Sorry its so late for me to be saying this, but thank you for all the people who have reviewed, its really encouraging. Hopefully i can update more, i had a lot of assignments due and things got a tad hectic.

Waking up in ones clothes from the day before was a strange sensation. For the longest time I laid there, on a soft and foreign bed, yesterdays dress tangled and hitched among my legs.

Sunlight had woken me. The bright kind with slight scorn at the late lazy risers. Usually, I was an early bird ready for the mythical morning worm. At home and in the dorm I'd be fully dressed at seven. Today there was a feeling in my gut that I'd slept long past my biological alarm, letting my body fall into the sluggish state that follows too much sleep.

At first, I thought the soft tisk was my own imagination, and I buried my head deep into the pillows. Then a hand touched my shoulder.

A cold rush was flung from my stomach, causing me to sit up violently and look around the unfamiliar room.

An older woman stood in front of me and stepped back in shock, then smiled as a peace offering.

'Hello, Miss' She looked me up and down and sighed at my state. Tears had dried and crusted over my face, making it feel stiff and awkward, my eyes were dry but no doubt red.

'My name ist Raisa' She said in a strong Russian accent 'now you better get out of those clothes'

Raisa opened the door to a large walk in closet and pulled out a dress and cardigan, examining them before holding the clothing out to me, still sitting in bed.

'Go and have a shower, Mr. Wilson wants to speak to you at breakfast'

My eyes widened and hands began to shake and the lady's expression softened, fearing I was about to cry.

'Oh no, zayushka, no, no, no. It's fine. Everything ist fine' Her arms wrapped around me. Not like last time when Mr. Wilson held me, but warm and comforting 'shhhhh, shhhh zayushka moya, shhh'

The tears had started again. I was fifteen and felt like five desperate for someone's assurance to tell me when I was safe and convince me everything was going to be alright. Raisa placed a kiss on my forehead not caring I was a stranger and then prompted me to stand up.

'Go have a shower' She repeated as I wiped my eyes trying to remove the sleep and tears.

Mr. Wilson had taken me to his penthouse following our encounter at the hospital. Leaving had been hard. Roy put up a fight screaming and flaying as Mr. Wilson led me out. His temper went wild and his mouth ran away with profanities, but strong hands pulled him away to the shadows.

The penthouse that overlooked Starling City through expansive glass windows and balconies. The place was modern and sleek with details of luxury.

My shaking intensified. Water streamed over me as I turned on the shower but last night wasn't washing away, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

I stepped out and cleared the foggy mirror. The sight wasn't pretty. Dark shadows framed tired eyes; the image looking more tragic as water droplets ran down my face proving an illusion of tears.

The dress Raisa gave me was sweet and girlish, a soft sky blue with little printed white birds covered the fabric. A knock on the door made jump and quickly pull the dress over my head.

'Come in'

Raisa entered and let out an audible sigh when seeing my mess of blonde hair.

'What are we going to do with that?' Her 'w's were pronounced as 'v's and when she clicked her tongue with 'that' an 'zs' replaced the first two letters. The accent gave soft reminders of Vegas and the Russian couple that lived next door to our apartment. They'd been kind to me and let me stay for dinner regularly.

Raisa brushed out my wet hair and pulled it tightly into a strict French braid then patted my cheek lightly.

'Go on now' All her gestures were so familial and it was comfortable and easy to accept them.

'I'm Felicity' I said, turning. It seemed awkward to hold out my hand when she'd already held me in her arms. A little smile continued from her previous.

'I know, Zayushka, I'll be looking after you know. How about you call me babushka.'

She patted me on the head and softly pushed me out of the room and into an open living area where Mr. Wilson sat waiting at the breakfast table.

'Good morning, love'

The only other seat faced him. I tried to appear stronger today and look the man directly in the eyes, not shying away. He laughed a small chuckle. The man was unflinching and unremorseful. There'd always been stories about him and what he'd done. Some called him 'Deathstroke'. My eyes wavered to the wall behind him where three vintage samurai swords hung. He followed my line of sight and let out a small 'uhhh'.

He attacked the heart and home, they said.

Ma had nobody but me and no matter what she did I was always certain in her love. She was a mother, love came unconditionally, and that had nothing to do with ineffective parenting styles.

'You realize don't you?' He asked as one would to 'pass the butter'.

I nodded. Mr. Wilson gestured to the table, indicating I eat.

'The arrangement is convenient in ways you don't yet understand…. I'll be away for a while. Raisa will take care of you. Mr. Gold escort you to and from school and deal with you accordingly should the need arise.'

A tall bald man stepped forward when acknowledged. He wore a suit with shiny shoes, a tattoo beginning at his wrist then ducking out of sight at his cuff. The man did not draw power in the way Mr. Wilson did but he had a silent air about him in his hovering presence; a silence that could wrap itself around you closing off the passages of air.

'Can I see my ma?' The question surprised me, slipping accidently form my mouth and pausing tensely in the air.

Mr. Wilson regarded me closely then shrugged, not bothering with an answer. The response made my cheeks flare and a latent clawing anger want to tear from my chest, so far fear had been the only thing suppressing it.

Mr. Wilson pushed himself away from the table.

'Goodbye, love, be good' He said nonchalantly and left me alone at the table full of food. My stomach had an ache, the burning emptiness that came with hunger but my throat had swollen shut, and nothing was going to pass through. The whole scene made me sick but I stayed sitting paralyzed as if Mr. Wilson was still sitting across from me.

'Come on, Zayushka' Raisa nudged gently and led me back to my room.

