Oliver killed two men for her. But where's her knight now?
Chapter Thirty Two; Pain
Oliver's arm draped over her shoulder and she cuddled closer to him, the soft red velvet of the chairs welcoming her anyway she could imagine.
"What do you think?" he asked, his lips kissing the top of her head as she watched the play continue. Phantom of the opera. It was beautiful.
"It's wonderful. Thank you Ollie."
"Of course. Anything you want sweetheart." She wrapped her arms around him, sliding between his layers. They were the only two in the entire theatre, well except for the actors and the many graceful dancers peering out from the curtains.
The musical continued and the lulling atmosphere worked its magic. Oliver's company making relaxation all that harder to fight. She closed her eyes, Oliver's cologne washing in a warm wave over her. Her eyes flew open again, not wanting to miss the songs, but it was so inviting. Oliver's chest moved in time with his soft chuckle and his arms pulled her closer to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Sleep Chloe. I'll wake you." His smile was promising and honest. It was the one that chased away the black clouds and made sure they stayed gone. Her eyes closed again, the feel of his fingers tied with hers, his lips on her skin dragging her down into sweet lullabies.
A scream woke her and she shot awake in Oliver's arms.
"What's going on?" She scanned the room. Pandemonium raged, dancers were screaming in blood stained white gowns. A few rows behind them the chandelier crushed chairs. "Oliver. We need to leave." She shook her hand against him. There he was, cool as a cucumber, not bothered by anything around him.
"Relax. We'll be fine." he hushed her, his hands on her cheeks, cooling her rapid pulse. "Do you want ice-cream? You feel warm. I'll get you some." Before she could raise a point he had flashed her a cheeky grin and was off down the isle, dodging the screaming dancer as she fled.
"Oliver!" she called but he slipped out the back. "Oliver!" Chloe turned back to the stage. There, centre stage was the phantom, half his face covered by the white mask. "Run!" she told him. He dropped to his knees before her. "You need to run! Get out of here." Still he sat, tears dropping with soft twinkles from him. Chloe spun around again, where was Oliver?
She started toward the end of the seating's but like a struck match on gasoline the entire centre isles shot up in flames roaring and flickering.
"Come to me my angel." Chloe turned back to the stage, the Phantom stood centre again, his arm outstretched toward Chloe.
"We have to get out of here!"
"Then come to me my angel. Let us be together forever." Sod it, she thought after glancing back to see no Oliver to her rescue, and hiked up the dress to climb over the seats in front of her and accept his hand pulling her up onto the stage. "My angel." he praised and took her hand navigating her around the backstage. "We must make haste. Your carriage awaits." Chloe may have dreamed about being wooed black and white film style before, but right now she wanted Oliver.
"Oliver?" she whispered. She felt her wrist pulled back and herself pinned to a wall.
"You are mine now. You shall never speak his name again." he snarled.
"Oliver! Where is he? What did you do with him?"
"Would you rather it be him? Would you rather spend an eternity with a man no better than the others? I can offer you so much more. My angel, I will always love you. Can he say the same?" Chloe pulled herself free and dashed back the way she came, calling out for Oliver. Turn after turn she chased the mazes of the backstage, she never stopped calling for him. Another turn and she was hit by a wall of water, spluttering through her dream world.
"Oliver!" she called, snapped awake, but not aware.
"Oliver huh? I guess he gave you your love bite then. How sweet of you to be dreaming about dearly beloved." Blast gripped her grin. "Wanna share anything else my little cherub?"
"Blast. Leave her." The shadows spoke from the corner and Blast grumpily stood back. "I am most intrigued to know how you are still alive. And healed. You are not meteor infected, nor possess any birth defect. Which begs the question; what are you Miss Sullivan?" Water dripped down from her hair, Blast being the one to have awoken her with a torrent of freezing water. It cooled her raging skin, washing away some blood to show flawless skin.
She could only suppose Brainiac had got high from the electricity and blacked her out and healed her. How many times had Brainiac saved her? This was a definite score for never taking Brainiac out of her. Chloe suddenly realised she had no dizziness, no after effect of Brainiac. Had she slept through it? Would it be coming later? Had the electricity killed Brainiac after it healed her? Was it even Brainiac that healed her? Maybe she was just a natural freak. Some escape clause tattooed in her DNA to keep her whole. "I am not a patient man Miss Sullivan." The clipped tone suggested as such.
