Chapter 13
“Dissociative identity disorder.” Though I’ve said those three words out loud to myself a thousand times today and have been reading everything on the subject in the last two days, they still sound foreign to me.
On the line, my mother sighs heavily. “Poor thing,” she says. “That sweet little boy.”
Holding the phone to my ear, I lean my head back on the couch and stare up at my ceiling. Sybil. Split personality.
“And what does Dr. Scarborough think?” my mom asks. “What did he say?”
“Many psychiatrists hesitate to diagnose this type of disorder, but Jamie knows it exists, and after what I told him, he thinks it’s highly probable Alistair could have developed this disorder as a coping mechanism.”
What am I saying here? I’m talking about the man I love. “I don’t know what to
