The phrase, "What the fuck," crossed my mind, as did the one, "It figures." I completed my tour wordlessly and without paying attention.

Since I had arrived at about 10 am, lunch was being served by the time I was done – lunch was served early, at about 11. I was led to the cafeteria. The nurse waved as she walked away. I half-heartedly waved back, not in the mood for being polite.

To fill my loneliness, I conversed with the friends that talked only to me. I asked them if it mattered what food I took, since it wasn't like I was going to eat anyway. Charlotte said that it didn't matter, but that I should start eating again. It was times like these that I wished I could see them as well as hear them, since it was really hard to look guiltily away from someone who resided in your brain.

I grabbed whatever food was offered to me (I think that I ended up with a hot dog, an apple, and some chocolaty thing) and sat down alone in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. I sat, looked at my food, and talked to my friends. My conversations were interrupted just a few moments later, though, with the sound of a tray being set down next to mine. I was definitely taken aback when (surprise!) it was the boy – boys? – from before.

"Hello," he said, in a slightly german accent, instead of the English cadence I was used to.

"Hello," I cautiously replied.

"You must have just arrived, otherwise I would've seen you earlier" – I choked back a laugh. Oh, the irony! – "My name's Mihael, and nice to meet you." He reached his right hand out to me. I just stared a little, and he reminded me that people shake hands, they don't stare hands.

I looked at his eyes, which were so different from the way they were when I had first met him only a half hour ago. They were almost bright and friendly – almost, but not quite. They still contained a shade of the mistrust that I had seen.

I shook his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Mihael. I'm Kate. I have friends that live in my head and I don't eat. How are you?"

He replied, "Well enough for someone who has MPD, and you?"

"Oh, just brilliant. You know, mental hospitals are the in place to be."

"Why, of course. Everybody interesting knows that."

He had an awkward smile – one that seemed more suited for laughing at people instead of with them. That feeling was confirmed as he said, "Usually I detest people, but I think I might not detest yet."

"That's odd," I replied, not knowing if what I was about to say would make him very angry or not, "since not even an hour ago, you cursed at me – quite rudely, too."

His smile faltered and a troubled expression took over his face. "Mellow."

I nodded.

"You see, I really am three different…do you know this?"

"Yeah, the nurse told me about you after…well, after I met you."

He looked down. "I don't remember what I do when I'm them. It's like I have three different brains – one roughly normal, one bipolar and unstable, and one genius. I can't control it at all, but they've tried every method they could to 'fix me'." His already dark expression grew darker and more introverted, and I wondered if this was what he looked like before he switched. I decided to keep talking to see if that would keep Mihael with me.

"You mean like if Charlotte and Ferdinand and Tori actually acted visibly to other people instead of just talking to me?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

Then he laughed, rather meanly. " What awful names! Did you pick them yourself?"

I frowned. "Oh, yeah, because 'Mello' and 'M' are just the best names I ever heard."

"You're going to have to take that up with them. Those are their names, not mine. And I'm damn glad, too. Hey, are you going to eat that?"

"No. I don't do eating. It's messy and gross."

"Admittedly," he said, picking up the chocolaty mass and shoving it in his mouth. "Come on, I'll give you some tips on how to deal with Mellow and M. I want all of us to not detest you."

I was surprised, to say the least. He seemed like the type to want to be alone. There's no way he could've accepted me so quickly.

He got up and threw away his untouched tray of food. Halfway through the cafeteria door, he turned around and waved for me to follow. Not know where any of this would end up, I followed, crossing the threshold of both the door and my life before I had met them.