Estimated reading time — 7 minutes
Heterochromia iridium is just a fancy scientific way of saying, I have two different colored eyes. It’s the first thing people notice when they meet me.
“Wow, that’s cool!” Is the most common response. I’ll usually just close one eye and say, “yes, yes it is.”
What people fail to realize is my heterochromia iridium comes with a steep price.
I don’t know how it happened, maybe I was born with it, maybe the eye color thing brought it on, but I’m psychologically insane.
Twenty years old and I’m certifiable.
Now before you call BS or try to leave, let me say that it’s a very particular type of insanity. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Which is just a fancy scientific way of saying, split personalities.
Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking– The eyes. Well let me just say, all the professionals have a similar theory. I have been the subject of many psychological papers, studies, and cross examinations, and all the big wigs say my condition is in fact due to my heterochromia iridium. I’m not convinced. After all this is my mind they’re all fussing with, aren’t I granted an opinion?
Some of the more…intense psychologists theorize that I’m a literal balance between good, and pure, absolute evil. Naturally my dark brown-almost red-eye is reflective of my evil self, while my baby-blue eye contains my inner Mother Theresa. Ha! I understand psychology is a relatively new study but Come on! It all sounds ridiculous, like something from a James Bond movie.
Maybe they might actually be on to something. As much as I like to pretend I’m normal… Like… Okay, when I see my pretty neighbor from across the street, MOST of the time I want to ask her how her day was and maybe get the courage to ask her out. But every once in a while… I get the urge to cut off her Achilles heels and strap her to a treadmill. Which is why I think I’m going through with the treatment.
The latest batch of scientists have a grand scheme of inducing a coma and letting my two conscious selves battle it out for control of my body. Sounds crazy huh? Good blue eye V.S the insidious brownish-red eye. Good V.S evil, winner take all.
It has taken some convincing, but I’m finally going through with the coma. I do not believe I have split personality, but I know something is wrong. All of the research cases I have studied thus far, the subject actually has two different identities. I do not. I’m Jordan Cormack and I’ve never once thought I was someone else. My dear mother however, she believes I have another identity, it’s just sedated or dormant in my subconscious. She’s encouraging me to go through with the treatment. When she first presented it to me, I had the urge to dissect her ears and feed them to her. (Served with a side of tartar sauce.) After that thought, I realized I needed help, and I should probably seek it.
So, today’s the day. Today’s the day I glove up against my inner evil. I half expect nothing to happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if I wake from my artificial coma and feel absolutely nothing. I figure it’s worth a shot at least. As I enter the clinic I am greeted warmly by three doctor-scientist types, and my mom. I respond in kind and try to stay open-minded.
One of the lab-coats says to me, “We want to remove all of your fears, Jordan. We will monitor your body’s vitals and wake you up if it becomes dangerous.” My mom just smiles and nods.
They guide me to a lone bed surrounded by a gaggle of monitors and machines. They’re not sure how long I will be out. Some of the machines are meant to feed me, others are meant to monitor me, other machines, I don’t have a damn clue as to their purpose, but I take solace that we at least have them.
I lay down on the bed and three white coats, plus my mom, gaze down expectantly. My mom takes my hand, a single tear rolls down and she mouths, “I love you Jordan.” I blow a kiss and lie back comfortably on the pillows.
They put a mask over my face. “Jordan, give it everything you’ve got, we’ve been training your mind for months now, we have every bit of confidence you’ll wake up whole, once this is over.” I nod, and my world is black.
The hardest part, as a mother, is not being completely sure which one will wake up. Jordan is the sweetest child a mother could ask for. But, I still remember the first night I met Adam. Jordan doesn’t believe he actually has another personality, I suppose the two of them have never met. This all started when Jordan was still quite young, I read to him before bed. An hour after I tucked him in, he was standing over my bed with a pillow in his hand. He said, “Hello, Kendra,” and pressed the pillow over my face trying to suffocate me. Fortunately he was still small and I overpowered him, but I knew something was deeply wrong. He wasn’t just playing, he was a different person. He had never called me by my name before, only mom, never Kendra.
Jordan doesn’t remember any of this. He doesn’t remember screaming in a padded room. All he thinks, is there is an evil side to him. He doesn’t know it’s manifested as a full-blown murderous personality. Adam.
After years of psychological counseling, Jordan would still become Adam. Usually at night. There was never a rhythm, reason or pattern. I’d tuck Jordan to bed, then an hour or so later, I’d trip over the chopped up bloody remains of our cat.
I’m a single parent, and I’ve devoted my life to Jordan. I would do anything, I would give anything to see him right. I never want to meet Adam again. The doctors: Hypnotists and psychologists found a way to bury Adam, force Jordan to forget about him, but I still know he’s there. He comes up whenever Jordan is stressed or angry. Two years ago, when he was in high-school, I asked him to take out the trash. He turned and looked at me with the most evil expression. He said, “Do it yourself, Kendra.” I gasped. He looked…happy. Then he blinked a few times and looked puzzled. I asked him what he just said and he said, “Did I say something, mom?”
