He didn't think the phrase 'splitting headache' was quite as literal as it turned out to be. The sensation rocketing throughout his whole being was not too dissimilar to being repeatedly ice-skated across. That analogy resulted in another wince, which reopened the gates for another onslaught of agony. The ice-skates very quickly turned into studded tyres. He writhed and screamed, relentlessly tossing on the rapidly dampening crimson carpet. Shrieks ricoheted off every surface, replaying his resounding pain like a broken record. A blinding light must have appeared in the room because the faded spots previously frolicking in front of his closed eyelids, transformed into a gentle yet foreboding red. A light scarlet of uncovered muscle and dying suns. A brilliant, all-consuming vermillion. King Creativity would have taken some time to appreciate this colour if he didn't feel like he was being hacked in two by a blunt axe. He knew no one would come to his rescue in time. Suddenly the ocean of agony evaporated to a mere cup, and left him feeling so... so incomplete.

Roman shot up in his bed, breathing heavily, his bed drenched with panicked sweat. He shook his head and gave his surroundings a bittersweet smirk. It was only a nightmare... Roman frowned, correcting his mistake. This time it was only a nightmare, well, less nightmare, more memory. It wasn't happening anymore, though the lasting side-effects of 'The Segregation' were quite detrimental to his health if left unmentioned*, he was determined to keep them from the other sides. There was no need for them to worry, to know his secret, to think less of him, or dragon-witch forbid, think he couldn't take care of himself. He was supposed to be the hero, not the damsel in distress, not the Edward Hyde of this tale.

*LIKE I SAID, NOT AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF D.I.D. . BESIDES, THINGS ARE MORE JEKYLL AND HYDE THAN ACTUAL ILLNESS. DO NOT THINK IT IS BAD TO HAVE D.I.D. OR HEALTHY TO KEEP SECRET. ROMAN LIVES IN THE MINDSCAPE AND THEREFORE CAN HAVE A 'SPECIAL CASE' OF D.I.D., AS I'M PUTTING IT. REAL D.I.D. IS NOTHING LIKE WHAT I HAVE IN THE STORY AND DO NOT THINK THIS IS WHAT D.I.D. IS LIKE. THE PROBLEM IN THIS STORY WILL BE CALLED Multiple Personality Disorder. Understood? I'm really paranoid I'm going to offend someone.

The artwork does not belong to me.