A Familiar Stranger

No one’s going to believe me...

A sudden thought flashed through my mind as I stood at the door scanning my trashed apartment. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and looked up again, feeling my entire body become hot with anger as I observed the mess. Before I could react, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” answered a dispatcher.

“Someone broke into my home,” I said in a strained voice.

“Are you alone, ma’am?”

“It seems that way...” my voice trailed off as I tried to examine my barely-lit apartment.

“Alright ma’am, for your safety, I’m going to have to ask you to please remain outside until the police show up. What is your address?”

“937 Cypress Lane, #113,” I replied and picked up my laptop bag I had mindlessly dropped when I walked in.

“And your name?”

I stopped walking. My name? My name, my name... ”A-a-Athena,” I stammered.

“Last name?” the dispatcher asked.

“Brooks,” I answered, feeling a slight headache coming on.

Was it my fault...?

“Ok, Ms. Brooks, please remain outside safely. The police are on their way and their ETA is five minutes.”

“Thank you so much,” I said as I walked out of my apartment.

“Anytime, Ms. Brooks. Have a good evening.”

I found my way to the stairs that led to the 2nd floor and sat down on the third step. Since the stairs and the walkways along the apartments are outside, I was able to get some fresh air to help clear my head while I waited. With my head in my hands, I tried to recollect who would ransack my apartment. I don’t have any enemies--I keep to myself, most of the time--and the neighborhood isn’t all that bad.

I lifted my head and locked eyes with a man standing across the front yard holding his smartphone to his face. He looked pretty tall--about 6’2”--and appeared to be in his late twenties, like me. His army-green jacket seemed to be one size too big for his lanky body since he was struggling to keep his sleeves above his wrists. The man quickly looked back at his phone, then at the building, then back at me. He made a nervous smile under his matted, dark curls and gave a small wave.

I don’t want to suffer alone...

I shook my head to dismiss the sudden thought.

Who the fuck was this weirdo? Did he break into my place?

He walked in my direction, opening his mouth to say something. 

“Au-,” he shouted but was quickly cut off by the sounds of police sirens nearby. He stopped less than 100 feet from me and turned his head in the direction of the sirens. As a police cruiser appeared on the other side of the apartment complex, he looked back at me with a confused look. 

I stood up with my hands balled into fists. “Can I help you?! Did you break into my home, asshole?” I shouted.

The man looked shocked and backed away. He was shaking his hands at chest level and muttered in a hushed voice “No...no...I’m sorry.” 

Before I could do or say anything else, he spun on his heels and began to run. He ran toward the fence that enclosed the complex, climbed over it, and disappeared into the night.

I jumped off the stairs and ran to the fence to see if I could see him in the dark, but he vanished...like some sort of apparition.

I heard two car doors slam behind me and turned to see two police officers walking toward my apartment. A wave of relief washed over me, and I jogged in their direction, calling out to them.

“Excuse me, officers! Are you here for #113?” I shouted, closing the distance between us. 

They both turned around, keeping their hands on their holsters, and I saw they were male and female.

“Yes, we received a call about a breaking and entering. I’m Officer Monahan and this is Officer Nielsen,” she gestured to the male cop. “Are you Athena Brooks?” 

I nodded and as we started walking towards my door, I immediately jumped at the opportunity to tell them about the strange man.

“Right after I got off the call with the dispatcher, there was a random guy who appeared out of nowhere. I’ve never seen him around here before and I think he might’ve broken into my apartment.”

“Do you know if he ran off anywhere--by foot or car?” Officer Nielsen questioned as he peered into my apartment. 

“That’s what I was trying to find out when you arrived. I tried to chase after him, but he hopped over the fence and he was gone,” I recounted while looking past the officers at the fence, expecting the strange man to reappear.

“Alright, I’ll check out the area while Officer Monahan ensures your apartment is safe to go inside,” he assured before walking off. As his partner went inside, I leaned against the wall, trying to wrack my brain around everything that just happened. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm myself down, but it worked to no avail as I was still furious about my apartment.

“Your place seems to be all clear,” remarked Officer Monahan, suddenly appearing in the threshold. “Do you know of anyone who might have done this? Any bad blood?”

I just shook my head since I keep to myself and try to stay away from drama.

“I’ve checked the area, and it seems like he left nothing behind. Do you mind if we take a statement and description of the suspect,” Officer Nielsen asked as he returned from the fence.

Once I gave my statement and the strange man’s description, they gave me their precinct’s phone number and advised me to call them should I come across anything or anyone suspicious. As soon as they walked off to the patrol car, I closed the door behind me and a wave of fatigue suddenly washed over me. I decided to save the cleaning for tomorrow.

I found my way to my bedroom, crashed on the bed, and did not fight to keep my eyes open. 

Mommy, I’m scared...

It was better when it was just us...

Why do you pick them over me...

I’m alone and no one cares about me...

PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!

My eyes shot open and I found myself still clothed from the night before. I struggled to sit up and pulled out my phone to check the time. 2 P.M. My head still swimming from my deep slumber, I made my way to the shower to wake me up.

