Thank you SOO much to the best person ever: obsessions-. They made the AMAZING gifspam up above and I love love LOVE it! Thank you! #teamOliver

It had been a week since Oliver had first arrived. The idea of being locked up in a room with people who couldn't escape him was still troublesome. He had to pay close attention to his dark side and his emotions; them both needing to be kept in check.

However, Oliver was becoming accustomed to the idea.

This new life came with one perk; he always knew what was going to happen. Every day, Oliver was woken up by the ringing of the medicine call. He would wait in the line, two times Zander escorting him to the front of the line. He would go inside, get the injection to treat his shoulder, and be left with the rest of the day to do what he wished.

Most of the time he hid out in his cell. Nova had visited him a few times; Oliver still having not said a word to her. Sometimes he would think, sometimes he would sleep, and mostly he would read.

Zander had given Oliver a book on his third day there; something to "keep his mind off things". Oliver had always loved to read classic books back in school. All his classmates would groan, and complain about it while the teacher was out of the room.

Oliver wasn't one of those kids.

The books were his comfort. His high school years were rough. His dark side came out for the first time when he was in sixth grade. He had been at the park when an older boy began teasing him. The older boy had pushed him many times, even made Oliver's nosebleed.

That boy was the first victim of Oliver's dark side.

Oliver's mother had panicked after that boy's death. She moved away immediately, her being witness to some of his dark side's wicked ways. Oliver went through two years and four different psychologists without even a trace of his darkness.

When nothing had happened, they let the problem fade into the past. His dark side had stayed away for years, coming back Oliver's sophomore year of high school. Oliver and his mother had been on a trip. Someone had conned them out of one hundred dollars, claiming they would get them a room at the motel; stealing the money and demanding more instead.

That man was the second one.

Since this attack was out of town, they stayed at the same school. Oliver went through more therapy sessions, each therapist claiming nothing was wrong with Oliver. Again, his dark side faded away. Instead of staying away for so many years, it returned earlier; at two.

It was two days before Oliver's high school graduation, a man and his wife had been harassing his mother about Oliver's behavior. The couple had done it before, but more violent now that the involvement of the school system was being cut short. They threatened to report Oliver and his mother for something stupid; claiming Oliver harassed their children (Oliver had asked one of them to stop being so rude toward him.)

Oliver panicked, the involvement of police terrifying, and those children were left without parents.

Oliver and his mother moved again; new town and new state. Having to show up to a new school at the end of their year was awful for Oliver. They couldn't get his real transcripts without alerting the police (who had deemed them suspects in the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Baxter). Oliver's mother found a way to fake them, however, Olivier was forced to repeat his senior year.

They hid for a year before his dark side came out again; killing two more. Oliver and his mother moved two more times over the next three years; three people losing their lives.

The last time, a man at a gas station, had gotten the attention of the local police. The case was going to be handed to the FBI when Oliver and his mother went off the grid. His mother knew how to do this quite well.

Oliver wanted to question it, but he had done enough to ruin her life.

Thinking of his mother sent an awful pang of sorrow through his body. He reached into his book, forcing out the picture he used as a bookmark. He rubbed his finger over the picture of him and his mom. Oliver's belongings had been taken from him his second day there. His clothes, shoes, even his backpack of miscellaneous items.

Zander had stolen the picture Oliver was holding for him. It was taken on his birthday early his sophomore year; before things got bad again. His mother pressed her cheek against his, her wide grin lighting up the picture.

You're all alone, the thought crept into his mind. The thought that kept him up at night. Oliver hadn't realized he had woken up early that day until the medicine bell rang. He jumped, startled.

Oliver hid his book and picture under his pillow. Getting out of bed, he stretched, before exiting his cell and making his way into the already growing line. The guards didn't seem to mind Oliver as much as they did the others.

He stood quietly in line, never said a word. Sometimes they'd send him a nasty glare. Zander had informed Oliver some of the guards didn't like the "special treatment" he was receiving. Sometimes, they'd send him a small pity grin.

Except for today; none of them would even make eye contact with him. He reached the front of the line, trying to shrug it off.

One door opened, a guard assisting a resident out. Oliver took one step forward before the closet guard, one with a deep stitched up gash in his nose, stuck his hand out; stopping him.

"Not today 789," he warned. Oliver raised his brow, obviously confused. "You have to wait for Doctor Andreas" Gripping his arm, the guard steered Oliver to the side and out of line. Oliver waited patiently at first, watching as person after person was in and out of the two available rooms.

