Multiple Personality: Chapter Two Part I

I awoke to an assortment of pains. My face felt as though I had tried to kiss a moving car and my back roared in equal torment for attention. Carefully raising my arms to my head I explored the damage, momentarily oblivious to what had occurred to cause it in my waking state.
As a fresh wave of pain erupted at a touch of my left eye, recollection of the night before flooded through me. My first thought was of hatred towards Jack; however it was soon followed by fear for what Mary had made of the event. I dreaded the thought that she would simply take me to be a mindless, violent male looking for a fight every time a few drops of alcohol met my lips.
Immediately resolving to find her in person as soon as possible and apologising, I threw a fist down on the bed in anger. It was only at this point that I realised I was back at my own apartment, in my bedroom. Carefully pulling myself up to lean my back against the headboard, I looked down and realised I was still in last night’s clothing.
The only difference, however, with it from when I had left the night before, was that it was now covered in blood. Panic immediately overcame me as I tore open the shirt, fearing an open wound or major damage from my drunken expedition the night before. I felt myself wondering if Jack could reach this level of insanity when drunk, or if it could have been a late night mugging on my way home. I even began to imagine the pain, but thankfully all this ended abruptly as I noted a clean, unharmed torso before me.
This didn’t, however, explain the blood, and after the brief calm my mind immediately began to whir with instant explanations. I felt my nose for any dried blood, but again found myself unharmed, leaving my own body out of the explanation. Could someone have bled onto me? Perhaps I had made contact with Jack’s nose. Despite the satisfaction this thought gave me, I again ruled it out due to the clarity of the memory.
One thought that I barely considered pondering despite being a fairly logical explanation was that I had been in an ensuing fight in my drunken state. I had even begun to wonder if Jack had carried on his assault to strike Mary before this thought struck.
As it did however, as though in answer, I felt a tingling sensation from my hands.
Fearing what the cause for this may be, I nervously raised my hand before me, and gasped with the sight that met my eyes.
The skin about each knuckle was torn and bloodied, and already a light purple bruising was beginning to swell about the open wounds. It took a moment to make the required links between my beaten fists and the crimson stain on my shirt-front to realise it was I who had caused it.
Had I been fighting? I wondered, stunned by the revelation.
I had always been naturally passive, and due to a lack of sporting and exercise I feared I could do little in conflict anyway. The fact that I had indeed been fighting, and from the lack of bruising visible on my body apparently winning, was too much to comprehend at once.
Hauling myself out of bed I headed over to the door, gritting my teeth against the pain erupting from both my back and wounds. After only a few steps I was met with a scream, and jumped back in fear, holding a hand up weakly in defense.
“Gareth?” Alice shrieked, looking from the blood on my shirt to my face and displaying a look of sheer horror. “What happened!” she cried, fixed in place by the sudden shock of seeing me. Worry ebbed in my stomach as I hurried over to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.
The sight that met me both appalled and frightened me. My left eye was swollen into an angry blotch of a deep black and blue hue. For the first time I realised I couldn't see out of it past the swelling, and I felt a lump form in my throat as I got a full look at the rest of my body.
My bottom lip was split slightly to the right, and the rest of my face and hair was specked with dots of blood. The bloodied clothing hanging now down by each side of me was like something out of a horror film, and all in all the reflection in the mirror was like some nightmarish clone of myself.
Alice soon flew into the room, turning me to face her as she fought back tears of fear.
“Gareth! Gareth do you understand me?” I nodded clumsily, her fear bring about a fresh bout of panic from myself. “Oh god, what happened to you?” she cried, grabbing a fistful of tissues and seating me on top of the toilet bowl.
“I’m, I’m not sure,” I stammered, voice cracking slightly. Her brow furrowed further as she set about wetting the tissue and dabbing at my face. I winced with each touch of the cool material, each movement causing Alice to cringe back.
“I’m sorry but we've got to sort this out,” she said, starting to roll another clump of tissue round her hand. I stopped her before she wet them, and she leaned in close, awaiting any request.
For a moment I felt my passion and appreciation for her to brim to an all high, however I pushed the feeling aside and simply motioned for her to stand up.
“I- I think I need a shower,” I said slowly, then smiled weakly up at her, “but a coffee would really hit the spot right now. I’m still hung-over you know,” I attempted a laugh, but Alice just looked down at me gravely.
“Ok,” she said, “but if you’re in their too long I’m busting down the door. I’m not letting you fall over in there and dying a slow death” she chided, then helped me up and left quietly, doing her best to hide her panic.
The shower worked wonders, and after a good fifteen minutes I’d washed away all of the blood and refreshed myself somewhat. The pain in my face had begun to ebb, but this was soon replaced by an even greater aching in my back.
I quickly dried myself off and donned a towel, taking heed of Alice’s warning and opening the door before her panic got the better of her and she called up Darren to beat it down.
As I left the room amidst a cloud of steam I searched the floor for my clothing, and saw Alice propping a black bin bag up by the door.
“That was a new shirt,” I said, and Alice turned towards me with a raised eyebrow. After a moment we both laughed, and as the tension left the air I was greatly the better for it.
Sitting down at the table, I took a sip of the coffee Alice had made for me, and sighed as the warm liquid caressed my throat. In the commotion of the pain I hadn’t realised how thirsty I was from the overconsumption of alcohol last night, and had soon finished the mug as Alice served up a few strips of bacon and toast.
“Thanks,” I mumbled between bites, closing my eyes and concentrating on the indulgence.
When I had finished Alice pushed my plate aside and leaned in close. She’d obviously not felt the release in tension to the extent I had, and had been doing her best to wait patiently whilst I recuperated.
“So what happened?” she asked. I looked away, ashamed by what had happened the night before, despite the fact it was Jack who started the whole scene. I filled her in as best I could, speaking levelly and seriously, telling her everything I knew up to the point Jack had hit me and I fell unconscious.
I decided not to tell her of my fears that I myself had been fighting, and tucked my hands down by my sides as I spoke so she wouldn't notice the bruising.
As she listened, Alice soon fell into an older sister protective front, and shook her head in anger at what had happened.
“I knew that Jack was a bastard the second I met him,” she growled, and I couldn't help but feel a tingle of emotion at her understanding, “It’s a wonder to me why you ever stayed friends with him in the first place,” she accompanied the word ‘friends’ with clear disgust, and I felt ashamed at the fact.
“I hope he’ll get what’s coming to him soon,” she said levelly, “if he doesn't Darren and his friends will make sure he does,”
I grimaced in response, and then shuffled over to my bedroom to get ready for my afternoon lecture.