When I was finished in the shower, I heard my phone chime in my bedroom. While being careful to slip, I scurried to my bed to check my phone.

“Pick up prescription at 3 P.M.,” read one notification.

“Group meeting at 4 P.M.,” read another.

I tried my best to remember when I scheduled these reminders, but became frustrated and gave up. I have a habit of forgetting things and figured since these reminders were scheduled on my phone, I might as well get them over with. So, I threw on some clothes and headed out the door.

As I approached the neighborhood pharmacy to pick up the medication, I stopped dead in my tracks. The strange man I encountered last night was walking out of the pharmacy, carrying a bag of groceries (?). His phone started to ring and I quickly ducked behind a parked car before he could spot me.

What are the chances of me coming across him the next day? Does he live in the area? 

He answered his phone and though I was a little less than a 100 feet from him; I tried to make out what he was saying. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I guess...I tried to meet up with her last night but she didn’t seem too normal, if you know what I mean,” he nervously chuckled. Was this piece of shit talking about me? Of course I wouldn’t be normal. My apartment was broken into and he probably did it or, at least, someone who did. 

“Hopefully, we can do something about it soon,” he continued as he turned the corner of the pharmacy and disappeared out of sign. Do what soon? Was he and his friend going to return to my place to finish what they started? I took a few deep breaths to keep my mind from running away from itself.

When I was sure he was nowhere to be seen, I stood up to walk inside the pharmacy. I approached the counter and greeted a pharmacist who was humming to himself while arranging pickup orders. 

“Last name,” he asked.

I tried to get a good glimpse of the medication inside the “B” basket. “Brooks.”

“First initial?”

I started biting my nails, wondering what was the prescription for. “A. Brooks.” 

He pulled out a white paper bag. “Ah, here it is, your Zoloft.”

Maybe these will help you cope...

I was to pick up an antidepressant? Well, that shouldn’t be much of a surprise since most people have depression nowadays. What’s more surprising is that I’m not picking up anything for amnesia. 

I chuckled to myself.

“Well, it seems like you don’t need this,” he responded to my chuckle. 

“Apparently, I do.”

I quickly paid for the prescription and walked out the pharmacy when I heard the 2nd notification on my phone go off. I took it out to check the time and the location of the group meeting scheduled in less than 20 minutes. Luckily, it was within walking distance, so I turned the corner of the pharmacy to make my way there. 

My GPS brought me to a small, two-story office building that didn’t look very busy. As I stepped inside and checked the building’s directory, I noticed the room number I was supposed to be going to, #202, was a therapist.

“Dr. David Buchner,” I read aloud.

I quickly Googled his name to make sure he was legitimate. The search results confirmed his credibility as it read that he specialized in behavioral and psychotherapy. 

So, basically this is group therapy, I surmised.

As I walked up the stairs, it slowly started coming back to me. The therapy. But why?

Everything will be better once I’m dead...

I tripped and fell on the stairs as another one of those random thoughts flashed through my head. Why do I keep getting these thoughts?

I just want the pain to stop...

No one ever loved me. Not my mother, not the man she married, not the stepbrother who violated me...

Tears started falling down my face as I squeezed my arms around my head trying to make the thoughts stop. These aren’t my thoughts, why am I thinking this way?

I wailed out in pain as thought after thought pummeled my head.

Then, I felt someone gently touch my back. I looked up to find the strange man from last night bent over me. 

I shot straight up and backed down the stairs away from him. “Are you stalking me, you fuck?!”

He threw his hands up, and I saw he was still carrying the bag from the drugstore. “My apologies. You might not know me, but Aurora does.”

I don’t know what was more confusing at this point: these thoughts or his random comment.

“Who the hell is Aurora,” I exclaimed.

He peered at the white bag in my hand. “Did you check the name on that medication,” he motioned at my prescription.

“What are you talking about? It says Athena Brooks on here,” I said as I started opening the bag to check the name.

Aurora Brooks, it read.

I looked up at him with a puzzled expression. He had a worried look on his face as he took a seat on one of the steps and sighed.

“I didn’t think I would see it for myself,” he muttered to himself. “You’re Athena...but not really Athena...” he explained.

“Your real name is Aurora and Athena is one of your alters. I know this because we were both in a psychiatric hospital three months ago. I overheard the doctors say you were diagnosed with Dissociative identity disorder and was admitted because one of your alters tried to commit suicide.”

As he spoke, I started to slowly remember being committed and who he was.

“Jeremy,” I whispered.

He nodded and chuckled. “‘Tis I, not ‘you fuck.’”

“We were pretty close,” he continued. “We had some stuff in common - besides the reasons we were admitted. And because of what you went through as a child, I always wanted to make sure you were alright, which is why I visited you last night.”

Tears started streaming down my face as everything started coming back to me. My father’s funeral. My mother remarrying. My stepbrother always coming into my room any chance he got when our parents weren’t home. The therapy sessions. The suicide attempts...

I wiped my eyes and sniffled. “Is the session about to start?”

“We’re ready when you are,” he softly said.