Skins wrote:
It took him a while to notice that I was actually there. He seemed to be too interested in the bowl that he was scurrying through with his hands.
“What is with you and mints?” I asked, finally making Oliver look up.
“Whoa! Frickin’ hell, Tori. You sure as hell know how to scare a guy.” He replied. “These ones are mingin’ though,” he shrugged. “Yours are way nicer.”
I couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. It was the first time ever I’d actually been happy to hear his voice. Pulling a clearly unimpressed face, Oliver placed the bowl rather carelessly back onto the desk beside him.
Unlike the corridors outside, the hospital room wasn’t so bland. The walls were still plain, but they were decorated with some colourful paintings. I could easily tell that in the daytime, the room was brightened up beautifully thanks to the large window on the wall opposite me.
Oliver sat up in his bed as I headed towards one of the cushioned chairs that was placed beside it. Sitting down on the chair, I let out a heavy sigh. I’d only been on my feet for five minutes, but I felt completely worn out. It had been a long night.
“I’m really sorry,” Oliver’s voice caught me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at him carefully.
“For being a complete knob and letting you get attacked by some ginger freak,” he muttered.
I stared at Oliver then, not quite sure what to say. If anyone should have been apologising, it was me. I was seriously beginning to question why I didn’t like spending so much time with him. It was clear that he wasn’t a selfish person. In fact, he was far from it.
“You’re not a knob. Well, not all of the time.” I smiled lightly. “I shouldn’t have acted so... stupid. I should have just listened to you and left when you told me to.”
Oliver gawked at me, wide eyed. I couldn’t help but notice a small grin grow on his rather bruised face. I narrowed my eyes at him, kind of concerned about why exactly he was doing so.
“Wow, have you banged your ‘ead or something?” he asked, chuckling. “I was expectin’ you to have a full on rant at me.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, not really. I may be a bit... selfish at times, I guess, but I’m not thick. I know what decent people are like. Not that I like you or anything,” I muttered, glancing away from him for a moment. “but I don’t hate you. Plus, I kind of owe you. You did almost get yourself killed because of me... God, you must hate me...”
Once again, Oliver stared at me weirdly. I couldn’t blame him; I myself was surprised at the words that came out of my mouth. Finally managing to get a somewhat normal expression back onto his face, Oliver opened his mouth again. I don't know if this is just me going insane from reviewing while I'm tired, but this paragraph sounded a tad awkward. I think it must have been a couple of the words...like 'weirdly'. Maybe. xD
“Oh yeah, you bet I do. I hate you so much, I actually loaf you.” He nodded.
I gazed at him for a few seconds. It took me a while to realise what Oliver actually meant. When I did, I couldn’t help but start laughing to myself.
“Um, I think you mean loathe...” I said.
“Pfft, same thing,” Oliver replied.
I noticed his already red cheeks reddening even more as I corrected him. It was so strange; I felt so relaxed. I was having the same feeling as when I was in Oliver’s armsagain.You can probably get rid of the 'again' in here xD It might sound a bit better. I felt safe; it was a feeling that I realised I hadn’t felt in a long time. Nowadays, I was constantly afraid of things, stupid things. Getting married was the main one.
Maybe I didn’t feel like getting married was perfect for me right now, and I didn’t feel comfortable or safe thinking about having to do it? I guessed I was scared. As I thought about marriage, a million other thoughts raced through my head Once again, this could just be because reviewing when I'm tired makes me high or something, but 'head' didn't sound right to me. xD 'Mind' (according to my brain at the moment) woud probably sound a bit better.. Was Richard really ‘the one’? I hardly knew him. To be honest, I didn’t want to think about Richard right now. He didn’t make me feel safe.
I shoved the thought out of my head, feeling silly for getting so bothered. I didn’t know why, but it was as if I was questioning my entire life in one night. Okay, so here, 'head' sounded right.
“Why didn’t you want me to go into your flat?” I turned my attention back to Oliver.
He simply glanced at me before locking his eyes onto his hands The first half of this sentence was a little...off. Try reviving it a bit. as he began fingering the thin, white sheet. A minute must have passed before he looked back up at me. Okay, so I don't really know why, but the SECOND part of that sentence and the next sentence I really liked.
