Page 16 of No, For An Answer
I made the team. Obviously. I mean not to blow my own trumpet, but I’m really good at gymnastics. After hitting every call Ginger made, she finally gave in after the girls convinced her to accept me. At one point I thought I’d be late for class, but I managed to shower, get changed, eat, curl my hair,andmake it to class -Psych 101 with Miss Emerson- all with ten minutes to spare.
Everything relating to academics has always come very natural to me. I’ve never really had to spend hours studying or looking through things to gain an insight, I’m just lucky. I read something and it just sticks. Having a photographic memory really does do wonders when you need to remember something. It’s why I remember Maisy’s list. I remember what she wrote, how she wrote it andexactlywho she named on in.
It’s the main reason I’m here. To find out exactly what happened. Dropping down into my seat, I wince slightly. My pussy is still throbbing from the battering I received earlier. That man really doesn’t give a single fuck about being gentle. I wiggle in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Ok class can you all open your books to page 95.” Turning to the white board she begins to write in big letters while she continues. “Today we are going to discuss the Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligence and end with the Theory of Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
Opening my note book, I grab my tabs and highlighters from the inner zip of my backpack and begin to write. If there’s one thing I love, it’s making sure all my work from each class is perfectly written with colour coded text and tabs to match. I like everything neat and tidy. It’s one of the things that I’ve always smiled while doing.
The door to the class is yanked open and I immediately look up.
“Sorry, I’m late, Professor, training ran longer than expected.”Hewalks in, closing the door politely.
“Just take a seat Jesse, you haven’t missed much.” She doesn’t look at him as she continues to make bullet points on the board for when the discussion begins. Focussing back on my notebook I groan internally as Mr All-American makes his way towards me, eyeing the vacant seat next to me at the back of the class.
“Well, well. Look what we have here,” he whispers softly as he drops into the seat.
“There are other seats available for you. Seats away from me.” My words coming out impartial and unbothered.
It’s how I need to be.
Stay calm Ashley.
Except I am bothered. Inside I’m raging. It’s taking everything for me to stay calm right now. I sit back here so I don’t have to speak. So, I can listen, take notes, and study what needs to be done. Alone and unnoticed. Just the way I like it. The fact that I already know enough about this asshole already says something.
I didn’t come here unprepared. I didn’t wait until I knew I was accepted to Brown. I madesureI was. In every single way possible. I made sure I knew everything I needed to, abouteveryone. He just wasn’t supposed to notice me yet. But I guess kicking one of the players in the football team was quite a big gesture on my part. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put my foot in it when it comes to sculking through the halls like a ghost.
Fuck.
“Why would I want to sit next to anyone else when you’re right here. Ripe for the taking,” he winks as I look at him, disgust written everywhere on my face. Rolling my eyes, I turn to focus my attention back towards my notepad as Professor Emerson’s voice fills the room again.
“Psychodynamic Theorists believe that the effects of Dissociative Identity Disorder, D.I.D for short, results from continuous exposure to traumatic experiences earlier on in life. Most of these include but are not limited to, child abuse, neglect, and parental abandonment.” Crossing her arms, I watch as she walks around her desk, leaning on the front. Scanning the room, she continues.
“Can anyone give me examples on the types of identities that might play a large factor within the disorder and what they’re specifically there for?”
I feel the chair shift next to me as Jesse leans over. “Do you have a spare pen?”
“Did you not think to come prepared to class,” I counter. There’s no way this asshole needs a fucking pen. He has a GPA to match mine.
“I forgot my stuff.” I don’t need to look at him to hear the smile as he speaks. Wrapping my fingers around a blue pen, I offer it to him. Still refusing to look at him as I continue to work.
“There’s always a protector,” one girl says from the lower levels of the classroom.”
“Go on,” Professor Emerson pushes.
“The protector is usually the second alter in command, I guess. The one who tends to push forward when the hostis experiencing something that reminds them of a traumatic incident.”
“Good.” She turns back to the white board and writes the wordProtector. “Anyone else?”
“Each alter will always hold a different memory, role or meaning within the hosts system. Some try to erase the memory altogether. While some are there to help the host cope with the trauma.”
Professor Emerson looks up at me in surprise. Her eyes softening as the corner of her mouth begins to quirk up. “Nice of you to join us, Ashley.” She pauses, thinking for a second. “Tell me, what would a child alter give someone with D.I.D?”
“A child alter is there to relive childhood experiences that the host never had a chance to participate in. For example, fun, happiness, enjoyment. To experience life through the eyes of a child, if you will. Most of the time alters will also know about themselves and allow others to come forward, when necessary.”
She turns to face the board and begins to write. “And what is a necessity for another alter to push through? Anyone else.” Releasing a heavy breath, I continue to write.
“Well, well, look who’s all smart and shit,” Jesse chuckles from beside me. “You think you could tutor me?”
