I shiver, stirred by the images of a person in a coma. You know there must be someone there, but the medical people can’t awaken the person and the patient doesn’t respond to any stimuli. It’s as if they’ve retreated to the most hidden place within their mind where nobody can reach them. Not quite dead but also not alive.
We’ve spent a lot of our childhood in that in-between state and swore never to allow that again … and yet here we are. After all those years of hard work we put into our healing, all the progress we’ve made, we are back to where we started.
In the past, we always came back from that dark place. I hope—no, I pray—we’ll manage it this time as well. It can’t have been in vain to put us together again and again.
My legs are heaving and ache as I make my way up the stairs to find Lilly. This sweet girl has been so brave, giving her innocent heart to Scott. Around him, she grew from a cheeky teenager into a young, beautiful woman.
Her Scottie.
I can still hear her calling him that name. My face softens and I wipe away a silly tear.
I stop short on the landing of the common room. It’s ever so quiet. On a normal day, it brims with the Tribe either resting, playing, reading, or simply being. But nobody’s here anymore. I rush up and down the stairs, looking in every room, checking every corner. I can’t find anybody.
Instead, I discover pieces of our tree house charred and the roots are blackened as if they’d come too close to the flames. Some branches have caught fire and are smoldering.
How did that happen?
How did our inside house, our safe place, get damaged? I know our tree house isn’t real. It only exists in our minds. That should have protected it from any damage. Something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it. There are holes in our walls and tendrils of smoke are hanging in the air. It can’t be. Are we that connected to Scott that the fire not only burned his cabin down but also affected us on this deep level?
The house is empty.
Abandoned.
Without the pitter-patter and chatter of the Tribe, it isn’t even our home anymore. I never expected our tree house could ever be in danger. I would have sworn a thousand oaths it’s the safest place on earth. I would have raised my voice to condemn anyone who’d suggest otherwise.
My head is getting dizzy. I take a step backward, reaching with my hand for the chair I know I’ve put in the corner, and drop onto the seat. A whiff of smoke is sending chills of fear up my spine. It’s cold. I wrap my arms around me and try to move past the ice-cold pain around my heart and try to think. This can’t be our end.
“Sky, Elise, Lilly, Luke, Lizette, Amadeus, Phoenix… anybody! Where are you?”
My voice ricochets from the walls, its echo mocking me. Nobody responds. I’m alone in the tree house. I know that cannot be. Parts don’t just disappear because they are sick and tired of being a multiple. It’s not that we can fall out of the tree like ripe apples.
“Come back, please.”
I didn’t notice how everyone disappeared. It must have been a silent exodus while my focus was on Lilly, making sure she didn’t sling herself into the burning cabin. They only had to look after themselves for a little while. The shock must have overwhelmed them; there is no other explanation.
Most of the Tribe became friends with Scott. We re-wrote history with his help. He was the first man the children, even the littlest ones, dared to come out to. He never made us feel odd or crazy. For him, it was normal when we switched and he danced the dance of parts with us, always on our side. They even made him an honorary member of the Tribe. He got us.
It was with his help that we learned to work together, and many of the little ones could start the healing process. They had learned that they had been stuck in the past re-experiencing the abuse memory they held over and over again, just as it happened in the movie Groundhog Day.
The little ones never noticed that the body had grown up and the abuse no longer happened, except in their minds as flashbacks. We all found that a hard lesson to learn, especially with memories that come full throttle—as Lilly called it—with all the emotions, smells, and physical sensations.
Is it possible that the Tribe was so deeply connected to Scott that they vanished as soon as he did? What does it make me? I liked him but I wasn’t in love with him. I leave that to the young folks. Lilly and Tom think Scott is dead. It saddens me. He was a good man and a good friend.
He and I got into a tangle a few times when he was overprotective and acted as if we were helpless maidens in distress. It wasn’t always easy for him to recognize when to be helpful and when help becomes patronizing. He had to learn that just because we are hurting doesn’t mean we are helpless. We went through hell and back as a young child and survived. Not recognizing that strength is an insult to our recovery. Scott understood and gave us the much-needed room.
When Lilly and Tom arrived at the burning cabin, she believed Scottie had perished in the flames. That’s the last time I saw any of my charges. I can’t find Sky either. I always thought of her as the center of us, inseparable from and forever connected to each of us. How is it possible that she’s not around? Where her voice once rang
