Chapter 10
Oliver awoke afraid. He barely remembered why, something to do with what he was dreaming. Something to do with the violence and the gore and he was being chased and-. And it was gone.
A woman's voice spoke above him. “Glad to see you finally awake Oliver. The weather today is a high of twenty-two degrees Celsius and a low of twelve degrees. It is partly cloudy with showers later today.” Oliver blinked groggily at the voice keeping him awake. Must be some sort of fancy version of Alexa, he thought. “Dr. Banner will be waiting for you on the eighty-seventh floor in about an hour.”
Oh, yes. He had forgotten. Last night, during his weird wave of feeling good, he went out to grab some pizza and told Bruce that they could start looking into what changed in his mind in the morning. Well, here was the morning, and Oliver sort of regretted that decision. Too late to take it back now though. Dr. Banner though. That’s what the robot lady called him. Was that Bruce or was some other doctor going to be testing him? Bruce Banner, the name was very familiar. He had heard it in Biology class this year. Couldn’t remember why though.
Oliver decided he should probably shower. It had been a while and he was starting to look pretty greasy. It was hard though, getting himself to get up and get ready. There wasn’t any relief associated with showering, or brushing his teeth, or putting on clothes. So little relief when those actions use so much energy. He took a deep breath, holding it just to feel his lungs shake and burn for a second. Just a second, then he let it go, relief flooding in. Oliver got up and headed to the bathroom.
The hot water did feel good on his skin once he was in, and it was one of those fancy showers that had the water coming from the roof. It felt like rain. He kept on having to lean against the wall though, and had to sit down so he stopped feeling dizzy. He hated this stupid tremor. He hated how hard it made it for Oliver to just squeeze shampoo out of a bottle. He had to sit on the floor and use both hands, just to scoop the shampoo off the tile and finally lather it into his hair. It’s fine. He would adapt. He would figure it out. He always had. Or he could ask for shampoo bottles with pump tops? It didn’t matter, Oliver thought, It didn’t matter that much. He finished bathing and cleared the mirror of steam. It had been a while since he had seen himself naked. He usually avoided it but he wanted to see how they had changed him. If these major life events even had physical evidence.
Of course, the bruises were still flushed across his torso, reflecting an image of purples and greens. More off-putting, however, was the bolts of red fractal patterns scaling up and down his skin. It would have looked kind of cool in some places, if not for the inconsistency in the patterns, and if not for the terrible memory.
Oliver stopped contemplating his skin and continued to prepare himself for experimentation. Just teeth, clothes and food, he reminded himself, just three things. He was both anticipating the relief of being done with those three tasks and dreading what would come after.
His mother had only packed him the clothes he hadn't worn in years. The too-tight things, the dresses she picked out. He dreaded it, wearing them. She didn’t even pack any of the nice dresses. He picked a blue one with little flowers and ruffles, put transtape on despite his unease with it and his injuries, and avoided mirrors. He hoped he looked like a boy in a dress. Not a girl.
Breakfast was cold pizza from last night. Mr. Stark had ordered way more the necessary which was good for Oliver but bad for the fridge space. The elevator ride was nice. It was the first time he had ridden in it alone, so he let himself stare out the big windows like a child. The ride was short, however, and ended long before Oliver was ready for it to. The medical ward. He had been in here before, not a hospital, but not this floor.
Bruce was waiting for him when the elevator doors opened. He looked up from a clipboard. “Ah, Oliver, perfect timing.” He glanced at the dress and then looked back at him, smiling. “So we are starting with an fMRI scan to access how the different areas of your brain are working. The machine is affected by tech and metal. Do you have any piercings or anything?”
Oliver shook his head. He was speaking so nonchalantly about it all. Like they weren’t looking for signs of like superpowers, or damage. Either way, changing his life entirely. Bruce started walking, and Oliver followed. He kept talking about the tests they were going to run. A CT scan for structural changes or damage, an EEG for brain activity, and a MEG for spontaneous activity and to see the response to stimuli. Oliver wasn’t really listening. He didn’t know what the tests meant for him anyway. He simply walked through the bright, empty halls a couple of steps behind Bruce. Dark windows lined the halls, and different complicated machines sat in silence, waiting to be used. This was probably a private medical facility, it was a shame for these expensive diagnostic tools to go unused while plenty waited to use them. And here he was, getting the first pick of the litter.
