretend. Ya ain't never seen real shit like we have, ya pussy," Two grumbled.

"Two, be considerate," Elizaveta admonished him.

"It's hard for an idiotic brute like him to be something even akin to considerate," Rohan replied.

"Ya just think yer better than us 'cause ya talk so good. Why don't ya just get up and leave. There'll be a lot more room if ya just up and left like a good dog," Two snarked at him.

"Why should I leave, you incompetent fool?"

"'Cause yer the one trespassin' here, not me," replied Two.

"Okay, okay. You both have to stop," Elizaveta said, stopping their argument before it progressed. "Let's keep the peace here. All of you are going to have to behave."

"We normally are behavin' like slaves, ya know. That Lavi character is a real bitch. Likes ta keep the chains on the doors and whatnot, so we're just stretchin' a little, if ya don't fuckin' mind," Two said.

"Actually, I do 'fucking mind'," Elizaveta replied, her kindly air disappearing. "I need to speak to Lavi. Where is he?"

"Givin' the bitch a little taste of his own medicine. Got him locked behind his own gorram door. See how he likes it," Two answered, chuckling a little.

"Let him out," Elizaveta said.

"What if I don't feel like it?" Two asked mockingly.

"Let. Him. Out. Now," Elizaveta said, even more dangerously than before.

"No. Fuckin'. Way. Bitch," was the answer.

"Then I have no choice but to completely erase your existence," Elizaveta said, making Two go silent and Lavi's body go rather rigid. "You see, I am the one in control here. You let me inside of your mind. You are all at my mercy."

Elizaveta's hypnosis was strong and she doubted that there would be any way for the boy to wake up on his own. She began to speak to him, despite not knowing whether or not the one known as "Lavi" could hear her.

"Now, Lavi. Listen to my voice and do exactly what I say," Elizaveta said, closing her eyes to visualize what she was about to say. "Now, in your mind, I want you to picture a long hallway. It has white walls and white floors and white doors too. Do you see it?"

"Yes," Lavi replied.

"Now, there is a door on your right that is pale blue, do you see it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"There is a name on the door. Do you see it? It reads O-N-E."

"Yes."

"Open the door. You should see a very peaceful place. A beach, perhaps, or a garden. What do you see?"

"A garden. It's sunny."

"That's good. Now, in the garden, you should see a little boy. He looks just like you. Most of the time, he is afraid or crying, but now, he feels safe and happy. Do you see him?"

It was quiet for a moment.

"It's pretty here," said One.

"Will you stay there willingly, young one? You'll be happy there," Elizaveta said, hoping that the personality would go willingly and not fight.

"Okay."

"Now, Lavi. Wave good-bye to One. You'll be able to talk to him whenever you want, but now you have to leave him, all right?"

"Yes."

"Close the door behind you. You don't need to lock it."

"Okay."

"Now, next to One's door, there should be another door. It is black. There is a name on the door. It reads T-W-O. Do you see it?"

"Yes."

"Open that door."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's locked."

"Locked?"

"Someone's inside hiding."

"Who?"

"I don't know. He's angry though and trying to hide."

"Then this is what I want you to do. You see the door, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Now imagine the door has bars over it. Very thick steel bars. And chains and a dozen locks as well. They will keep the door closed. Are they in place?"

"Yes…"

"What's wrong?"

"The door is rattling. He's trying to get out…"

"He won't get out. Imagine that there are bricks in front of the door. So many bricks that you cannot see the door anymore. It will keep him inside. Do you see the bricks?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

"Isn't that cruel? To lock someone away like that?"

"It's for his own good. You'll see in time. He will as well. One day, when he is not so angry, you'll be able to leave his door unlocked as well."

"Okay…"

"Now, next to that black door is another door. It's a lovely door, with a big brass handle. Do you see it?"

"Yes."

"Open the door."

"Okay."

"Inside you'll see a magnificent room. What do you see?"

"A library. There are books everywhere."

"Very good. Is there anyone in the room with you?"

"Just myself. I understand what you are doing. I will willingly stay here. There are a lot of books to read, so I'll be able to entertain myself," Rohan said.

"Very good of you," Elizaveta said to him. "Now, Lavi, you can leave Rohan in this room. This door can be left unlocked as well."

"Okay."

"Now, you have three doors. Describe them to me."

"ONE is pale blue, TWO was black, but now is brick, and ROHAN is wood and brass."

"Very good. Now, you are in control, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"These three inside these doors are under your power and mercy. You will always be the strong one because you can always lock them away. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now, on the count of three, you're going to wake up, completely refreshed. You won't remember a thing about what transpired here. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

A slow counting to three and Lavi was awake, looking around with a perfectly alert countenance as if he had just taken an energizing nap.

"How long was I asleep for?" Lavi asked, scratching his head in a confused manner.

"A few hours. You feel rested now, don't you?" she inquired and he nodded. "Well, then. It's a beautiful day outside, why don't you go out and enjoy it?"

Lavi nodded and stood up with a stretch, heading toward the exit. He moved the tent flap back but stopped half-way out into the sunshine, turning to look at her.

"Elizaveta," he said, that one green eye scrutinizing her.

"Yes?"

"Did you…find what gramps was looking for?" he asked.

Elizaveta looked at him and smiled. It was obvious that he was eager to please the Bookman; he wanted to be able to do what Bookman wanted of him. And it was clear now that he did this because Bookman was probably one of the only people in Lavi's short life to take actual care of him, even if the old codger didn't look like he was doing that good of a job, with the whole 'hating children' vibe he gave off.

But then there were those moments of tenderness that she noticed Bookman tried to let pass by without making it seem like something important. They were important and made Lavi even more fiercely loyal to him than ever, although Bookman probably didn't notice. She could see that loyalty in Lavi's expression, hoping that he was the perfect apprentice for that man who had no name and no heart. It was the only life that Lavi had ever been offered and it was apparent that he would do everything to achieve that goal.

"Yes. Yes, I did," she said, and his whole face brightened enough to rival the sunshine outside.

To find what was once lost was always a triumph. But as that little redheaded boy with only one eye and too much pain in his past ran out into the spring afternoon, Elizaveta felt a tear roll down her cheek. Why did such a triumph feel like such a failure? Was it because she just helped that child even further on the already doomed path he was walking?

A life of secrets, lies, coldness, no emotion, no love, no friendship. He would have no name, no family, no home. Never. He would never have anything like that. And it made her cry because he deserved it so much. How unfair that he would never know a life of true kindness and love.

And she mourned for him: the boy who would never be allowed to have a heart.

Bookman Junior.

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Hm. I've really been sucking lately. –hates everything she writes nowadays- Anyway, this is what happened in chapter 21 that wasn't put in there because, obviously, Bookman wasn't present for it. It was just something that helped me develop this whole process of persona that I'm going to introduce in the next few chapters of Bookman.

Hope you sort of semi-enjoyed it and will leave me a review. Even if you hated it, leave a review?

Dhampir72