The Strange and Wonderful Existence of Oliver Green

Chapter Five: You Are My Sweetest Downfall

2007-02-03T07:12:12Z

Oliver woke up with his cheek flat against his floor.

The bruise Lloyd left on the sharp bone of his cheek was throbbing against the wood. He slowly peeled himself from the ground, unsure of how long he had been out. The house was empty and dimly lit. Hours, he figured. It was nightfall.

He stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering with the light switch. The indigo twilight shone enough through the window to allow further examination of his wound.

And then he heard it; a faint buzzing in the back of his head.

no
...
sir please
...
no
...

"STOP TALKING TO ME!"

His voice was filled with a rage not aimed at Lily, but rather at the fact that he was stuck. Stuck in this body, in this house, inside of these little blue-black bruises across his face. How weak.

"I didn't mean it," he said then, softer. "I didn't, honest, I just... need you to be more helpful. Can you help me Lily?"

The voice had gone silent.

"Dammit."

He ran his fingers through his hair faster and faster, the rage only building with each swipe.

So he shaved it.

He took a razor to his head and dumped his thick locks in the wastebasket.

He punched a hole in the drywall.

He put on some fresh clothes.

And then he sat. And sat.

He sat for days and days in his bed without food, without hearing from Lily. Lisa never came back to the house; neither did Lloyd.

Then, after three days of fuming and begging Lily to talk again, Oliver stood up from his bed. His bruise had begun to fade.

He took a wad of cash from the top drawer of dresser without a thought as to how he knew it was there.

Then he went to the living room and picked up the book that held Lily's picture in it. He tucked it under his arm, and put the cash into his back pocket.

And as quickly as Oliver Green took residence in his new home, he left it. He left the key in the door and just left. He walked until he found a bus depot downtown. He shoved a hefty sum into the bus-driver's palm, and headed towards the desert.

[M. Research Institute]

"Oh we can't, not here."

Derek let out an in indignant sigh, "Why not? Who's watching? The stars? Aliens?"

"Why not?" Erinn hissed, unhooking his arms from her hips, "Why not?!"

A sly grin hung at the corners of his lips as he parted from her. She hated when he did that, when he acted like he didn't know damn well that he was endangering both of their careers.

"Well for starters, Derek, I said no. But hey, why stop because of that?"

"Hey now," he dropped the grin and looked genuinely hurt by the insinuation.

She pressed her palm against the thick of his arm and said softly, "That's not what I meant."

"It's what it sounded like."

"I just meant that, I mean, have you been paying attention today?"

"As always, dear."

"Really paying attention Derek. Did you hear the boss crying in her office today?"

"Uh... I guess... but I mean, what does that have to do with my well-concealed appreciation of my fian--"

"Derek don't you even say it. Don't you call me that."

"What exactly was the point of me proposing to you then if you won't even let me mention your name to colleagues in passing?"

"For the love of...! I don't know then! I honestly don't know WHAT the point was! Maybe you can enlighten me?"

There was that damn hint of a grin again.

"The point, dear, was that I needed some way to express how much I love you. Which is alot, by the way. I have even learned to say it without expecting it back, Erinn."

"Oh..." she was teetering on the dangerous precipice of completely getting caught in the moment, "Oh Derek... no. No no no."

She pulled herself back just in time.

"No?" he bit his lower lip at its thinning. He was going for gold tonight.

With a throaty giggle, Erinn leaned her hips closer to him and said, "Two can play at this game, sir."

He leaned in to catch her in a kiss, but she pulled back at the last second.

"Yes, Derek, we are engaged. And yes, we have done naughty things in places that are otherwise highly acclaimed for their sterility. But, I mean, look what happened to the last rather publicized relationship within our 'happy family'."

"Erinn," he let go of her completely, and all at once she felt ashamed of pushing the issue this far. "That's not what happened and you know it."

"What did happen Derek?"

"No one knows, Erinn. We have a one-sided perspective that from up here sure as hell looks like revenge for the way they went about it... which was a mistake. I know that the way they did things was completely wrong. But we have no right to presume that what happened was revenge for their wrong-doings."

Erinn turned away from him so as to not show her blush. She hated admiting shame, and even worse: defeat. She looked up into familiar clusterings of stars. Looking towards the speckled distance was to her like looking into your childhood bedroom: someplace comfortable where the shapes only shifted, never changed completely. She could feel him, his eyes burning into the back of her neck. Maybe he felt the same way about her; like she was some home for him.