“No reason really,” he mumbled. “I guess I just... I don’t know. I didn’t want my brother’s or sister’sgetting hurt, I suppose.”
“Those idiots wouldn’t have gone into your flat, surely? Besides, you could have just locked the door. It would have made a lot more sense.”
Oliver looked back at his hands and chuckled slightly under his breath. I subtly turned my head to the side in confusion. I was getting a bit annoyed now at Oliver’s little secrets.
“It wasn’t them I was worried about,” Oliver looked back up at me. “I was more afraid of you hurting them,”
I was utterly baffled now at what on earth he was talking about. So, he wasn’t worried about a load of youths with knives going into a flat with his siblings, but me going in? He thought that was dangerous?
“I don’t mean literally hurting them, like, physically. I mean, as in, like...” he rubbed his neck and began biting his lip as he hastily tried to think of what to say. “Look, Tori, it’s just that you ask so many questions and... well, you would’ve asked a lot.”
I was past annoyed by now. Part of me felt guilty for getting so annoyed. I mean, in the end, it was Oliver’s business and it didn’t really have anything to do with me, but Insert 'I' here. xD felt as though it had everything to do with me right now. I had so many unanswered questions for him.
I really needed Oliver to be straight with me for the first time since I’d known him. I locked eyes with him and spoke slowly, hoping that it would actually make him be honest with me.
“Oliver, can you please just tell me what the hell the deal is with you?”
I was expecting him to turn away from me and start playing with his hands again, but he didn’t. Instead, he sighed heavily and smiled weakly.
“I'll tell you what,” he began, “if you start calling me Ollie, not Oliver, I’ll tell you everything you want to know because Oliver sounds like something a cat would throw up.” That made me giggle! I like Oliver, he's pretty cool.
My natural response was to start laughing, thanking God that the room hadn’t been overshadowed by an uncomfortable awkwardness.
“Fine." I sighed. "Don’t expect me to be happy about it though,”I said.You could probably delete the 'I said' here. “Okay, first question-” I was quickly interrupted.
“Bloomin’ hell, don’t hesitate or anything!” I heard a hint of anxiety as Oliver joked.
I replied by smiling sarcastically at him as I crossed my legs. I had about a hundred questions to ask him. Where was I supposed to begin?
“As I was saying,” I tried again, “what on earth did you think I’d do to your brothers and sisters? Eat them?”
“Um... well, the doctors couldn’t get hold of my mum, right?” Oliver said as I nodded, “They couldn’t get hold of her because she left her phone in the flat and... and I have no clue where the hell she is. I haven’t known for the past two weeks. That's basically it." he paused for a few seconds. "Look, I can cope with people gettin’ angry at me, laughing at me, calling me thick, getting annoyed with me and practically everything else. The one thing that I can’t stand is sympathy. It’s as simple as that.” He shrugged.
It took me a while to realise what Oliver was saying. I was absolutely baffled at the fact that Oliver’s mother had just, well, disappeared. Surely, social services would have done something? I knew that Oliver was eighteen and everything, so he was technically old enough to look after his siblings, but it still seemed so bizarre.
I still didn’t understand how I could have hurt them though. Admittedly, I would have felt sorry for Oliver if I’d known, and I can kind of understand that he must have some kind of pride issue or something. It still didn’t make sense why he thought I’d hurt them. This last sentence was worded a little funny. Try revising it a bit.
“Yeah, but how would I have hurt them by knowing that?”
“Well, as far as they’re aware, my mum’s on holiday for a few weeks. Knowing you, you would have realised that wasn’t the case and started havin’ a go at me right in front of them, making it blatantly obvious that my mum wasn’t, in fact, on holidays.” I heard a bitterness in Oliver's laugh.
I was about to argue when I hesitated for a moment. As much as I hated to admit it, he was probably right. I probably would have acted a bit too impulsive. It did seem over the top that he’d risk getting himself killed just so his siblings didn’t get upset, but that was Oliver for you. Just another reason to love Ollie. Seriously Skins, make him real so I can marry him or something?
“Are you telling me the complete truth?” I asked warily.
