Emily found herself in the living room, staring intently and longingly at a family picture book in her lap; a reminder of simpler times. Her fingers traced the outlines of her parents’ faces in the photos, her expression distant and forlorn.
“Kid…” Daniel’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and soothing, trying to comfort her.
But Emily didn’t respond. She was lost in the storm of her own emotions, blocking out the world around her—even Daniel.
“Em... hey, EM!” Daniel said, louder this time, his tone more urgent. Through their shared peripheral vision, he noticed Sarah and Thomas entering the room.
“Look at that…” he murmured more gently now. “Even after everything, they’re coming to you. They want to understand, to comfort you.”
Emily turned her head slightly, her parents’ concerned but kind faces coming into focus. A sob escaped her lips as she realized what Daniel had pointed out. Their care, etched into their expressions, momentarily soothed the storm in her own heart.
“You’re doing well, Em,” Daniel continued. “Just… one step at a time, okay? They’ll need time to catch up.”
Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes. “Danny, how do I do this?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How can I explain something so unbelievable?” She sniffled, her fear pressing down on her. “What if they stop loving me? What if they think I’m crazy? What if I end up alone… like you were?”
Daniel froze at her words, his old fears surging forward momentarily threatening to overwhelm him. For a moment, he faltered, the walls he’d carefully built around his memories cracking under the weight of her despair.
However, then he saw Sarah and Thomas exchange a glance—a moment of silent communication. He watched Thomas give Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze, a gesture reminiscent of solidarity and reassurance.
“They’re just as lost as we are,” Daniel murmured, his voice steady again. “But look at them, Em. Their emotions must be a mess, but their love for you? That’s unwavering. Unstoppable.”
Emily let out another quiet sob as she absorbed his words. Her parents approached her cautiously, their steps deliberate but their love radiating.
“We’re here, Emily,” Sarah said softly, her voice steady despite the tremor of emotion beneath it. She reached out, placing a hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder. “We love you, and we’ll get through this together.”
Emily looked up, her watery gaze meeting her mother’s. She offered a tentative, fragile smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned back to the photo album, her fingers resuming their tracing over the familiar images.
“I hear him, you know,” she continued, her tone hesitant but earnest. “I can talk to him sometimes. Well… talk to the part of me that’s Daniel. It’s... complicated.”
Her parents exchanged another glance, their concern evident but their commitment to understanding stronger than their confusion.
Emily’s fingers lingered on the photos as if they could anchor her to the moment. “He’s telling me it’s okay, that I can trust you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But it’s hard. It took us a long time to learn how to live like this.” She looked up again, her expression raw and vulnerable. “Sometimes, it was overwhelming.”
Looking back at her parents, Emily continued hesitantly, “Do you remember earlier this year? When school was just starting? I was acting... different? Like sometimes I didn’t know you, like everything was new?”
Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “That was when Daniel’s consciousness collided with mine, and things got a bit… warped. His consciousness became dominant for a while and accidentally took over…until our merge started stabilizing anyway, until I came back”
Daniel huffed from within. “Again with that hijacking shi… stuff,” he grumbled, half amused, quickly cutting off his more creative vocabulary. “It wasn’t exactly my retirement plan to end up here, you know,” he added dryly, almost eliciting a sob-choked chuckle from Emily.
Emily swallowed and continued. “For a while, he was your child—lost, not sure what to make of anything, just randomly waking up in my body. For a while, you were his parents.”
She hesitated, her voice trembling slightly as she added, “He says thank you for that, by the way… thank you for being the parents he never had.”
—
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Sarah brushed a hand through Emily's hair as her mind raced as she tried to reconcile her daughter’s words with those old memories —those strange, disjointed moments earlier in the year when Emily seemed unfamiliar, even distant. The pieces didn’t quite fit together yet, but she felt something begin to click into place.
She glanced at Thomas, searching for something—an answer, an explanation, anything - —but his face was equally stunned and uncertain. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his brow furrowed as he looked at Emily, as though trying to read the truth in her expression.
“Emily…” Sarah began hesitantly, her voice trembling, “when you acted different, I thought…I thought maybe it was just you growing up, or stress from school. But now you’re telling us it wasn’t you? That it was…” She faltered, her voice catching. “Him?”
Thomas exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This is…this is a lot to process, Em. I don’t even know where to start.” He crossed his arms, his fingers tapping restlessly against his sleeve. “Are you saying we were parenting someone else? That Daniel—this person—was…here? In you?”
