- Mar 25, 2014
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<div align=center>It had been a little less than a month since the young boy's life had began to feel unreal. He felt he was perpetually stuck in a dream, or much rather, a nightmare. Maybe that was because every time he closed his eyes to sleep a flash of an image or a memorized fraction-of-a-screech would strike terror into his heart once more, and thus lulling him into a state of insomnia. Yes, but that was only the tip of the iceberg in terms of describing this horrid sensation. That's because Oliver had done a very, very bad thing. And it was so unlike him that he felt he was living in the body of a disgusting stranger than himself.
But it was him. It was all his doing. He was the one who flipped out and tore through the once peaceful fields of the campus. He was the one that decimated the body of a bully and injured several teachers. It was him who single-handedly ended the lives of more than one life that day. And it was him who hurt so many, who made his best friend cry, and let his humanity go in favor of pent up animalistic rage that he lost control of. He had no one to blame but himself, and everything that came out of the past few weeks was only the bare minimum of what he deserved. Ugly scars that were stitched over were now healing along his kneecaps and thighs, but no doubt something would stay of that for the rest of his life. A similar scar ran across his neck where his teacher nearly decapitated him, making him almost look like Frankenstein's monster or something. But the medical attention he got for these came with a price. He had been alone the past month, forbidden to visit or accept visitors as he was seen as a 'potential threat' and an 'unstable child'. They hadn't let him do so no matter how much he begged to go see his teacher to apologize even if he knew it meant nothing. He was left to stay under the watch of doctors and soft-toned ladies who asked him questions about his mental well-being. Nobody really was there though to hug him or comfort him whenever he woke up in a cold sweat or with puffy eyes filled with tears. They merely patted his back and fed him sedatives, waiting for him to fall into a fake and empty sleep devoid of comfort and relaxation. His mature mindset had shattered into pieces and were only slowly beginning to reform again. At one point, he asked the staff if he could call his mother for her to tell him everything was going to be okay.
Which was odd, considering the woman never had done anything like that before in his life. Nor did he need her to do just that.
But the boy had changed. It was clear by the hollow gaze he bared towards the full moonlight out his window. He was back at his dorm for once in what seemed like eons. Oliver was allowed to go home, as long as he checked with the nurse once a day to take different sorts of medicine for his sleeping and dillusions. He didn't know what home felt like anymore though, and though this place would have given him a sense of comfort in terms of his roommate he couldn't muster the feeling quite yet. He had hurt her and drove her away. At least, he thought so, since she didn't come to comfort him when his rampage was over. The familiar setting was untouched since he left. He wasn't necessarily happy to be back, but he was relieved to be out of that godforsaken hospital for once. His suitcases laid in an open disarray on the ground beside him, the messy state so uncharacteristic to his pristine sense of organization. He was just sitting with his knees curled to his chest by the open window, balancing limply on the large ledge. He was still in the pajamas the hospital gave him, consisting of grey shorts that wouldn't irritate his leg wounds and a white t shirt that was rather disheveled considering his standards. His light blonde hair was a mop and a mess, and his glasses were folded in his hands. His roommate wasn't home yet, nor did he think the hospital told anyone but the staff that he was coming back. He sure didn't make his return public. Hell, he walked through the halls with his head down and refusing to talk to anyone or make eye contact. There was something darker about him, and though not in his heart but his mind. He had hurt so many people and felt repulsed as a human being.
But as the beasts locked inside of him, his actions never made him feel so good.</div>
But it was him. It was all his doing. He was the one who flipped out and tore through the once peaceful fields of the campus. He was the one that decimated the body of a bully and injured several teachers. It was him who single-handedly ended the lives of more than one life that day. And it was him who hurt so many, who made his best friend cry, and let his humanity go in favor of pent up animalistic rage that he lost control of. He had no one to blame but himself, and everything that came out of the past few weeks was only the bare minimum of what he deserved. Ugly scars that were stitched over were now healing along his kneecaps and thighs, but no doubt something would stay of that for the rest of his life. A similar scar ran across his neck where his teacher nearly decapitated him, making him almost look like Frankenstein's monster or something. But the medical attention he got for these came with a price. He had been alone the past month, forbidden to visit or accept visitors as he was seen as a 'potential threat' and an 'unstable child'. They hadn't let him do so no matter how much he begged to go see his teacher to apologize even if he knew it meant nothing. He was left to stay under the watch of doctors and soft-toned ladies who asked him questions about his mental well-being. Nobody really was there though to hug him or comfort him whenever he woke up in a cold sweat or with puffy eyes filled with tears. They merely patted his back and fed him sedatives, waiting for him to fall into a fake and empty sleep devoid of comfort and relaxation. His mature mindset had shattered into pieces and were only slowly beginning to reform again. At one point, he asked the staff if he could call his mother for her to tell him everything was going to be okay.
Which was odd, considering the woman never had done anything like that before in his life. Nor did he need her to do just that.
But the boy had changed. It was clear by the hollow gaze he bared towards the full moonlight out his window. He was back at his dorm for once in what seemed like eons. Oliver was allowed to go home, as long as he checked with the nurse once a day to take different sorts of medicine for his sleeping and dillusions. He didn't know what home felt like anymore though, and though this place would have given him a sense of comfort in terms of his roommate he couldn't muster the feeling quite yet. He had hurt her and drove her away. At least, he thought so, since she didn't come to comfort him when his rampage was over. The familiar setting was untouched since he left. He wasn't necessarily happy to be back, but he was relieved to be out of that godforsaken hospital for once. His suitcases laid in an open disarray on the ground beside him, the messy state so uncharacteristic to his pristine sense of organization. He was just sitting with his knees curled to his chest by the open window, balancing limply on the large ledge. He was still in the pajamas the hospital gave him, consisting of grey shorts that wouldn't irritate his leg wounds and a white t shirt that was rather disheveled considering his standards. His light blonde hair was a mop and a mess, and his glasses were folded in his hands. His roommate wasn't home yet, nor did he think the hospital told anyone but the staff that he was coming back. He sure didn't make his return public. Hell, he walked through the halls with his head down and refusing to talk to anyone or make eye contact. There was something darker about him, and though not in his heart but his mind. He had hurt so many people and felt repulsed as a human being.
But as the beasts locked inside of him, his actions never made him feel so good.</div>
