Divided Self

Chapter 2

Alfred sat on his recliner and breathed a heavy sigh. The meeting was somehow exhausting for him. His thigh still pained him but he still managed to get up. Alfred tried to change into something more comfortable. The only problem was the reflection on the wardrobe.

A red ring swallowed his neck and Alfred tried looking closer. He had no understanding of how that could happen but it frightened him. It looked like a rope had been tied.. in a way as if he were hanging. Alfred then started to freak out. He would never do this to himself and he would surely remember.

But then he really got scared. Did everyone see that? Alfred observed his neck collar hoping it covered. It seemed it would, being buttoned, but he did not remember if it was. As he was lost in thought, a small knock came from his door.

He quickly put on the shirt but made sure to button it all the way, then checked at his reflection. When everything was good, he ran to the door to open it. Arthur along with Francis stood there. Francis seemed happy to see him, but Arthur eyed him worryingly.

"Hey Alfred! I mean I hope you don't mind, but how about a little party for coming back?" I even got Arthur to come!" Francis sheepishly smiled.

Alfred looked a little worried from the items in Francis' hands. A couple of wine bottles made their way to the door too. Alfred started to have flashbacks of Arthur and alcohol.

"You better not give any to Arthur! I don't want to deal with it again." Alfred opened the door wider and led them in with a big smile.

"Like hell I would do that again!" Arthur turned a bright red as he made his way to the sofa.

"Who cares! Let's drink!" Francis took a swig from the bottle.

.

By the time everyone was drunk, the moon was glowing. You could say Alfred was certainly the least drunk as Arthur was mumbling on the sofa and Francis was passed out on the floor.

"Do you want me to make a bed for you?" Alfred stood up judging Arthur.

"Like fukin SHIT I woud." Arthur face planted back into the sofa.

Alfred stared at him with uncertainty but left to the kitchen. Maybe water could help, if they're even awake that is.

Alfred opened the cupboard to grab a clean cup, but also made a quick glance at the knives sitting on the surface. It never really bothered him but it made him feel a little uneasy this time. His stomach churned and his heart started to speed up, but he didn't really remember anything after that.

.

The sunlight rays made Alfred open his eyes. Maybe it was around 8 a.m.? He also noticed how hard and cold the tile was; why is he on the tile?

Alfred sat up and observed the scene half asleep until he saw red cover his vision. His senses also woke up. Both of his arms stung painfully, and he could see crimson splashes all over the floor.

Alfred's heart sped as he got up in a flash. Blood was everywhere in the kitchen, and the smell was awful. Knives were bloodied on the floor too. His first thought was a murderer, and he got worried for Arthur and Francis. Only his arm stung more than he could take. He observed his arm, then the next, and screamed.

He quickly covered his mouth and ran to the nearest bathroom in a rush. He held out his arms over the sink and breathed excessively. Tears flowed as he ripped off his shirt and tried to clean his arms.

Deep crimson cuts were marked on both arms from top to bottom. There were so many that normal skin wasn't even visible anymore. Blood followed the cuts and wouldn't stop. There was enough for Alfred to feel faint. Hyperventilating didn't help either.

He didn't have enough time to even think about how this could happen, but knew no one could see the mess. Alfred tore his shirt and wrapped them around both arms and ran to peak into the living room. Arthur and Francis were still asleep; thank god for the alcohol.

He ran to the kitchen to clean up, trying to ignore the pain, but his body couldn't. Tears were flowing endlessly as he tried to clean up all the blood with no trace, but more blood would seep through his tied shirt.

Alfred cleaned the knives in a hurry, but this time they didn't bother him. He had no time to question it anyways.

When he managed to clean the floor, he ran back to the bathroom covered in sweat to find any bandages. Once he did, he wrapped the entire roll around his arms hoping no more blood would spill out. Alfred stared at himself in the mirror with horror. What the fuck is happening?