Alone, elated, competent; those are the words that I used to describe how I feel about being in charge of my life. My therapist nodded as if he understood but I know he doesn’t. He is a person who lives off of people’s drama and gets paid for it. No one truly knows what I’ve been through. I always appreciated it when people tried to comprehend my problems; it’s when they tried to help, it became an issue. First it was medication, then solitary confinement, and now it’s a therapist to make sure I can survive in society without hurting myself or others. What they don’t discern is that I wasn’t the problem, Adele was.
It has always been her; the lying, and the killings. Adele was my alter-ego. She appeared when I was five. Adele was so benevolent that everyone accepted whatever she said. She appeared whenever my wishes were denied. She was good at that. My parents had taken me to see many doctors to see if they could “fix” me; to see if I would ever be normal. I heard them talking one night saying that they were afraid of what others would think of me; what others would think of them. The doctors assured them it was a phase that many kids go through; that I would soon grow out it and my actions would no longer be seen as unorthodox. I knew that wasn’t true.
Growing up, I didn’t have many friends. The other kids just stared at me as if I was some sort of experiment. They were fascinated and intimidated. Some would ask me questions, others would call me names like: two-faced, and double-trouble. Most nights I would cry myself to sleep; wondering if anyone would ever like or love me. Adele was my only friend; she understood me, she loved me, and we depended upon one another.
By the time I was twelve, Adele rarely came out. I thought it was because she didn’t need me anymore, so I learned to depend upon myself to survive. That was a hard road to adjust to; I didn’t always know what to do or who to trust. Adele had manipulated me into thinking that I needed her, but I realized that my true strength was always a part of me. On my sixteenth birthday she came back angrier than ever. I blanked out for a moment, but when I woke up I found this letter on my bed saying:
How could you do this to me Raegan? I thought we were friends, I thought you loved me. But you don’t do you? All you did was forget about me. You thought I had left you, but I didn’t; You left me. I waited for you every day, waiting to see if you were going to need me or want me, but you forgot that I even existed! So as I sat here and waited for you, I said to myself I don’t need YOU to make me happy or to live. So I will no longer wait for you to call on me. I want you to feel the pain I felt; the suspense of waiting to be called upon. Love your Adele
Following that letter, my black outs occurred more often for longer periods of times. I would sometimes wake up not knowing where I was or who I was with. I had no control over what was happening; I was very afraid. My torment began with me being sent to the principal’s office for stealing test answers. A suspension and loss of my scholarship was my punishment. I knew I hadn’t stolen the answers. I had tried to explain to them that I had a personality disorder; it wasn’t me, but they didn’t believe me. Then Adele snuck off to a party in the middle of the night and lied to my parents about it. When I came out of the darkness, I discovered that I was grounded and my parents weren’t speaking to me. The pain of being unwanted hunted me like a disease; it had taken so long to gain their love and trust and now it was gone.
The episode on Sunday night changed my life forever. It began like all my other episodes, but this time I was in the darkness for a long time. I remember waiting and waiting in that dark place until finally I awoke back in my room, with blood on my hands and all over my clothes. Apparently Adele had killed a teenage boy and girl. She had an unrequited crush on him and he had chosen the other girl over her. She had become angry, and had lost her temper.
I ran to my parents’ room, dazed and confused, with huge tears in my eyes. Ironically, my parents had decided that very day to have me confined to a mental institution. They assured me they loved me and would keep in touch; that this was best for me, but I never heard from them again.
I started having these dreams that Adele would leave forever; exhilarated by this, it became my only goal in life! Isolation gave me a lot of time to think, until and the most brilliant idea began to take shape in my mind. I would kill Adele! I would get my life back even if I would be alone. It was quite simple. You see, Adele needed to be loved to survive. I no longer loved or needed her, and the sooner she realized that, the sooner she would leave me and I would be free.
I’m nineteen years old now, and through hard work and perseverance; my goals became reality. I was cleared by my therapist to live on my own a year ago. Sometimes I miss Adele, but when I look back, I know that leaving her was the best thing I have ever done. I am finally free!