Twisted Memories (Oliver Lanier)

[Oliver Lanier]

Oliver was looking into a pensieve, at when he was a little kid. He was living at the orphanage, a place he hated more than anywhere else in the world. It was the first time he'd discovered how to use his memory altering powers. There was this little boy named Isaac, and he watched the memory of him unintentionally taking some of his memories. His younger self began to look through them, and settled on the memory of Isaac's mother.

He was a tormented child, had a long hard battle not to attack people. His family had deserted him and he never fit in because he was a wizard. The younger him was scared for his life, and that made him an extremely dangerous person. Young Oliver took the image of his mother, made it bloodied, slashed, and the mother bleeding on a floor. Somehow, with his memory talent that he was born with, he reinserted it into Isaac's brain. Everybody thought the kid Isaac had been having a psychotic break.

In reality, Oliver had discovered something frightening and dangerous about himself. After that nobody even tried to be his friend, and they hadn't been keen on it before. He continued to be a loner, develop his powers on young kids so he would have complete control of them. Not all of them were that cruel, sometimes he made memories nicer. However, it was still an abuse of his power over them, and he began to hate himself. To this day, he still does, and is scared of what he can accomplish when he sets his mind to it.

[Oliver Lanier]

Oliver was twelve years old, still as much as a jerk as he had been years before. At times he tried to act nice to people, stop his obsession with memories. It was like cutting out a piece of him though, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop himself for more than a week or two at a time before he was at it again. Now he was starting to hate everything around him, it was starting to grate on his nerves.

Until today, his birthday, he hadn't realized how much he'd changed in the past year. Last year, at times he was able to find small joys in life though they never lasted long. Today he found himself reflecting on how much damage he'd caused the people around him. Instead of enjoying it like he sometimes had he just hated what he'd done, what he'd turned into as his life progressed. It was despicable, his entire existence.

Walking down to a locked cabinet in the kitchen, he used his magic to turn it. Only at certain times could he actually control things aside from his memories, but this time it worked perfectly and the cabinet unlocked. Opening it Oliver stared with longing at the sharp knives. All it would take is one quick cutting motion and it would be all over. Pulling out one that was used mainly to dice vegetables, he stared at the shiny blade. These knives were kept in excellent condition, it was so beautiful to him. This was his escape from it all, this world he despised, and himself.

Pressing it against his throat, Oliver winced slightly as it barely cut his flesh. A very small bit of blood leaked out from the tiny, length of the blade incision. Just at the moment he was about to make his slashing motion, he heard footsteps. The moment of truth was now, either kill himself, allow himself to be caught, or run away. Those were his options, but before he could decide the knife was kicked out of his hand by the lady who ran the orphanage.

Not knowing what else to do, he used his power to delve into her mind and pulled out the memory of finding him here. Oliver restrained himself from doing anything else and then left the room, going back to his bed. She would recover after a few moments of confusion. Might have a headache in the morning but he hadn't caused as much harm as he could have done. Falling asleep after hours of restlessness, he dreamed of the same scenario. This time he was in the middle of slashing his own neck when he woke up. "Why couldn't I have just done it. Such a coward, always will be. I hate this pathetic, soulless person I've become. How do I change though, I just don't know..." Oliver whispered to himself. He laid silently in his bed until morning, and tried to act like nothing had happened that night.