Chapter 19

Laura carefully laid her head back onto the white sink. Her tank top had been removed, leaving her only in a black bra and pants. Sven turned on the faucet and began to soak her hair with hot water.

"Now, I'm going to dye your hair first, since it's the easiest to do. Your eyebrows are going to be a little bit more difficult and it might sting your eyes a little," he noticed her blushing face and the way she avoided his gaze and sighed.

"Come on. Don't be so strung up. It's only me here. Now, any questions?"

"Yeah, I have a question. Why are you doing this in my bathroom?" asked Arnaldo from the bathroom door and Sven just rolled his eyes.

"Because yours is bigger than mine," answered Laura easily while Sven put on his latex glove with a loud snap as if he was preparing for a surgery.

"That's because there are more people who use this bathroom!"

"It's still bigger," Arnaldo rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"You know what? I'm not gonna get involved in this. If you need me, I'll be in my room," he said as he walked out of the bathroom just as Sven grabbed the brush and began to coat Laura's hair in a purple colour.

"Oh, hi there Metalhead!" came a voice from the door. Sven turned his head and noticed Maria, standing there with a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

"Why hello to you too Maria. You off to practice?"

"Yeah. I've got judo today. And what exactly are you doing?"

"Dying Laura's hair."

"Dying her hair?"

"And eyebrows," chimed in Laura, still blushing.

"If she keeps on blushing then she might burst an artery," thought Sven to himself.

"Ok, well, have fun. I'm off!"

"You got time for some sparring, later on, today?" asked the Swede.

"Oh no sorry, I can't. I have to meet up with Angelica to work on a history project."

"Who's Angelica?" asked Sven and now it was Maria who was blushing.

"J-Just a friend!" answered Maria.

"Right. Like I'm going to believe that," before he could question her further, she was already dashing half way down the stairs.

"No running!" came Arnaldo's scream, followed by an apology from Maria. Sven grabbed a smaller brush and began to dye Laura's eyebrows.

"You gonna tell me about Angelica?"

"No."

"All right then," sighed the Berserker. He continued to dye her eyebrows until they were a healthy shade of light purple. He leant in for a closer look and examined them one last time. He figured that he was a tad bit too close since Laura appeared to be squirming beneath him.

"Ok, looks good. Now you look like you were born in purple," joked Sven as he began to wash the brush.

"Thanks. Never really thought my eyebrows were such a dead giveaway."

"Yeah, it doesn't take much to notice these small things. Trust me, I know. I had my aviators on and even I noticed."

"Speaking of which, why do you always wear those glasses anyway?" Sven was silent, a bitter feeling forming in his mouth.

"Ok then, why do you dye your hair?" again, the Swede was silent and he could feel a sour mood and rage engulf him. He grabbed his things and stood up.

"Well, I'll be leaving. Enjoy the rest of your day," he said coldly as he left the bathroom, clearly scowling since Laura looked at him utterly terrified.

He walked along the empty streets where a group of punks were sitting on the steps of an old and forgotten building. As soon as they saw him, their eyes immediately grew wide in horror and they quickly scrambled into a dark alley, leaving empty beer bottles and half-smoked cigarettes on the ground.

Sven kicked one of the empty bottles lazily.

He got his ticket and was soon on the train back to the city.

He sat alone.

The cabin was full of people and passengers were forced to press next to each other.

Yet he sat alone.

He got off the train and walked back to his dorm. It was a small room with two bunk beds, clearly meant for four people.

Yet, he was alone.

He threw his school bag on one of the beds and walked over to his desk. He picked up a photo and on it was a tall and sickly thin boy, seven, maybe eight years of age, standing in front of a misty lake.

Alone.

He had short hair, as white as the mist behind him and eyes as red as blood.

He was tall, slender, weak and frail; the wind itself looked as if it could break him. Sven sighed sadly and placed the photo back face down.

He walked into the small bathroom and walked in front of the sink and mirror. He took off his sunglasses and placed them aside. He stared into his red eyes and he could feel a mixture of emotions surge through him.

Anger, sadness, loneliness, regret, frustration and fear all hit him at once like a truck.

He splashed cold water on his face before he broke something. He inspected his mohawk and found one loose strand of alabaster white hair. He quickly plucked it out and threw it into the sink.

He grabbed his hair dye and began to coat his eyebrows and hair.