"It was just so sudden, Derek."

"I know. But hey, don't talk about him like he's dead. He's still out there, you know. Living, breathing, surviving. He's a fighter."

"She had a phonecall this morning."

"Hm?"

Erinn turned to face him, "That's why she was crying. I was on the treadmill when I heard that familiar shrill voice -- that one -- the one she only uses to defend you know who. I stopped running to listen in. She was talking to the big boss, that's all I could tell. And she was defending him to this day, Derek. And then she was crying."

Derek nodded, all traces of arrogance wiped clean from his face. His eyes were electric, glistening with tears that wouldn't ever fall, just tumble back inside of him like the tides. She had taken him for granted so many times; had fought with him over every bit of affection he bestowed.

She was sorry in the way that she could never squeeze through her vocal chords. So she did the only thing she could do: she hugged him. She buried her head into the crook of his neck, then pressed her lips against the strong line of his jaw.

She opened her mouth to try, but all that came out was a trembling sigh.

With his fingers full of her hair, Derek spoke softly, "I know. I know."

(note: chapter title liberally lifted from Regina Spektor - Samson. two posts in one sitting. hopefully i can keep this on a more reasonable schedule! i've missed oliver.)

A Segue Into Phase Two

2007-02-03T03:41:18Z

[many apologies for not keeping up with this. i PROMISE there is more. thank you for being patient with me. between school and my game suddenly wonking out on me, it's been tough. but i am commited.]

"sir... no.
...
well, yes, but
...
no but that's just the thing
...
you simply don't understand sir.
...
yes
...
yes i'm following protocol
...
no i am not letting
...
no
...
there will not be a repeat of that disaster, sir, i can assure
...
no
...
but, i've made contact sir
...
sir? SIR!
...
oh you always hang up on me don't you... always have to have the final word. well you're not here , sir... you're not here to stop me. i am going to follow this one through."

APOLOGIES ABOUND

2006-11-24T05:38:41Z

I WILL BE BACK I PROMISE ♥

(school is totally kicking my ass)

consider this a hiatus.

I'm sorry I just went poof.

non-oliver related post

2006-10-23T04:57:51Z

my little brother got me the sims pets for my birthday, what a great brother! anyway, i went to install it and 98% of the way through it decided to tell me, "hey, guess what, the sims 2 isn't actually installed on your computer, poof!" and killed my sims. well, it's not all that dramatic, because i had backed all my files up and such (no way was I going to lose ollie & co.). so, hours and hours of cautiously editing my registry and reinstalling sims 2 + uni + nl + pets, i have a few pets pictures to show off from a family i made just for the occasion. i had a storyline in mind that might go into place sometime in the future, but who knows.

meet muffin!

this is muffin, a rather spoiled himalayan. she's kind of fat, and she enjoys eating and scratching the furniture.

there are her owners, daniel and anabelle

glamour shot...

glamour shot...

here is anabelle and their african grey: basil. muffin enjoys making him fear for his little feathered life. (for some reason anabelle and daniel think it is absolutely HYSTERICAL when basil talks back to them. they double over with laughter each and every time.)

muffin is not a very affectionate cat.

though i must admit she gets some good air time.

Chapter 4.5: Applicants for the M. Research Institute

2006-10-18T03:36:01Z

(note: this is chapter 4.5 because it's not necessarily part of oliver's perspective, it's a supplement to the story.)

Welcome, welcome dear applicant to the virtual tour of M. Research Institute. We're glad to have you on this busy night. Well, come on in the front door, everyone's waiting to meet you!

The first smiling face you'll see is Anelise, our fantastic receptionist. She takes care of all of our phonecalls and paper work as well as managing our inventory and budget. Whew! She's quite a hard worker. Everyone just calls her Ani.

Why don't I introduce you to the rest of the workers! Our staff photographs are hung in reception so all of our visitors can see who makes this place tick, behind the scenes of course.

This is Derek Muhnd, our technology specialist. There he is at his computer. He takes care of our machinery and makes sure it's all in working order. He also maintains our inter-branch networks so that all of our laboratories all over the universe can stay in contact. He has been with us here at M. for seven years now!

