Chapter II: Owen

(Present Day):

Owen Armstrong awoke to the sound of his mother's fist hammering against his bedroom door, he peered up from underneath his flattened pillow with a slack eyes. Owen's eyes wavered at the sight of the sunlight peeking through the window beside him. His eyes in general felt swollen, and unconsciously he reminded himself to turn his lights off before going to sleep. He rolled out of bed. A mound clothing cushioned his fall. Owen grabbed his mattress and hoisted himself off his back. "Owen, get up! You'll be late for school!" His mother's muffled voice cried. Owen winced at the reminder; Sunday had come and gone, he would have to leave the house today. Never bothering to answer his mother, he ventured towards his bathroom at the slowest pace he would manage. "It's either school or the medication," Michelle Armstrong warned. Owen groaned picking up his pace; the antidepressant medication prescribed to him by his doctor said to help him with his agoraphobia, only made Owen sick. The seventeen year old often asked his mother if she would ever notice if he decided to switch the pills with rat poison. It was his subtle way of letting her know that the medication gave him 'suicidal thoughts'. A rather weak excuse, especially if he hoped she'd take him off the pill.

Michelle Armstrong saw right through his ruse, however, and threatened him with the alternative; Going back to the therapist on a daily basis. Afterward Owen stopped retaliating against his mother's attempts to help him with his so called 'problem', though he give her a hard way to go every now again. He couldn't understand why everyone thought his being cooped up in his bedroom was such a bad thing. Granted, it was not a normal thing, but hardly on the top ten lists of deadly mental illnesses if even that. Owen pushed the thoughts aside for now as he shuffled a little faster into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The desire to drown his worries in a long hot shower overwhelming now.

Owen came downstairs at a moderately calm pace, the knowledge of being fifteen minutes late for school already processing through his mind. He had taken longer to get ready than he expected, but by the blank expression on his mother's face as he entered the kitchen told him she had expected it. Owen pulled his backpack up a little further onto his shoulder. He ventured into the fridge for the sandwich he had prepared the other night and forgotten to eat, he spotted the white container stacked under several others full of leftover food from various points of the week. "Mom, why is my sandwich on the bottom of the stack?" Owen ventured.

Michelle peered past her son's lanky body and peered at the Rubbermaid container her son was currently pointing at. Her nose wrinkled at the memory of opening the accursed thing and being bombarded with the most awful smell her nose had ever encountered. It was most likely another strange mixture of condiments, she thought. "Its stale, it needs to be thrown away," Michelle answered casually. "No its' not, I made this thing last night. One of my special sandwiches," Owen stated with a smirk. Michelle rolled her eyes at her son as he yanked the container out from under the others, thus causing the others to fall over. "Seriously mom, have some respect for my stuff," Owen grumbled dejectedly. Michelle shrugged dismissively, raising the mug to her lips she sipped quietly on her coffee, wondering how she ended up with such a weird little boy --- now nearly a man. Michelle found herself lowering her gaze as Owen moved methodically through her kitchen, grabbing junk food and at least three apples, a poor counter-balance to the mounds of artificial food he usually ate the entire year. Owen finished packing his messenger bag when his mother stood up and moved away from the table, the teenager stepped back for a moment completely taken by surprise by the woman's sudden movement. Michelle smiled fondly at her son; Owen regarded her cautiously as he felt her hand slip into his. "You know I love you, right?" Michelle inquired softly, smoothing back his wild hair.

Owen plastered a goofy grin on his face and nodded, unsure where this was going. Leaning closer to his mother, he whispered, "Mom, have you been drinking again?" His brow wrinkled even more when Michelle smiled pleasantly at his question instead of scolding him. It was as if she was teasing him with a secret, he felt stupid and flinched when she pattered him on the shoulder. The next thing Owen knew he was standing at the front door. "Mom -- mom, what are you doin'?" He proclaimed nervously, his face red as a beet. Michelle didn't answer her son, instead she opened the screen door and shoved her son out the door. Owen tripped over his own feet in a desperate attempt to get back inside his house. Michelle slammed the hardwood door in his face and locked it. "Mom, I was leaving!" When no answer came, he kicked the door with as much ferocity as he could possibly could. "This is not how you reinstate your son back into normal society!" He practically bellowed at the door.

