.fractured mirror. [viscet #2455 tryout]

[mango marmalade,,]

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username: mango marmalade,,
names: juniper & set
gender: female
words: [put total word count here]
extras:
☑ 1 piece of art (above, by me)
☑ 500+ words
☐ finished story
☑ finish form coding
☑ get relationships
☐ make relationships masterpost

Dissociative identity disorder (DID), formerly known as multiple
personality disorder (MPD), is a complex, chronic, posttraumatic
dissociative psychopathology, characterized by disturbances of
memory and identity. It is distinguished from other mental
disorders by ongoing, relatively consistent but alternating separate
identities and either episodes of memory disruption, amnesia,
or both.

chapter I - morning
chapter II - class
chapter III - [url/=]lunch[/url]
chapter IV - [url/=]bathroom[/url]
chapter V - [url/=]help[/url]

[mango marmalade,,]

My phone rang loudly.
I opened my eyes, sitting up and stretching out my arms. I reached over, and tilted the phone screen towards me so I could see who was calling. Dad. I let the phone drop out of my hands, and I groaned and flopped back down on my bed. I shook my head in disgust. My father was never here, but in a cheap attempt to try and act like a good parent he would always call us in the morning. At first I loved it, and so did Set, but now we where just sick of it.
Getting out of bed, I quickly got dressed, pulled my hair into a messy bun, and trudged down the hall into the kitchen. I froze when I saw my Mom, waiting for me.
"Mom?" I said, my voice cracking. "You're not supposed to be up now."
My mother laughed coldly, taking a step towards me. My eyes widened in fair, and I made a beeline towards the front door. But before my sweaty palm could get a grip on the door handle, I felt an iron grip dig into my right shoulder painfully. I slowly turned around, my heart racing and thumping against my chest. My mother leaned in close to my face. She smelled like alcohol, and I wanted to gag. Her breath was so bad I though I would pass out, but I still couldn't move. She raised her arm at me, and thinking quickly, I flinched, wiggled out of her grasp, and ran down the hall. Bang through the screen door. Run through the lawn. Over the fence. Across the street. I sighed in relief when she didn't follow me, but my heart was still beating abnormally fast.
But now what? My mother had chased me out of the house, my phone was still on my nightstand, and I had no way to drive to school. I was just about to walk across the street to try and sneak in through my window when a familiar car pulled up. I smiled as I saw who was sitting in the drivers seat. "Need a ride?" My best friend said. I grinned. "Always, [name]



My room was dark when my alarm went off. It resembled the noise of a phone ringing. I got up, bleary eyed, and threw on some clothes. They were identical to what my sister was wearing, just because we had agreed to do that ever since our mom left. (Not sure why, exactly.) I opened my bedroom door and went down the hall to Juniper's room. If she hadn't left yet, I would probably just hitch a ride with one of her friends. But to my dismay. She had already left. But, her silver and gold phone was still on the white bed stand, vibrating softly. I picked it up. It was Dad calling her. Dad never called me, although I think Juniper thinks he does. She doesn't remember being our Dad's favorite, but I remember being nobody's favorite. Memories swim around in my head, and one surfaces.

We're outside playing ball. I throw the ball to my father, but it falls short. He frowns at me. "Set, why can't you be more like your sister?" He tosses it to Juniper, but when she throws it to him, it falls too short also. But instead of getting angry, he only smiles. "Don't worry, Juni. You'll to better next time." I go inside, tears welling up in my eyes. My father doesn't follow me.
I frown. There's no time to be lost in memories. However, my eyes do fell a little misty eyed so maybe I'll have breakfast and wait until this has passed. And anyways, I'm starving. But when I enter the large kitchen, I want to leave. Right away. My mother is sitting at the table. Staring at me.
"Juniper. Though you could sneak back in for your phone?"
I start to stutter, "I'm not Jun-"
But she stands up, quick as a snake, and lunges at me. I take the full force of the blow in my stomach, and fall over in pain. I curl up into a ball, crying out as she begins to kick me, all the while verbally abusing me too.
"Your father doesn't love you."
Kick
"No boy in our family wants to see you."
Kick
"You'll never find love."
Kick
Finally she leaves, but still I stay on the floor.
I am too busy crying to realize I am late for school.

[mango marmalade,,]

My eyes glance down at my watch, and I wonder where Set is. It's not like her to come to school late. I try and think back to this morning, but I don't remember seeing her get out of bed. And as my thoughts drift back to the morning, I remember that psychopath. My mother. I shudder, suddenly getting cold. Who knows what would've happened if I didn't manage to get a ride to school...
"Anytime now, Juniper."
I jerk back to attention at my teachers voice. She is standing in front of my desk, raising her eyebrows and peering at me over the bridge of her glasses.
I smile shakily. "Sorry, Ms. Hanna. What was the question?"
The whole class tittered as Ms. Hanna snorted, walking back up the aisle to the front of the classroom. "The question was are you paying attention. And," She turned around, giving me a disapproving look, "Obviously not."
I felt my cheeks grow hot, and I muttered an apology before looking down in shame. I can tell my face is red, and I just want to go die in a hole. Looking up, I raise my hand.
Ms. Hanna nods to me, beckoning me to speak.
"May I please use the restroom?" I say, raising my voice. AT this point, I'm using my embarrassment as an excuse to get out of this class. I've always hated math, and I hate the math teacher even more.
Ms. Hanna rolls her eyes, then nods and turns back to the board to finish writing something out. I stand up, then carefully make my way in between desks and out into the hallway. As the doors gently click shut behind me, I breathe a loud sigh of releif to be out of the stifling class room. The hallway is cool and long, with white and green tiles on the floor. As I slowly make my way down the hall, I run my fingers along the tall green lockers and count my steps.
On the thirtieth footstep, I arrive at the girls restroom. I shrug, then turn around and head back down the hallway. I never really needed to use the bathroom, but just wanted to get out of the hot classroom and cool off. I am just about to push open the heave doors when Set pushes past me and goes in first.


Finally, the bell goes off, jarring my out of my haze. I was zoning out, staring at the wall while the teacher spoke. As soon as she said goodbye, I gathered up my stuff, stood up, and began to make my way to the double doors across the hall. I made sure to keep my head down low, trying to prevent and questions about the black-eye and bruises down my arms and legs. This school had already given up trying to speak with my mother, which mean that they had already stopped trying to care. So, I just tried to physically conceal the stuff that no makeup could.
Finally, I made it out into the hall, where a mass of students were yelling, screaming, and shoving each other on the way to lunch. I shook my head in disgust, and pushed and shoved my way through the crowd.