This story will include adult themes, including rape, torture, and a lot of angst and struggling Olicity. It's gonna be a rough ride, so fair warning from the outset. This is my first published fan fic, so please review. I'm also open to having someone beta for me if anyone is interested.
As usual, all characters, etc. belong to DC and the CW.
Felicity awoke with a start. The first thing she noticed was a searing pain across her back. Her shirt was gone and her hands were tied to a faucet in front of her. Before she could take in her surroundings, she felt rough hands unzipping her pencil skirt and ripping it to the floor. She was barefoot and standing on hard concrete.
I must be in some kind of workshop, she thought briefly. Fighting back her panic, she tried to remain calm, but soon the rough hands were back, accompanied by ragged breathing right behind her ear. Her heart began pounding hard against her rib cage as an unknown entity moaned roughly right next to her head. The hands massaged her breasts with bruising force. She cried out, but all that earned her was a brutal tug on her chest and the hands were gone. For a blessed moment she thought he was gone, but then she felt the pain across her back again—a tugging, burning, searing pain.
No. This isn't happening. No. Not after everything. Felicity had been walking to the bus stop in the Glades after dropping off some paperwork at CNRI for Mr. Steele. She had made it two blocks and had seen the bus stop before her memory went blank. Based on the small trickle of blood now clogging her eye, she suspected she'd been blitzed. Why hadn't she taken those self-defense classes her mom had told her about?
At the thought of her mother, she let out a sob. This apparently pleased her attacker because he—it was definitely a he—let out a deep hum. Then the burning on her back doubled, accompanied by something warm and wet running down her now bare legs. She realized this man was cutting her. Deeply, carefully. She jerked against her bonds, but all that earned her was rope burn and a twisted neck as her assailant yanked harshly on her ponytail.
"No." He growled. Felicity froze. She'd never been more terrified in her life. She felt helpless. All she could do was hang over this utility sink, watching her blood slowly drip into the basin as this anonymous monster cut into her back. For hours, he drew meticulous lines into her back and down her hips with an unknown instrument until Felicity felt something that caused bile to rise in her throat.
He was hard. He was hard and rutting against her as he cut. Only seconds after she noticed, he dropped a scalpel into the sink and amidst the clatter, she didn't hear him unzipping his fly. She felt him, though.
She screamed. She thought the pain she'd experienced over the past few hours had been the worst in her life, but this was definitely worse. She sobbed as he relentlessly forced himself into her. He dug his fingers into her new incisions, smearing blood from her back, down onto her stomach and breasts. She felt herself being rend in half, blood trickling down her legs.
As his frantic thrusts increased, she drifted from consciousness until she blacked out completely. In the dark, her pain disappeared.
When she came to, he had left her tied where she was before, covered in blood that was still dripping into the sink. She felt light headed and disoriented, but grateful he has stopped. Apparently her loss of consciousness had abated his interest in her, at least briefly.
But he wasn't far.
She tilted her head towards the ragged breathing to her right. Sprawled across a dirty sofa, still with his pants pulled halfway down, was a man her age. He didn't look evil. Well, to her he did, but he was exceedingly average. Brown hair, tall, with a five o'clock shadow. A nice haircut, expensive jeans now ruined with blood.
Felicity looked closely, memorizing his face as he slept soundly. His slumber strengthened her resolve. She tugged again on her bindings and noticed them give slightly. Hope renewed, she tugged harder, until her wrists were raw, but after her determined work, the ropes finally gave in, fraying and snapping silently.
With her hands freed, she cast about frantically, looking for her clothes. They were nowhere in sight and she knew she had to get out of this disgusting apartment as fast as possible. Wrapping herself in a sheet lying on the bed shoved in the corner, she ran. She wrenched the first door open she found and discovered it led out onto a fire escape. Her legs were shaking violently as she threw herself down the stairs as fast as she could until, on the last flight, she slipped.
Tumbling down the last ten feet, she landed flat on her back. The pain made her vision go black as she struggled to stay conscious.
I have to get away. No… Please… Stay awake, Feli-….
Down the alleyway, a teenager in a red hoodie spun at the sound of a crash. At first in the gloom, he couldn't identify the source of the sound, until he saw her. Her glasses were broken, her face smeared with blood, and her feet bare. He watched her eyes flutter closed as he ran to her. He made eye contact with her for the briefest second before her head rolled limply to the side.
With no regard for how this would look with his prior run-ins with SCPD, he gathered her up. She needed help, but not in the Glades. She obviously didn't belong here with her perfect fingernails and expensive dark rimmed glasses. It took him only a few seconds to locate a car, popping the lock and ripping the ignition wires out. He tapped the wires together, turning the engine over and loaded her into the back seat before gunning it out of the Glades.
Once he reached downtown, he followed the signs to Starling General. Parking the car outside of the emergency room, he set the car alarm off and ran, praying someone would come outside to investigate.