A Picture of Confusion

String cheese. It was Soren’s favorite food and he currently sat on the roof outside of his window again, eating his string cheese, with an ever-present cigarette in his other hand, inhaling the toxins between bites of his kids’ food. He let out a heavy sigh. It was three a.m and he couldn’t sleep. Again. He always had the same dream, every single night. It had been happening for the past five months, ever since Soren had taken up his unspoken vow of self-isolation. It wasn’t so much that he actually wanted to be alone all the time, but he found that people were too much work, and his nature wasn’t easily understood by others, so he backed away and just got angry when anyone got too close.
Like that damn boy at the coffee shop. How old was the kid? Like twelve? And he seriously acted like he knew what Soren wanted. It was so stupid. But then Soren had to be weak, and turn around back to the shop. The cold had been too much for Soren.
He quickly decided that wouldn’t happen again. His weakness had made that boy feel stronger… like he had more power over Soren. It was unacceptable. He would become stronger.

Stepping his bare feet back into his room, he ventured in to the bathroom, hoping to avoid the creaking boards of the floor, not wanting to wake his mother and cause problems. He successfully made it to the small, white tiled bathroom and closed the door behind him. He plugged the drain in the tub, and began to fill it with frigid water and stripped down.
Once the tub was almost full, he turned off the tap, and set a foot in to the water, a hiss rolling out in response to the numbing feeling of the water. It was something that he quite often had to do when he had still played rugby. The intense sport had left welts, muscle swells and bruises across his flesh, the icy water was all that could quell the physical pain of the sport’s brutality. But today he decided to begin a new way of using the water. It was going to make him stronger so people like… what was his name? Harry? Henry? Harvey, that was it. So people like Harvey wouldn’t get control over him.
Soren sat in the bathtub for about two hours, until he heard his mother’s alarm clock go off. He quickly pulled his numb body out of the water and drained the tub as he toweled his pink skin off to step back into his sleeping pants and t-shirt. He snuck back into his room, completely unnoticed and went back on the frosty roof to smoke a cigarette.
He was proud of himself. He always felt that way after he showed self discipline. He hardly ever gave in to food temptations, which caused his weight to be painfully low. He never gave in to anything emotional. The last time he cried must have been when he was seven and scraped his knee. Soren knew he was strong willed and he was going to keep it that way, although anyone else would say his strong will was actually stubbornness and would be the death of him.

He lit a match on the shingles, bringing the flame to kiss the tip of his cancer stick. He should feel guilty for smoking, his mother had developed lung cancer from his father’s smoking, but nothing would push Soren from his habits. The cigarette reached his chapped lips and he inhaled deeply. The icy air bit his bare forearms, but he resisted the temptation to become warm. If he gave in, his morning bath would have been a waste. He then decided it was vital to make the ice bath a part of his daily routine. Already his daily routine took up so much of his day that he had hardly enough time to do anything else. It was arbitrary routines as well. He had to dust his computer every morning and every night, even though he hadn’t turned it on in ages. It wasn’t like he ever did his homework there anyways, he hardly went to school as it was. Soren persuaded himself that there were too many people, and that he needed isolation to perfect himself, which in fact is what almost all of his “habits” were dedicated to. He read up on his Shakespeare, Socrates, Marx, Machiavelli, Dickens, and especially on John Cramer. Not many people knew of John Cramer, but in Soren’s mind, he was a brilliant beacon on the horizon of quantum and mechanical physics, with amazing insight on quantum communication. He was delightfully open minded for a man of his age in Soren’s eyes, and he spent hours everyday studying Cramer’s works, formulas and theories. He’d also read all of his books, Einstein’s Bridge was a book that he routinely read every month, each day he had to read a certain amount of pages. His plan was to have it memorized. Yet somehow he failed his high school Introductory Science class… twice.

Soren quickly tossed the cigarette down from the roof and into the snow below. With a sigh he came back into his room, never closing the window. He decided it was time for his coffee, something to get his mind into gear, he felt he should study math that day. It was strange, for a seventeen year old who hardly went to school school, but he probably studied and knew more than most people with four-year college degrees.

Stripping again, he then walked across his faded carpet to his small dresser that he’d had since he was six. It was still painted a sky blue, with red cabooses as the knobs on the drawers. His dad had worked so hard to build that dresser. Soren bit his lip at the memory, standing in front of the object, naked and skinnier than a skeleton. He suddenly heard a gasp and turned his head quickly to see his mother standing in shock in his door way.

