An Overview

An intro to the main character

Arynn is an odd name, yeah. But Arynn is a beautiful name in the same way that its unusual. Arynn is a name that you don't see very often, but when you do see it, you can't help but appreciate the way it rolls off of your tongue. Like honey dripping from the pot, it is spoken so smoothly and delicately, as if it were a single flower petal drifting in the wind.
My name is Arynn. I hate my name. When you think of Arynn, you think of a fair maiden. A beautiful, blue-eyed beauty, with flowing hair of gold. I do not have blue eyes. I do not have flowing hair that resembles liquefied gold. I have gray eyes, dull and pale. I have brown hair, the luster faded completely away from lack of treatment. I am nothing ordinary, and I am nothing beautiful. I am simply.. me.

Or rather, that's what I would like to think. I'm not exactly me and I probably won't ever be me. I know its typical for a teenage girl to say such things: blahblahblah I'm so hideous blahblahblah Bobby will never like me back boohoohoo. Well, that isn't the case with me. Now is the time to contradict what I said earlier: I am, in fact, unusual. Just a little bit. Okay fine, I'm pretty darn strange. I am not just Arynn Amber Jones. I am at least five other people. I say "at least" because who knows when a new personality will develop? Maybe I'll finally get the "rebellious spirit" that parents always fuss about.

But yeah, multiple personality disorder. It.. has its ups and downs. On one hand: half of the time I never know whats happening in my life. On the other hand: I can freak people out by claiming I'm several different people. 

By now, I've become used to it. It started when I was little. When I misbehaved, I'd get spankings and time-outs. An innocent punishment, I suppose. Well, one night my father (who had developed a severe drinking problem) took it too far. I remember it too clearly. 

It was a late October afternoon and I was getting prepped for bed. Brushbrushbrush, my toothbrush went. Five year-old me had a severe phobia of having her teeth rotting and falling out. And so I brushed my teeth three times a day, everyday up until I turned 8. Anyways, as I was brushing my teeth, I heard a loud bang from downstairs. I didn't think much of it, as Daddy had been working late nights at the office recently. Sometimes he was just too thick-headed to remember that it was late at night when he got home and that people were trying to sleep inside the house. The first sign that something was wrong was the scream.

"Richard, please no stop," my mother screamed out, obviously trying to prevent my father from doing something, "Please no!"

I became paralyzed with fear and did not want to leave the restroom, thinking he'd come after me. I closed the door, and locked it. For good effect, I turned off the light. My mother's sobs were getting louder and louder. I heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs, heading down the hall, and going straight across the restroom into my bedroom.
"Honeey fwere are yhuu, I juss'.. I just needa tell you a lil' secret." 

His words rang out clearly from beyond the door, his speech slurred from the alcohol. I heard the sound of things being tossed around in my room, a sure sign that he was getting aggravated.

"Come out you lil' piece o'.." his words trailed off as he noticed the bathroom door, tightly shut. 

No no no, please no. I thought, terrified for my life. Please don't come this way, please don't come th- A loud knock sounded on the door, just a few feet from where I was hiding in the bathtub.

"Sw-" he tried, bursting into a coughing fit and having to wait to continue, "Sweetie, c'mon out now. Its safe. Mummy just got a little.. crazy. Daddy won't hurt you."

I was smarter than your average five year-old. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was just the first time it had happened this badly.

I stayed quiet refusing to answer, refusing to open that door to the evils that awaited me on the other side.

He tried knocking again. And again. And again.

The knocking turned into banging, the banging turned into shouting.

He full on assaulted the bathroom door, trying to get to the innocent little girl on the inside of the room. The poor little innocent girl, who had done nothing wrong to deserve this. 

I prayed and I prayed, Please let this stop. Please, somebody save me.

And that's when I developed my first personality: Claire.

One second my mind was empty, and the next second, she was there. She spoke to me, calming my nerves, blocking out the shouts and insults of my "father". She coaxed me into sleep. She allowed me to lay down and black out for the rest of the night. I had no memory of what happened after that, but apparently my mother had called the police. They arrested my father, who was sent to prison for who knows how many years. Apparently he had stacked up warrants for his arrest, to pile onto what he had just done. My mother told me that the polite policemen asked me questions, and I answered them fluently and confidently, as if I felt no pain. The weirdest part was that I knew that I was asleep. How could someone be asleep and awake at the same time?

Author's Note

My grammar isn't perfect, nor is my punctuation. It's kind of like an effect, a sort of modernized way of writing to represent the thoughts of a teenage girl.