Multiple Personality: Chapter Two Part II

The greeting I received at school was not one I expected with the battle scar I was modelling. As soon as people saw me I was either greeted with a look of disgust or nervousness. Perhaps it was simply paranoia, but some of them even looked frightened.
I hadn't spotted Jack as I made my way through the halls, and for that I was glad, as I worried to discover what had happened after the fight or what he may do even then. As yet another group of people shook their heads as I walked past, and even threw a couple of muttered curses my way, I began to worry for what had actually happened the night before.
At one point I spotted Mary through the crowd as she was turning a corner. She caught my eye, and I smiled warmly at her, hoping she’d be able to tell me exactly what I had to done to become the social outcast of the University. She shook her head, tears brimming to her eyes as she hurried on through another set of doors.
As I turned the final corner to reach my lecture class I only hoped I hadn't done anything to land me in prison.
I was met with complete silence and a hundred turned heads as I entered the hall. Attempting to look unperturbed, I made my way for my seat, but was soon blocked by a large male student, who stood up from his seat and folded his arms before me.
“You’re a fucking psychopath, you know that?” he bellowed in a thick Scottish accent, a rage burning in his eyes the likes of which chilled me to the bone.
“You think you can just walk back into here as though nothing happened?” another joined in, who I thought to sound like Martin.
“Look-” I began, but was halted by a sharp shove by the student in front of me, who I vaguely remembered to be Mark.
“Jack didn't come in today,” he continued, shoving me again, harder this time. I felt my back squeal in protest at the movement. “You’re lucky he was too proud to call the police, you psycho son of a bi-”
“That’s enough, Mr Thomas,” cut in Dr Philips, holding up a hand to quiet Mark’s protest. He turned then to me, and quickly said, “I suggest you leave now, Gareth, and make your way to the University’s president,”
I considered protesting, but simply turned and headed up the stairs towards the exit again, my fear and apprehension now boiling over within me. For a meeting with the University’s president to be necessary, something very bad and involving me had definitely taken place.
“And might I add, Gareth,” Dr Philips called as I opened the door. I looked back sullenly, hoping for some sort of sympathy as to my actions, whatever they may have been. “Might I add I am extremely disappointed in the behaviour you are alleged to have displayed last night. I’ll be surprised and somewhat disappointed if I come to see you again,”
I shivered at that, and left the hall feeling as though I’d just made the world’s most ill tasted remark.

