Two-Faced

                                    

                                          
There are some things in life you can never understand. One day someone can be a saint and forgive everyone... the day after a person would become a monster that everyone feared.
                          
Looking up from my battered and bloody body,  I got up from the floorboards and stood woozily. Spinning with the loss of blood and the many bruises left all over my body, I stared at the bed that stood before me... one that housed the one I feared the most... and one I loved the most.
                          
Walking towards one of the legs that held the bed, I carefully pulled myself up the woollen ropes that had been tied since the day we fell together. Grunting as I finally pulled myself up unto the soft and fluffy mattress, I rested a bit to catch my breath. What was it that made me fall for him? I zoned out and before long; found myself walking down memory lane.
                          
The first time I saw Marq, he was just like any other giant; all brute-sized and always grunting all the time. Just like the human beans that I've ever seen before, he ate, he worked and he lazed around at night... but that image of him quickly shattered when that day came.
                          
Just as I had finished borrowing for the day, he barged in crying and bruised. He never ate dinner that day and I, being the ignorant person I was, ignored him so. The next day, I woke up to a loud WHAT!? Jumping out of my makeshift bed, I got dangerously close to the crack in the wall to peek at the commotion... and then he did the weirdest things.
                          
He was shouting and screaming... at himself. He called himself a wimp and a loser who couldn't even fight to save his life. And then he did the unthinkable; he punched himself square in the face. I was horrified! I mean, who would even do such a thing to themselves?! I silently watched the supposed madman that I had being living under for years... what was he doing? Why did he do this?
                          
Before I could think up of a possible answer to that question, he moved about and grabbed... a pen and piece of paper. Scribbling something furiously, he finally clicked the pen after finishing and through it at the wall; breaking it in the process. Then in a storm of rage, slammed the exit door right after he left.
                          
Thoroughly curious and thirsting for an answer, I left the crack and walked up the noted that been left after his presence. It was, of course, a letter... to his other self. It took a few days to realise it... but he had something that humans called... what was it... ah; he had a split personality disorder.
                          
He, being one of the luckier ones of any known cases, only had two personas inside his mind. They were both named and called Marq, but it was obviously not that simple. A side of him was always itching for a fight; immature and irresponsible, he had even joined several illegal gambling back alleys. But... the other side of him was a softy, a person who loved to read and work with infinite patience; being the only persona that could help the other persona, he had to work twice as hard to supply his and his other selfs' needs.
                          
Marq... he had a terrible life, constantly running away from thugs he didn't steal from and misunderstood by friends he didn't make; that would soon stop seeing or talking to him. Both sides of them had struggled against each other, one was a outcast of society and another was a kind soul that genuinely wants to connect with his other half... if he would ever let himself do so.
                          
Taking a huge risk, I went out to confront him one day on his kinder persona because it was, strangely enough, like clockwork. His meaner side would be out for a day, and the other would be present the day after before it all cycled back to the meaner persona. And of course, his reaction to me was completely expected: the usual "Am I dreaming right now?" and the "What are you?".
                          
Still... something about him made me love him the way I did. Maybe it was out pity, or out of the loneliness and struggles he had. He was all alone against this losing battle, and I knew... that one day; he would succumb to it. Giving him someone that finally understood him, he cried. Being his emotional support borrower everyday, anyone would start to feel attached.