"Are you sure Bennett's going to be okay alone tonight?" Felicity questioned Ray as she unpacked her toothbrush. Bennett had kindly offered to stay in Felicity's room alone so she could stay with Ray for the night.

"Of course. She's gonna be fine, Felicity." Ray put down the TV remote and pulled Felicity's toothbrush from her hand.

"I know. It's just she seemed a little off tonight. And after everything that happened…" Felicity lost her trail of thought as Ray stared intently into her eyes. There was a softness to them as he caressed her face, and then…something else…sadness, maybe.

"It's not that I don't worry about her. Believe me, I do. Every minute of every day. I worry mostly that I'm going to find her dead one day. I can't lose her again, Felicity. No matter what." He was barely whispering by the end of it. His lips, inches away from hers, hovered so close she could feel his breath. Could taste the scent of his skin. An ache grew in her chest, and suddenly nothing else mattered. He needed her right now. And she wanted him.

Making the first move, Felicity's lipped crashed into his as they tumbled onto the bed. Her hands chased his over their bodies. Wanting to feel every centimeter of skin, every freckle, every wrinkle.

Ray's lips hungrily embraced Felicity's body, tasting and caressing everything.

At some point, they had undressed, and the heat of his body against hers felt like home. Rolling over, Ray on top of her, brushed the stray blonde hairs out of her face. Perched right on the edge, Felicity dug her nails into his shoulders.

"I love you, I love you so much." The sound of his voice, purring into her ears, was too much to handle.

"I love you, too." With that, their lips met once again and Felicity turned off the lamp.

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After a fitful night of sleep, I woke up to a throbbing thigh. The bright green light of the clock next to me flashed 6:32. Pulling back the covers, I noticed brown marks lining the sheets. Oops.

Braving the bright lights in the bathroom, I turned on the shower and slipped off my underwear. Pulling the bandage from my forehead, I inspected Oliver's stiches. They were holding up quite well, all things considering. Underneath the spray of the water, I let the burning of my wounds being cleaned wake me up. I relished in the pain, and simultaneously hated myself for it. What was wrong with me?

More than I could fix, that was for sure.

Wrapped up in a plush towel, I dialed room service and asked for a first aid kit. For my head, of course.

Surprisingly soon, a young man at the door handed me a small red bag. Opening it, I found a bottle of alcohol. I dabbed a little on a cotton square and dabbed it on my forehead. I forced myself to pour the rest of the liquid on my thigh, inhaling through my teeth as the pain made my leg shake.

When my breathing evened out and my leg dried, I pulled on my clothes and packed up my bag. I did my best to clean the blood up in the bathroom, then closed the door behind me.

Downstairs, Ray and Felicity were cuddled up at a table eating croissants.

"Hey, Benny, how did you sleep?" Ray asked.

"Not too bad." Lie. Always a lie somewhere.

"Good. Well grab some coffee and something to eat. We should get going soon." I could see Ray eyeing me closely. I wondered if Felicity had told him she thought something was wrong yesterday.

I wasn't really hungry, but I grabbed a bagel and a cup of tea, knowing I could pick at the bagel so Ray would be satisfied that I had eaten something.

In the car, I felt dirty, as I usually did after a cut. But also relieved. And also angry at myself. I was back to 'zero days since last cut'. The longest I had gone since coming back was five days. Five excruciating days. I ran one hand over the fresh marks through my jeans, enjoying every spark of pain, while nibbling my bagel with the other.

It was better this way, I told myself. It was either this or heroin, I told myself. It's not really that bad, I told myself. It's pretty normal, considering, I told myself.

Myself wasn't listening, though.

I dozed through the rest of the trip, only waking when we arrived at Ray's office.

"Ben, Mr. Clark is going to take you home, okay? Felicity and I have some work to do, but I'll be home for dinner." With a kiss to the forehead, I was packed up and into his chauffer's car.

Back at the house, I sat in the chair facing the window. The pain was gone, leaving only an emptiness behind it. When I felt like this, time slowed down, or sped up. I wasn't really sure. All I knew was that it was no longer relevant. I felt detached from it all. From everything. Like I was floating away in an empty sea. Not a care in the world.

It was times like this I asked myself, was this better than the pain? Or worse? Years later and I still wasn't sure. Both were painful I guess. The only difference was I only cared during one of them.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I watched the sun cross the sky. Burning it's way through the atmosphere, as my leg burned it's way through me.

I was vaguely aware that Ray had come home. He was asking me something. I tried to tell my body to turn to him, but it didn't listen, so I gave up. My mouth felt disconnected. My body felt disconnected.

A hand on a shoulder, maybe it was mine. A face looking, maybe at me. I could hear voices, but I couldn't care. All I could do was watch the sun, creep slowly past buildings, spreading it's yellow pigment like a sickness. Infecting everything it touched.

Like me.

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"Benny, I'm home. Are you hungry? I was thinking about ordering Indian for dinner." Setting his keys down, Ray checked the kitchen. Usually Bennett was here making food or drinks or something, but not tonight. "Ben?"

Checking the living room, he saw her sitting in the chair. "There you are. What's up?" When she didn't respond, he thought maybe she was sleeping. But at the same time his stomach tightened. Something was off.

"Ben?" Beside her, he could see her eyes were open. Blank. She was gone.

"Bennett! Hey, Bennett! Hello. Can you hear me?" She didn't turn. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently shook her. "Ben!" Facing her square on, he could tell something was terribly wrong. This wasn't her usual flashback. She didn't look afraid, or angry, or sad. She looked blank. Empty. Like no one was home.

Panicking, Ray debated what to do. Call a doctor? No, what could they do. Pulling on his hair, a thought came to him. Less of a thought, really. Just a name. Oliver.

Ray dialed the number frantically, tapping his fingers as he waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" He sounded confused. Of course he would, why would Ray be calling him?

"Oliver, hey this is Ray." His voice shook, and he wondered if he sounded as panicked as he felt.

"What's wrong?" Oliver asked seriously.

"How fast can you get to my house?"

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The sun was bleeding orange when his face came into view. The memory of a phone ringing surfaced, seeming like years ago. Still feeling detached, I could tell my body was being lifted, a door was being opened, I was outside. I noticed my arm, tinted orange in the light, and felt myself becoming infected, too.

Suddenly the lights went dark. A damp cloth had been placed over my face, my head now cradled into a chest. I could feel my body waking up. I could feel it wanted to respond. My muscles ached to turn into him, to wrap my arms around his neck.

But I was afraid. Fear was always the first thing to come back. Fear of feeling everything else. But I knew it was coming. And God, I wanted to be alone when it happened.

The fear was enough, it woke my muscles up. I pulled, painfully, against the arms holding me. I fell to the floor, landing on my bad leg. The dull orange glow was back now that the towel was on the floor beside me.

"Bennett, you're okay." Oh God, my hearing was coming back. I just had to get to my room. Just get to my room, lock the door, everything will be fine.

My legs were reacting to slow, so I tried to crawl back inside. Too slow. Hands were pulling me up, my hair being pushed away from my face.

Green eyes pierced into me. A phone rang. Blood hit a porcelain floor. A wine opener sat on a bar tray. My body burning in a tub.

You are stronger than this. You are better than this. I tell myself. I take several deep, ragged breaths, my lungs fighting me. You can do this. I close the doors shut in my mind. Fight the monsters back into their closets. Lock the doors and melt the keys.

I will not be weak. I will not be weak. I will not be weak.

"Oliver." My hands shake as they find his face. No one can know. Not even him.

I will not be weak.

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