Terrors of the night.

Apart from the day of the departing of both his parents, Oliver had never encountered a day as unlucky as this one. He had already experienced so much unfortunate events in a single day, and the worst part was that the day wasn't even half over yet. Starting from waking up in the infirmary, to going to the dining hall with a bandaged leg, realizing Ugly's absence, getting summoned to the principal's office to confess his failure to escape the orphanage, and the principal's rather overtly sympathetic approach to penalize him for an attempted breakout, by dissolving his off-campus privilege. 

Above all, the experience he found most unfortunate was the one that had just occurred moments ago, presently leaving him in a state that can more likely be referred to as; wrecked. Now all he could feel was pain and immeasurable regret. The very last moment of his encounter with Drake kept reeling through his mind. How Drake was able to do what he did still was to him, a mystery.

"I didn't know he had telekinesis," he grunted after Drake and the others were gone.

"I tried to warn you, but you didn't listen," Jasper replied.

"He's got an ability book, Oliver. It spiked quite the shock in me too when I heard the news. Still wondering what kind of loco slob would have given that sicko access to an ability book," Jasper said worriedly.

"I'm guessing he got it from his gangster Parton," Oliver said, "Heard he runs an undercover black market for some first-tier Elites."

"But ability books ain't allowed here. Why does he get to keep it?" Jasper asked, with his brows wrinkled with worry.

Oliver made no response, there was something else going through his mind.

Jasper helped him to his feet, after his series of unsuccessful attempts to get up on his own. Now he was beginning to experience the full aftereffects of the fight with Drake. 

"Come on, let's get you to Doctor Lacy," Jasper said, with an arm to support him. Oliver remained where he stood, still in a moody state.

"How did you get the jewelry?" he finally said, almost inaudibly.

"What?" Jasper muttered. He didn't quite get the question at first.

"The chain necklace," Oliver said, sounding a bit clearer. "How did you get it?" he inquired, his gaze firmer in expectancy and sheer curiosity.

"Wait, why are you staring at me that way?" Jasper protested, "You don't happen to have believed that I would steal from Alex, do you?" 

"I never said so, I only asked how you got it," Oliver explained.

"Alright, I found it at the gym hall the day after Alex got attacked," answered Jasper casually. "I didn't even know it was his at the time."

"I can't trust you are telling the truth, Jasper," Oliver said, inexpressibly awed by the manner in which Jasper had stated so confidently about finding the chain necklace at the gym hall a day after Alex was attacked, whereas he vividly remembered seeing that exact same necklace the previous night in the woods.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jasper scoffed, a brow cocked in surprise and puzzlement.

"It means you're simply not being honest," Oliver said.

 Jasper seemed totally lost in confusion. The topic was gradually becoming more serious and crucial than he had fashioned it to be, and he didn't appear to have any particular clue why.

"What do you mean; I'm not being honest?" Jasper protested. His brows knitted to a frown.

"You didn't get that jewelry from the gym hall, and neither did you get it the following day after the attack," Oliver said, gazing straight at him with frigid blue eyes. 

Jasper's jaw dropped open in bewilderment. He seemed totally lost and confused at what Oliver had said, mostly mystified by his cold nebulous gaze and the dark mystery of his eyes. Always emotionless to a fault, they were, but always seemed to be depicting something. It was so bizarre, all these while he had claimed he and this boy were best friends, but it still felt like they were strangers to each other.

"Dude, you can't just assume that I'm lying when clearly you don't even have an idea what you're saying," he protested.

"Who said it's an assumption?" Oliver asked.

"Last night in the woods, I saw this exact same necklace on the ground," he said.

"Wha… That's not possible!" Jasper blurted, "I had it with me the whole time!"

"For God's sake Oliver, snap the hell out of it," he sighed, "You saw a necklace that looked just like Alex's own and you just assumed it was it."

"I don't do assumptions, Jasper, I know exactly what I saw," Oliver insisted.

"Well, even if you're right, what point are you trying to make?" Jasper asked, "It feels like you're desperately trying to prove I stole the chain necklace."

"If I were, I'd be so dumb and petty," Oliver replied.

He slammed his eyes shut and hummed silently. The pain in his injured leg just kept getting more worse he could barely let his weight on it.

"I rather think you might be guilty of something a lot more serious than just theft," he said.

"What in the…" Jasper muttered, his gaze widening in bafflement.

"It sounds really questionable how a piece of jewelry belonging to the victim of a mysterious werewolf attack ended up in your possession," Oliver continued.

Jasper seemed even more confused at this point.

"Wait, did you just say werewolf? I thought the principal's already said that there ain't no werewolf around here," Jasper said.

"Good lord's Oliver! There is no werewolf, get over it already!"

"You want me to stop now I'm this close to seeking out the truth?" Oliver scoffed, "Not a chance." He sounded earnest.

