Surviving Me

A short story about anyone surviving some epic challenge within 1200 words.

 

Surviving Me

She found herself inside an elevator. She had no idea how she got there, or why. “Get a grip. Olivia bores me.” Roxi scorned. “You should be more kind with Olivia.” offered The Kid, who was too young and innocent to be so harsh. Yet. It’s not like they didn’t all live there. Together. Sharing everything, without option or escape. “Before you even think, shut the crap up Bob Earl. You just annoy me” Roxi cut in. Being simple bought him little to no sympathy.

Olivia’s reasons for Bob Earl eluded everyone. Roxi came in with a typical useless or inflammatory comment. “I feel like donuts. Donuts sound good. Does anyone have any money? Fine, I’ll figure it out myself.”  Roxi could just turn a trick; earn enough money for dozens of donuts, within minutes. Just a quick change of clothes. “Yeah, great idea tramp. Let’s risk a prostitution arrest for donuts.”  Ida condemned

Olivia struggled recalling her most recent memory. Of anything.  At least, from the elevator until now. She worked as an attorney with Johnson & Steptoe, a prestigious law firm. “The elevator.  Which elevator? Not at work, but where?” She recalled the inside of the elevator. “The doctor?” That seemed plausible. Bob Earl came in, while Olivia was on the elevator. He hung Olivia’s head low, timid, and fidgety. He reminded the voices of Eyore, from Winnie the Pooh. The elevator panicked him. Cowering, he had to get out. He bit his lip until it bled. His hands trembled. His eyes skittered like a bird. The elevator walls enveloped him. Closing in. He wanted to shriek. He said nothing. Bob Earl left. The Kid took over to help Bob.

Now not in the elevator, Olivia returned. She was on the street, strutting. Several blocks from work. Closer to home. She felt intensely anxious. Her lip bled. She now wore a tiny miniskirt, a tight tube top, was painted in makeup, and smoking.  Olivia knew “I left home with a suit on, for work. Not this, this trampy, 2 bit w***e outfit.” Roxi oozed down a seedy street. Cat calls and offers to party echoed off the ramshackle buildings. Roxi was a prostitute when she felt like using men for money. She felt powerful. More powerful and manipulative than any man. Olivia was the opposite.  Fastidious. Precise. Well coifed. Reserved. Bright and thoughtful. 

 Her suits were all properly pressed, hanging in her closet. Sometimes after a blackout, she found herself dressed as a tart. Olivia felt her life a labyrinth, and she only occasionally saw the way. Or saw anything at all. She simply found herself at another spot.  The Kid rose up. “Don’t let Olivia’s doctor quiet us again, all of you. Pay attention. She just wants to get rid of us anyway. What, or who, do you think the doctor intends to remove? ” The Kid insisted. We need Olivia. Olivia does not need us.

The Kid was very mature for a nine year old. She did not like Roxi at all, yet was always kind to Bob Earl. The Kid was a scamp, a tomboy, but self-confident.  She took Roxi’s sexy clothes, throwing them into the spare room, where all the inexplicably bizarre clothes and insundry things landed, yet Olivia knew she did not buy. Ida lectured Roxi. She was a serious, matronly woman, about 50 years old. Roxi hated Ida’s belittling, condescending castigations. Ida made Bob Earl and The Kid less afraid. A motherly safe harbor. Ida meant well. The Kid tried to keep Ida informed of modern mores and trends.  “Piss off Ida the Hag. You’re just jealous because you haven’t had sex in 35 years, ya freak.” Roxi fired off. Olivia now spun around for home.

An ideal evening for Olivia was alone. Without blackouts, or the voices. She feared sleep because anyone could take her dreams wherever they wanted. Desultory Horrid dreams. One woman recurring in dreams was not with the voices. Olivia vaguely recognized the blurred, but threatening face.  Olivia had no clue who she was. She felt like a beaten child hiding under a bed, trying to escape the mysterious assailant. In her dreams, Olivia awoke screaming, clawing, fighting, or utterly blank. Fear consumed her. Then, nothing. She was glad for the blackouts as a kid. Sometimes one of the others, hopefully not Roxi, would take the dream, making it theirs providing an exit for Olivia.

She remembered the elevator now. She walked into Dr. Elliot’s office. “So, Miss Olivia, tell me of recent adventures.” coaxed Dr. Elliot. Olivia underwent hypnosis.  “Olivia, may I speak with Roxi now? Olivia’s eyes rolled back, blinked, then lowered into sultry, tawdry, mischievous eyes. She threw herself back, tousled her hair, then crossed her legs up, beyond her knees. A sexy pose. A pose foreign to Olivia. “Roxi, Olivia does not need you any longer.  You’ve helped her survive. But she can carry on without you.  It’s time for you to leave.” Dr. Elliot didn’t order an eviction, but more an implant of a crucial idea: that had fulfilled her tasks, and she was no longer needed.  The alluring bait was freedom from all the others. An offer to escape began to sound viable to Roxi. “Olivia has become at ease with her sexuality. Free yourself.” In an indignant huff, she simply walked away. “Good riddance all of you.” She hissed. And she was gone. No longer could Dr. Elliot get Roxi to respond. 

                “If Roxi can leave, then why are any of us here?  We helped Olivia cope with her past torture. Olivia could hide inside us.” Ida pointed out. That way, when the tormentor stalked Olivia, whatever she did to Olivia, could not hurt her. ”The stalker caused our birth, to help Olivia create multiple escape personalities. Olivia had matured now. Dr. Elliot guided Olivia to confront the voices. “She doesn’t need any help now. She’ll be fine on her own.” Dr. Elliot told the voices.

“This is momentous day. Roxi has left. You’ll never see her again. Let me speak to Ida” Dr. Elliot requested. With Ida, Olivia felt love and wisdom.  Ida became Olivia’s mother. She protected Olivia. Dr. Elliot helped Ida’s mothering become memory; part of Olivia. Ida misted into Olivia’s brain. “Let me talk to The Kid now.” Doctor Elliot asked. The Kid was, well, still just a kid. She had the childhood denied Olivia. The Kid too, retreated into Olivia’s heart, mind and soul. Olivia’s black wild character swings eroded. Olivia always heard the Cranberries’ song “Zombies” in her head. “OK, Olivia, we’ve worked for 4 years, to free you, to yourself.” Each voice needed to feel they had saved Olivia. They were the only means of escape she had during her horrific childhood.” Bob Earl came last. “Bob Earl, you have kept Olivia calm with your simple ways. “observed Dr. Elliot. And Bob Earl happily dissolved his essence into Olivia. Absorbed. Forever home.

 Dr. Elliot poured countless years teaching Olivia why the voices came. Today she culminated.  Olivia had endured unspeakable wickedness. She became dependent on her mental alternate personalities. Today, she could say “I survived. I am just me. I survived myself.”

Author's Note

This was a contest entry limited to 1200 words, about someone who has gotten "that" big break for their lives. No entertainment, writing, holocast,disaster oriented story lines.

Reviews

[S.P. Johnson Jr.]

This confused me at the start. I realize it was supposed to, and that can be fine, however, most of my confusion came from the formatting. Usually, dialogue is started on a new line with an indentation. I tried to make an example edit with your first paragraph, but the comment wouldn't post my indentations. So if you have any questions about what I mean, feel free to ask, or just check any novel with dialogue and you'll see what I mean.

[jennifer little]

good job i liked this