Vera,

I need to talk to you. Please, meet me at my house this evening. It's important.

-Jordan

A/N: DO NOT skip the author's note at the bottom.

Also, this chapter may contain some triggering content for people with mental disorders. Please read with caution or PM me and I'll be more than happy to send you a summary.

The front door opened and closed.

I breathed deeply as I lied on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I clutched the files in my hands tighter. They could tear Vera's life apart in the blink of an eye. I could tear her life apart in the blink of an eye.

I didn't want to. She had just started to heal from the trauma and guilt of what she thought happened with Jason. She had just started to be her happier, imaginative, naive self. She was the book nerd that had still managed to worm her way up the social ranks of high school and stayed there because people wanted her there. They loved her there because of her kindness and cheery deposition. She was finally beginning to be that person again.

And I was about to rip it all away again.

I don't want to, but I have to. For Vera.

Her soft footsteps padded up the stairs. I sat up and forced my fingers to let go of the files. I couldn't show her the news immediately. I had to break it to her slowly.

The family P.I. had admittedly taken longer than expected. I had called him Friday night and he had spent the past couple days searching and skimming for the real documents. It wasn't until this morning, after three days of diligent scouring, that he had finally found the medical files.

The Reinhart's held their secrets close, especially the colossal ones.

Vera knocked twice before nudging the door open. "Jordan?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

She opened the bedroom door completely and stepped in. "Hi."

"Hey."

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. Can you close the door?"

Vera obliged.

"Take a seat," I motioned for the bed then cringed. That sounded so formal. Too formal. Like a doctor's office.

Vera plopped down onto the bed and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's that- well-um-you..." I stumbled and sighed. This was not going well. And let's be real, no matter how I tell her, it wasn't gonna help. She was still going to have her entire life torn to shreds.

I feebly handed her the file. "Read it."

Vera's eyes flickered between mine and the file before she accepted, hand shaking, eyes scrunched up. She looked up at me again, confused, before she opened the yellow files. Vera flipped through the thin white pages, sorting through the scribbles and blocks of text.

"These are my medical files."

"Yeah."

Vera looked up. "I don't understand..."

"That's the one that they show you and anyone with authority who asks for it, like the school."

"What do you mean by 'the one'? What other-"

"What does it say in their about your anxiety?"

"Well, it says..." Vera trailed off as she flipped through the pages, visibly gulping. Her eyebrows were furrowing as her breathing seemed to be getting faster. She could tell something was wrong. She knew it all along. She just didn't want to admit it. Never did. But now I was forcing her to.

I never should've started this. But I'm here now. I have to show her the truth.

"It says nothing," Vera whispered. "It doesn't have anything about mild anxiety."

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing and look calm. This was it. This was where I shattered the mirror of delusions that she built around herself. I felt almost guilty for having to break down everything that she had built up, but it was all just an illusion.

Nothing good ever comes out of an illusion.

"That's because it's not the real one," I told her and pulled out the second file. "This is."

Vera gingerly took the file, her hands shaking. She read the side tab labelled 'Vera Reinhart', biting her lip. She ran her fingers along the side of the folder before slowly flipping it open.

"Even after getting past the fake one, it was still difficult to find the real one," I explained quietly as she shifted through the papers. "People had been given big money to hide it and keep quiet. There were so many other fake copies out there..."

I reached over and slid open a shelf in my desk that was filled to the brim with yellow files. Each had 'Vera Reinhart' scrawled across it.

Vera regarded the shelf with blank eyes, trying to look indifferent. But she was starting to shiver. Her face looked stricken. It was almost like she wasn't even breathing.

I closed the shelf and she averted her gaze back to the file in which she was slowly flipping through the pages. From the blank stare in her eyes, it was impossible to tell if she was reading any of it.

"Even when we did finally get our hands on that file," I continued, "we still couldn't figure out what was going on. The entire thing was redacted."

I pulled out the third, and last file, and flipped it open, turning through the pages that were filled with large blocks of black covering the text. Vera's eyes flicked to the redacted file and flicked back to hers. I sighed and closed the file.

"More digging and bribing led to that one. The real one."

Vera looked up at me, face going pale, sweat starting to build up on her forehead, body shivering feverishly.

"Jordan," she croaked, "this says I have..."

Her mouth kept moving but no words came out.

I completed the sentence, "Mild DID: Dissociative Identity Disorder. Also known as Multiple Personality Disorder."

"No," she whispered, ever so softly.

I stayed silent.

Vera's hands left the file and she curled herself up into a ball, staring at the brain scans that she had flipped open to.

I handed Vera a water bottle.

She took it.

She downed the entire thing.

