Thread: Amnesia (Nico x Hahvoc)

RE Amnesia Oliver flinched. The rough voice brought back too many memories. There, now he sounded like the person he knew, but the words made no sense. Oliver glanced up wondering if Lowell was playing with him. Blue eyes searched his with the same intensity as his own green pair. Yes, He said carefully, glancing back up to the livid bruise on side of the man's head. Your name is Lowell Kerrigan. My name is.. Oliver Tell. He wondered vaguely why he was telling him the truth. The way Lowell inspected his own arms with a look of disbelief confirmed Oliver's suspicions. He'd lost his memory. It gave the therapist pause. Was that a gift or a curse? It left the decision up to him. He wasn't sure if he had the courage to deal with it. The scars were horrific, and agonizingly perfect. Kerrigan had obviously done them to himself Again, shame struck him in the chest. He'd visited that hospital. It was reprehensible. Patients were treated inhumanely. He had known he was sentencing Kerrigan to a fate worse than death for someone like him, but he did nothing to adjust it. He did not argue on Lowell's part for more intensive therapy, or for medicine treatment. He simply had condemned him, wanting the man shut away as fast as possible. If anything, he had probably made the his psychosis worse. I do know you. I was your... therapist. Three years ago. I'm sorry. He repeated, quieter. If felt wonderful, and horrible, letting the words out. The guilt was somehow stronger, now faced with the man's obvious amnesia. Oliver shook his head. He was still a psychopath. The way his brain worked hadn't changed, he had just forgotten who he was. I'm going to get you something warm to drink and eat okay? He asked, slowly rising. Careful, precise movements so not to startle the man. When you're feeling stronger, you can take a shower and change into some he glanced down at the bloodied, soiled, damp clothes the man wore, clean clothes. They might be a little tight, but I'll find you something. With that, he scooped up the bloodied towel, leaving his lost former client to his thoughts. Does he really not remember? What if he was just playing with him? Was Lowell that good of an actor though? In the years he had spent with him, he hadn't seen any hint of vulnerability pass the man's face. That was why it threw him now to have Kerrigan so dependent on him. His hands hesitated over the phone, then passed to his cooling breakfast. No, he wouldn't call the cops just yet. This was a chance to make things right, no matter how fucked up he was, Lowell Kerrigan was still a person and Oliver had wronged him. The therapist set his resolve. It was morally right to straighten out the past. He wanted his demons gone. His shoulders dropped somewhat. It might be slightly easier to do so without the piercing, judging eyes of the old Lowell staring into his soul and picking him apart. He would try. Here you go. Returning, Oliver set the warm coffee, eggs and sausage on the table before him. He placed two pills beside the coffee, Ibuprofen, if you need.. he said tapping his own head, then stood awkwardly, opening his mouth like he wanted to say more, before shutting it. He looked down at his hands. There was traces of blood on them too now. Oliver shivered. I'm going to take a shower. He said quickly. You can too, when you're stronger, then I'll bandage you.. Call for me if you need help. He looked away from the blood-splattered man, compassion and disgust canceling out into a base confusion. Oliver ran a hand through his hair. Tell me Tell me if you remember anything that happened before you ended up in my back yard. He added hesitantly, a hint of fear behind tight-set lips, then swiftly pivoted and left the room so he could breathe. Under the warmth of the shower, he scrubbed his hands viciously, although they were already clean. Someone else's blood If I let him stay, I'll be in the same boat as him. But, did he really want to send him back? Back there ? He didn't know if he could.