"I don't know." she confessed in a whisper of breath.
"Intriguing. Most intriguing. Well, a puzzle for some time later. Right now I'm interested to talk about dear Oliver. My darling, who would be this devil?" Chloe's teeth met each other again. She had already said too much. "Blast, let's see if we can loosen her tongue."
With a heartless smirk Blast shadowed over her, his muscular frame intimidating and commanding. His stubby fingers held her arm in a death grip and turned it palm up, exposing the feint blue vein buried in her paling skin.
"Tiger stripes again. Or one racing line? Victim's choice." he taunted. His eyes scorched into her, daring her words up from her held tongue. "No. Can't decide. That's alright, I'll give you both." Like speedy quick strokes of a bow across violin strings the knife criss-crossed down her arm. Blood pooled, dripping to the floor from her shallow cuts. A choir of tortured cries joined his orchestra till finally her arm was just red, dropping to the rest lifelessly. "Now. That last name." Teardrops fell to her arm, stinging on her cuts, proving that she was still alive. "There are other methods we can try." His voice was playful. "Electrocution, drowning, splints under the fingernails. Or I could just remove your manicured claws completely." Chloe's hands curled up, shudders through her spine at the thought. "I could pluck out your pretty little eyes. Maybe disfigure that face of yours. Make it so lover boy won't be able to ever look at you ever again. Dislocate a few limbs. There's always burning as well. I personally don't like the smell of burnt human flesh, but for you…I'd make an exception." Chloe's stomach was churning.
"Master!" Kitty burst into the room. "Master. We have a problem."
"Sweet Kitty. I'm busy. Sort it yourself." he spoke dismissively.
"Master… they're here." Her tone was apologetic.
"I expected as much." he simply replied, sounding resigned. "Blast, make sure Miss Sullivan has a good view of our show. Keep her entertained." He winked then his shadow disappeared into the air. Blast cracked his knuckles and unclipped Chloe from the bloodied metal before throwing her to the glass window, over-looking the pit. Her heart skipped a few beats, her eyes drinking in her savours.
"Welcome. Miss Sullivan, had said such sweet thing about you all." He appeared in shadows, the cloak never faltering. Kit stood atop the stairs on the other side.
"Where's Chloe?" Bart asked, stepping forward.
"Dead." he simply answered. "You may have what's left of her if that's what you're here for." Chloe blinked and an arrow lodged in the wall, following the path from Oliver's crossbow straight through the shadow man's heart. "I'd appreciate if you didn't." Bart threw his body into the shadows, only to be slapped back against the wall in the next half second. "Now now. I'm not your target today." The shadows flickered as he turned and beckoned forth the black haired female. "Kitty. If you would."
"Getting a girl to fight your battles for you?" Victor stood forward, hands to the railing.
"On the contrary. She doesn't fight. You will though." Chloe hammered on the glass as Blast flicked a switch and the Cloud Nine gas poured from the ceiling, collapsing her saviours. None seemed to notice her. She pounded her fist, blood smearing down the thick glass as they fell to the floor, paralysed. Blast grabbed her arms as she tried again.
"Just you and me here love. Nobody sees, nobody hears what Master doesn't want them to." Her eyes went back to the pit, Kitty walking around and slicing the exposed flesh of each and taking it to her mouth, licking it clean. Vampire? Predator? What was she?
"Master. They are all suitable. Everyone with foreign meteor bodies." No, that couldn't be possible. She knew for a fact that Bart and Arthur weren't meteor infected. And Oliver was just a man, no special powers.
"Lovely, when you're ready darling." he instructed and settled back against the wall. Kitty fell to the floor, and around her 5 grey masses started to grow. Colours came and went and a few minutes later carbon copies of Green Arrow, Cyborg, AC, Canary and Impulse stood around her. They were identical except for the skin. Under the fake uniforms a grey skin was shown. The clouds of gas dissipated and the real fighters pushed to their feet. "Kill them." Master ordered and each line of men took fighting stances. The two copies collided, a flurry of attacks flying out. Bart and his clone flew in a tangle of super speed out the arena. Ac had left as well, taking the fight through the sewers to water where they were safer. Dinah and Victor were side by side, fighting the copies of the other. Chloe's eyes scanned over the battles, knowing which one mattered the most to her. Oliver. She saw the launch of kicks and punches but her worry was misplaced and her own tower was invaded again.
