Hey, I got this idea and couldn't help but write it, please forgive me for not quite finishing my other fics yet . . . but anyways, I've done some research on Dissociate Identity Disorder (the fancy name for what most of us call "split personality") and I'm going to try to make this as accurate as I can. I find this stuff to be really interesting . . . does that make me a horrible person?

Disclaimer: No own jutsu!

-s-p-l-i-t-

C-h-a-p-t-e-r O-n-e

Blue bore into green, the white behind their blue outlines empty and hollow connecting an understanding of sadness through the two dimensional prison through to the barren green eyes into which they stared. A pale hand ran over the white paper, tracing the blue lines of the portrait he had no memory of creating. His fingers traced her blue pencil lips, no smile played at the corners. Running over the paper, the pale fingers made it to her eyes. The eyes said so much more than mouth, the sadness unbearable, yet the stubbornness held behind the blue walls never allowed a single tear to fall. Green orbs followed the line of her face, the blue hair in pigtails, trying to emit a spark of joy contrasting the constricted tears.

He had drawn Temari again.

He pushed the chair out from under him as he stood up, stretching, towering over the small wooden desk below him. Working out the kinks from his legs, he realized that he must have been sitting for a long time, but he didn't remember when he started, not that he expected to. The slight glow that illuminated from behind the dark curtains was not bright enough to be from the sun, it must have come from a streetlight. He stood up and turned around to face his bed on the other side of the room. Around the unwrinkled sheets and folded covers, he saw the green flash of his alarm clock: 3:30 AM.

A low rumble escaped his stomach, when was the last time he had eaten? He couldn't remember. Looking down at his shirtless figure, he winced as he could see multiple ribs poking out from behind his pale skin, but more enticing than that a large yellow bruise was forming on his side. He didn't want to know where that had come from.

Limping his way over to his dresser, he dug through the wrinkled clothing that hung from open drawers and after a few seconds of searching, he found a simple black one with long sleeves. Raising it over his head, watching for any bruises or cuts that had formed on his arms and chest, he slipped the shirt over his head. Looking in the mirror, he held back a chuckle as he realized that the shirt was big enough to swallow him whole. He turned from his reflection, but not before he noticed something that drew him back. Raising a hand to his forehead, he brushed the crimson hair off of his pale forehead to reveal some sort of tattoo. He traced the bright red kanji that he had never seen before.

Love.

How he knew that, he had no idea. It was as though he had been told. His hand fell from the tattoo he never remembered getting and to the dark circles under his eyes. Playing with the dark area, running his finger across the lines under his eyes, he noted that he needed to get more sleep, yet sleep wouldn't come for him. He used to lay in bed for hours, dreading the nightmares that would come, engulf him, and make him who he was not.

Sighing and dropping his hand to his side, he turned from his reflection and towards the door. He turned the handle, dread filling him as he realized that he would be leaving his only sanctuary. He shook the feeling off and winced as a creak came from the door hinges. Shutting the door behind him, he stepped with care and silence of a cat as to not disturb his roommate who was snoring on the couch with the silent television screen illuminating his sleeping form.

Grabbing the remote, he turned off the T.V. realizing that Animal Planet had a special on dogs. No wonder the dog lover had stayed up. He walked over to the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Seeing the bare shelves, he closed the door and looked up at the cereal cabinet. There was one box of lucky charms. He hated that cereal. Noticing how low they were on any type of food at all, he grabbed twenty dollars from the cookie jar where they kept grocery money and slipped on his shoes.

Once again, he felt the discomfort of leaving a place safe, but shrugged it off as he exited the small apartment. He trudged down the hall and to the elevator, the small space encompassing him, creating a sense of comfort. As a bell rang to let him out, a shiver ran down his spine as he set foot into the darkness.

A sigh escaped his mouth and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The store was about a mile down and no one was in sight. The light from the streetlamps illuminated the road and surrounding sidewalks. He stared at the cracked concrete as his feet moved without his knowing, seemingly studying every plant that grew up through the small crevasses, yet his eyes were looking somewhere else. Somewhere far from this world, a place he wished to be.

If only.

He hadn't heard other people, footsteps or voices. He had been too caught up his fantasized reality. Someone pushed on his shoulders and his hands leapt to his face without his realization. He raised his eyes as he heard laughter. Taken aback, he noticed that five people now surrounded him. From the smiles on their lips and the knives in their hands, he knew nothing good would come from this. He only picked up a few of their words, threats for money and bodily harm. But that wasn't important, he was being threatened, he couldn't control himself while threats were lashed out at him.

As they closed the circle around him, he raised his hands to his head, fingers intertwining with his crimson hair. He looked up at them with pleading eyes, begging them to leave him alone, to just let him continue on his way.

"Please, go! Leave me alone! I don't want to hurt you!" His voice was raspy and cracked as he talked from not being used for what could have been days.

The laughing from the crowd echoed in his ears and as they came closer, he begged again. A force collided with his jaw, sending him flying backwards as blackness rimmed his vision.

Like a bullet at midnight, it swept through him: unforeseen, clear, excruciating. The laughing echoing in his ears was now his own.

-s-p-l-i-t –

The sun had risen in the early morning sky. He blinked in confusion as he stared at brown wood. It took a minute for him to gather his bearings and realize that he was staring at the front door of his apartment. His eyes widened as he tried to remember what happened. All he remembered before he blacked out was that he had been about to be mugged by a group of guys. He said a silent prayer for them to be alright, but there was no way of him knowing.

He turned the doorknob and let himself into the unlocked apartment. He was welcomed with the startled look of his room mate, Kiba, who was sitting at the small table eating Lucky Charms and watching Animal Planet.

"Holy shit, dude! What happened to you?" He stood up, forgetting his bowl of cereal. He ran up to the cabinet where they kept the first aid kit and pulled it down. Opening it up, he pulled out the peroxide and band-aids.

The redhead didn't answer, instead he took the time to look at what had shocked Kiba so much. He looked down to see blood covering his shirt and pants. His clothes were torn and his knuckles dripping blood. He remembered the punch and didn't want to think about how his face would look.

"Damn it, Gaara, and you have that interview today." Kiba took a wet rag and started to wipe off his face. The boy flinched, but didn't attempt to move away. "You need that job, I can't pay rent by myself."

He pulled off his shirt, revealing cuts and bruises scattering his this figure, he grabbed a rag and some peroxide to help clean the wounds he never remembered receiving.

"Anything really bad, Gaara?"

He didn't answer, just stared at the wounds he was cleaning.

"Gaara? Gaara? Gaara!" Kiba shook him out of his reverie.

The boy's green eyes bore into the dog lover's. Gaara? Who was Gaara? The boy with missing time.

s-p-l-i-t

well, that's it for chapter one . . . I wanted to make it longer, but I thought this was a great time to stop. I hope to have the second chapter longer and out soon. So until then . . .

www. Insidious Reflections .com