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I felt like I was on the edge of being in trouble. A normal person would have been happy that he embraced their evil personality.
Clearly, there was nothing normal about me.
I stared back at him in defiance. “I beat her up—”
“She cannot fight like you.”
“Then, I sliced her, and petals came out instead of blood. And she laughed at me.”
He shrugged. “Lunita has a sick sense of humor.”
I frowned at him. “She is fucking crazy.”
“An acquired taste for sure.” He put his view back on Lunita. “She was the third alter?”
“Yes.” I considered all that she had done for us, and much of my jealousy and anger toward her dissipated. “Long ago, probably at the worst of all the abuse, she appeared to fight and kill for me. . .for us.”
He bobbed his head. “That is the other reason why I will always care for her. She killed that monster.”
My eyes watered. “They call her, the Monster.”
“They should call her, the Savior.”
I bet she is smiling right now in my head.
Kaz returned to the painting and walked over to M.
I cringed, wanting to jump out of the window. Would it have been too much for all personalities to be female and a little bit normal?
There you go, baby. The woman you want to make your wife. . .well. . .she has a man in her head. Thoughts?
I stirred as he took in M, with his broad shoulders and the shadow of a beard, a part of me that felt entirely alien.
For a moment, silence enveloped us, only broken by the distant jazz rising in the air outside.
“Hmmm.” Kaz continued to observe M, and I held my breath, waiting for his verdict in anxious anticipation.
When Kaz finally spoke, he surprised me once again with his insight. “For some reason, he reminds me of Maxwell. A Street Professor of sorts. Is he like Maxwell?”
“No. Well. . .they would get along.” I thought back to M. “But, yes, he’s. . .an academic. There are all these degrees on the walls in his office. . .which is. . .in my head, but anyway. . .I couldn’t read where the degrees came from.”
“Very interesting.”
“He has another room and it’s all these notes and him trying to piece together who we are.”
“Very, very interesting.” Kaz held his chin. “What did M tell you?”
I spilled it all out, telling him about M’s theory on the five F’s of trauma and how he figured that we each represented one of them. Everything I could remember, I made sure to include.
“You are fawn.” Kaz chuckled. “That is how the Mouse snared the Lion. Had it been Lunita. . .I might have killed all of you, but your mind knew who could capture me.”
“O-kay. . .that’s one way to look at all of this. The broken me.”
He left the painting and came over. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, Kaz.”
“You’re not broken.” He scowled. “Do not say it again.”
