Reflections
The first time I could remember receding into my mind, it was painful. It felt like my heart, my soul, was being forcefully ripped from my body. Everything ached, and there was a sharp, throbbing pain in my head. Once officially out of the world, my heart ached in another way. It ached for Micah and D.L. in a way that I'd never felt before. Maybe she's right, you know? Maybe Jessica's ideas of me being weak and helpless had reason.
Micah asked once, after he'd really figured out what Jessica was, what it was like inside of my own "brain," as he put it. The only reply I could come up with was that it was foggy. Sometimes it's a light, white colored fog that is thinly spread over the vast, black landscape of my prison. Other times it's a heavy curtain of water vapor that obstructs my view to mere inches in front of my nose. After much thinking I have come to the conclusion that the continuously changing fog thickness heavily relies on under what conditions Jessica takes over.
Another thing I've noted is that the thicker and heavier the fog, the harder it is to take control back over of my life. Whenever Jessica moves in front of a reflective surface, a small portal to the outside world opens, but the second she moves away it's gone. It took me a while to figure out that when the mist clears for those few vital seconds, the barrier holding me back is at its weakest point. When the window to Jessica's actions appears, I remember the spot long after she's disappears. I can reach out and feel the glass-like wall there. It takes a while, especially in the heavier fog, to break through that glass, but when I do I suddenly find myself standing blinking in the sunlight.
The things that she does to people appall me. She's killed people with the alibi of protecting Micah and I, but that's not true. If she had our best interests in heart, she wouldn't have sent D.L. to jail for something he didn't do. Micah needs his father, and I need D.L. to protect me, not Jessica.
Life is becoming more and more stressful as the days wear by. I never know if she'll emerge again, and because of that I usually don't get anymore than four hours of sleep a night. One thing to be thankful for though, is it that I've been in control now for nearly four months. If anything, that only manages to make Jessica angrier. As I write this she is doing her best to stop me.
The fight to maintain a rule over my life is a never-ending struggle that I WILL overcome. Jessica struggles to come out, and I can feel it. Those are the moments that I choose to fight back and push her away. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that Jessica has to be gotten rid of. If that means I have to end my own life in the process, I'm sorry Micah, D.L.
P.S. The woman inside of my head claims to be my sister, but the Jessica I knew and loved wouldn't have done these things. My sister died when she was eleven, and dead she remains.
D.L. finished reading the papers and sighed, fighting the tears that threatening to obstruct his vision and end his calm composure. Looking out at the crowd gathered for Niki'd funeral, he began speaking again. This time, it was his words.
"I found this beside her body," he started, "and didn't know what to think about it. The writing didn't sound like Niki's, but after sorting through her things I found out that the copy in my hand was the ninth, possible tenth, draft. That tells me Niki had meditated this for a while."
The tears streaming down a sobbing Micah's face was enough to rip away the invisible barrier that stopped D.L. from crying. The salty drops of water came steadily as he spoke.
"She was going through something that none of us can even begin to imagine. Micah once told me that 'mom is sick', and I chose to pretend Niki was strong to control what ever was happening to her. In a way, I wasn't wrong. Niki was two years sober, and four months Jessica free when she died, and that took strength that not one single person here will ever have."
"Niki Sanders sacrificed herself so that her family might be safe."
Two hours later the graveyard was deserted, but for one small person. Micah was standing in between his mother and aunt. The fresh dirt mound of Niki's grave brought the smell of earth to his nose. "I love you mom," Micah managed to choke out as he placed a rose on her grave. Then he walked away.