The Frailty of Genius (A Naruto Fan Fiction)

Chapter Two ~ Circling Thoughts

I laid in bed, staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars some snotty kid had glued up there. That snotty kid was you, I reminded myself. I turned over suddenly in my bed, putting the pillow over my head. I know! I snapped, I was stupid once!

Stupid, idiot, I taunted myself. Sometimes, late at night when I had nothing to distract me from my own thoughts, this would happen. It was like I had two separate voices in my head, one mocking and cruel, full of sound and fury, and the other was myself, calm and logical. With an irritated sigh, I turned back over. No wonder I could never get any sleep. I was constantly arguing with myself; my brain just kept working all through the night. It wouldn't rest, it wouldn't stop. Sleep was boring.

I scanned my room for something to do. The test was tomorrow. I could study! I scoffed. Study. Yeah, right. I threw myself back down in the bed, only to sit right back up. Ah. Yes, that would do. Tossing on my jacket, I head downstairs quietly, passing "Madame" on the way. She was the woman who ran this orphanage of sorts. She stared blankly through me as I passed her by, not scolding me for being out of bed after hours. She didn't care what I did.

With an irritated sigh, I walked away from the door of the room she was in. Why did I have to deal with all these stupid people? I stumped into the kitchen, trying to keep my anger in check. Anger didn't help you think. Control helped you think. To control others, first you had to have complete control of yourself. But sometimes my carefully controlled anger and frustration and irritation and annoyance and vexation would all just spill over until I exploded. Normally I managed to get away from prying eyes when it happened, but I still remember the one time I didn't. It was here in the orphanage. Madame asked why I wasn't turning in my homework, and I tried to explain that I knew it. Why do something you already knew? She didn't understand. She just stared at me with those blank, dead eyes, and I just lost complete control. I screamed. I screamed. And then I took a sharp breath in, let it out, and let the information flow. I brought up things I knew she thought about herself. Those unsure, low self esteem thoughts that hid in the shadows, in the back of her mind? I brought them out, into the light. I remember coming back to myself rather abruptly. I gazed at the woman unfeelingly, watching the tears water in eyes. Then I turned on my heel and left, ignoring the little snot-nosed kids who cowered away from me.

I don't like it when I lose control of myself. Yes, it made people fear me, but it would bring me into the spotlight. And how would I be able to control others if I couldn't even control myself? I slammed a bowl on the counter, not caring if I woke up any of the children as I pulled out the flour, carefully measuring some out.

Yes. I was baking.

I loved baking. It helped me think. I dumped the cocoa in with the flour, scowling as some spilled onto the counter. Whisking the dry ingredients together, I cracked two eggs in, added butter, water, oil, and several other ingredients, and stirred the sludge like mixture, carefully folding it in on itself. I stuck a finger in and lick the brown goop off of it, grinning appreciatively as the sweetness lays thick on my tongue. With a nod to myself, I poured it in the pan after greasing it, popping the cake into the preheated oven.

I stared into the oven unblinkingly, watching the chocolate cake slowly rise, bringing my knees up to my chin, eyes glazing over as I thought. It wasn't good when I had time to think. I think too much. And my thoughts would start going in circles and circles, catching up, falling down, collapsing in I themselves but still racing on and on and on--

"Shriiiiiing!" My thoughts--thankfully-- were interrupted by the harsh ringing if the timer. I let out a shaky breath and put in oven mitts, reaching in and taking the pan from the oven. Inhaling the moist steam wafting from the cake, I sigh appreciatively atthe chocolately smell. I set it in the stove with a clang, shutting the oven door and turning the oven off. Throwing the mitts back into the drawer, I began to make the frosting. Chocolate, of course. I stirred it listlessly, buried in my thoughts once again.