A/N just a little thing I wrote at 1 am. I was inspired by an article I'd
read on bipolar (manic-depressive) disorder, and thought that a lot of the
symptoms apply to Riff. Just a little idea that I thought I'd toy around
with, enjoy!
He was being tormented again. You could tell. And it wasn't the typical tormenting either. He could take the beatings from Frank. But it was this that he couldn't take. He was being tormented from the inside. It seemed like everything in the castle was mocking him. There were days were he'd barely drudge through the castle. Others were he seemed paranoid, and distrusting everyone, even me.
I could usual put up with that, it only lasted a few days, but there was something more underlying, more unpredictable. His temper. His patience was as thin as Frank's fishnets. But there were days when he was fine, happy even. But then there were days were it seemed like he'd snapped.
It could even change by the minute. You could never tell what he was feeling, or weither it was a good day for him or not. For this reason Frank always tried to stay on his good side. Which was hard with a person with as many sides as my brother.
At first glance, he seems almost creepy looking, with his long mane of blonde hair, and pale skin. But when you look at him longer, you see a man engulfed in pain and sadness. Or if you see him on one of his better days, a man just plain tormented, wanting out of what he was in. Then, you had his angry side. The side most people saw too often. He'd never really been angry growing up, slightly aggressive, but never angry. The way he was now, was so completely different. He seemed to get mad at the slightest thing. The molding around the floor of their bedroom showed the most signs of his anger.
I was lucky that he rarely took his anger out on me phsycally. He was strong, there was no doubt about that, and he'd be able to easily beat me. Hell, he could probably even kill me if he wanted to. But he wouldn't. He loved me. That was the side hardly anyone saw. The side that I think I am the only one that can see it. His tender, loving side. He was so gentle around me, so peaceful, so calm. It was almost as if all the anger that he was feeling could dissipate when he looked at me, touched me.
He could be so generous, so caring. He could remember things most people forgot. He could remember your favorite food and bring it to you if he sensed that you weren't well. If he wanted to of course. I was about the only person whom he wanted to do anything for. But yet, he never forgot anyone else in the castle's birthday either.
That was yet another side of him. He had a mind like a steel trap. You could tell him something, and he'd remember it. He had done well in school for this reason. And he had a voracious appitite for books. I think part of it was the fact that he could lose himself inside of a book. Get away from his harsh life.
But yet, even though he had all these different features, you could really only see two. His sad, angry side, and his more happy side. And there was always that fine line he walked between the two. You never knew what kind of a mood he'd be in next, weather he'd be on top of the world, or threatening suicide. The mood swings were what scared Frank. It was his possible suicide that scared me.
He was being tormented again. You could tell. And it wasn't the typical tormenting either. He could take the beatings from Frank. But it was this that he couldn't take. He was being tormented from the inside. It seemed like everything in the castle was mocking him. There were days were he'd barely drudge through the castle. Others were he seemed paranoid, and distrusting everyone, even me.
I could usual put up with that, it only lasted a few days, but there was something more underlying, more unpredictable. His temper. His patience was as thin as Frank's fishnets. But there were days when he was fine, happy even. But then there were days were it seemed like he'd snapped.
It could even change by the minute. You could never tell what he was feeling, or weither it was a good day for him or not. For this reason Frank always tried to stay on his good side. Which was hard with a person with as many sides as my brother.
At first glance, he seems almost creepy looking, with his long mane of blonde hair, and pale skin. But when you look at him longer, you see a man engulfed in pain and sadness. Or if you see him on one of his better days, a man just plain tormented, wanting out of what he was in. Then, you had his angry side. The side most people saw too often. He'd never really been angry growing up, slightly aggressive, but never angry. The way he was now, was so completely different. He seemed to get mad at the slightest thing. The molding around the floor of their bedroom showed the most signs of his anger.
I was lucky that he rarely took his anger out on me phsycally. He was strong, there was no doubt about that, and he'd be able to easily beat me. Hell, he could probably even kill me if he wanted to. But he wouldn't. He loved me. That was the side hardly anyone saw. The side that I think I am the only one that can see it. His tender, loving side. He was so gentle around me, so peaceful, so calm. It was almost as if all the anger that he was feeling could dissipate when he looked at me, touched me.
He could be so generous, so caring. He could remember things most people forgot. He could remember your favorite food and bring it to you if he sensed that you weren't well. If he wanted to of course. I was about the only person whom he wanted to do anything for. But yet, he never forgot anyone else in the castle's birthday either.
That was yet another side of him. He had a mind like a steel trap. You could tell him something, and he'd remember it. He had done well in school for this reason. And he had a voracious appitite for books. I think part of it was the fact that he could lose himself inside of a book. Get away from his harsh life.
But yet, even though he had all these different features, you could really only see two. His sad, angry side, and his more happy side. And there was always that fine line he walked between the two. You never knew what kind of a mood he'd be in next, weather he'd be on top of the world, or threatening suicide. The mood swings were what scared Frank. It was his possible suicide that scared me.