I stepped out of the orphanage, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. The silence outside didn’t help, it only made the noise in my head louder. My phone started ringing. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My hands were trembling. My chest wouldn’t stop tightening, because this wasn’t just pain, this was realization. I wasn’t only a victim.In more ways than I wanted to admit, I’d been the one pulling strings too.The phone beeped again. A message from Mrs. Jones.……..”Naina… I know you’re overwhelmed right now, and I want you to hear me clearly. Yes, you have Dissociative Identity Disorder. You had a part of you, a protector self, who carried the rage, the plans, the pain you couldn’t handle as a child. But from today’s hypnosis, I believe that part has now gone dormant. You’re not switching anymore because that version of you has integrated or maybe, for now, she’s gone completely. That’s why the memories are returning. Slowly, painfully, but they’re yours now. You may not regain
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