Then, he began to freak out; he couldn't breathe right. He was trying to keep his cool on the outside, but inside he was dying. Why was he forced to wait for someone he'd never heard of? Why wouldn't any of the guards look at him? Why wouldn't any of the inmates?

It had been over thirty five minutes of standing off to the side before Nova scooted forward and claimed her spot as first in line. She tapped her foot, eyes wandering, before they fell on Oliver. The guard motioned for her to enter one of the now unoccupied rooms, but she wouldn't move.

Nova just blatantly stared at Oliver. The guard yelled at her, eventually having to use force to shove her into the room. That look in her eyes made Oliver begin to shake; she was scared.

"Doctors here," the guard with the stitched nose said. Forcing the barrel of his gun into Oliver's back, he shoved him forward and towards the room to the right of them. Oliver hadn't seen anyone enter or exit the room to the far right.

Oliver, this is a trap. Let me get you out of here. He pushed away his dark side, which was calling to him. Whatever happened to him through those doors, he deserved it. Oliver tried to remind himself that as his heart pounded so loud he could hear it in his ears.

"Open the door," the guard instructed; Oliver did as he said.

The room looked exactly like one out of a horror movie. Everything was white. The tiled floor, the walls; everything except for the grey chair in the center of the room. The chair reminded Oliver of a cross; two arms outstretched.

In the corner, next to a desk with many cabinets and drawers, was the doctor. She was forcing on her white lab coat. As the door slammed shut behind them, she whirled around.

"So this is the infamous inmate 789," she said with an inquisitive look in her eyes as she began buttoning her coat.

"Yeah," the guard sneered. Doctor Andreas flipped her ebony curls off of her shoulder, her heels clacking against the tile as she shuffled across the room. Grasping Oliver's arm, she moved it in a circle.

"No pain in the shoulder?" She asked.

Why are you letting them do this? I can handle them. Oliver was so nervous, his darkness waiting to come out and play, that he didn't say a word. She let him go, his arm falling to his side.

"Sit," she gestured toward the chair. Oliver hesitated, only moving forward when the guard did. He rested on the edge of the seat. The doctor set her hand on his chest and slammed his back against the chair.

Latching onto one of his arms, she began to strap it in.

You need me.

Oliver ripped his arm from her grip, immediately met with the barrel of the guard's gun pressed against his cheek.

"The last person who did that ended up giving him stitches. You bet he won't let that happen again." Oliver had no choice but to allow the woman to strap down both of his arms. It was either that, or eat a bullet.

Once Oliver was restrained, the guard relaxed.

"Any pain remaining in your shoulder?"

This isn't good. His dark side practically shouted. Let me get us out of this.

Doctor Andreas sighed, plopping down into the tiny chair under the desk. Digging through the drawers, she wrapped her fingers around a thin, metal, device.

It resembled an average pen, except it was wider.

Doctor Andreas kicked herself across the room and to Oliver's side. Clicking the pen, she pressed it against his forearm. A wave of pain erupted, spreading through his body like fire. Oliver screamed from the intensity of the shock; he'd never yelled so loud in his life.

He'd never felt any agony such as this. It felt as if everyone bone in his body had snapped like a twig at the same time, like all of his blood had been replaced with acid, and all of his skin was on fire.

Doctor Andreas removed the pen, Oliver panting like a dog in the heat. His eyes were watering, and his throat burned from shouting.

"That is just a little sample of what my friend, NEP, here can do. Don't answer any of the following questions, or lie to me, and he'll come by to say hello. Do you understand?"

Why are you letting her do this? I can make it stop.

Oliver nodded. He tried not to become overly angry or sad, knowing when he was most vulnerable his darker side could take over easier.

"Good. How is your shoulder? Any pain remaining?"

"No." Oliver said through gritted teeth. Doctor Andreas circled around Oliver and to her desk, grabbing a pen and a folder. Oliver glanced at the guard; he seemed to be enjoying his job.

"So you responded well to the shot of B.R.," she mumbled to herself. "Are you the only person in your family to suffer with your ability?"

"Yes."

"When did you start showing signs that you possessed it?" Oliver wasn't one to talk about his past, especially when it came to this. He was so used to keeping his mouth shut, that's exactly what he did. Until Doctor Andreas started rolling over with NEP in her hand.

"Sixth grade." His body remembered the pain. His muscles practically begged him to just answer the question.

"Have you harmed and or killed anyone?"

You don't have to answer that, Oliver. Let me answer for you.

"Yes." The words slipped from his mouth the same moment a tear escaped from his eye.