Bruce reached the end of the hall and opened a door for Oliver. The room was mostly taken up by the large machine, except for a door and window, showing a room with a desk and computer. Standing in the room with the window was a middle-aged man. He pressed a button in front of him.
“Hi Oliver, I’m Dr. Obdi and I’m your radiologist. I’m just going to be in this room as technology will mess with the scan.” He smiled and waved. Oliver smiled back politely. Bruce directed him to lie down on the machine’s bed and gave him some goggles and headphones to put on.
“Alright, I’m going to be here the entire time, I’m not a radiologist, despite what Tony may think.” He chuckled to himself/. “Anyway, those goggles will give you instructions to follow and the headphones are to protect your ears. Just try to lie as still as possible.”
Oliver lay down on the machine’s table, trying to keep his skirt low. He first put on the goggles, then the headphones, which muffled all noise. Still, he heard, no, felt the machine start-up. Whirring and clicking around him. His head hurt.
The goggles displayed the words “Squeeze right hand” Oliver followed the directions, otherwise completely still. He lay like that, squeezing his hand, trying not to move for god knows how long. His head still hurt. The goggles told him to squeeze the other hand, and he did. He held the position again, starting to relax a bit. It was loud and his head hurt but he was still just lying on a table squeezing his hand.
Then, the goggles read a different message. “Hi, Oliver, Dr. Obdi here :). The next part is hard.” The message flashed off, another taking its place. “I need you to think of your time in that room. With the machine” The message flashed off and on again. “ I know it’s hard but seeing your brain react might help pinpoint where we should be exploring.” Oliver took a deep breath. Not too deep, he didn’t want to move his chest too much, but, deep enough. It's just a memory, he assured himself, It can’t hurt you and it will help. He closed his eyes, starting by just reimagining the room. That small room. Barely fitting the metal table and camera. He could almost feel the metal on his skin again. The cold mixed with being stared down by that big black camera lens. And that machine, just wedged in the corner with all its details and wires Oliver could swear that they had added some of those just for shock value.
He could feel the needles in his scalp again, feel the exhausted anxiety in his chest take a while to start up, to hum through his body like an old motor. Do it, he told himself, just remember the pain. He was already shaking, already fucking up the scan. God his head hurt. He tried to calm his breath before he remembered that part. It worked a little.
He relaxed the wall he had begun to build as soon as he knew he would have a life to avoid the memory of what happened in that room. That small fucking room. He remembered it as if in slow motion. Feeling the pain flow through his body, burn his skin. He choked down a sob. He had to stay still. He remembered the feeling of his scream on his throat. He had never screamed like that before. It had hurt, but compared to everything else, he had noticed it at the time. He remembered straining with all his strength against those metal cuffs, feeling them dig into and bruise his skin. And then the woman had lowered the lever more. He could feel it now, in the present. He could feel the cold metal as the only thing touching him. But still, he was sweating. He could smell it too, burnt hair, sweat and blood. He could feel the pain, not as intense maybe, but, a memory shouldn’t bring physical pain. His eyes shot open. He still had the goggles on. He could feel his chest heaving, his limbs shaking. The machine kept clicking. Pain tore down Oliver’s body in another wave. Fuck. He couldn’t control this. He had to get out. Maybe it was the machine. Maybe something in that had triggered his fucked up brain and he was going to be tortured again.
Oliver couldn’t stay still anymore. He brought his hands up to his face, squeezing through the machine and peeling off the headphones and goggles. Bright white light met his eyes. He pressed his hands against the machine two inches from his face. He had to get out of it, it was hurting him. Pain washed through him again and for a second, he went limp. The machine kept whirring and clicking. It was loud. He shouted out and shook the walls of the machine. He was stuck. He was stuck and it was hurting him. He stared at his hands, they shook heavily. The pain came again and Oliver cried out, bringing his hands to his head. It was coming from his head. Finally, the machine started moving. Another wave came, bringing through his brain and tearing apart his body from the inside out. He screamed. He started grasping at his hair, holding his skull. Ripping at his scalp. If he could just, give the pain somewhere to escape from. His body was out of the machine and he leapt off the table, on his hands and knees on the floor. He couldn’t feel the carpet though, he could only feel that metal on his back that kept him restrained to the table. He could still see that fucking woman’s smile at his pain.