"Well, I'm tired of taking it slow! Your seventeen years old for cripes sake, go act like it!" Michelle retorted.

"I could have a panic attack!" Owen punched the door.

"Agoraphobia and panic attacks are two different things. If you do have a panic attack, stick your head between your legs. Now get to school," Michelle snapped. Owen shot the door one last simmering glare before forcing himself to march down the stairs. He paused on the last stair feeling his muscle tense, Owen swallowed against the tightness in his throat as his heart began to race, his breathing hitching. Owen patted himself down frantically in search his keys. Stupid mom, he thought bitterly. Shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, he finished out his keys. Owen bolted forward across the path as fast as his legs would allow. He allowed his eyes to wander the sleek body of his blue '67 Mustang fondly; as he finished his approach the door opened as if to welcome him. He halted for a moment, his keys jingled in his palm. It was a strange occurrence that happened ever since Cindy tried his steal his car. The door had swung out and knocked the teenager onto her stomach. Owen teased her about for weeks to her chagrin.

When it didn't happen again he chalked it up to faulty locks and springs in his door. Giving the door handle a jiggle, Owen slipped inside the car taking comfort in the driver's seat despite his trembling hands. The familiar smell of leather interior both calmed and unnerved him. Owen sat quietly in the car letting the silence wash over him. His left hand gripped the steering wheel then wandered down to its center. The boy's thumb brushed past the strange insignia, it had been there ever since after the accident. It put him on edge in the beginning, but he barely paid much attention to it now. Another custom detail to admire, appreciate. "Here, we go," Owen muttered, turning the key in the ignition. The vehicle roared to life and grinded when the key was turned too far.

Owen winced easing up on the key, the engine hummed as if in appreciation. Thank God, this is my last semester, Owen thought wearily. Pulling out of the driveway he slammed his foot down on the pedal, the reaction from the car was not one he expected. The car came to a halt throwing Owen against the steering wheel, the boy bit down on his lip praying his mother was not looking out the living room window. Inhaling he kept control of his nerves, pressing down on the gas pedal slowly he smiled when the car lurched forward and proceeded down the street.

When Owen arrived at school he was already half an hour late, he had missed half of the first period. As he cruised down the empty street, he stifled a groan of dismay. The parking lot was already jammed beyond capacity, so he had to park outside school grounds. Just his luck. He pulled up behind a U-Haul truck, Owen turned the car off pausing to listen to the rumble of the engine fall away. He stepped out of the car and moved quickly across the sidewalk onto school grounds, on the look out for anyone that could land him in the principle's office. Owen pushed the door open and listened to it creak. It was a strange way of reminding himself that he was miles away from his house. Not caring who would see him at this point, Owen hurried down the hall. The halls, illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the skylight and double door windows, seemed to stretch on forever. Anxiety began to swell up in his chest, biting the inside of his cheek Owen bolted forward, his feet pounded against the ground, pushing him forward and onward. The rattling of the lockers almost brought him to a halt but the adrenaline kept him moving, he flew past the principle's office as the door opened. Owen turned the corner without slowing down, his feet slipped out from under him and Owen hit the floor hard. The boy's chin bounced causing his teeth to clamp down on his tongue. Bone met soft flesh, and Owen opened his mouth quickly as he forced himself up off the ground.