And this is Kim Andrews infront of her very new telescope -- she was just recently given a government grant for her research into inter-galactal imaging! She is, needless to say, our inter-planatary specialist, coming to us straight from her graduate school two planets away. And to think, she's never been homesick yet!

This is 03340, he is our medical specialist. Simply put, he likes to see how different organisms are put together by taking them apart. Speaking of government grants, his project is up for review by the board pretty soon, we might have another award winner in a matter of months!

Here is the part where I would show you a picture of our fearless leader, 6705, but he has been out of the office for months. So long, actually, that we haven't ever gotten him a staff picture!

So here I am, 0403; I hope you don't mind the angle of this picture, I look like a stick! Oh well...that's me in my office, I am head of the institute's most important project dealing with memory. With it's importance also comes a sense of confidentiality, so I apologize now that I cannot tell you exactly what it is that I do. I will tell you this though, along with my team of dedicated researchers, the project has been so far a phenomenal success, and you can expect to see a published report very soon. I assure you, it will rock the foundations of our society as we know it... but oh, that is way too much about me and my project. Let's move on!

This final LACK of picture is where you come in, dear applicant! We are looking for you to fill our final slot in the institute's team as our previous field correspondant has left for better places. But before you commit yourself to your application, let me show you around a little bit!

As we leave reception, let me point out that the entire facility is monitored by an extremely efficient security system. Each room is monitored by at least one security camera, and all personnel areas are kept off limits to visitors, and guarded by passkey-activated doors.

Down the hall a bit are our immaculate shower facilities, because hygiene is of the utmost important in a research environment. We require every employee to shower before entering the laboratory facilities, lest we infect any of our subjects with outside germs.

Beyond the passkeys down this hall is the computer lab, stocked with only the newest computers available. Derek can tell you, he's had to take classes about some of our latest acquisitions!

Up the staircase you'll find our recreational room, a relaxing atmosphere for the researchers when they aren't too busy with their work. Friday nights you can find the guys playing a few rounds of poker, and sometimes if your lucky, you might catch 03340 working on his latest anatomical sketches.

Down the hall you will find both mine and 6705's offices, though as I said, 6705 hasn't visited us in months.

I can't show you much of 03340's laboratory because his projects are confidential.

Moving up to the third floor, it is home to our domestic stations, the kitchen and the dormitories. Each researcher is supplied with a personal bedroom, and free food. Good work requires good fuel!

Finally, the fourth floor is our observation deck. Kim likes to spend most of her time here working on her latest maps and planet imaging. Each telescope has been purchased within the past two years, and Kim can tell you all about their clarity and attention to detail. It was one of these telescopes here that enabled Kim to first set eyes on what we now know as Planet K45! I bet you can guess what the K stands for.

Well, I leave you with the latest full-staff photograph we have. Since our correspondent left us, we haven't had the time to take a new one so you will have to excuse the fashion in which we extracted him from the picture.

Anelise asked me to mention before I let you go, dear applicant, that here at M. Research Institute we don't consider each other to be colleagues as much as family members. After spending much of our lives together in the institute, you can see, we've such a close bond with each other. I hope that you take the next step and apply for our correspondent position, we would love to welcome you into our family!

Chapter Four: I Will Be Waiting For You

2006-10-14T07:43:13Z

Days began to flow easier as he accepted his new life. Slowly but surely he began to inhabit the
warm shoes of Oliver Green. He saw Lisa every few days or so when she could escape her busy life,
and he began to appreciate her company. Though he had known her intimately so quickly, or maybe
since they had been so swiftly brought together, he came to feel something for her that he
could only describe as love.

One morning he woke before the sun and knew that the day would be different. He had given great
thought the previous night to his memories. He remembered nothing of the life of Oliver Green before
the day he woke up in the middle of the road. It wasn't that he was completely lost in his life; he
knew things innately, but he couldn't say that he had remembered them. He knew that his love of Lisa
was innate, was something that Oliver Green had come to do. He knew that the way he prepared his
meals, the way he sunk into a pair of pants left foot first then right, the way he lathered his
chest before his stomach and his right thigh last in the shower, these were all things Oliver Green
had come to do innately. They were not his, they were Oliver's. But these days he didn't seperate
himself from Oliver as much. How could he? There seemed no way out of Oliver's body, Oliver's life.
Might as well take advantage of it.