Someone walked towards him as another wave of pain swept through, more pressure building in his head. He wavered in place, sobbing and reaching out an arm to stop them. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He was focusing on his breathing, trying to get to a wall, a corner, somewhere he wouldn’t have to watch his back. Voices reached out, saying his name. The pressure in his head was so much. It needed out, it needed something. Another wave of pain, another desperate noise. He was out of the machine!? Why was it still coming?! Why did it all still hurt? Oliver scrambled forward, finding a wall, a corner. He huddled in it, squeezing his eyes shut and his fingers scraping at his scalp. He needed the pressure in his head out. He needed it. It was either going to go out or it was going to crush his brain. He panted, squeezing his eyes as closed as they could go, trying to let the pressure out. He felt dizzy, he felt weak. Another wave of pain, but it didn’t travel through him this time, just swirled around in his head like a stuck drain. He screamed and shook and-.
And suddenly, with a crash, Oliver felt the pressure leave. He nearly collapsed when it did, only staying knotted up in the corner in case it started again. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark and the glass window had shattered. Bruce was standing in front of him. Dr. Obdi wasn’t in either room. He started to feel this room again. The aching in his fingers from clenching his hair, the tears that had, at some point, started pouring down his skin. He looked back at Bruce.
“Oliver?” His voice was very gentle, he took a step forward. Oliver coiled further into the corner. “Oliver it’s okay, I think you had a panic attack-”
“No” His voice came out rough. “This wasn’t a panic attack, the pain was real. It was real.”
“Alright, but I can’t let you sit in here okay? With the glass?” He took another step forward, glass crunching under his shoe.
The spiral in Oliver’s chest twisted tighter, he hadn't noticed it twisting before but it was suddenly very tight. “Wait. Just. Wait a second.” Bruce stopped moving. “Can I just have five more minutes? Can I just- sit here a while? Alone? Just for a little but I just need to-” Oliver’s breath hitched. “I just need to be alone for a second.” Tears welled up. He was so tired and everybody seemed aggressive and he didn’t know why. He was so scared that the pain would start again. That it wouldn’t stop this time.
Bruce nodded. He took a deep breath in and turned to leave the room. “I’ll be back soon okay?”
Oliver was alone again. He didn’t relax. Things still hurt when you are alone, sometimes more with no one to distract you. He looked at the shards of glass on the ground. He had done that? With the pressure in his head? He was glad it had been released then. He was probably right with the head exploding. What if this happened again? What if it wasn’t because of the MRI, and this was just going to happen now? The intense pain and the possibility of Oliver exploding his own head. He could hear his heartbeat start to thump in his ears again. What if, for the rest of his life, he was always afraid of this happening again? Staying away from anything that might hurt someone, god, what if he hurt someone?
A knock cut through Oliver’s thoughts and his body tightened up, his muscles aching in protest. Mr. Stark’s head poked through the door. They made eye contact and Mr. Stark took that as an invitation to come in. He walked over, hands in his pockets. Oliver squeezed himself tighter against the wall.
Mr. Stark stopped. “Hey, kid.” Oliver didn’t say anything. Mr. Stark squatted down. “Listen, I get you don’t want to move but, you can’t stay in here forever.” Silence filled the space. Mr. Stark tried again. “Look, I’ve had panic attacks in the past, maybe I could help-”
“It wasn’t a panic attack.” It came out more forcefully than Oliver intended but he had told Bruce. It wasn’t a panic attack, it was real.
Mr. Stark put his hands up in defence. “I believe you, kid. It was real and the pain was real, right? I don’t doubt it. But it's panic that's keeping you here right?” He paused. “It is panic? You’re not still in pain? Cause if you are we can get you something for it. No need to raw dog pain.” Mr. Stark smiled as if joking.
Oliver scanned his body, the only pain was from muscle fatigue. From crouching in this stupid position for so long and from keeping his hands twisted in his hair for so long. “I’m not in any pain.”
“Alright, well, take some deep breaths and I can take you back to your room huh? We can get outta this dark and messy place and go to your room and I’ll get you some food and we can get you some clothes that make you look a little less like you’re being strangled. Does that sound good?”
Oliver took a deep breath in, held it for a second and then let it out. His bed did sound a lot better than right here. Food sounded good too. Mr. Stark really didn’t have to get him new clothes but if he was offering, well, it would help. He looked back up at Mr. Stark and nodded.
Mr. Stark got up, walking over to help him up. Oliver beat him to it, preferring the wall and the aching in his joints over a stranger's elbow. But when those aching joints threatened to give out, he grabbed on. They walked to the elevator together, Mr. Stark making jokes about Oliver’s pace, but still keeping it. Oliver was really too tired to care about anything other than getting to his bed.