I knew that it was very likely he was being honest, but it was as if it didn’t process with me. Oliver was only a year older than me; how on earth was he supposed to look after six kids? The thought of ever having to do it myself was extremely daunting.
“Why else do you think I got so sensitive about you forcing me to go to Reading? It wasn’t because I wanted to go out and get wasted or whatever you thought. I had no idea where the kids were supposed to go.” Oliver started laughing again. “Remember that guy called Jeff I told you about? The one with loads of cats? He ended up having to look after them. Apparently, they take a lot more care than his cats...” Oh my gosh! I saw that name, then read the next bit and started laughing my head off! It got me weird looks from my siblings, I can tell you that. You're great.
The first day I met Oliver seemed like a century ago now. Although, I certainly remembered the story he told me about Jeff and his twenty something cats. Beautiful! Go Jeff and all your cats!
No wonder Oliver was constantly turning up for work late. How did he get all of his brothers and sisters to school in time? What about the youngest child, the one that was sick on him? Surely, she must have been two years old at the very most. Who looked after her when Oliver was in work? Awwe. Ollie's a responsible guy, too!
To make things even more frustrating, another thought jumped into my mind. What about a few months ago when Oliver had passed out? In fact, it was the day I met Richard. I still had no explanation for that whatsoever.
It seemed as though by getting an answer to one of my questions, I gained another twenty questions that I wanted to ask. Why did Oliver pass out a few months ago? What about his mum? Why on earth did she leave? Who took care of his siblings when he was out? I supposed that Jeff guy might have looked after them when Oliver was in work, maybe? You don't really need the 'maybe' there.
“Um, okay.” I nodded my head slowly, hoping to clear some thing's up. “Why did your mum leave? Well, do you know why she did? No offence, but that’s hardly a respectful thing to do as a mother, is it?”
Oliver turned away from me like he’d done various times earlier on. Except this time, it was only for a short period and he didn’t bother fiddling with the bed sheets.
“I know it looks bad, but it’s not her fault. She’s done this kind of thing before. She always comes back eventually.” Oliver looked back up at me, “She’s... well, she’s got depression so she can’t really help it. She gets really stressed sometimes and it does her good to get away for a few weeks sometimes. Anyway, it’s not like I can’t handle the kids." I heard a slight strain in his voice, "Zoey, the oldest except for me, is almost twelve now so she kind of helps out as well. Plus, Ella comes round an awful lot.” Poor, overly-responsible Ollie! D=
I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know anymore now. I felt bad enough as it was and Oliver telling me all of this made that old, horrible lump formbackYou can get rid of that 'back.' in the back of my throat. Come to think of it, that explained Ella not being around as much anymore. I obviously wasn’t the only one who needed her to look after me.
Once Oliver had finished speaking, the long awaited awkward silence fell upon us. I didn’t know what to say, and it was clear that Oliver was hoping that I wouldn’t ask any more questions. In reality, I didn’t want to ask any more questions.
“God, I feel high.” Oliver laughed, stretching his arms out above his head. “I think they’ve put me on crack instead of painkillers or whatever they give you in this place.”It may have been a pretty weird way to do so, but at least Oliver finally broke the silence. “You know, when I was a kid, I used to think that the kiddie ward in this place was epic. I still do. They have giraffes and stuff painted on the wall. I mean, come on, what more do you want?” Okay, I know I've said I have this thing against highlighting whole paragraphs in the past, but...This paragraph was wonderful. You make the absolute best characters ever.
I rolled my eyes at him, smiling softly. It was actually feeling odd to me that I’d previously complained about Oliver for a hundred and one different reasons. Sure, some of the things he said sometimes were completely pointless and weird, but they certainly did amuse me. They amuse me, too Tori, they amuse me too.
As Oliver shut his eyes and sighed heavily, I gazed at him. I’d never really looked at him before, not properly. At the moment, his face was quite badly bruised, so I couldn’t really notice much about him anyway. The longer I kept my eyes on him though, the more recognisable his face seemed to become. It was almost as if he reminded me of someone. No, he did remind me of someone. Who that was, I didn’t have the foggiest.
Turning away from him, I realised that it was probably just me. I doubted he looked like anyone else I knew. I was pretty darn tired and I could hardly think straight anyway.
