Pieced Together

~Chapter one~ Fractured

Have you heard of the supers? Those amazing people that have abilities beyond our wildest imaginations? Well, to me, they were the most INCREDIBLE people our planet could ever have. I used to dream of meeting a super. I've always been told that "Supers can do anything" and "Supers are the best people in the world". I believed that, with all of my young heart. They were the people that were supposed to save people, and make them happy again. 

It just broke my heart, that when I needed a super to rescue me most, no one came.

Yet one day I realized, sometimes we all have to be our own superhero.

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My name is Amber Penelope Reed and I suffer with Dissociative Identity Disorder, but the name itself is more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder.

I have 4 distinct personalities, not including myself. They call themselves different names. Sadly, I can no longer remember their names after they were taken from me. I used to have a lot of trouble a while back as, I couldn't control the changes. My personality changes would vary constantly, and it was almost like I myself, was never there.

At a young age, my family noticed my problem. I would talk to myself often and have insane emotional problems. My parents wouldn't let me go to school because they thought I would get too, and I quote, "Aggressive". My family was afraid of me, and they decided it would be best for me to be put into medical hands.

I remember the day the doctors came for me. I cried since I was too young to understand what was really going on. I think, I cried so much on that day that, I'll never need to cry another day in my life. Truth be told, I haven't cried since.

My parents thought throwing me away was a good idea,

But they..

Were wrong.

By the age of 6, I was forced into having multiple doses of different drugs, to stunt the voices in my mind. It didn't work, since I still kept having personality changes.

By the age of 8, I was sent to an insane asylum because the doctor's "treatments" wouldn't stop me from being different. I was given new drugs, and a new type of treatment. It was worse than before.

At age 15, I was finally deemed 'normal' and released from that hell hole. After enough torture, the personalities of me faded away. I was finally normal.

When I finally got back home I had become a mute. During my time at the asylum I slowly began to talk less and less, as it wasn't really required of me to talk.  And I could no longer talk to the people that had sent me to that place, my own family. I just couldn't talk in general. I was broken.

I ended up being held back a year so my parents could "adjust" to having me back home. I was home-schooled for a year. And now, that I was 16, I was finally heading for my very first day of school.

"Amber! Time for school!" My mother's loud voice pierced through my very thoughts.

This is perfect for my first day!

I thought to myself. 

My outfit choice was just a plain, slim fit tee, and a nice pair of torn dark jeans. Picking clothes was weird for me since at the mental hospital, I never could choose my own clothes. It was just the same pale blue jumpsuit, everyday, for eight years. 

Every morning, I'm supposed to take my pills, but today I gripped the clear plastic container in my hands. I re-read the label, as I have done a million times, and frowned.