AN- I wrote this based off of a poem I wrote really late one night after a couple hours of editing and the story got a bit darker than I was expecting. It was really hard to write.

TW- there is a lot but I don't want to spoil the story so if you're sensitive I'd just skip straight up skip this one...

To everyone out there. You are loved and there are people who will accept and help you.

"Give up"

"Give in"

"You'll never control it"

"You'll never control us"

I rest my head on a chest with in the pit of my base. I grip the needle in my trembling hand. My fingers slowly turning white as I try to thread the needle into the eye.

"Just the leave it to bleed."

"You'll feel better."

I finally have the thread threaded and I begin to stitch my bleeding wound. It was gagged and wasn't one of the normal lines. It traversed the length of my arm, blood seeping out of it, soaking my white tee-shirt where I cradled my arm. I had lost control of the voices. They aren't real. I'm just cursed. They're not real. They're not real...

"We are real Zedaph."

"Look at what we did to your arm."

Tears prick at my eyes as my mind flares up into a battle ground. I try to focus on my arm, my other hand shaking from blood loss. Another stitch.

The thread is turning red.

Another stitch.

The voices scream at me to stop.

Another stitch.

My vision is going black.

Another stitch.

Is it from blood loss or pain.

Another stitch.

Probably both.

Another stitch.

"Stop!"

"No! You were supposed to let it bleed out"

They can hurt me as much as they want but I wouldn't give in.

"Take him."

The voices sound desperate and angry. I won't give into them. I wouldn't... not today...

Blackness.

-------------

I gasp awake. My arm bandaged but my shirt was still blood stained. When did I bandage myself? Please, please, don't let another hermit know and help. But they probably would have changed my clothes...

"Welcome back Zed."

The voices. I had given in.

"You didn't listen to us. So, we made sure you would have to next time."

What did they do? What did they do?! What did you do!?!

A sharp pain hits me right in the back of my eyes and I try to scream in shock. I try again and cause more pain. I can't scream. I can't open my mouth. Ignoring the debilitating pain in my head as I stand up from the floor and stumble to a mirror.

They sowed my mouth shut.

"That's right. Now go be a good boy."

I carefully remove the thread from around my mouth and let the blood drip down my face, mingling with my tears. This is what I get for trying to be the good host. The voices don't care how I look. They just want control. I can't let that happen. I'll continue to be the happy, fun-loving Zedaph. No hermit will know. They wouldn't understand.

Blood has begun to fall on my tongue, turning my teeth a devilish red. The pain in my skull has faded. The voices are gone. For now.

----------

It's been a couple days since my last episode with the voices. My lips were slightly scarred from the stitches being rushed. I had played the injury off as some fluke accident while working on redstone. I got caught in a dispenser while trying to unjam it. Tango and Impulse just laughed saying how Zedaphy that was. I grinned, but my heart broke inside. Everyday I'd go home and cry in fear that they would come back. The voices.

And they did.

I hadn't notice them taking over my body again until I was watching my hands thread a needle and begin to sew again. My hands were no longer the swift professional that I had trained them to be. They shook and the needle ripped at the skin.

I needed control.

"No Zedaph. You never changed. We will try this again."

I fought for control.

"We will make this worse than it already is."

I gain control but at what cost? My mind feels like it's shattering. My mouth is bleeding, the water below my mirror turning a murky red. I don't have time to release the stitching before my voice rips out of my throat, the skin on my lips being shredded against the thick thread and I scream.

I can't handle being only on side of my personality anymore.

There's only one release from my own curse.

One release from my disorder.

One release from my mind.

"Zedaph. Stop!"

"We promise to be good!"

"We're sorry Zed!"

I give no heed as I slip my sword out of my inventory and slip it into my stomach. I collapse to the water filled stones of my storage room. The water is a dark red. I can hear my ragged breathing. I hear someone call my name. Then I can't hear anything.

The voices are gone.

I smile as the last breath leaves my bloodied lips.

"Dissociative identity Disorder: Previously known as multiple personality disorder is one of the three major dissociative disorders ... The most recognized symptom of dissociative identity disorder is a person's identity being involuntarily split between at least two distinct indemnities. Other symptoms may include Dissociative amnesia, dissociative fugue, and blurred identity.

Blurred Identity: when you feel like there are two or more people talking or living in your head. You might even feel possessed by one of several other identities." - Healthline