The night she pulled the knife on me and every time she’s jumped me, shoved me on the bed, and fucked the daylights out of me—that was Iris.
And Seri…who was she? The woman in between who sometimes babbled nervously, played with Solo, and learned to cook on a fire and make coffee so she didn’t feel like she was imposing too much. Seri was the woman who held me when I lost my shit over my father.
More than one person lives inside of her.
I’m not much of a movie buff, but I’ve seen that old Hitchcock film with the crazy dude who killed people in his hotel. Didn’t he have multiple personalities? Am I actually in danger here? Nothing Seri or Netti or Iris has done has made me feel afraid, so maybe that’s just the sort of thing that’s only in the movies.
What has to happen to a person to have their soul split in half—or thirds? Are there more? Does Seri know about Netti and Iris? I remember something Seri said to me the second night she was in my cabin. Only now I don’t think it was Seri at all.
“She felt it you know. All cuddled up to keep warm. She felt it against her ass.”
If that had been Iris talking, Iris may know about Seri, but that doesn’t mean Seri knows about Iris. And Netti…how does Netti fit into all of this?
I rub my face with my hands, digging my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to sort all of this out and failing miserably. I’m just going in circles, and I have no idea how to comprehend what’s going on.
Like the mystery novels I read, I have a pile of clues and no idea how they fit into the bigger picture. I remember taking notes when I was reading an Agatha Christie novel. I came pretty close to figuring it out at the end because I made a timeline of the events in the story. Maybe that would help me now.
“Bishop?” The woman lying next to me turns her head and slowly opens her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Me? I’m fine.” I’m not—I’m far from fine—but I’m doing better than she is, whoever she may be at the moment. “How about you?”
“Tired,” she mumbles. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Got a lot on my mind, I guess.”
She blinks a few times before rolling over toward me.
“Anything I can do?”
Yeah, you can tell me who you really are. You can tell me what your name is right now. You can tell me how in the hell I’m supposed to cope with all of this.
“No. I’m fine. Really.”
“You look worried.” She reaches up and places her hand gently against the side of my face. “Is there another storm coming?”
I should be asking her the same question. Iris feels a bit like a storm—unpredictable and frightening. But I’m pretty sure I’m not talking to Iris right now. I think it’s Seri, but how do I know?
“Seri,” I say quietly.
“Yes?”
Well, that answers that. I take a deep breath.
“Do you remember going to bed?”
“Do I remember…?” She shakes her head at me, eyes narrowing as she takes her hand from my face. “That’s an odd question.”
“Do you?”
“Not really. I think I just kind of passed out after dinner. This weather seems to make me tired. Why do you ask?”
I’ve heard it said that waking a sleepwalker is a dangerous thing to do. I don’t know if that’s true, or even applicable in this case, but I fear I’m venturing into dangerous territory.
“No reason.” I slide down and place my head on the pillow. “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”
Seri rolls back over. As she does, she reaches behind herself and takes hold of my hand, bringing my arm around her waist as she settles back down with a deep sigh. I don’t think she’s even noticed that we’re both naked.
It’s clear that Seri knows nothing about the others. How would Seri react if I ask her more about Iris? Something about her sister’s story doesn’t quite match up, and I don’t know what to think of it. Was her sister even a real person or someone she made up to account for the person living inside of her? If I don’t confront Seri with what I’ve come to understand, how will I ever know for sure?