But that is where he had thought last night that things could change. He was going to write a book
about memories. His memories. He was going to write and write and write until he broke the wall that
seperated himself from his former life. At least, he would try. If it didn't work, he would try
something else.

He situated himself infront of the darkened window facing the empty street and began to write and
write and write.

"Hello, my name is Oliver Green. It was not always Oliver Green, but it is now. I woke up in the
middle of Pleasant Lane, infront of house number twenty-six. It is mine. Not mine, Oliver Green's.
But I am Oliver Green, at least today. A week ago, I was not. I was, according to the phone call, an
exiled prisoner named 0743. Maybe it was my prisoner name 0743. What could I have done? Why would
they have exiled me?"

And then Oliver drew a blank. That's where the thin path of memory, like a strand of light in
darkness, ended.

He took a deep breath, turned the page, and began again. This time he wrote without thinking.
"I am not Oliver Green, I am 0743. I heard a voice and she told me to open the green book and I
found her picture and she told me not to forget her and her voice is warm the kind of warm that is
sunrise colors and feels like honey does on the back of your tongue and she asked me not to forget
her but it was more like a command and I cannot ask her back because I want her not to forget me
either but I think that she has because I have not heard from her in a week now and I want to know
why I shouldn't forget her and in her picture she has boyish blonde hair and is in a red tiny dress
and her legs are slender and she is so beautiful and so different and she makes me think of a meadow
of wildflowers and cool breezes weeping willows and drooping lilies lily lily lily lily is that your
name lily lily lily lily lily lily lily yes lily lily lily then what is my name lily lily lily where
am i help me please lily lily lilylilylily"

And then all of a sudden his vessel of a body defied his soul. His fingers became cold and numb and
he dropped the pen and book to the ground. He stood up with a jerk, almost as if he had been picked
up and thrown onto his feet. His body was saturated with so much energy that he thought his skin
would tear. Lightning trickled through his veins, through the hollows of his bones and he shook and
thrashed around the living room. A voice echoed in his head: You Do Not RememberYou Do Not
RememberYOUDONOTREMEMBER DONOTNOTNOT NOT Lily not lily notlily not not.
And then he fell backwards to the rug. He felt it prickle sharp against his neck, his bare
shoulders. He felt the lightning now only barely. It flickered in his palms. His knee jerked twice.
His eyes became faded. His vison was consumed in a glittering darkness. He let himself tumble into
nothing.

===

Lisa knocked on the door for the seventh time in three minutes and shouted, "OLLIE COME ON I HAVE A
SURPRISE FOR YOU THIS IS NOT FUNNY! I SWEAR OLLIE I WON'T COME TO SEE YOU ANYMORE!"

Still no answer. The silence was almost eerie. She pounded her gloved palm against the door and it
this time it gave way.
"Huh? Ollie?"

She took two hesitant steps into his house and peered around the corner. Coincidentally, the
neighbor woman was sitting through another phone call from her desperately desperate son with her
hearing aid turned down low so that she could tell him, "Oh Danny baby, I am so sorry to hear about
Livia, I really am Danny and, what's that Danny oh honey I can't hear you baby you will have to
visit me sometime so we can have a real chat you know." and hang up without having to write another
wasted check, or else she would have heard Lisa's scream. It was, by all accounts, something to
shatter glass.

"OLLIE WHAT'S HAPPENED!"

He was sprawled out on the rug, breathing shallow breaths and every so often a muscle would spasm.

"OH MY GOD OLLIE OH MY GOD DON'T DIE DON'T DIE DON'T DIE"

She grabbed him with her hands in his armpits and hoisted him up onto the couch. There, she leaned
over him and went to smooth his hair. When her palm met his bare forehead she got a shock so big
that the spark lit up the room.

"OW!"

She reeled backwards, holding her throbbing hand in the other.

"I swear Ollie," she shook her head as she spoke.

He sighed deeply as if in response. His left arm trembled from within, dancing to some internal drum
beat.

"Ollie what happened..."

His shoulders shivered.

"Where are your clothes?"

His toes curled.

"Should I call the doctor? Maybe Ollie I should call a doctor."

His toes released.