After a few moments to dissect the situation in my head, I decided not to meet with Mr Halpham, the University President. Judging by the sincerity with which Dr Philips had belated me I had already assumed the worse, expulsion.
My heart soon raced in my chest, and the torrent of thoughts and fears soaring around my mind made my earlier confusion seem trivial in comparison. My feet seemed to be moving of their own accord, passing numerous milling students in the corridors, who I subconsciously noted greeted me in similar fashions to earlier.
Somehow I made it out into the car park, and in my disorientated state searched for my car amidst the teeming mass squeezed into each available spot. As my stunned mind finally circulated the fact that my car was not present, I again found myself stumbling towards the apartment, feeling more nauseous with each step.
Amidst the all-encompassing thoughts wreaking havoc in my conscious, a single resolution seemed to come to mind on more than one occasion.
I needed to find Jack.
I rounded the corner to my apartment, and decided to take the shortcut round the back, bypassing the sluggish lift for the emergency staircase at the back. As I passed by the small car park I did a double-take. My car was in its usual place.
For a moment I couldn't understand why this was such an issue, however once more I gradually came to the answer. I had driven to Brad’s party the night before, which meant I would have had to have driven back whilst intoxicated.
The fact only disassembled even my most fleeting hopes that the whole situation was some sick joke for a mediocre television show. As I reached the exit door, held aloft by a small cinder block due to its notoriety for wedging in its frame, I paused once more.
All of a sudden I became aware of the fact Alice had the day off from lectures, and would undoubtedly have heard news of my situation; judging by the fact it had already spread throughout everyone I had come across already. A lump formed in my throat at the thought of her reaction to whatever I had done. Despite there being only a year’s difference in our ages, I felt that Alice had assumed the roles of both the older sister and mother I had lost since leaving home.
Taking a deep breath, I decided at least Alice would be able to shed some sort of light, albeit filtered through a network of gossiping no doubt, on what had actually happened the night before. After a tense minute and around fifty nervous paces I stood before the apartment door, and tried the handle.
By some unknown miracle it was locked. As I grabbed my key and opened the door something occurred to me and the moment of gratification was short lived. Alice would still no doubt find out about what had happened. Even if she hadn't been told already, she’d ask around having seen the state I was in that morning. Although for the time being I was safe from her disappointment, it would not be long before I discovered just how terrible an affect my actions had caused.
I made my way into the kitchen and threw a handful of cool water over my face, washing away the perspiration that had gathered in my panic. For a few moments I stared at my reflection, fingers working their way towards the bruise clouding my left eye. Anxious thoughts began to rise once more as the cloud of disbelief began to fade within my mind.
I threw my hands away and headed into the kitchen, wondering how a single night could have disrupted my life so. I flicked on the kettle, but turned it off as it began to spout steam, suddenly not in the mood anymore.
A notion came to mind, and in my desperate state I almost followed through with it. I grasped my phone in my hand and preparing to ring Alice. As my thumb hovered over the dial button, however, I froze, and after a moment allowed fear to win me over. I chucked the phone onto the table and ran my hand through my hair.
Having paced the room a dozen times and attempted to sit down in a multitude of places, I finally decided to confront my fear and head out.
Thankfully the car wasn't damaged, and I was even surprised to note it now had a full tank.
Ignoring the strange occurrence and its implications I hit the ignition and started off.

The thought never occurred to me as to Jacks whereabouts, although I decided to humour my hopeful side and check his apartment. Thankfully his room-mate was back at his home in Rochester for the week, and so after knocking tentatively I discovered the building absent.
Notably calm, I simply made my way back out to the car and immediately set off again. There was only one other place he could now be, and with a cool head I made my way into the city center.
I pulled up in the hospital car park, staring up at the concrete building standing before me like some ominous presence. Pulling on my jacket, I headed into the reception and wasted no time asking for the ward my friend was in. I knew it would be impossible to figure out what to do lest I knew what had actually happened.
Another stroke of luck found me, as Jack’s room was void of anyone other than his fellow patients.
My eyes wondered over the dozen or so figures lying or sitting upright in bed, dozing lazily under their various medications. A small television was attached to one corner of the ceiling, quietly relaying the global news.
A feeling of nausea overcame me as my eyes rested on Jack’s bed. I took a couple of paces in, however lost my nerve and stood beside one of the sleeping patient’s beds instead, looking over another two at Jack. His forehead was bandaged, the light red dusting of dried blood having seeped through the freshly bound cotton. His eyes and lower face weren't bandaged, although a cut on his left cheek had been treated with a small strip.
Denial overcame me as I noted his various wounds, the two black eyes, cut lip, angled nose. A machine hummed by his side, a frighteningly large device displaying his heart rate on a green monitor. His body was covered with a typical blue hospital gown, presumably due to the blood that had so similarly covered my own clothes.
The sight was all I needed to realise what had happened, although deep down I had known since the morning. Without a sound I made my way back to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat.
Tears began to well in my eyes as it dawned on me I could well have just ruined an entire two years of education, money and friendships in a single night. The emotion was alien to me, having spent the last decade or so of my life with little incident following my father’s death. For this reason the tears flowed hard and fast, fear mixing with guilt mixing with self-loathing.
My recollection of the moment again seemed to waver as had the drive down, and as I checked my phone a good couple of hours had passed. However, as my tears fully dried and left a raw crimson in my eyes, a single underlying thought assaulted my conscience.
How had I done it?