“So, how long are you going to have to stay in this place?” I asked as Oliver opened his eyes again. “I’m assuming that you’ll be here until at le-”
“Victoria!” The sharpness of a rough voice caused me to turn my head to the doorway.
Standing there, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows lowered, was my father.
“What on earth were you thinking?” he shouted as the door closed shut behind him. “I don’t even know what to say! What in God’s name is wrong with you, child? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you in that place? Worse still, do you realise what you might have done to the family’s reputation. Do you want to make a fool out of yourself?” Maybe she does! Because that's what rebellios teenagers do. Umm...yeah, anyways...*continues reading*
That was when it felt like I was drowning. My dad’s face was bright red with anger and I could almost see his body shaking. I felt myself tearing up. Did he really care more about his stupid reputation than me? Didn’t he have any idea what had happened to me within the past few hours?
I simply gaped at him, trying to force some words to come out of my mouth. It was impossible though. My entire body felt as though it was slowly sinking. I’d gone from feeling the most comfortable I’d felt for as long as I could remember, to utterly terrified in seconds.
My dad continued shouting at me as he paced around the room, both his face and his voice bitter. I was desperately trying to think of something to say now, but what was I supposed to say? It turned out I didn’t have to say anything. Someone else did that for me.
“Shut the hell up! Do you have any idea what she’s just been through?” Oliver shouted, his eyes narrowed into two thin almonds. “What is wrong with you kind of people? Do you seriously think that living up to some pathetic standard is more important than everything else?” Once again, I must cheer on Ollie's awesomness! Go Ollie go!
What happened next surprised me. Every single time before this, my father had looked at Oliver and asked me who he was, even though he’d met him several times by now. Except it was different this time.
My dad basically stared at Oliver as though he hated him. Really hated him. It didn’t even seem as though he was looking at Oliver like that because of what he’d just said. It was almost as if it was for a reason only my dad was aware of, leaving Oliver and I completely oblivious.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” my dad’s voice had turned into a frustrated mumble.
Without saying another word, my father stomped towards the door and pulled it open. He glanced at Oliver one last time before leaving the room, slamming the door shut. Tempermental man her father is!
I must have been sitting there in complete silence for minutes before I could feel myself breathing again. It was as though time had stopped for a few measly minutes, trying to give me a chance to take everything in.
“He hates me...” I finally managed to mutter.
I slowly turned my head to face Oliver. In response, Oliver sat up in his bed as much as he could and started shaking his head.
“Tori, he don’t hate you. He’s just... angry. What he said to you was way out of order, but you know he didn’t mean it.” He sighed heavily. “Just go and speak to him.”
Speak to him? Right now, that was the last thing I wanted to do. To be perfectly honest, no matter how stupid it sounded, all I wanted to do was go to bed and dream that today hadn’t happened.
“Look, he probably hasn’t been told everything. Explain to him what happened. Please, Tori. You can’t let him speak to you like that. He’s even worse than that prick of a boyfriend you’ve got.” Do I detect a hint of jealousy?
Giving Oliver a dirty look, I remembered why he annoyed me so much. What did Richard have to do with any of this? I rubbed my forehead and reminded myself not to get angry.
“I’ll...” I bit my lip. “I’ll be back now, Oliver.” He gave me a strange look and gently shook his head. Rolling my eyes, I gained a weak smile. “Ollie then. Whatever.”
Oliver smirked slightly as he lifted his hands behind his head and rested it on them, shutting his eyes again. He muttered what sounded like good girl as I stood up and nervously headed for the door.
Jogging quickly down the corridor, I aimlessly searched for any sign of my father. On the outside, I appeared to be perfectly confident, but on the inside, my heart was pounding out of my chest. I was about to turn a corner when I heard a familiar voice, stopping me in my tracks.
“Just hear me out!” Ella’s voice sounded strained.
“Ella, I’m really not in the mood for this right now!” my dad hissed back.
Popping my head around the corner I saw Ella sitting on a plastic chair, my father standing in front of her, running his hand through his dyed blonde hair. As they continued speaking, I made sure I was only breathing through my nose. I needed to hear what they were saying.