On the phone, the nurse receptionist simply said, "Sounds like he hasn't gotten enough of his
vitamins. Considerably paled skin? Passed out on the floor? Muscle spasms? Honey, put some clothes
on him, feed him broth, and call in twenty-four hours if he's not awake."
Lisa dropped the phone in its reciever and sighed, "That was strangely not helpful for a trained
professional's advice."

After putting on some active clothes she had left in his dresser from some night they went jogging
("How did I know this was in here?" she thought to herself, and then, "When did we go jogging?") she
set to work keeping the house in order. She clothed Oliver's limp body first.
Then she set about scrubbing away all traces of the night that took Oliver's soul: she scrubbed away
his dinner from the grating of the oven, she erased the thin film of dust over the fish tank, She
scrubbed his toothpaste from the gaping mouth of the bathroom sink.

She spent a night there. Then she spent another. He didn't open his eyes. She didn't call the
doctor. She had become fixated on his closed lids, on each time his mouth opened and his breath
became a little bit deeper.
"I will be your angel," she would say to him, slipping spoonfuls of warm broth into his unresponsive
lips. He swallowed. He swallowed. He slept.

On the third day of her stay he opened his eyes.

"Not Lily," he said as he stretched. Lisa, who had been cleaning the shower for the third time that
day, ran towards the sound of his scratchy voice.

"OH OLLIE!" She leapt onto him and pressed her cheek to his, "Oh Ollie Ollie you were I thought that
you had died and it's been three days and oh Ollie I love you so so so so so much Ollie don't ever
do that again!"

His dreams had been of nothing. Years and years of nothing. He sat there in his shell of a nothing
body, surrounded by a glittering black nothing, and thought of nothing. When he awoke and stretched
out the kinks and wrinkles in his back, all he could think of was wanting something. He wanted to be
filled with that surge of painful energy, he wanted to be filled.

He settled for filling his arms and lips with Lisa. Her presence was comfortable like slippers, like
clothes from the dryer that hug your body with a fading warmth.

"Lisa I love you too," he said, his palms and elbows full of her, "I love you too and I don't know
what happened and I won't ever want to do that again I promise."
They sat there in a holy silence as they took in the feel of each other, softly, and with the awe of
a child.

"Oh Ollie," she murmured finally.

He shook his head, bumped his nose against the dip of her cheek, then jumped.

"YO OLIVER!"

The voice was distinctly male, slightly muffled by the front door.

"OLLIE MAN GET OUT HERE!"

"Shit," Lisa muttered as she pulled herself away from Oliver. She stood up and then as if only just
realizing the urgency of the situation she shouted, "SHII--" and then she caught herself and
whispered instead "Shitshitshit Ollie it's Lloyd he can't see me here."

"Why would Lloyd be here Lisa?!"

"I don't know," she continued her harsh whisper and shuffled towards his bedroom door, "he's your
best friend too you know. I'm in here. Get rid of him."

With that, she shut the door behind her.

"Yo, O-man, I haven't seen you in a WEEK!"

Oliver held the door open for his new best friend Lloyd. He took in the man's features: defined
cheekbone, militant hair cut, groomed appearance, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of his
nose, nothing special.

"Sorry Lloyd, it's just, you know."

"Oh totally man, totally. When I heard about Eleanor man, that bitch was harsh."

"Yeah..." he furrowed his brow, "yeah she was."

"I thought I'd let you lay low for a while, but it's been a week. Like, whatever man, you know?
They're a dime a dozen at Roscoes, you'll find someone else. Hey man, have you got anything to eat?"
Lloyd invited himself into the kitchen, rummaging through the contents of the fridge until finally
deciding on a bag of chips.

"I thought you might not, O-man, cause I mean, have you checked a mirror lately?"

"Hm?" Oliver shifted his gaze towards the bedroom door. He heard the shuffle of Lisa's feet against
his hardwood floors, and the squeak of his bed as it took her weight. He winced, knowing that Lloyd
would hear.

Coincidentally, and quite luckily, Lloyd burped instead.

"I mean you look like shit man, no offense. Like you'd been taken back from the dead or something."

"It's been a bad week, you know... with Eleanor..."

"Totally man, I understand. If Lisa did that shit to me, man, I'd be... well actually I wouldn't get

all depressed. No offense man but that's girly shit."

"Well... you know."

"Yeah man. We have our bad days. Totally."