The shadows were back for her.
"Blast, get Kit and get out of here. I'll be along soon."
"Master. We can kill them. They're all here. Let me-"
"I said no! Go." The shadows covering him vibrated in his sudden anger. Blast hurried from the room and swept into the pit to take hold of Kit. She didn't have much strength after summoning the clones and could barely stand by herself. But that was still not worthy of her concern. Chloe was trapped with 'Master'. He stalked, backing her into the wall before suddenly glancing at the battlefield, then back again. "There will be consequences to this fought freedom Miss Sullivan. When you've had enough come and find me on Smallville Dam." He shot a sardonic smile and then there was nothing but a shadow on the floor fading into nothing.
Chloe ran to the door, throwing it open and flying down the steps to her heroes. The fight had took a sour turn, every hit against their clones injured the real copies as well, it left them in a situation of par where very little could be done. The source needed to be taken out. Kitty. Chloe's eyes focussed on her fallen shape, littering the floor as she tried to crawl away, further out of sight. Blast seemed to have disobeyed his orders and was double teaming on Oliver. Chloe flickered around, looking for a weapon.
Fighting only with the need to feel Oliver's arms around her she rushed back to her torture room, picking the knife from the floor that was soiled with her own blood and slipped un-noticed down the stairs again. She found Kitty huddled in a corner trying to regain strength. With no time to think of morals or ethical decisions Chloe's fingers tightened around the hilt as she stalked up to her.
"No. Please. I never hurt you. I…" Chloe's eyes hardened, immune to the pleas. How many times had she herself pleaded for her own freedom and been ignored? "I'll tell you how to win. How to… I'll help you. I promise." Chloe knelt, her hand gripping the females shoulder and keeping her down.
"If I see you again..." The threat didn't need to be finished. "Get rid of the clones." Chloe ordered, emotion amiss from her voice completely.
"I-I-I… I can't. They stay till they are killed." she admitted, her voice shaking with a new breed of fear.
"How do you kill them?"
"You can't… not unless the original copy is killed." Chloe spun her head around. Oliver was badly beat, Dinah and Victor were meeting the same fate from their own copies. It seemed Dinah had stuck a knife in her own copy and as a result was bleeding from her own side. This needed to end.
"Not a possibility. Think again."
"I don't know. Master made it so they couldn't be killed. He gave me some serums and other powers to make sure. I swear there's nothing that can be don-" The knife in her grip plunged through the girl's chest, slicing through her heart instantly killing her. No suffering. There one second, gone the next.
"Sorry." Chloe's apology was a whisper free from guilt. True she hadn't suffered directly from the woman and didn't enjoy the thought of killing her. But Oliver or the woman? That was an easy decision. With their host gone, the clones fell unanimated to the floor.
"What happened?" That was Victor as he caught Dinah.
"Fuckers!" Blast cursed and before anyone could react he barrelled against Oliver's shoulder knocking him flat and sprinted out into the night. Chloe stepped out, the dehydration and starvation coming flooding back to her and taking all energy.
"Jesus Christ." Dinah's voice commanded their attention as she spotted Chloe. Victor's eyes flashed wide open. Oliver's words were much the same as Dinah's as he pushed to his feet and rushed to her side.
Chloe didn't imagine she looked that good. Every inch of her clothing was soaked in blood, sweat and days old massage oils and creams. Her make-up was probably running down her face, her eyeliner making the horror movie artists redundant.
"Chloe." Arms wrapped around her as she fell victim to a torrent of tears, shredding through all the hard hurt and emotionless façade. She felt dead inside for the last few hours, all hope fading fast. Now it just shredded through her, like a hand forced through her chest to prove she actually had feelings in her closed off heart.
Bart and Ac hurried back in wondering what had happened only to find a blood soaked Chloe in Oliver's arms, his lips to her.
Bart felt his heart weep.
He'd hoped he was wrong; that Oliver's mad rush and need to find Chloe was just out of concern.
He'd hoped that Dinah's words and warning about their relationship was some sick joke. But it seemed they really were together in all senses of the word. He could have done a better job of keeping her safe though, she looked like a train wreck.
Oliver finally turned from Chloe long minutes later, the feel of a hand on his shoulder. Bart stood behind him, the emotion in his eyes blocked by the black glasses.