Cradling his throbbing chin, he resumed his jog down the hall towards the door at the very end of the hall. Becoming aware of footsteps behind him, Owen threw a glance over his shoulder. Two boys -- probably no older than he --- stumbled to a pause quickly glancing in the other direction. Owen swore he heard the kid mutter his hippie-child friend, "Oh, man -- its - it's that guy. Uhh..." Owen heard the teen's finger's snapping quickly. "Owen Armstrong?" The hippie-child supplied, tucking his near-white hair behind his ears. "Yes, exactly, Owen Armstrong!" The brunette snapped his fingers again. Owen, like the very like him, was not known for being the most sociable person in his school. He fell somewhere between 'non-existent' and 'weird'. Anyone who knew of his disposition could always set him off in all the right ways. Everyone else simply avoided him.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't wear old spice deodorant and the Dollar Store brand that kept people away, it tended to wear off under extreme heat. That or his wardrobe --- ratty pants, oversized T-shirts, and grungy hoodies --- that scared them. Not that he worried over how he looked, that was the last thing on his mind. Owen nodded to himself in affirmative. Maybe it was the incident with the meat head Trent. That wasn't actually his most defining moment in school history. Owen self-consciously rubbed his untamed eyebrows. Probably. As he drew nearer to the classroom door, he spotted a trashcan. Owen spat a wad of saliva and blood into the can as he passed. He entered the classroom in the middle of the teacher's speech about High-Temperature Superconductors. The entire class turned their attention on Owen, their faces a mixture of relief and irritation. Their teacher, Mr. Abrams, seemed to stare right past him. Owen began to wonder why when he was shoved further into the room by the two boys that been behind him earlier. Mr. Abrams smiled humorlessly at the sight of the trio. "Ah. Owen, Miles, and Sam. So nice of you to join us," He mused dryly. Owen shrugged his shoulders as he moved towards his designated seat. "I overslept," Owen muttered guiltily slumping in the chair. Typical seemed to be what Mr. Abrams was expressing to the teen. He turned to Sam and Miles who immediately began to speak at the same time. "Please! One at a time!" The teacher cried. The two boys clammed up then looked to each other for assistance. Sam decided to speak. "Well, you see, there was -- uh, 'problem' in our other class, and Mrs. Municipal wanted to see us," Sam chuckled nervously.

"Take your seats please, gentlemen so that I may continue teaching the class," Mr. Abrams deadpanned. Sam and Miles hurried over to the seats in the middle of the room and were rather disruptive when it came getting themselves together to work. Owen pulled out his notepad and cassette recorder, knowing he was better off copying it from the horses mouth rather than wrack his brain over it later on at home. Assuming the house was without company when he got there. A little over a week ago, Michelle had told him Craig was coming for a visit. Owen paled at the very ideal of being the same house as Craig Armstrong. His estranged father's visits were never quiet nor pleasant. Michelle always found something to argue about, but Craig kept coming back, hoping to 'set things right' by them. It wasn't because he was a terrible father, just the absent kind. Things were uncomfortably awkward when Craig was around, and truth be told, Owen did not feel the desire to get to know his father as most boys did. That ship had come and gone. Craig was forever to be described as a man more in love with his work than his family. Something that utterly broke his mother's heart. It was a terrible cliché and it was the defining attribute in his family life. The love/hate relationship between his parents disturbed him, Owen had no wish to try and figure it out the mechanics either.

Mr. Abrams spun dramatically back around to face the blackboard and began to write. "Now as I was saying; Superconductivity occurs in a wide variety of materials, including simple elements like tin and aluminum, various metallic alloys and some heavily-doped semiconductors. Superconductivity does not occur in noble metals like gold and silver. Or in most ferromagnetic metals..." Owen's mind shut down, absorbing only abstract information from the world around him. Unconsciously, he retreated to the safety of his mind. To the ones on the outside his face was neutral, without expression. The only way Owen would be found out was if Mr. Abrams called on him to answer a question and he didn't respond. By that time, Mr. Abrams was too far-gone in his summary of superconductivity to notice that one of his students had fallen asleep.

(TBC) - Authors Note: There you have the character introduction for Original Character, Owen Armstrong. The third chapter is all backstory, but don't worry it gets more exciting as things move along. Please note that anything surrounding his condition is basically crated by me (inspired a little by Maggie Mui, of R.O.D. THE TV, and her safe zone --- a small room full of books), I have never met an actual Agoraphobic. -- Sakura123