There was an odd silence then. Oliver watched Lloyd shove a few more chips into his mouth, and then
bite his lower lip.

"Dude?"

"Yeah?"

"Why were your chips in the fridge?"

Oliver wasn't sure why his chips were in the fridge.

"Uh..."

"Whatever man," he tossed the empty bag into the trashcan, then headed towards the bedroom. "Dude,
did you get the plasma set up yet? I want to kick your ass at some fooooootballllll."
Oliver dove towards what he knew would be his impending doom.

"LLOYDNONONONONO"

But it was too late. The next few moments were like snapshots in his memory (that he is now
[re]building).

1. Lisa spread like an angel in her white underwear, unassuming, a naieve grin plastered across her
cheeks as she anticipated the entrance of the wrong lover, the subtle glow of the overhead lamp
reflecting off of her porcelain legs.

2. Lloyd's shock turned disbelief turned rage turned horrific rage turned

3. Oliver with his hair clutched in his fingers

4. into a fist into Oliver's cheek and

for the second time in this short week Oliver was sent back into the realm of his subconscious. It
was as if the camera of his mind had panned back and his world became thinner and less colored and
Lisa and Lloyd's screams became muffled and packaged into tin cans until they turned into mindless
warbles and then into nothing.

But he dreamt of something this time.

He dreamt of muddy faces attatched to bodies that felt so familiar he wanted to scream their names
and know them and he was tired of not remembering.

He saw a girl with a face like death. Her eyes glowed with what he could only feel was decay, and
there was a constant stream of blood flowing through the deep crevices of her face. She spoke to him
in languages he didn't understand, but felt. He could feel the words wrap around the knobs and
cracks of his rib cage.

"Come," she intoned inside of him, "come."

And then he saw her. NotLily. He saw her. He saw her. He saw her and he could feel that she was
dying and there was only blackness after her and he asked if maybe he was dying too.

Outtakes #1

2006-10-12T18:08:05Z

some of these may or may not be future characters/have to do with future situations... but i wound up testing out a bunch of new content for some nightmarish sequences and these are some pictures that i liked. next chapter won't be till this weekend probably, due to school(work and other such obligations). also, just incase, since i realize now that i never really introduced the rating of this story, i'd say it's probably going to be consistently R for sex and scary situations. it's going to be a dark story.
that said... onto the outtakes.

so emo!

eep.

hmmm....

it's kind of sad that he's so creepy and i immediately became attatched to him.

poor oliver...

hehe

he is such a cutie.

Chapter Three: But How Do I Remember?

2006-10-10T05:01:50Z

That night, his dreams were muddy at best. He could barely remember them when he awoke, but what he could recall only confused him. He wondered if they were fragments of memory echoing in his mind to remind him of something, or if they were merely fiction that his subconscious created. Could memory truly be erased?

The girl in the photograph was in one of the dreams, he was sure of that. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the dreams slipped like water from cupped hands. Only stop motion images remained: the girl, was she sleeping? A red light shone on her pale cheek, her eyes were shut. She looked delicate, posed. Her fingers splayed out from her palm like singular sun beams, the light flourescent light fading just beyond their tips to an ominous black.

Was this something he remembered? Was she trying to send him messages? He hadn't heard the soft, subtle echoes of a voice in the back of his head since he found her photograph -- was it her voice?

Oliver realized he hadn't awoken because of his dreams and thoughts, though. Outside, there was a loud knocking on his door, and a shrill voice calling out, "Oliver Nathaniel Green would you please wake up!"

He approached the door cautiously in his pajama pants. Through the glass of the door he saw a tall woman in a devastating black dress that hugged tight to each curve. She winked at him and gave him a dirty grin as he went to open the door.

"Ollie sweetheart!"

She leapt onto him with a ferocious nature, lips meeting his in a fervent kiss.

"Ollie," she murmured as she nuzzled her nose against his cheek, "I missed you baby."

He took it all in, enjoying the addition of a woman's affection in his up-till-now empty life. This must be "Call Lisa about Saturday".

She rubbed his shoulders with her gloved palms, running her fingers along the nape of his neck, the line of his jaw, "Ollie, I have to be back at Daddy's in about thirty, so we have to make today quick."

"Today?"