"How many?" Oliver didn't want to answer anymore. He shut down. Doctor Andreas spun around, eyebrow raised, before making her way over to him. She held NEP up above him, reminding him of what would happen.

Oliver couldn't do it. The words just wouldn't come out. She clicked the bottom and set NEP against his neck. The pain was even worse than before. It felt as if he was lying on a bed of nails and someone was pushing him further and further into the bed.

Oliver attempted to refrain from shouting, and was successful the first few seconds. However, it didn't last for long.

I can make it stop.

"9," Oliver cried out. Doctor Andreas ignored him, pushing the pen further into his neck. He didn't think it was possible, but somehow it was worse. "9!" He howled so loudly, he was more than sure people across the building heard him.

He prayed Zander heard him.

Doctor Andreas removed the pen and wrote down the information. Oliver was trembling, his hands quaking. Tears were racing down his cheeks. Some of them were tears of agony, NEP being too much to bare. Others were tears for his victims.

"Wonder if Zander knows just how high that number is," she said whilst scribbling something down. She and Oliver made eye contact. "Wonder if he'd think you're so special still."

I'm the only one who can help you right now.

Oliver could feel the anger boiling in his gut. He tugged, hard, on the straps pining him down to the chair. For a split second, he didn't care if his dark side came out. He wanted it to. He wanted this lady, and the guard, to suffer the way they'd made him.

The second of darkness terrified Oliver, because he knew exactly who he sounded like.

"Did your mother have any medical problems? Heart Attacks, blood clots, anything? Did she smoke?"

"No." Oliver wasn't very sure. His mother was a lot like him, not the sharing type.

"Your father?"

"I don't know." Doctor Andreas didn't like that answer. She came over, with NEP, and repeated the question. "I don't know." Oliver supplied the same answer. She jammed NEP onto his chest. Oliver started out by yelling, but soon he wasn't able to.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and everything went black. He wasn't sure of anything at that moment. Could Doctor Andreas just have been a well-deserved nightmare? Could he be dead? Could his dark side have taken over?

These questions were answered when he became conscious again. The room was spinning and his head pounded. Doctor Andreas hovered over him.

"There we go. Welcome back inmate 789." Doctor Andreas stepped away. Oliver struggled with keeping his eyes open. Every few seconds his lids would prove to be too heavy and he'd shut his eyes. Then he'd remember where he was, and his deep distrust for Doctor Andreas, and he'd force them open.

He watched as Doctor Andreas began preparing a syringe. Oliver tried to wriggle around, but his body was so sore he couldn't.

"We'll go ahead and continue with questions tomorrow morning." She removed the cap from the needle and shuffled across the room.

"What is that?" His throat was dry.

"This is the D.N.P." With that she examined his arm, he guessed for a vein, before stabbing him with it. The D.N.P hurt just as badly as NEP did. Oliver refrained from shouting, because his body just didn't have it in him. "This is our base application. I will see you back tomorrow morning." She removed the needle and began unstrapping him from the chair.

Let me take over.

"If you don't die tonight, that is." Oliver pondered those words as she removed the final band. The guard sauntered over, forcing his gun into his holster, before latching onto Oliver and yanking him to his feet.

Oliver suddenly got very hot. It was as if the room had gained a thousand degrees in a second. He legs felt like noodles. The guard wrapped one of Oliver's arms around his shoulder and began assisting him from the room and to his cell.

Oliver felt sick. He was more than sure any second he was going to throw up. His legs got weaker and weaker with each step taken, to the point where he couldn't feel them anymore. The guard was patient at first with Oliver's slow pace. However, after a few minutes, he forced Oliver to move faster.

Reaching his cell, the guard threw him inside. Oliver landed with a thud in the center of the room.

"Try not to die. Watching you get NEP'd was pretty amusing." With that the guard was gone. Oliver tried to crawl to his bed, but only made it an inch or so. His body gave out. Every muscle, every component, just quit.

Oliver would have laid on the floor forever if it wasn't for whoever was stepping into his room. He could hear them enter, but it sounded like there steps were miles away.

"Everything's going to be okay," there voice echoed. Whoever it was struggled, but eventually, helped Oliver to his feet. The two worked together to get him to his bed. Once he was lying down, he could see who stood over him.

It was Nova.

She had a napkin from the mess hall and a Styrofoam cup of water. She checked over her shoulder before dunking the napkin in the water and placing it against his forehead. He'd never been so thankful for anything in his life.

"It's going to be okay, I promise." Nova whispered as she used the napkin to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I'm here."

Oliver's final thought before he faded into unconsciousness was: The last person who was there for me ended up dead.