As long as Lady Ori could remember, her inner thoughts had always been conversations. One thought would insist on a certain way of doing something, and the other thought would insist on something else. This was how her brain functioned. It was also how she was able to scrape by under the hateful eye of Contessa de Rohan.

Lady Ori’s thoughts never had different names or voices.

She had no way of knowing that these thoughts would someday be a reflection of her body’s reaction to trauma.

Traumagenic parts are identities and memories that are forced to be separate due to abuse. They are a normal part of many childhood mental disorders. This includes complex post-traumatic stress disorder―CPTSD.

Lady Ori’s childhood body suffered years of horrific treatment. During it all, her body slammed on the emergency alarms. It went into total-protection mode. In this mode, memories were sorted into ‘safe’ and ‘unsafe’. Identities that had these memories were dumped into corners of the unconscious. They stayed there, scared and lonely.

The opposite was also true. Identities that were well-liked by adults were thrust forward into consciousness. These identities were kept away from the others, and exalted by the brain. Yet, they were always confused. Why am I in this room? Why am I in pain? Who is this person? Why am I bleeding?

Then, when an adult was angry, the identities traded places once again. It was like a card game that was played in desperation. The only way to win was to continue being alive.

Unlike Dissociated Identity Disorder (DID), CPTSD traumatic parts rarely ‘feel’ different from the self. In Lady Ori’s case, she was alway’s Lady Ori―the many expressions of Lady Ori.

That was, until Julie arrived. Something happened when Lady Ori was three years old that gave birth to Julie. Neither Julie nor Lady Ori knew what it was, nor did they search to know. Traumagenic parts stay out of each other’s business.

With trauma, every identity and every thought has a razor sharp focus. Julie’s job was to protect the many terrified children’s identities trapped inside the body of Lady Ori.

You could think of her like a child knight in charge of the safety of an entire village of scared babies.

For many years of Lady Ori’s life, Julie prevailed as an aggressive force. If Lady Ori bit her mother in response to a slap, that was Julie. If Lady Ori screamed and kicked her little feet in response to some happening, that was Julie too. Julie was the power to react that the other identities were not allowed to have.

Often, Julie would have a choice. She could either let a baby identity take the beating, or she could take the beating herself. Julie always took the beating…that was what Julie had been born for.

When they were eleven, Lady Ori’s body took stock of all the many identities. It sought to merge them. Children who have not suffered abuse do this too―it’s normal human development. During that year, Julie watched the babies dwindle in number and become more alike.

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The ‘good-girl’ identities got caught up in it too. She watched them flail in confusion as they received memories they could not comprehend.

Yes, Julie watched the entire thing happen. Soon, she was in charge of protecting only a few identities of Lady Ori. This consolidation had made everything worse. Aging had made everything worse.

The good-girls could now scream and cry. The traumagenic children could now share their thoughts. It was total chaos.

Julie knew she would need to protect the fragile body of eleven year old Lady Ori. But how? More and more often, instead of letting her fight back, the children would choose to black out.

The eyes would turn off completely. The ears would stop hearing. The body would stop broadcasting the pain to its receptors. The children would go into a dreamlike trance, or nap.

The children were trying to protect Julie.

Julie felt thrown away.

Without noticing, Julie began picking up parts of Lady Ori that the children could not handle. Their hatred, their anger, their resentment. She picked up abandonment problems that made her cold to others.

When they all hit puberty at fourteen, she picked up an obsession for pleasure.

But, the body only let Julie exist within the confines of an empty room.

If Julie tried to open their bedroom door, then it was another identity that would step out. She was trapped.

The children were trying to protect themselves―from Julie. She had a penchant for making the adults angry. The only way to win the game was to live. Julie could end up being the reason they would die.

Julie became a pariah in Lady Ori’s body. She was a mass of feelings that Lady Ori could not safely feel. She was a barely contained wrathful ghost. She could do everything the babies of Lady Ori could never accomplish.

The body saw Julie as a dragon, not a knight.

When they were almost fifteen, Sir Jonathon opened the door. He had just been knighted months before. He did not knock or ask to be let in. It was a foolish mistake.

Julie glared at him behind Lady Ori’s surprised eyes. The bedroom was her domain.

“I hate you.” He told her, his fists balled up. “You stupid girl, everything is your fault.”

Before he could expound on the rest of his pathetic feelings, Julie stood up in Lady Ori’s body. “Shut the fuck up Jonathon, you ugly little bastard.”

Jonathon froze. His face contorted in rage. “Did you just call me a bastard?!”

Julie scoffed and smirked. “Doesn’t everyone?”

The eighteen year old Jonathon lunged for her neck and shook her, cursing.

Julie kicked him in the balls, and watched him yelp in pain.

He released her, and doubled over.

“One day,” Julie told him gruffly, walking around him. She kicked him in the anus as hard as she could. “I’m going to slice you into little pieces and feed you to pigs.”

“You’re a crazy bitch! A stupid bitch!” He yowled, curled on the floor.

She kicked him in the ribs with her clean, bejeweled heels.

He gasped and tried to grab her leg. She slapped him across the face and slammed her heel into his hand.

He screamed.

“Get out of my room, Sir Jonathon the Bastard!” She stepped on his groin and dug her heel in. “Don’t you dare come back and fuck with me again!”

Sir Jonathon had quickly hobbled away, howling curses.

Julie watched him.

That night, one of the child identities got the worst beating of their life by the Contessa.

Lady Ori’s little body nearly died. Many bones had been broken, and Lady Ori lay in bed with a fever and no maid.

Julie sobbed angry, furious tears inside. She screamed and cursed and cried. That sniveling bastard had run and told the Contessa, she was sure of it. If she had let him vent without reacting, maybe the children wouldn’t be in so much pain. Maybe the children and the body were right. Maybe Julie had been born to be the dragon, all along. Maybe the children would be safer without her.

Even if Julie felt she was older then the others, she was still only fourteen. Even if she was able to be furious and fight back, she was still scared and alone.

Julie made the decision then. “If we live, I’ll leave.”