ME OR ME

Esmeralda was another person entirely, apparently the doctor had diagnosed me of multiple personality disorder before I even understood what it was; two souls in one body fascinating innit? 

The human mind isn't something we can comprehend easily, even the Bible stated that "The heart of Man is desperately wicked who can know it?" I guess we can't say.

Esmeralda was my other personality as the doctor said but deep down I always knew that she was me and I was her. A cold heart can't understand love, can it? 

My uncle lived with us for a few years before he died, he wasn't the best of souls but he tried his best in sitting and looking pretty whenever my parents were around. 

Fun fact; Esmeralda killed him, cut him up in cold blood not minding if I got caught or not. I'm not a murderer but he had what was coming to him eventually. 

It started with little back rubs and broad smiles aimed at me, Uncle James was the angel I never knew existed. Over time it escalated to him always wanting to put me to sleep, I couldn't careless, my parents were always busy, they saw this as a wonderful opportunity to get me off their necks. Our bedtime story sessions suddenly turned sour that day he read me a story about some lady named Esmeralda. "Bianca, can uncle show you something beautiful?" He asked out of fake politeness, the naive soul that I was nodded, beautiful things were rare who knew they could get ugly in no time. The first time was just a finger inside me but subsequent times were accompanied with adult pleasure.

I started seeing Esmeralda in my dreams, well my mind's image of her anyway. She told me that we could fight it off together, that we could stop the 'beautiful things' from happening; I guess she lied. I began telling my parents to call me Esmeralda instead of Bianca. On days I didn't want to deal with the sexual abuse, I just imagined that it was Esmeralda going through the pain.

The abuse went on even in my teenage years, mind you I am still a teenager but at the very end of those precious years, sad right?

Uncle James didn't stop showing me 'beautiful things' and Esmeralda didn't stop filling my little head with weird thoughts.

The apparent breakthrough came the day Uncle James brought in his girlfriend to our house. He had plans on marrying this lady and Esmeralda couldn't bear to watch it. He didn't deserve happiness not in the slightest bit, he deserved death based on Esmeralda's judgement. 

He had just closed the door behind his girlfriend as she returned home all smiles, Esmeralda was holding a kitchen knife, a sharp one which she was so excited to wield. "Bee, what's wrong? Why are you smiling..." He never got to finish that statement, she stabbed him not once and not even twice. Then the post murder clarity set in, I dragged his body to the backyard and plopped my self beside the limp body. I stared into space for awhile before Esmeralda began cutting him up; TMI but she started with his manhood, a sorry sight if I must say. Being done with cutting, I gathered the pieces and dug different spots in the backyard for each piece, saving the last for his girlfriend. I couldn't say if she needed the support or not. Surprisingly, Uncle James had tattooed her initials on his manhood, funny shit right? I sent her a gift box the next day, you could guess what was in it. The police didn't find any evidence, I must say I did a clean job.

The nights were peaceful after then but I couldn't get Esmeralda out of my head. Ended up in the hospital and left with a diagnosis of multiple personality disorder.

I'm still breathing, a sadder case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

I don't think healing would cut it, Esmeralda isn't hearing any of it. 

" A weathered flag that's by the sea".

Who am I or who could I have been?