"You've reached Joseph Scott, please leave a message after the tone."

"Dr. Scott? This is Tahlia Meyers,"

Her voice began, short-winded, the hint of urgency in her tone more transparent than ever.

"I know it's been a very long time since we've spoken, three years I think, and that this is coming out of nowhere; but uh- I was hoping...maybe you could refill my prescription for Prozac."

She paused, trying to catch her breath, brushing her fingers against her forehead daintily,

"I— I really need it. Uhm, please just call me when you get this."

As soon as she put her phone down, her hand immediately went to the little brown bag placed in front of her on the granite sink top, searching for a particular little object.

When she could feel the thing between her fingers, she took out the bottle, emptying the last of it's contents into her palm with fumbling hands.

She only stared at the singular green colored pill for a flash second, before gulping it down dry in a frenzy-like manner.

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, then opening her lids, peering into her own reflection in the spotless mirror.

He's not going to get you.

He's not going to get you.

She repeated the sentence in her mind like a prayer several times, before the stress coursing through her body finally started to alleviate a bit.

At that very moment two girls entered the toilet together, making Tahlia jump a little as she hastily stuffed the bottle back into her bag, turning on her heels to leave quickly.

As she exited the restroom, she made the half-minded decision to grab some coffee, while she did her work in the quiet café itself. She noticed the place was rather empty that day, which was all Tahlia could ask for.

Dissociative Identity Disorder

Winds of uneasiness caved against her bones as she typed the words into the search bar. But she simply ignored those, her mind set in stone.

Lord knows she tried to distance herself from the paradox that was Logan Hunt.

After being thrown into a whirlpool of mindfuckery and danger, sprinkled in with a little potential jail time; any normal person would keep miles away from digging into this can of worms.

But then again, at the end of the day, Tahlia Meyers was far from normal.

She had cried all her tears.

And now, her brain thirsted for answers.

They had only very briefly touched on the illness in her Forensic Psychology class, merely sticking to basic theory.

But she wasn't there for the basics, she wanted to know everything there was to know about those three certain words put together.

She read on for a while, jumping from one thesis to another, absorbing every article of information that was right there in front of her eyes.

Dissociative Identity Disorder, earlier known as Multiple Personality Disorder, is an intricate psychological disorder in which a person assumes one or more alternate personalities, losing touch with reality.

This is presumably caused as a result of exposure to severe trauma during one's childhood (often physical or sexual abuse), where the host body manifests another personality that he/she may or not be aware of, as a coping mechanism to deal with stressful events in real life while keeping those taxing memories in control.

Tahlia bit her nails in pure restlessness.

Childhood trauma?

From what she remembered, Logan had never looked more radiant than he did when he talked about what he remembered of his parents.

But then, during her talk with Dr. Richardson, he did suspect abuse, owing it to the scars on his back.

The scars.

On impulse, her fingers brushed against her ribs absentmindedly.

But what about Logan? She wondered, picturing his carnelian-hued burn scars.

She heaved an agitated sigh, bringing the ceramic cup of coffee to her lips, only to realize she'd finished the entire drink in the little while she'd been there.

She clicked on to an already open tab on her laptop screen, refreshing the page for the fifteenth time in the last eighteen hours. Still, there remained no news on the body that Sergeant Randall had told her about last evening.

Were this girl's loved ones persuaded to keep quiet too, while the police investigated the Ripper discreetly from the public?

But if the body was burnt like the Sergeant said it was, then Logan had killed her as Ian. From her profile she recalled, Ian would only go for plain women with no family, someone who's absence wouldn't be noted immediately.

Like yourself.

'Shut up', she barked at her brain, deciding to return to her research, looking up actual cases of DID.

She read dozens of testimonies, interviews, until one in particular caught her eye.

A forty three year old woman who had witnessed her father getting shot in a home invasion when she was seven, had one alternate personality that formed when she was a senior in high school— A seven year old kid named Tyler.

She talked about how while she didn't initially know about her alternate persona for almost ten years, the persona was always aware of her real self. It's primary objective was to protect the host by staying hidden when required.

The lady had even recorded a video of herself switching into Tyler while driving, when a police officer pulled her over.

While she was still Tyler, Tyler pretended to be her real self while presenting the cop with her driving license and insurance papers.

Tahlia scrunched her brows in perplexity.

Why would Ian follow such a drastically different pattern in his kills, something that would set him aside from Logan very clearly?

She had only just begun to type the phrase 'dissociative identity disorder in psychopaths', when she felt a figure approach her table.

"Can I get you a refill?" The waitress spoke in a husky voice, boredom dripping from her tone. In her periphery vision, Tahlia could see a flash of her flaming red hair, dark lipstick to go along with the undertones of the color.

"Yeah, um could I get some cold brew please?" Tahlia said softly, all while her eyes remained glued to the screen.

"I wasn't talking about the coffee silly."

Tahlia's right foot, which was anxiously tapping against the floor out of habit, ceased the motion immediately.

That voice..

It wasn't the same raspy one that had spoken the previous sentence.

Instead, it sounded honeyed, too gut-wrenchingly familiar.

At once, her gaze was torn away from her laptop, jerking towards the direction of the waitress unsettlingly.

Her breath was caught in her chest.

A pair of blue doe-eyes stared back at her, uncanny amber gold tresses framing the little girl's youthful face.

Tahlia stood there thunder-struck, her mind whirling. Her quivering mouth was parted open, as if she was suddenly impaired of producing coherent words.

"Look what I got for you Nattie," The girl took a dynamic step forward, smiling impeccably, her flawless visage glowing, adding to the celestial aura around her being.