Vera let the plastic water slip from her grip and roll of the bed, clattering to the floor. She still didn't look any better.

After that, it was just silent.

There was nothing indicating any sound of life, neither in the room or outside of it. It was as lifeless and empty as a church when it was no longer in session. The room was undeniably cold, bringing about shivers, amplifying Vera's small shivers even more. Other than that, she was as still as a statue, a photograph catching the memory of a girl heart stricken as she stared down at the single file that broke down everything she had ever believed of her existence, one-by-one.

I sat still as well. I didn't know what to do. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to hug her? Would that still be considered okay, even if I was the reason that she was in this state?

I didn't know the answer.

So I sat still.

"It's not possible," she whispered, finally.

"It was a side-effect of mild PTSD."

Vera stayed silent, simply shaking her head at my words.

I didn't know what to do. So I spoke instead.

"We had our suspicions ever since we were younger. You seemed normal for the most part. But then, sometimes it was like you were a completely different person. You were more outgoing. Riskier. It was kind of scary, to be honest. And it was always when things were getting difficult, when they were getting bad. Like the time that someone tried to break into our house. You were acting a lot different then. When the police came around to questioning you, they got suspicious. They thought that you knew something. But then your parents took them aside. They whispered something in the police officers' ears. The police officers left. Your parents whisked you away as if nothing happened."

Vera said nothing. I continued.

"But the scariest part? You never remembered anything. It was all just blank to you. It never existed. And you didn't seem the least bit concerned. It was the middle of the summer, after all. You forgot the entire day, but it didn't matter. You didn't know the difference. No one knew if you were just pretending or if there really was something wrong. Either way, it scared us. So we never talked about it."

"It wasn't very often. There were only two or three other times that I could remember where you acted different. Each time, it was the same pattern. You did reckless, uncharacteristic things. If the police took you in, your parents would whisper in their ears or speak with them in hushed tones and they would let you go. Your parents would rush you away. If not, you fled home yourself. Maybe you would call hours later. Maybe you wouldn't. We could never be sure. But after reaching the safety of your room, you would switch back, none the wiser of your previous actions. It wasn't until we were older that the rest of us realized that it was something strange, something deeper."

"We asked our parents if they knew anything. They said they didn't. We approached your parents. They said that they didn't even know what we were talking about. That they never noticed anything. That there was no whispering or talking in hushed tones with the police. We knew it was a lie. But we were too scared to press further. Too scared of the truth. So we just nodded our heads and pretended to believe every word they said. Tried to believe every word they said."

"But then it happened again, just last week. On Friday, before the basketball game. Sometime throughout the school day you had switched into the other side of you. We weren't sure what happened or, why you had flipped. We tried asking you. You snapped at Tyler."

"But by the time you walked into the basketball game, you seemed to be yourself again. And then you gave me the Secret Keeper letters. That pushed me to figure out the truth."

Vera finally spoke up, voice quiet and frail as if she was scared to speak. "What do you mean?"

"The letters," I said as I pulled out Vera's and mine, "they don't match."

"I don't..." Vera trailed off as she watched me open the second letter.

"These," I said motioning to her and my letters from Secret Keeper, "are the real ones from Secret Keeper. The color of the card is darker, texture is smoother, and the handwriting is a bit more spread-out. The writer took time to write curvy and fancy. But this one," I took out Vera's second card, "this one is a lighter red, the texture is more rough, and the handwriting is slightly closer together and looks quick and natural. It looks like your handwriting."

Vera shook her head, "What are you saying?"

"You wrote the second letter."

Vera threw her arms in the air, eyes glistening with newly formed tears. "Why would I do that? Why would I write letters to myself about Jason's death?"

"Because you felt guilty," I explained, quietly. "You felt guilty for killing Jason and so you switched. You wrote the letter in your phase, to mimic the first letter from Secret Keeper. The letter was a manifestation of your guilt."

Vera uncurled herself and sat with her legs crossed and whispered, "But my mom found it in the mail."

"You must've placed it in the mailbox on your way home."

"That makes no sense."

I shrugged, "Secret Keeper never delivered anything in our mailbox before. It would've been too risky since our parents could've read it. They only delivered it in my locker before."

"This..." Vera shook her head. "This is crazy."

"Vera-"

"How could I have something that I never knew about my entire life?!"

"The disorder says that you don't typically remember the actions of your other personality..."

"But I had to notice something!" Vera crawled off the bed and backed away, hugging the file to her chest. Tears were spilling down her cheeks.

"It's a very mild case. No one blames you for not noticing."

"It's not about me!" Vera shouted.

I slipped off the bed and lifted my arms, trying to approach her slowly as she quickly backed away further to the door. "Then what is it about?"

