Deja Vu Part 5/5
AN: I know it’s been a long time since Part 4, but I’ve just moved to a new city and started a new job and things have been pretty hectic (I know, lame excuse). Anyway, here’s Part 5- it’s kind of short, and I hope the length of time hasn't affected the flow of the story. I’m planning an epilogue that will hopefully satisfy everyone and bring this saga of tortured!Ryan to a close.
Another fic for my ‘table’. The prompt is ‘familiarity’.
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C. characters or actors. This is a work of fiction and not meant to infringe on any copyrights.
Summary: It’s September in Berkeley, California; Ryan encounters someone from his past that will turn his freshman year upside down.
Unbetaed: (Because I don’t have one.)
“What are you guys doing here?”
The question seemed pathetically inadequate, but I was too tired to think of anything else.
Luke jerked a thumb in Oliver’s direction and Kirsten picked up the bag of raisins.
“I came to give you these, Ryan. They’re high in iron- I thought maybe you could snack on them while you’re studying.”
That made sense. Kirsten had become more interested in nutrition since Sophie’s birth, making fresh orange juice when Sandy had a cold and quietly switching the family to whole wheat bagels.
“I know I should have waited for you man, but I got here and this fucker was shaking her hand and guiding her into your dorm. I had to do something.”
I nodded, and feeling a bit spaced out sat down on the bed.
“Have you-?” I held up my phone.
“Oh. Yeah Ryan, of course. I should probably go outside and wait for the cops.” Luke said, reluctantly handing me his pocket knife as he left Oliver’s side.
With Luke gone from the room Kirsten put an arm around me in a half-embrace, the bag of raisins crinkling between us. I put the knife on the bedside table, and relaxed a little as I returned the hug.
Oliver made a grunting, whimpering sound and rocked the chair so violently it toppled over. He hit his head on the edge of the desk as he fell- his eyes rolled back in his head as his body convulsed against the ropes that bound him.
In retrospect, I should have known better- but in retrospect, you always know better.
I untied him; at first I just removed the gag, but the seizing continued and Kirsten got out her phone.
“I’m calling an ambulance. I’m going down to let Luke know.”
She left hurriedly, pausing for a fraction of a second by the door, looking from me to Oliver and back again, a worried frown on her face.
“Just go, I’ve got it!” I reassured her, and she turned the knob and vanished into the hall.
The ropes were tight around his wrist and ankles, and friction from the violent spasm was causing them to bleed. Without thinking, I cut the bindings. I figured the paramedics would have to do it, and it would slow them down. I hate Oliver and all the grief and turmoil he has caused past and present, but I didn’t want him to die. Death is so final.
The seizing stopped, and he lay motionless on the ground. I reached out to check for a pulse and before I could ascertain if he was alive, Oliver attacked the end of my finger piranha-style.
In one fluid motion, he came up swinging; his fist colliding with my nose and his foot with my groin. My vision greyed from the unexpected assault, and suddenly the knife was no longer in my hand.
I heard it hit the floor with a dull thud, and our eyes met for an instant before we both lunged for it. Oliver was closer, but he tripped over the bag of raisins as he moved toward it, giving me a split second advantage.
“Do it,” he whispered; his voice was disturbingly calm and even- more like a librarian than a psychopathic maniac.
“Get on the floor, Oliver,” I said warningly.
The door opened, and suddenly the room was filled with people. The paramedics entered, closely followed by two police officers, Kirsten and Luke.
One of the officer’s read Oliver his rights while his partner slapped the cuffs on him.
Someone guided me over to sit on the bed, and Kirsten called out to the paramedics. I guess my finger was bleeding pretty badly. I figured my nose was probably broken too, but the pain was oddly subdued.
The lady paramedic started asking me questions, which thankfully Kirsten was able to answer, because at some point I fell asleep.
Fin (But not really, since I’ve promised an epilogue.)