"I'll take her back." he offered. He'd just ran Dinah over to Emil at the hospital, after a quick clothing change, and she was in surgery.
"No." he argued. He'd left her and she almost died. Not again. Never again would she have to go through anything like this.
"Oliver, she needs to see Emil. The longer it takes to get her there, the more risk she's in." The voice of reason came from Victor. "Let Bart take her."
"You won't let her out of your sight." he instructed before taking his hands off her. She went willingly and before he could blink Chloe and Bart were gone.
42 minutes later he was still prowling like a caged tiger outside the exam room door. Finally Emil slipped out.
"I have good news and bad news." Possibly the worst thing doctors can ever say. But Emil didn't have a sad expression. Oliver craned his neck past the doctor and through the window. "She's been through a lot and is a little jumpy, but otherwise physically she is fine. However, it appears whatever they did has removed all traces of Brainiac from her system so she won't heal as quickly and she also seems reluctant to tell me any details about what happened." Oliver stepped forward only to be barred by Emil's arm. "It's to be expected after any trauma. Right now she needs comfort and care. Not over protective boyfriend wanting revenge details." Oliver heard the words, he heard everything the doctor said. But nothing registered; they were just words, just stupid words stopping him from seeing Chloe. Emil rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go. But be gentle." Chloe was sat cross legged in a hospital gown on the table, her fingers playing with her bandage as Oliver burst through the door and wrapped her in his arms, a bear hug tight around her.
"Ollie. Breathing." she reminded him and he loosened his grip. "I'm fine. I just want to go to sleep." Lies, she wanted a home, she wanted the bubbles of fear to pop completely. Sleep was the last thing she wanted, sleep would bring the dreams; the nightmares. But she could find something comfy to wear again. Something that wasn't red or flimsy cotton and smelling of hospital.
Emil stepped in, a chart thick with papers in his hand.
"I need you to sign and you can go home." he explained and Oliver released her from his death hug to settle for just a hand on her thigh as she signed.
"How's Dinah?" she asked. Her voice cracked in places of her words. Her eyes were bloodshot, her body cold.
"Unconscious and still in surgery. But I'm assured she's doing well and I have no doubt you'll hear from her as soon as she's able." Chloe nodded.
"Can I go now?"
"Unless you want some pain relief. Sleep meds?" Chloe declined, shaking her head. The pain was there, but it also reminded her she had lived through it, that she was still alive. And sleeping pills would only trap her in with her nightmares. Oliver slipped his jacket over her shoulders as she stood and they both left.
The walk to the car was silent. The car ride filled with unspoken words. It was only after Chloe had nothing left to do, sitting wide awake on Oliver's sofa, coffee in her lap and pyjamas covering her though she had no intention of finding sleep, that the silence was broken.
"Tell me they didn't do anything to you. Please Chloe. I'm going mad over here." Oliver had barely touched her after the hospital; even now he was sitting on a different sofa to her. "Just talk to me." She pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes meeting with Oliver's. He was as battered physically as she felt mentally.
"I'm fine now. That's what's important."
"Chloe. Please." He sounded broken, a desperate man clinging onto the edge of his sanity.
"You won't like it." she warned, her whispers melting into the room. He kept silent, the invitation to continue still wide open. Her fingers ran up and down the coffee mug, tracing the patterns. Her teeth chewed at her lip.
But finally, she let the pain form words and fall from her mouth like the crystal rain from her eyes. Whether because of the flow of the current in her words on her need to share, she didn't censor. She didn't dull down the pain she had felt, didn't make her experience child friendly at all. She finished on the floor, huddled in his embrace, his hands refusing to let her escape him again. There were a few things she had held back though. For reasons she didn't know; she didn't say anything about killing Kitty. That she would take to her grave. For Oliver's sake she didn't say anything about Blast's more personal of threats, those were nightmares she would deal with alone. Sometimes a burden shared is not a burden eased.
They sat like that for a few minutes, some silent healing flowing through them both. Chloe swivelled, not without difficulty and laid her lips on his. The demand was obvious, the need seeping from her. She wanted the rush, the high, something good to erase the overpowering bad. His hands took hold of her arms and he nudged her gently off. Rejection spiralled into her eyes. He stopped it before it could bloom into something deadly.