"My parents!" Vera shouted. "You're saying that my parents lied to me! My entire life! That they lied to my face!"

"I'm not saying that they lied to you, just that maybe they were..."

"And now you're lying to me to."

I gulped. "What do you mean?"

"You thought that my parents were flat out lying to me. You were just trying to say that to make me feel better. You were just lying to me, to my face, when I'm supposed to trust you and every word you say."

"Vera, I was trying not to hurt your-"

"That doesn't matter, Jordan!" Vera screamed. "You were supposed to tell me the truth, to my face, no matter the cost! All of you were! We weren't supposed to hide things from each other for years on end! And then Jason died, and I had to start lying and you started lying and so did Julia and now we have to keep lying while some random person keeps sending us stupid red cards about our lies and..."

"Vera!" I shouted. "Calm down."

"No, Jordan! You don't understand," she cried.

"Then, make m-"

"You can't be right. Jason's already dead. I can't also be a crazy psycho. You and everyone else couldn't have been lying to me all these years. My parents couldn't have been lying to me all these years! It's not possible. All of this..." she stumbled. "My life can't be this fucked up. You have to be lying."

I could feel myself starting to lose control of my temper and patience as I listened to her words.

Keep it together, Jordan.

She just feels hurt and lost. She doesn't mean any of it.

"Vera, why would I lie?"

"I don't know!" she said. "Why did you lie in the first place about Jason?!"

"Because I killed my own brother and Julia was there when it happened. The both of us would-"

"So then who's to say that you're not Secret Keeper?!"

"Vera, listen to yourself! Why would I ever want to be Secret Keeper?"

"I don't know! Why would anyone want to be Secret Keeper?"

"Because they wanted to blackmail you..."

"Couldn't you do that too?!"

"Secret Keeper blackmailed you into stealing information from me and my family. Couldn't I do that myself? Wouldn't it be easier to do it myself?"

"Maybe you didn't want to get caught!"

"Why would I need dirt on my parents?!"

"I don't know, Jordan! Why would you do any of this in the first place? Why would you give me fake medical files?"

"They're not fake!"

"You're saying my parents lied. My parents didn't lie my entire life. They're not liars!"

"Well maybe they are!"

Vera reeled back, staring at me in silence for a moment before shaking her head and twisting the doorknob, prying it open, "I'm out of here."

She ran out the door and I ran after her cursing myself.

You mother fucking imbecile.

Why couldn't you keep your temper in check? You had one job. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. And you failed.

Stupid Jordan.

I ran down the hall, past a gaping Julia who asked, "What the hell did you do?"

I ignored her, following Vera's receding figure through the halls, shouting her name.

"Vera!"

We had reached the main stairs and I ran down it after her. "Vera! Listen to me. Please."

"No, Jordan!" Vera stopped at the foyer entrance and turned to me, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't want to talk to you."

My gut wrenched.

"Please," she begged. "Just leave me alone."

I stopped in my tracks and watched her turn and run for the door. I felt miserable and alone as her footsteps quickly receded, leaving me to wallow in my own failures.

The front door opened and slammed shut.

A/N: This is important.

First of all, this is a very serious topic. I don't want anyone making fun of it or being rude about these disorders in the comments section. Not only will I delete and mute you, but I will also report you. Don't make me go there. 

And I would avoid even mild jokes, if I were you. You don't know how someone is going to take it. And even if you do post a joke, please follow it up by adding that it was a joke at the end or replying to your own comment and saying that it was a joke. PLEASE??????

Thank you.

More important stuff:

I don't have DID aka MPD. I don't have PTSD either. Or even anxiety. Nor does anyone else that I know. So, as I don't have much experience with this kind of stuff, I'm probably going to get some things wrong. But I don't want to.

This is a very serious disorder and I want to treat it as such. That's why I did thorough research on it and planned accordingly, including how she developed the disorder. The next chapter will touch base on that.

The point is, I might get some stuff wrong. But I want to fix that. I want this to be an accurate representation of the disorder. So please, if you know more information or if you or a loved one/ someone you know has it, please please PLEASE share that information with me.

If you are comfortable, I would truly appreciate knowing your experience with it.

I would also like you guys to highlight and comment if I did anything wrong so that I can fix it, or anything right so that I can keep it during edits.

This doesn't only apply to this chapter, but also all of the following ones.

If there is anything in previous chapters about this disorder that you would like me to fix, please PM so as to not give it away to first time readers but also allow me to know that I need to fix it.

Phew, that was long but it had to be said.

Thank you for your patience and understanding with this topic. I really appreciate it!

-Sreenija Paruchuri