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"Did they catch him?" he questioned the doctor as soon as he entered his room at the hospital. It's been a month since he was admitted at the hospital. he was slowly getting better. he had started his physiotherapy so he could walk again. The doctor gazed down on the floor and shook his head.
"I don't care if he is arrested or not. I just want to know why he pushed me down," he cried.
"Enquiries are going on," the doctor said softly as he pulled up a chair next to his bedside.
"So what did you say his name is?" the doctor asked him.
"Michael Frost," he answered with bitterness but more of despair.
"Hmm. Right right," the doctor said as he leaned forward. "he seems to know everything thing about you. he finds you at the right places unexpected. Sometimes he is seen inside your room."
"Yes," he said.
"How do you think that's possible? Finding him suddenly in your room...finding him suddenly on the roof? How do you think he reaches your room without being noticed by others? That's not possible now, is it?" the doctor asked him tenderly.
"What do you mean? I am not lying," he said shocked. "he was the one who pushed me. I remember it like yesterday."
"No. I don't think you are lying. I think he is a part of you," the doctor explained.
"A part of me. B-but how is that possible?" he chuckled dryly. "A part of me?"
"The police investigated a lot but couldn't find a person named Michael Frost. You said he attended your school but the school says there's no such student named Michael Frost. Your classmates, the football team and the entire town have never seen such a person," the doctor said. Shocked by the news, he slumped his shoulders and sank more into his bed. his body still hurts too much.
"But he talks to me. he fucking talks to me. I have heard his voice a multiple times," he argued. The doctor sighed audibly.
"It's you who is doing the talking for both the sides. For yourself and the non existent him. You just don't realise it. People with this disorder doesn't realise it," the doctor explained. he let out a harsh laugh.
"You think I am a mental freak? Do you think I am schizophrenic?" he asked harshly.
"No. It's a graver disorder called as D.I.D or Dissociative Identity Disorder. It is often mistook as schizophrenia but it's not. People with traumatic experiences sometimes suffers from this disorder. As a child you were bullied. Your mother confirmed that your father used to be rather violent and abusive when you were younger. When the brain is unable to cope up with intensive trauma, it creates and manifests a different identity or personality that possess the capability to be strong and handle stress.
When your brain was unable to cope up with extreme stress, trauma and pain, it created an entirely different person to help you out. Sometimes the sufferer feels these hallucinations to be so real that they are convinced these experiences to be actually existing. In your case, you were stressed at home, bullied at school, rough childhood and then self harming, all these made your brain unable to keep up with the pain. So it created a different identity, a person completely unlike your character to save you. This identity was popular at school, played football and had friends. It impersonated the people who bullied you. This identity taunted and teased you, it caused you pain that ultimately suppressed or seemingly decreased the pain that you received from outsiders.
This dissociative mechanism of personality is done by the brain to relieve your pain. You displayed him from your own self. When he did something, it was actually you who performed those actions. When he talked, the words came out of your own mouth. he is you," the doctor explained
"I don't believe you," he said, blinking back hot tears. his voice was heavy with emotion. he bit on his lips trying to suppress the pain erupting within the region of his throat. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hmm... I know it's unbelievable. A human mind is a work of magic. It does wonders sometimes son," the doctor said. Silence followed between them. he sniffed harder.
"But he pushed me down. I felt his hands on my back," he mumbled.
"No. It was you. You were unable to handle the stress. So you decided to suicide by jumping down from the roof. Why else would you go to the roof when the temperature is minus degrees outside? You are confused, son. It happens. You can't understand what your brain's thinking because of your dissociative disorder," the doctor told him.
"Do you think I will be cured?" he bit his lower lips.
"There's no real cure for this disorder. But long term treatment might work if the patient stays committed. Then there's no medication prescribed for this disorder... I am afraid. Psychotherapy, hypnotherapy and adjunctive therapies such as movement and art therapy will work too. Don't worry son, you will be fine. If you wish, you can continue appointments with me," the doctor smiled. he sighed. his life was a one big whole mess now.
"Do you want to talk to your mom?" The doctor asked on noticing his devastated bearing.
"No. I feel tired. I think I will sleep," he said. The doctor nodded and helped him with his blankets, before leaving him.
he closed his eyes and fell into a deep peaceful slumber. he didn't have to feel threatened anymore. There was no rival King after all. It was all in his imagination.