"Not now. Not like this." She wasn't together enough for anything. She could break at any moment and it would shred through her. That would not be happening while he was inside her, that much he stood by. Like Emil said, she didn't need the boyfriend remarking his territory, she needed someone to care for her. Her tongue ran over her teeth as she pulled herself back together from whatever brink she wobbled on.
"I need a shower." She pushed off from the floor. Her voice without the emotion, just a clean statement of need. Sure, the blood had been washed away, but the memories remained, she still felt dirty and wrong. She wasn't herself. Her skin smelt like hospitals and the bandage itched at her driving her insane. Her fingers ran up and down her arm, scrubbing at the nothingness there.
"Chloe-"
"I need a shower." she repeated, almost on autopilot as she passed him a smile without feeling for a split second then turned back and slowly floated up the stairs. Her footsteps were silent, afraid of the noise they might make, as she padded into the bedroom, then into the shower.
She relinquished control to a basic function and let her mind stay blank, her hands stripping her down with the daily task and stepping into the warm water. Not a second after she closed the door a gasp slashed through her throat and the barricade holding onto her control dropped, letting the flood of tears and emotions rocket through her veins, claiming her entirely. The shower drown out her sobs, the water washed away the salty taste of her hurt. Why did these things happen to her? Why couldn't she be stronger? This wouldn't have happened to Oliver. Oliver wouldn't have let himself get caught.
Now she was even more useless. No Brainiac. No special powers. Nothing but a damsel.
Her fist shot out flying into the pristine white tiles, cracking both her skin and the wall. Again she threw out a punch, the pain only second in her mind to the killing numbness she felt. Blood slithered down the glistening tiles, weaving through the cracks she made and swirling down the drain between her toes, painted in an ancient colour, cracked from the extreme wear. More tears burned at her eyes, draining her dry. Another punch. She was worthless. Just a burden to them. Someone who always needed saving.
"Jesus Chloe." Oliver's arms snagged around her waist pulling her from the water and into his chest. He stretched out one hand, turning off the water before finally looking down at the sodden maiden in his arms as she collapsed further into him, breaking inside. "Com'on." He slid down with her, turning her to fish out the first aid and re-wrap her wounds. New and old. Her entire left forearm was still spoiled with shallow stings of a blade having danced lithely over her. Her right fist split between her knuckles which must be throbbing and sore yet she showed nothing but passive acceptance. Her mind trapped inside itself.
He dropped his head to her shoulder unknowing of himself. How could he help her? What could he do?
He did all he could in ways of bandaging her again, re-dressing her and settling her on the sofa with him, never once letting her leave his sights. She made no complaint, no conversation. She'd followed all of his movements with her eyes, registering the task of dressing and walking but nothing seemed to stick. It was a living nightmare to see her like this. How long would she stay like this? It scared him more than he cared to admit. She was fighting sleep the entire way, mainlining the coffee he provided over and over. He knew why; the terror came back with sleep.
It might not be anything close to what she was going through, but he had been to the end of the world, he had acted self destructively, but it was Chloe who brought him back, and he owed her the same duty. Not just to settle a score, but to see her stare death in the eyes like this was tearing him apart limb by limb. He'd surrender his soul, he'd cross hell, he'd burn to his core to save her from her torment. Yet all he could do was watch as she fought her own battle, locked in the grip of her own mind.
Silently, he took the drained coffee cup from her and slid it onto the table. He took hold of her and swung her up to cradle against his body. She would sleep tonight, even if he had to stay awake all the time, fighting off her monsters. She didn't protest against the movement, nor the comfort of him, even snuggling closer. But she still refused to close her eyes. Instead her eyes traced the patterns of the ceiling, her legs soft against Oliver's jogging bottoms he preferred to sleep in, her fingers intertwined with his rough ones, offering a support even she couldn't explain.
Chloe's back. But she'd not quite the same.
I've never been tortured, and hopefully never will be. This means my writing for this was all conjured from my head, as is the post-torture behaviour to come.
I must admit, I did end up googling 'Method's of torture' along with a few other research websites about the psychology of victims. There wasn't a lot, and what I did find was very vague. I can only hope that nobody can actually correct me and that nobody looks at my search history for google.
Sorry for the depressing chapter. I don't enjoy writing them that much either, but the plot demands and as its ever loving servant I must obey.
The good stuff will return. Xx