Tahlia was frozen to her spot, unable to move, to speak, to understand what was going on.

It was her.

The girl extended a closed fist out forward, giggling as she unballed her fingers, revealing a fistful of green tinted pills in her delicate palm.

"Hurry, before mommy sees us."

It was then that Tahlia's mind could finally piece the scene playing out in front of her, and jerked up from her seat, horror-stricken, stumbling a few shaky steps to the back.

Suddenly a hand grasped her shoulder, making her shriek, flailing her wrists as she turned around.

"Woah, woah, the fuck Tal?!"

Jace eyed her with apprehension, taking in how her chest was heaving, while she turned to face him, distressed written all over her face.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then whipped her head towards where the girl had stood before, instead finding the redhead waitress looking at her in bemusement.

"Dude, the cold brew machine not working isn't the end of the world, you don't have to like, freak out." She sputtered, still leering at her strangely.

What just happened? She asked herself, still breathless, as she sank back onto the chair. She heard Jace pull the chair beside hers out.

"Are you okay? Was that another panic attack Tal?" He questioned mellowly with glimmering eyes.

"No." She mumbled dazedly.

That was most certainly anything but a panic attack.

"You sure? You look like you just spotted a ghost."

Touché

As she collected herself for a bit, she glimpsed up at him, sighing as she shook her head lightly.

"I'm okay honestly, I- I thought I saw something. It's nothing. What- what are you doing here?"

The look on Jace's went from that of concern to debonair inhumanly fast at her question,

"Guess who's driving to Mountain Creek with Tara Hayworth for the weekend?" He flashed the oh-so infamous Jace Montgomery million dollar grin. "Just getting some donuts for the lucky lady."

Tahlia gave him a knowing look, rolling her eyes.

"What?" He pouted, "You know what they say about having sex on a rainy day in a hiking trail."

Tahlia scrunched up her face, "No, I really don't."

"Of course you don't. Pansy." He grinned teasingly.

"Speaking of pansies, you hear about that chick in your dormitory who got sent a dead rabbit?"

Tahlia breathed out harshly, choosing to not answer that, as she instead closed her laptop shut.

"Imagine if she's vegan." He threw his head back in laughter at his half-baked joke.

Watching her friend laugh so freely, radiating such cheerful energy, undeniably made her curl up the corner of her lips too.

How does he do it?, She wondered, observing the light in his eyes.

He knew about the Westfield Ripper roaming free, how was he not showing an ounce of anxiety?

The perks of being a carefree extrovert.

"Montgomery." Came a familiarly deep voice, getting both their attention.

Jace swerved towards him, "Sup man." He smirked, bumping his fist with his.

He took the chair opposite to theirs.

The man then turned towards Tahlia, "And the girl who keeps ghosting me." He acknowledged playfully.

"Hey Dean." She blurted shyly,

"I-I've been meaning to text you back."

"Is that right?" He teased, feigning surprise at her words.

She had barely ever noticed how insanely handsome his face was, so stunningly symmetrical.

Tahlia could only foolishly smile in response.

She found herself, at that moment, wishing for even a quarter of Jace's social skills.

A loud cough sounded from Jace, "You here for something bro?"

Dean turned to him, "Yeah. Garcia told me you'd be here." His luscious lips curled up, "But I see you already got some lovely company here." He got up, "So, I'll catch you later."

"Yeah." Jace nodded swiftly in agreement. Tahlia didn't even notice the unbefitting stern look on his face.

Not even a second had passed that he'd stepped outside the door, when Jace turned to Tahlia with distaste in his sapphire eyes, "What was that?"

"What was what?" She asked, perplexed.

"He was practically eye-fucking you over the table."

"Jesus, Jace!" She spat, appalled.

She loved her friend and the quirks that came with him, but sometimes he really did cross a line.

He groaned, "Okay, look. I may have led you on with mentioning his name a few times here and there, but I was just kidding. I never thought you'd really go for it, acting all giddy and shit. So I'm telling you right now, this is not a good idea."

Tahlia fought the urge to roll her eyes, "We've just texted, that's it. Not that it's any of your business anyway. Besides, aren't you friends with him?"

"I mean, I guess.." His hand brushed his platinum hair in a dramatic manner as he sighed,

"I just want you to know, he's not a good guy Tal. He treats girls like shit."

She couldn't help but scoff at that, "And you don't? That's rich coming from you."

Tahlia had no idea why she'd just spew those spiteful things towards her only friend, but she did.

Jace just gawked at her for a minute, brows raised, taken aback by her cruel words.

He then stood up wordlessly, hands up in a mock surrender position, as he began to walk away from her table.

As Tahlia realized what she had done, she contemplated calling out for him and apologizing, when he turned around facing her, on his own accord.

"You know," He began, his tone a mix of bitter and bruised.

"Yeah fine, I'm a piece of shit to girls, hell, sometimes even downright disrespectful."

"But you know what? At least I don't pretend to be anything I'm not. They know what it is from the start." He barked, "Unlike Rico Suave over there, waltzing in all charming and warm; 'Oh look at me, I'm Mr. Nice Guy who texts girls first.' "

"Jace I–"

He huffed, "You're right, it's none of my business, but just thought you should know, he's not what he seems."

With that, he grabbed his donut box from the counter, putting the hood from his sweatshirt over his head as he walked out.

Tahlia sat in her place harrowingly.

It was then that it struck her,

She had never been a harsh person, but in the heat of the moment, she'd told off possibly the only person in the entire world who really cared about her.

Perhaps Jace was right.

Maybe Dean Jackson was in fact, not what he seemed.

But then,

Was anybody really?

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