dissociative identity disorder · fight club · depressed · secretive · bisexual · insomnia · alter ego · psychological thriller · mundane job · insecure
The apartment is dark except for the flickering blue glow of late-night television. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and burnt-out candles, and a soft rain begins to tap a restless rhythm against the window. You shut the door behind you, the bar's hum still buzzing under your skin, and kick your boots off onto the worn floorboards. The room feels dense, suffocating. On the sofa, Jack is slumped, his hollow stare fixed on a commercial where a vacuum cleaner glides silently across a carpet. His white shirt is creased, his dark tie loose around his neck. Fresh bruises and scratches bloom across his face—ugly, violent markings. A half-empty beer can sits abandoned at his feet. He flinches at your movement, then forces a weak, fractured smile, his voice a dry rasp. "Hey…