After the longest pause, all she could manage was “You’re so thin…” she said shakily, he voice almost in audible as she stared at the ribs, the skin between the bones was so sallow that it looked more like someone had painted dark lines across his body. Her voice was wavering, and her trembling, frail body looked so hopeless, especially with her fake-red dyed hair that would soon start falling out from the chemotherapy that she started a few weeks ago.

“Get out of my room.” He declared. His voice wasn’t loud, but it left no room for discussion, his eyes killing her with distaste and hate. She turned her tearful, sunken in eyes away, and then moved away from his doorway, going to the bathroom with careful steps. He had no sympathy for her. Not after the life she gave him.

He pulled on a pair of plain, blue plaid boxers, a pair of white socks, over-worn jeans and then walked to his dresser to pull on a black wife-beater. He stuck a cigarette behind his ear, half hidden behind his blonde hair, before he went downstairs to pull on the same pair of ratty brown shoes as the day before.

He pushed open the door to the frigid air outside and welcomed it. He felt his pride welling up in his chest again from that morning’s discipline. His skin became comfortably adapted to the air by the time he reached the coffee shop. Pushing open the rickety door with the stupid bell, he saw pudgy Harvey look up from the counter. Without a second guess, Soren turned around and walked right back out the door. There was no way he was going to be around him. Harvey got to close the day before; he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Soren went back outside, cursing the boy. He made his way to the park a few blocks away, sitting on a swing that was covered in snow. He didn’t care much; he’d proven to himself that he could be stronger than the cold. He sat for awhile, contemplating what he should do for the rest of his day, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and placing between his lips. As he fished through his pockets, he realized he hadn’t brought his book of matches. With a heavy sigh, he pulled himself up from the swing, his muscles and swollen joints beginning to ache from the cold.

He slowly meandered his way to his high school, which he should have graduated from a year ago. His friend Michael would have a lighter, and by this point, school was closer than home, and much more favorable. He’d rather endure the judgmental stares and whispered stories of how he actually used to be normal than to go home and breathe the same air as his mother.

-

Soren reached the main doors to the large brick building, pulling one open and stepping into the wide linoleum hallways lined with blue lockers and a few separate hallways and classrooms to the sides. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the bell began ringing as he was a few steps into the school and his stomach immediately lurched. He didn’t want to face anyone. He had changed so much and he knew his peers wouldn’t understand that he was a better person now. The last thing Soren wanted to hear was them saying he was fucked up. He knew he was better than them. He was smarter, stronger, thinner. That was all he needed.

He hurried through the quickly forming mass of students in the hallway, just trying to get to the other end of the way, where he remembered there being a water bubbler and a bench where his old group of friends used to sit. He hoped someone would be there, any of his old friends. Not that he told himself that. He was convinced he just wanted to see Michael, and even that was only for a light.

Sitting himself down on the familiar bench, he wondered if his friends would even recognize him. He hadn’t been to school in quite some time, his hair was longer and there was less of it; his hair had been falling out in bits lately. He also didn’t wear his glasses anymore. His theory was that if he didn’t wear them, his eyes would be forced to become stronger and they’d correct themselves with time.

“Soar?” Soren’s head jerked up when he heard his nickname and a faint smile appeared on his thin lips. It was good to see Michael.

“Hey, Mike.” He said, looking through his long bangs to see the taller boy standing above him.

“I can’t believe you’re here” he said, baffled and taking a seat next to Soren on the uncomfortable bench. “I haven’t seen you in forever… how are things?” he asked the second part hesitantly. Anyone could see Soren wasn’t doing well.

“I’m good. I was just at the park and I was going to have a cig, but I forgot my matches at the house, I was wondering if you could spot me for now.” He asked.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He started taking out his bright yellow lighter and he bit his lip in thought “I – uh… I thought you were trying to quit?” Mike asked before handing the lighter to Soren while the other boy nodded.

“I plan on it. Just right now isn’t the best time. I’m trying to do so many other things that it’s just kinda hard to add that to the list.” He explained.

“Oh, I see.” Mike had no idea what Soren was talking about, but he knew that Soren looked sick and the smoking was probably the worst thing for him. After all the years of the two being friends, Mike still couldn’t believe how Soren had thrown it all away. And Mike was so pissed at himself for not being able to stop loving Soren. Something about him was just so... Soren. There was no way to describe how the blonde boy was.

“You dyed your hair” Soren noted, pulling Mike from his thoughts. “I could have never pictured you with fire hydrant red hair, but it works for you,” he thought out loud making Mike smile.

“Can I tell you a secret, Soar?” Soren smiled wide and nodded. He loved how Mike always talked to him like they were kids again. “I’ve really missed you.”

[[ PLEASE REVIEW. I know it’s going really slow right now >.< . next chapter will have much ensuing drama! ]]