Oliver x Reader || tpn fanfiction

Prolog- later

a/n:  when I wrote this I heard "wires" by the neighborhood

Y/N pov

The emptiness of the house enveloped me, its silence an eerie reminder of the absence of laughter and chatter that once filled its walls. The vibrant energy of my siblings had been extinguished, one by one, as they were taken away, leaving behind a void that seemed to grow with each passing day. I could no longer hear their voices, their laughter, or even their cries. They were gone, and I was left here, trapped with my mother in this desolate place.

My commitment to wait and hope for their return wavered as reality sank in. The original plan to rescue them had become an impossible dream. I couldn't fathom where they had been taken or how to reach them. It seemed hopeless, and I felt a surge of frustration and desperation.

As I contemplated the situation, a voice pierced the silence from behind me. It was my mother, her words laced with a coldness that sent shivers down my spine. "You know it, don't you?" she accused, her tone heavy with accusation.

I turned to face her, my expression guarded. "What makes you think that?" I replied, trying to conceal the turmoil within me.

Her gaze bore into mine, her eyes betraying a flicker of understanding. "Because you haven't asked about your siblings. You haven't shown any curiosity or concern. And one of the younger ones revealed that you instructed them to prevent me from searching for the escapees," she stated, her voice devoid of any warmth.

So, I had already blown my cover. I had unknowingly exposed my true intentions. I braced myself for what was to come.

"And how far did they get?" I inquired, my voice steady despite the tension in the room.

A faint smile played on my mother's lips, an unsettling expression that sent chills down my spine. "So, you won't deny it, huh? They managed to survive. They're still out there, searching for their siblings," she replied, her words carrying a sinister undertone. We stood there, amidst the remnants of the charred building, as I wondered when she would transport me to yet another farm or kill me. I couldn't remain here indefinitely.

"By the way, you'll never see your siblings again," she taunted, her sadistic grin widening. The words hit me like a gut punch, but I refused to let her see my anguish. She reveled in her power over me, relishing in the pain she inflicted. "But don't worry, I won't expose your knowledge," she added, her voice dripping with cruel amusement.

I stared back at her, my resolve hardening. I may not be able to rescue my siblings now, but I vowed to myself that I would find a way. The fight within me burned brighter than ever, fueled by the pain of loss and the determination to uncover the truth. I couldn't trust my mother, but I refused to let her break me.

"Why?" I asked, my voice filled with confusion and concern.

"If I have to die, I want to see this system go down. I want to see it burn. Lighter than the sun," she responded, her gaze distant and empty.

A chilling realization settled over me. If she was to die, that meant I would be handed off to another "home," placed under the care of another "Mama." It would be a new cycle of fear and uncertainty, a never-ending nightmare.

"Yeah," she confirmed, her voice devoid of emotion. "But don't expose yourself until then. Watch as the older kids 'leave' and wait for the perfect opportunity. There are two possibilities for you, as far as I know. You could end up in Grand Valley or Grace Field. Grand Valley would be nearly impossible to escape from, so pray that you end up in Grace Field. However, it's known for producing the highest-quality products, making escape equally impossible. Give up. There's no way out. You'll only subject yourself to more pain."

Her words hit me like a blow, a stark reminder of the bleak reality that awaited me. But she wasn't finished. She pulled out an object resembling a pen, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized it.

"With this," she said, handing me the pen, "you can make one more attempt. But don't get caught. Don't rely on a single plan." Her instructions hung in the air, heavy with both warning and hope, as she left the room.

"Mama?" I called out softly, and she turned back to face me. "Could you help me hide the pen?" The smile on her face grew wider, an unsettling expression that sent a shiver down my spine.

"What does my clever child have in mind?" she asked, her voice dripping with eerie excitement.

"Maybe we could make a small incision in my body, like in my abdomen, and place the pen in a clean plastic bag. Then we can stitch the skin back together," I suggested, feeling a mix of fear and determination.

She nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming with a maniacal intensity. "Sure, sweetie. Nobody will easily find it there, and you can retrieve it when you need it. Time is of the essence. Let's go." With her guidance, we entered the makeshift hospital room. She numbed the area, ensuring I wouldn't feel any pain, and carefully made the incision. Blood trickled from the wound as she inserted the pen beneath my skin. With precise stitches, she sealed the tiny laceration and cleaned away the blood. A bandage covered the area, completing the clandestine operation. "Done," she declared, her voice laced with a peculiar mix of pride and satisfaction.

"Thank you, Mama," I said, mustering a grateful smile as I embraced her. The passage of time became a blur as she became my mentor, teaching me essential skills for survival. She shared her knowledge of combat, medical expertise, and strategies for finding sustenance in our oppressive environment. With each passing day, I grew stronger, both physically and mentally, preparing for the day I would seize my chance for freedom.

My mother, with grim determination, taught me invaluable skills that could mean the difference between life and death. She patiently showed me how to construct a bow and arrows, explaining the mechanics of each component and the proper technique for wielding the weapon. She didn't stop there; she introduced me to other firearms, educating me on their operation and emphasizing their potential as tools of survival. It was a lot to absorb in just a few days, but I knew that if I wanted to have any chance of making it in the outside world, I had to be a quick study.

As I pondered what I should take with me to the new farm, my mind drew a blank. I couldn't think of any possessions that would truly serve me in my quest for freedom. However, my mother had her own plans. She handed me a stack of books, all centered around medicine and healing.

"These will be your greatest assets," she said, her voice brimming with urgency. "Knowledge of medicine can save lives, including your own."

I nodded, understanding the weight of her words. These books would become my lifeline, my refuge in the face of danger and uncertainty.

With the days slipping away, the moment of departure arrived. My heart raced as my mother forcefully dragged me out of the house and towards the iron gates that stood between me and an unknown fate. Waiting for us was a tall, lean man, accompanied by a towering monster-like creature. Fear welled up inside me, I clung to my mother, not oly pretending to be frightened.

"Don't be afraid, my little one," my mother reassured me, her voice laced with a bittersweet tenderness.

"That's right, because you only have a nightmare," the man said, a sinister smile playing on his lips. With a swift motion, he wrenched me away from my mother's protective grasp. Panic surged through me as I fought against his hold, desperately attempting to return to the safety of my mother's side. But it was too late. In an instant, my mother was gone, extinguished like a flickering flame. I was left standing, consumed by a profound and overwhelming terror.

"You only have one big nightmare," the man repeated, his face looming before me. Through my tear-filled eyes, his features blurred into a haunting blur, a symbol of the darkness that surrounded me. Overwhelmed by grief and fear, I succumbed to the weight of my emotions, and everything faded to black.