Asylum

Chapter Two

A/N- Thanks to all who reviewed, it was overwhelming. :-) Especially Ravaran, you really made me wanna update. Thanks so much, I hope you like Chapter Two just as much.

Living A Nightmare

It had been over a week since Oliver had first woken up in the white room. He wasn't sure how long it had been, he was kept heavily medicated and spent the little time he was awake drowsy and incoherent. He still didn't understand why he was in this place, and he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. Since his first awakening, the woman in the white suit, Diane, as she called herself, had been taking him on twice daily trips down the hall and to the bath room. The first time he had gone, he was still groggy from medication, but tried his best to take in what was around him.

Everything in this place was eggshell white, sending a numbing vibe to Oliver. The bland sameness only added to his exhaustion. Dragging his feet on the constantly chilled floor, he continued questioning Diane, only to hear her sigh and monotonously say "You'll find out soon enough." Everything he did was supervised. Two of the three men from the first day continued following him and Diane, and one always followed him into the bathroom.

His first look into the mirror on the still-white wall nearly made him collapse. His mouth hung open as he reached a trembling hand up onto his face and running his fingertips along the deep gash running from his forehead, down his eyebrow and into his cheek. He had never been dark or even tan, but his ghost white skin was definitely something new. Large brown circles laid under his dull eyes. He didn't know where he was, but he did know that there was no magic in this place.

But that was days ago. Oliver had grown accustomed to the scar and his grungy look. His still unanswered questions burned at him, but he knew no one would give them to him.

He woke up once more, weary and uncomfortable, to the sound of his door opening. It was a different woman, with short brown hair and a smart, lint-gray suit on. He lifted his thin face up and waited.

"Hello, Oliver. I'm Charlotte Browning," she said quietly, still standing in the doorway. She looked timid, like she was trying to hide her fear.

"Are you scared of me?" Oliver asked hoarsely. His voice hadn't been getting a lot of exercise lately.

"No, Oliver, I'm your friend," she said sweetly. "Remember that, okay?"

He lowered his head back on the pillow.

"I bet you're pretty tired, huh?"

He stayed silent.

"You'll snap out of that in a few days; they're going to reduce your medications," she went on. She slowly made her way over to the bed, carefully shutting the door behind her. One of the men was out there, "supervising".

"I bet you have a lot of questions for me. Go ahead I'll do my best."

Oliver slowly rolled over onto his side and looked at her through bloodshot eyes.

"Where am I?"

"You're in a healing place."

"What am I being healed for?"

"You have a problem, Oliver."

"What is my problem?"

"What do you think your problem is, Oliver?"

"I think you're my problem," he said nastily.

"Theres no reason for hostility, Oliver."

"I'm not being hostile," he snapped, irritated. "And why do you keep saying my name like that?"

Charlotte Browning moved closer to him, and gently laid her hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

"Because I want you to know that I care. I really do."

He shook his head and laid it back down onto the pillow, exhausted again.

"I want my mum," he said flatly.

Charlotte Browning looked at him oddly for a second, at a loss for words. She reached over and ran her fingers over his dusty brown hair. As he slowly drifted off into a drug induced sleep, too exhausted to care about this woman's dodgy, sweet answers, she whispered softly, "Never again, honey...never again."

Later that night, while Oliver was tossing and turning in his white linen sheets, he heard a girl scream. A high pitched, terrified scream. He felt his throat vibrate as a stream of obscenities flowed from his mouth. "Fucking mudblood......Take it you damn bitch... ...." He felt his hand grasp the soft skin of her throat and force her, gasping and clawing at his hand, down. He heard her gasping "Stop, stop" but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He took his hand from her throat, and brought it down on her face, hard. She whimpered as he continued, pulling her long thick hair, leaning down, violently biting at her neck. She struggled, but was weak. And when he shoved her skirt up and sneered, "Get ready bitch,"......all that could be heard was another scream.

Oliver woke up in a cold, trembling sweat. He looked down at his wet pants, and then proceeded to throw his head over the side of the bed and vomit.

A/N- I know this is sort of short, but thanks to high demand () I wanted to get this out. What does the next chapter hold? A new character, and new knowledge. Oliver finds out where he is and why, and has to come to terms with what he has, or hasn't, done. PLEASE R/R if you want me to continue! Thank you so much!!!