This is why I’ve elected the treatment. I can’t love a monster. I can’t stand knowing Adam is still there. Either all Jordan, or no Jordan. I won’t share my son with a psychopathic murderer.
The doctors have many theories about Jordan’s condition. They think each eye color represents a personality. My boy’s beautiful blue eye represents Jordan, while his brown eye is Adam’s. I only ever try to look into his blue eye. I won’t give Adam that satisfaction.
He looks good today. Today’s the day. I know he’ll win. I don’t know how long it will take, but I plan on staying by Jordan’s side throughout the entire coma.
“Kendra, we’re ready.” The taller balding doctor says.
I round the corner just as my baby boy is getting into the bed. I join the semi-circle of doctors standing over him. I take his hand and tell myself I won’t cry. But I do. I tell him I love him. He kisses the air and they bring out his anesthetic mask. I step away as he drifts to sleep.
Two days go by of peaceful sleeping. I’m not worried, but I’m not relieved. Something’s going on in his mind; the machines indicate it. I’ve been fully briefed on what the different beeps and rises in lines mean. My beautiful baby boy sleeps and sleeps. Sometimes I’ll hold him. Slide into bed next to him, but they don’t like it when I do that.
It’s 3:00AM and something is happening! Oh dear Lord please. I scream for the doctors. They rush over. Jordan is thrashing violently. He almost looks like he’s having a seizure.
“WAKE him up!” I scream.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at his EEG levels. If we try to wake him now we’ll kill him, he’ll be a vegetable. We have to let him fight.”
I bite my knuckle. They didn’t tell me this would happen. They said it was safe.
Ten minutes goes by. He stopped thrashing, but his breathing sounds demonic. He’s bitten his lip and I’m applying a paper towel to his bleeding
Two of the three doctors are standing next to me, playing with the machines hooked up to Jordan. They whisper to one another and then turn to me.
“Kendra, we feel it’s safe to wake him with these EEG levels. At this point there is no telling who won, who would wake up.”
I brush my boy’s hair with my hand. “Let me think.”
He’s such a special child. Jordan has a bright future. Adam does not. I’m not sure what just happened with the seizure. I don’t know if it’s safe to assume Jordan won. I have a motherly instinct. I feel as though, it’s safe to wake him. Something in my stomach tells me it’s over. I’m just not positive who will wake up, but I’m fairly certain it’s over. The only thing left to do is to wake him and live with the consequences of my choices. Jordan was just accepted to Notre Dame. I can’t let him rot on this bed forever.
“Do it.” I say.
The doctor nods. The third doctor calls the balding one into an office. I’m left with the younger more handsome doctor. He injects a syringe into Jordan’s I.V. and pushes the liquid into the tubing. I do nothing but watch as the fluid flows through the tubing into my son’s veins.
“It will be anywhere from ten to twenty minutes before he wakes.” He says sitting next to me.
“Doctor Patel? You called me into your office?”
“Yes, Doctor Fisher. How long have you been on Jordan Cormack’s case?”
“Years. I actually wrote my dissertation on him.”
“I think…there may have been a mistake with some of the initial research.”
“It’s nothing important really.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just, we isolated the good and evil personalities with individual eyes right?”
“That’s right, I’d rather not get into the science behind it but…”
“Well, I think you made the wrong analysis.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things that are truly evil, are often the most beautiful.”
“Well, it won’t actually affect the outcome, but I think Adam, the evil personality, may actually correlate with the blue eye, not the brown one.”
“Oh, that’s not really terribly important is it doctor? More semantic details than anything. It shouldn’t affect the procedure at all should it?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to cover all the bases.”
“I understand. For the sake of professionalism, I don’t think we should tell Kendra about this. The last thing we want her to think is we’re incompetent.”
“I couldn’t agree more, doctor.”
He’s waking up! The other two doctors are in their office but that’s okay-I want to be the first thing Jordan sees. He looks exhausted even though he’s been sleeping for two days. He won’t open his eyes. He’s just slowly moving to consciousness.
His lids lift.
The doctors rush over to me.
“What’s wrong!” they say in unison.
“Absolutely nothing!” I say. “Do you see his eyes? The brown one is gone. He’s got two beautiful blue eyes!”
He smiles at me but doesn’t say a thing. He touches his eyeballs and then examines his hands. He sits up and reaches for me.
“I’m here my son.” I grasp his hand. He looks right at me. His eyes are so bright and blue and beautiful.
He smiles and says, “Hello, Kendra.”
Credit To – Ben Inks