Jasper's gaze slowly deviated from Oliver's face to a thoughtful expression.

"Wait a second…" he muttered, "I'm your suspect, ain't I?"

"You think I'm your fantasy werewolf, that I would harm Alex? Man… this is as heartbreaking as it is unbelievable," he said.

"Don't make this seem personal Jasper, I'm only trying to uncover the truth and somehow prevent anyone else from facing a similar fate with Alex or worst," Oliver told him.

"You were there last night, weren't you?" he continued, "I could sense it… moving in the shadows."

"You are making a mistake, Oliver," Jasper said, "I am not the werewolf, believe me, I'm not."

"It's pretty hard to believe your innocence when all evidence points at you. First, it was the way you suddenly showed up at the scene that day, the overexaggerated display of shock was so uncalled for and obviously faked. Another one was how your appearance looked like that of a barbarian, all covered in dust and dry leaves with hair widely ruffled and tangled, you weren't even wearing any footwear," Oliver explained.

"Next one is the fact that you were already inside the woods before I arrived there, and you still haven't explained what you were doing or where you came from that day. I also noticed the unusual interest and obsession with books about werewolves, probably because you couldn't control it, how convenient. And lastly, coming to the woods last night to clean up extra evidence was a bad idea," Oliver said.

"It's really painful," Jasper said, "all these while we've been close, and I can't even have you trust me."

"That's because I'd rather reason with my mind not my heart, Oliver said, "and in order to see the truth and make the right judgment, I subdue all emotions with my insights."

"I don't care how you feel about me now, Jasper. After all, the truth is always painful," he added.

Oliver began to limp his way toward the exit door situated at the far end of the passage. Jasper immediately rushed to help him.

"H… hold on, let me help…" Jasper stuttered as he rushed towards him.

"Don't push it," Oliver cut in, "I'm fine on my feet."

"Stop it, Oliver, it's very obvious you're in pain, let me walk you to the infirmary," he persisted.

"I'm not a dog that I should be walked, I told you I'm fine, Oliver replied as he limped on, groaning in agony at every step.

Despite the constant declines by Oliver, Jasper still remained obstinate in taking him to the infirmary. Oliver was feeling really uncomfortable with Jasper around. He knew how violent and animalistic a werewolf could be, and that being alone with one was equally as detrimental, even for him. Though he hadn't found a shred of solid evidence that Jasper was an actual werewolf, he was still very cautious of his own well-being, because so far, there was no reasonable proof that he wasn't.

"This unnecessary show of sympathy wouldn't do you any good, Jasper," Oliver said, gingerly taking Jasper's arm off from around him.

"It's never too late to do the right thing," he said, "but until then, I won't stop till I find tangible evidence who really is the beast in the woods, and make him suffer due retribution for his devious actions. After all, the truth sets you free, but not until it's done with you."

He soon left Jasper and hurried off to the infirmary on his own.

 That night, Oliver was plagued again by the same nightmare that had constantly tormented his dreams over the last couple of weeks. It came as a replay of the vision he had about the werewolf, reoccurring perpetually like an endless loop of misery. Each night it appeared more like a Deja Vu, with the experience more realistic. Its eyes more rabid-like, its dagger-like claws more hideous than ever, and screams of trepidation more echoey and penetrating like a stake through the heart. The whole experience was deemed as painful as it was dreadful. 

After a series of twists and turns on the bed, Oliver suddenly sprang up awake, his gaze wide with horror, and his upper clothing soaked with sweat from the toilsome nightmare. He found his wristwatch in the drawer, it was only five minutes past midnight.

Muttering a low depressing sigh, he sat up on his bed and began to recollect the horrid scenes of the nightmare. This time it felt so really, he had a bad feeling that it was a kind of warning that the moment of the fulfillment of the vision might be at the corner, soon to occur. 

As he lay back on his bed, sleep could no longer return to his eyes. 

"Look's like you'll be staying up the rest of the night, Oliver," he whispered to himself on the bed.

Whilst gazing up emptily into the dark, he suddenly heard a low sound from outside the window. He ignored it. Must be the wind, he thought, but again it sounded, not just once, but thrice. Oliver found this rather unusual. He kept still and listened vigilantly. Soon came the sound again. Oliver, as curious as he was of what was the cause of these strange sounds, hurriedly came by the window. As he pushed up the slide and opened the shutters, the cool night breeze whistled in, caressing his face. He stuck out his head and looked straight down as his gaze traveled through the dark with unnerving thoroughness. 

Squinting his eyes further, he detected some movement along the lawn. More anxious to know what it was that wandered around the courtyard at such an odd hour, he paid closer attention. Soon he observed that it wasn't just some moving object, it actually was a person, and the statue was oddly familiar.