"You know the routine silly, I'll get changed in the bedroom, and you take your shower," she rolled her eyes on shower, then continued, "and we'll meet up at the bed. Ok sweetie?"

"...al...alright."

Once in the shower, he began to feel apprehensive. What could she want from him in the bedroom? He wasn't used to affection, let alone that from someone with such... warm skin, such... big eyes. She looked different to him, but somehow familiar.

"Whoever replaced my memories did a shitty job," he muttered as he finished his shower, "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be aware of the fact that the memories have been altered. I'm not supposed to know that she's different, that I'm speaking a different language than I used to."

He pulled on yesterday's clothes, the only clothes he owned so far aside from pajamas, and headed towards the bedroom. To his surprise, Lisa was spread out across the bed in her underwear, her slender legs crossed and her palms against her stomach.

"Hey there baby," she purred, "all washed up?"

"...Y-yes, yes."

"Well don't just stand there baby, I have places to be."

He wasn't sure if this was supposed to be alluring, but he decided to sit down next to her anyway. What's the worst she could do?

As soon as he was on the bed, she slipped her arms around him and pinned him down. She kissed him with a force that was almost desperate, and he could empathize with it. He felt safe in her arms, reciprocating her touch, holding tight to her hips as she guided him beneath the covers; but he didn't feel love though, or at least, he couldn't be sure if he did or not.

When they finished, they laid beneath the covers, hardly speaking. He felt saturated, as if every little nook in his body had been filled with warmth. But it was a hollow warmth.

Finally, she broke the silence with a throaty whisper.

"What's gotten into you baby?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are never that gentle baby, you acted like it was your first time or something."

He felt his cheeks flush, how could he answer? It surely wasn't Oliver and Lisa's first time from the looks of things. How does someone revert to being virginal?

"I... don't know."

She curled up next to him and laid her cheek on his shoulder.

Feeling slightly brave, or maybe just lonely, he asked, "When did you first love me?"

"What?"

"When did you first fall in love with me?"

She grinned coyly, "How do you know I'm in love with you?"

He swallowed any answer he could muster, and stared straight up at the ceiling. There was a crack there that reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember what.

"Oh honey I was kidding."

He tangled his fingers in her hair and nodded, "I hoped so."

"I..."

She seperated herself from him and began to get up from the bed.

"You what?"

"I gotta get back to Daddy, he'll wonder where I've been."

Pretending to know what she meant by this, he asked, "You still haven't told him?"

"Told him what, sweetheart?"

"About... us... you know?

He followed her as she ventured into his closet and began to tame her hair.

"Oh honey we've been through this a thousand times. Daddy will always want me to marry Lloyd. There isn't a thing I can do about it. We're just waiting till he knocks off, and then you and me will be married, alright?"

"You never answered my question."

"Honey, I can't tell--"

"The other one, about falling in love."

"Honestly?"

She turned to him and crinkled her eyebrows as if they could spell out 'i'm sorry', "I don't really remember honey. Not at all. I remember that you like to take showers before we... you know... and I remember that we both like to go to discos on Saturday nights, and I think we met at your friend Danny's wedding... but honestly, I have no idea when I fell in love with you. It doesn't matter, I do love you."

She left him in the closet, and he heard her venture into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. He stood for a moment lost in thought. "She doesn't know when she fell in love with me... because she isn't in love with me. She's in on this too, she has to be. At least, they must have done something to her memory as well."

"Ollie baby, aren't you going to see me out the door?"

She stood at the front door, looking as if she had never been out of her dress. Her hair almost glowed in the evening sunlight.

"Call me Ollie," she said, motioning with her fingers, "I'll be waiting for you."

And with that, she left, slinking out of the door and dissapearing down the street.

I'll be waiting for you.

It echoed in his mind as he set about to make himself some dinner. After a few moments, it was no longer Lisa's voice, but that sweet mysterious voice in his mind saying, "I'll be waiting for you."

Chapter Two: Don't Forget

2006-10-04T06:00:26Z

The house was full of furniture and knick-knacks he had never seen before. Each corner and nook was stuffed with pictures, books, notes, all reminders of some life he had plummeted into. A computer sat on a desk in the bedroom, next to it some cds and a note telling him to "Call Lisa about next Saturday". There was no number scrawled beneath it; he assumed the recipient of this note knew the number by heart.