“You don’t even care about your own child, do you?” For the first time since I’d known her, which was many, many years, there was a hint of aggression in Ella's voice.
I swallowed hard, waiting for my father’s response. It pained me to think that I was expecting him to agree with Ella, telling her how much problems I’d caused for him. My dad opened his mouth as I shut my eyes.
“In case you didn’t notice, Victoria means the world to me! I just want someone to explain to me what on earth is going on!”
That was when my breath came back and my heart started beating again. He may have said them angrily, but those words made me believe that my dad did, in fact, actually care about me. I opened my eyes and sighed in great relief.
Ella shook her head as an irritated frown appeared on her small face.“You and I both know that it’s not-”
“Victoria!”
Missing the end of what Ella said, I spun around to see my mother, her face as pale as a fragile white rose. I wasn’t sure why, and I didn’t know how long I did it for, but that was when I broke down. I fell into my mother’s arms, my entire body shaking with uncertainty, happiness, anxiousness Anxiety perhaps?, and practically every other emotion possible.
On to the review.“Whoa! Frickin’ hell, Tori. You sure as hell know how to scare a guy.” He replied. “These ones are mingin’ though,” he shrugged. “yours are way nicer.”
Oliver sat up in his bed as I headed towards one of the cushioned chairs that was placed beside it.
“For being a complete knob and letting you get attacked by some ginger freak.” He muttered.
“Oh yeah, you bet I do. I hate you so much, I actually loaf you.” he nodded.
I gazed at him for a few seconds. It took me a while to realise what Oliver actually meant. When I did, I couldn’t help but start laughing to myself.
“Um, I think you mean loathe...” I said.
Nowadays, I was constantly afraid of things, stupid things. Getting married was the main one.
“Um... well, the doctors couldn’t get hold of my mum, right?” Oliver said as I nodded, “They couldn’t get hold of her because she left her phone in the flat and... and I have no clue where the hell she is. I haven’t known for the past two weeks. That's basically it." he paused for a few seconds. "Look, I can cope with people gettin’ angry at me, laughing at me, calling me thick, getting annoyed with me and practically everything else. The one thing that I can’t stand is sympathy. It’s as simple as that.” he shrugged.
“Well, as far as they’re aware, my mum’s on holiday for a few weeks. Knowing you, you would have realised that wasn’t the case and started havin’ a go at me right in front of them, making it blatantly obvious that my mum wasn’t, in fact, on holidays.” I heard a bitterness in Oliver's laugh.
“Why else do you think I got so sensitive about you forcing me to go to Reading? It wasn’t because I wanted to go out and get wasted or whatever you thought. I had no idea where the kids were supposed to go.” Oliver started laughing again, “Remember that guy called Jeff I told you about? The one with loads of cats? He ended up having to look after them. Apparently, they take a lot more care than his cats...”
To make things even more frustrating, another thought jumped into my mind. What about a few months ago when Oliver had passed out? In fact, it was the day I met Richard. I still had no explanation for that whatsoever.
“God, I feel high.” Oliver laughed, stretching his arms out above his head. “I think they’ve put me on crack instead of painkillers or whatever they give you in this place.”
“Shut the hell up! Do you have any idea what she’s just been through?” Oliver shouted, his eyes narrowed into two thin almonds. “What is wrong with you kind of people? Do you seriously think that living up to some pathetic standard is more important than everything else?”
Nothing about them really need to change unless you make the changes I suggested and thus have to change a few small details. I'm certainly going to recommend The Four Musketeers to other people in need of them. I was aware that there were quite a few issues with the story as a whole, and I'm happy that you pointed them out to me so that I could get them in order. What I think I'm going to do is finish writing the story and then re-edit the entire thing. By the end of the story, I think the last chapter will be a lot better written than the first. I hope it will be, anyway.
It's an amusing word...Skins wrote:You deserve a medal for your reviews.
But thanks for the compliment 
I'm certainly going to recommend The Four Musketeers to other people in need of them.
I think I'm going to completely rewrite the first couple of chapters, come to think of it.
I would like to ask you something though, which is what do you think is going to happen in this novel as a whole? It's merely out of interest, to be honest.
Once again, thank you so much for reviewing, like, every chapter!
You requested, I provided.
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