Emily nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the photo album in her lap. “For a while, yeah,” she admitted softly. “He didn’t mean to…take over or anything. It just…happened. He was scared. Confused, not sure where he was, how he got there, or even who I was.” Her fingers traced the edges of the album as if grounding herself. “But…he ended up looking at you as his own mom and dad over time.”
“More than that…” Daniel whispered softly. “I…loved them…as my own.”
Emily hesitated, her heart warming at Daniel’s words but deciding not to share them just yet.
“Yeah…that would be too much..too soon…” Daniel muttered sheepishly.
Instead, Emily glanced at her parents, their stunned expressions reflecting the enormity of what she’d just revealed. Gathering her courage, she continued, “As our merge stabilized, though, he stepped aside. He let me take center stage again and waited for me to naturally figure out this…joint reality.”
—
Seeing the worry etched in her parents’ eyes, Emily sighed and closed the photo album. “I know you’re probably thinking I’m schizophrenic or something, right?” With a wry chuckle she added “Dad, I can see the wheels turning in your head, wondering what kind of therapist I need?”
Sarah and Thomas exchanged startled glances, clear caught off guard by Emily’s bluntness.
Before they could respond, Emily continued, “I promise you, I’m not schizophrenic... or mentally ill, as far as I know anyway.” She laughed softly, a sound filled with both amusement and exasperation. “How would I even know that word? Schizophrenia?”
She walked toward the bookshelf, stretching on her toes to return the album. “How would I know about MRIs or teslas or TENS systems?” Turning back, she faced her parents with a mix of exhaustion, gravity, and sadness. “I’m telling you, it’s Daniel—his memories, his life, they’re a part of me. He is a part of me.”
Her voice rose in a plea, raw with emotion. "And if you can't believe the truth I'm telling you, then what explanation do you have? All those moments that didn't add up, all the things I knew that I shouldn’t... It’s because of Daniel. It’s because Daniel and I are... merged of sorts. Can you offer a better explanation that fits everything we've seen?"
Sarah and Thomas sat in stunned silence, the weight of Emily's explanation heavy in the air. They couldn't think of a better rationale for their child’s behavior over the last few months. Even though it didn’t make sense, it was beginning to fall into place. Yet, their expressions shifted from shock to concern as they struggled to reconcile the child they knew with the incredible, no, unbelievable experiences she described.
Emily’s gaze shifted to the window. Her frame trembled as anger began to seep through her words. “Daniel was sick, really sick—it was his nerves. He was in constant pain, his nerves were on fire like they were being boiled alive. Even a gust of wind felt like a knife being shoved into his limbs.” Her voice cracked as she pushed forward, “And despite all the advancements in his time, no one could help him. The pain wore him down, tearing his spirit apart day by day.”
She gazed at her parents, considering her next words before adding “He…tried to protect me from these memories. He builds mental walls to hide them but…sometimes they leak through”
The room felt silent for what felt like eternity. Emily’s anger rose as she recalled some of Daniel’s more painful memories. She clenched her fists, her voice gaining intensity. “But no one could see his pain—it was invisible. So he ended up feeling ostracized. The people who were supposed to help him didn’t or couldn’t, and he was left alone, isolated in his own head and reality. The pain made everything seem exhausting. It changed his brain, twisted his thoughts, and depression consumed him as every waking breath hurt.”
Emily paused, her frame shaking with the storm of emotions within her. “He wasn’t just sick… he was drowning. Every. Single. Day.”
“Em…” Daniel muttered with a tired, sad voice, unsure of what to say, what to add.
Suddenly, Emily screamed in rage and slammed her hand into the wall, her voice breaking. “For God’s sake, he was in agony every single day, and nobody could do a damn thing to help him! And nobody seemed to want to understand!” Her voice cracked further as she continued, tears streaming down her face. “There was no joy left by the end, nothing to look forward to—he was a zombie just waiting for each day to end, only to face another day of pain!”
She stopped, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The weight of Daniel's despair burned in her eyes as she turned back to her parents. She felt Daniel trying to soothe her, urging her to calm down, to separate herself from his memories and anguish. But her emotions surged uncontrollably, fueled by the haunted look on her parents’ faces—the fear in their eyes.
“And now…his fears…they haunt me,” Emily said, her voice trembling, her hands clenching and releasing. “Like in the hospital—I wasn’t just scared for me; it was his terror, his helplessness, his fear of doctors. I remembered his memories—the biopsies, the nerve blocks….”
Her voice cracked with exhaustion and grief. “So yes, I don’t just get the good memories. I sometimes…get the bad ones too. And when I’m tired, or scared, or sick…they bleed into my life. Even though he tries to keep them walled off, they still get through.”