He examined all of the furniture, reclined on the sofa, opened all of the doors in the house, he even found the refridgerator filled with weeks worth of food. It was as if he had been dropped into someone else's hand-me-down life.

As if it were the answer to his internal query, the phone began to ring. He padded towards the noise cautiously and picked up the phone.

"H-hello?" even his own voice sounded indistinct and distant to himself, as if he were speaking effortlessly another tongue.

"0743, good, I see you made it."

The man on the other line had a gruff voice, muffled by static. It drew to mind a murky picture of a face that he knew in some distant past but could not recall.

"Made it?" he asked, "I made it?"

"As per sentencing in your incident, case number twelve of this judicial month, you have been exiled. I know you do not remember this sentencing, this incident; I know you barely remember me 0743. We were once," the voice trailed off a moment, and in the static overlay he could almost make out a second voice, "well, it is all history now. This is just a customary call to inform you of how to fully embrace your new life. You are Oliver Green, aged twenty-three years and eight months," the voice sounded now as though he were reading from a cue card, "your birth date being December fourth. You live at three-twenty-six Pleasant Lane, have serious familiar prospects with one Lisa Monroe, and as of now you are currently unemployed. This last fact, however, is subject completely to your changes. Other than that, well, we have modified your memories to make it completely impossible to retrace your steps back here. You will hear no further from us, and we expect the same courtesy from you, Oliver Green. Good bye, sir, and we wish you luck."

There was a click on the end of the line, then static. Oliver slowly put the phone to it's reciever and digested the information he had been given. Exiled? He could remember nothing of a former life, one where he was named 0743, one where he could have done something wrong enough to make people want to erase his existence.

He could not tell what made him feel worse, the seemingly intergalactic fall, or the phonecall he had just recieved. He tugged off his clothes and took a steaming hot shower to wash away the day's events. As he scrubbed the sweet smelling soap against his skin, he heard a noise in the back of his head. Thinking it was the wind, or maybe another phone call he'd rather not answer, he paid it no mind.

"The green book," the noises solidified into a chant that reverberated in his skull. "The green book, the green book, the green book."

He jumped out of the shower quickly, soap suds still sticky in his hair, and pulled on his pants.

"Who's there?" he asked the voice.

"Green book, 7, green book," it's tone was familiar and warm in his body. "Green book, green book 7."

"What do you want?"

"Green book, 7."

In truth, the voice comforted him more than it alarmed him. It seemed to make him feel himself, as if maybe he had company in his new lonely life.

"I'm looking, dear sweet voice," he spoke softly as he padded towards first the desk, then the bookshelf. He pulled the first green book he saw from the bookshelf, and sat down on the couch with it.

"Shy Sims, or, How to Overcome Your Fear of the Opposite Sex. How is this going to help me, sweet voice?"

"Green book, 7. Green book, 7."

He flipped through a few pages until he found what the voice was trying to show him. Shoved between some pages was a discarded photograph of a girl in a flowery meadow. Her eyes were lidded with a mischevious grin as she looked up to the sky, her hand splayed across her stomach.

"Don't forget," the voice murmured, "don't forget."

And all of a sudden some memory they must have missed rushed back into his head, and for that moment, he remembered something good.

(feedback is always appreciated!)

Chapter One: The Awakening

2006-10-03T02:59:28Z

His life started with a bang. He awoke to the distant sound of traffic, the prickle of pain shooting down his spine, the cooling temprature of the asphalt against his raw arms.

His whole body writhed with pain like lightning tying knots of his muscles. He arched against the flat ground, then attempted to get up with a whimper.

"Unnngh..."

He pushed himself up, the sharp grain of gravel cutting against his palm. He could assume by the state of his body that it had been a swift but long fall.

"They left me here..."

He shook the bloody fog from his eyes, and began to fully realize his surroundings.

"Wh-where am I?" he asked of no-one, as he rubbed at his eyes, then attempted to stand up.

To his surprise, he had been dropped infront of a rather modern looking home, with soft music emanating from it's slightly open window.

He approached the door hesitantly, finding a slight limp in his right leg.

KNOCK KNOCK.

There was no answer. The music played on.

KNOCK KNOCK KN--

On the final knock, the door gave way. It slid open with a creak, revealing warm colored walls and a hardwood floor.

He took two slow steps inside, not knowing what else to expect.