The following day, Alette started to paint. She enjoyed being in the garden with her canvas and brushes.
When she painted, she was able to forget everything else. Some of the patients would gather around her and watch.
They talked in multicolored voices. “Your paintings should be in a gallery.” Black.
“You’re really good.” Yellow. “Where did you learn to do that?” Black.
“Can you paint a picture of me sometime?” Orange. “I wish I knew how to do that.” Black.
She was always sorry when her time was up and she had to go back into the big building.
“I want you to meet someone, Ashley. This is Lisa Garrett.” She was a woman in her fifties, small and wraithlike.
“Lisa is going home today.” The woman beamed. “Isn’t that wonderful? And I owe it all to Dr. Keller.”
Gilbert Keller looked at Ashley and said, “Lisa suffered from MPD and had thirty alters.” “That’s right, dear. And they’re all gone.”
Dr. Keller said pointedly, “She’s the third MPD patient leaving us this year.” And Ashley felt a surge of hope.
Alette said, “Dr. Keller is sympathetic. He really seems to like us.”
“You’re bloody stupid,” Toni scoffed. “Don’t you see what’s happening? I told you once.”
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