Now the curtains were open you could see the whole city through a floor length window. The trendy streets were directly below, Queen Consolidated rose as a skyscraper to the right, and the left, spread like grime, was the Glades; the dark grim streets contrasting the starch and sleek Business district.

Rasia let me be in the room, shutting the door softly.

My hands itched for my laptop, to hack and code; fall into the mathematics of computers, problems could be solved there, and mysteries never lasted, a safe place in which logic reigned.

Roy would be burning hot now. That's how he got when trouble became serious. He had this rage he couldn't contain; you could see it in his movements always needing to get out. The underground fight ring took care of the excess when times were ordinary. Roy would punch until his knuckles turned bloody, smearing through the tightly wound bandages. I wanted him to be safe but knew the boy better to let myself be deluded. He'd tear up the city for me as I would for him.

The room was becoming claustrophobic. It was big, feeling even larger with a high ceiling and entire wall that functioned as a window. I felt elevated from the world, hovering on a platform. It could have been something out of a new sci-fi movie, the sort commercially released with sets that look sterile, expensive, and lonely. Even dark and dingy home appeared friendly in comparison; that place had stunk of familiarity the sort that began to drown you after so many years.

Boredom does a funny thing to courage, it began to suck up the fear and make me fidget. Pacing didn't slow the descent. There was nothing in this room, just a few clothes in a generally empty walk in closet and the essentials in the bathroom. All other drawers were empty.

Venturing outside my designated quarters came not out of bravery, but sheer desperation to see something other than my closing in confines. My steps were soft and slow, toes pointed as if I was dancing a music-less swan lake. Rasia was singing in the kitchen in soft Russian, and peeking into the living area I saw the large and intimidating Cyrus Gold with his legs propped up on the coffee table, flicking through a magazine. No one else seemed present in the large penthouse apartment and the corridor of rooms was mine to explore if I dared be so stupid.

The first room locked, but the second had treasures. A library opened up; floor to ceiling shelves filled with books that could have made me squeal in joy. Was this how Belle felt in the grand castle of the beast? A fairy tale comparison didn't seem right. How little the storybooks ever talked of fear, dread, and actual danger.

Still, a suppressant of boredom was needed and I'd found a possible cure. History, Fiction, Science; the selection was vast yet a door to the side was what captured my interest. Being on the left side meant it'd lead into the locked room. Curiosity was going to kill the cat because my hand was already turning the knob and pushing against the wood.

Unlike the other rooms in the house, which lacked curtains, this room was dark, completely pitch black until my eyes adjusted to yet another bedroom. There were steadily beeping lights and medical equipment surrounding an elaborate four-poster bed, which completely encompassed lay, a body. She seemed asleep from the steady rise and fall of her breath, controlled by an oxygen mask.

I ran. Stumbling out then falling against a hard object.

'Shouldn't have been in there, girl'

A growl so deep I wondered how it could be human. Cyrus.

His grip on my arms were hard, a brute force that wanted to hurt. His hand hit against my head, smacking over ear, making them ring. I would have fallen if not in his grasp. He pulled me back to my bedroom; I caught Raisa looking timidly from afar, a call on her lips that didn't have the courage to come out.

Cyrus tossed me in, locking the door with a decisive click.

When my head felt straight I wondered who had been in that room. Even from a distance I knew it hadn't been my mother, whose blonde always caught the light. The women, maybe just a girl, had dark hair, possibly black.

I supposed they'd let me out for the next meal and I had to be content spending my time staring out the window at the miniature city below. Starling was so different from Vegas. Both cities had dark side, but in the City of Sin the light seemed as bad as the dark. That thick heat that came under the clear blue skies, it could kill, and would if you let it. Here the dark remained traditional to the noir genre, preferring night's shadows and sheltered alleyways, a silent witness instead of willing participant.

Crawling into bed seemed the only logical option. The day wasn't particularly cold but the blankets still held a comfort. Falling asleep wasn't my intention, just like the previous night, yet it came to be; a dreamless deep sleep that comes when life is spiraling feeling heavy with anxiety and exhaustion. Was this all I would do? Sleep and wake. Sleep and eat.

Rasia woke me up a second time. My clothes were only a little ruffled and my hair had kept its tight braid with only a few fly away strands, easily tucked a way with a smoothing hand.

'Mr. Gold is gone now, Zayushka, come on now' She opened the door wide and led me to the living room.

'Who was in that room? The woman….'

Raisa began cluttering around the kitchen, beginning preparations for dinner, I gestured for her to let me peel the potatoes, and then waited patiently for an answer to my first question.

'That was Mrs. Wilson. Shado. She has been in a coma for many years now, a vegetated state. It's very sad.' It surprised me Mr. Wilson had a wife. I'd seen him from afar with various women on his arm and no wedding ring ever appeared on his finger.

I hushed myself and focused on the task. They said I could return to school, my current situation, being here, was temporary. Handling it would become easier with distance.

Escape. That word sounded forbidden even on silent lips.

Escape could be possible back at school. You could do almost anything with a computer. I'd book a flight, change my identity, runaway. Roy would come, but what about Ma? Was she still in the hospital?

I'd have to commit a few federal crimes and wasn't completely confidant that I wouldn't get caught. I was good at hacking, impressive really since I was fifteen, but certainly not unreachable by the law at this point. Sometimes I forgot that.

The knife slipped but the pain wasn't immediate, it didn't begin until I looked down. The potato dropped to the sink, a pink smear on the side while blood began to bubble up from the skin and drip.

'Oh' was all I could say.