A/N: Hey, its me again, and I have run dry of inspiration yet again. I seems to be carrying my laptop around more for this purpose, but I live in a constantly changing weather environment.

Also, I feel attacked and caged. I just want it all to be over.

I feel like I'm drowning in all of this stuff, and I've tried, I really have. I've tried religion, tried talking, tried distraction.

I really don't want to live anymore.

But I have to.

I made a promise, and I also owe it to my mother, who actually, from time to time, forgets that I exist. My brother is working on his- ahem, issues - and it seems a great time to be alive. Expect for the fact that everyone's spreading rumours around me, and people are telling me that this one girl really wants to hit me in the face more than anything. Which is terrifying, because she's rather strong.

Caitlin's POV

I feel free.

Felicity's 'rented' a convertible, (she argued we needed an 'authentic' experience, and because I wasn't paying for it, I agreed) and that is why both her an I are screaming the lyrics to every pop song on the radio we know.

My hair's blowing at 95 miles an hour, and my sunglasses are pressed to my face.

The sun's on my back, and I feel- happy.

There's no boy drama, no one needs saving.

I let out a triumphant 'wahoo!' at the end of the song, and we're at the resort in the blink of an eye.

It's a colourful whirlwind, checking in.

This place, which promises a tropical island with none of the cons, truly is beautiful.

I wish Barry could see it, which is ironic, because its him I'm running from in the first place.

The sun is out when I reach my hotel room. Felicity had booked a room with a door in the middle, which was nice of her, because, apparently, I talk in my sleep.

"Hey, come on! I want to see all of the hot pool boys in the resort!" Felicity opens the door.

"Really, Felicity?" I raise an eyebrow, and she pouts.

"Put on your bikini and let's go!" She practically shouts.

"Uh, I-" I stammer. My swimsuit may be the most hideous thing that has ever seen the face of the earth, and I'm not even interested in fashion.

"Caitlin, I will be right here outside your bathroom. Now go put on your swimsuit!"

So what can I do?

I had the foresight to wrap the gross thing in a towel, so I carry it into the bathroom and put it on.

The end result is worse. The material has bunched up in places, and there's some holes in it. To avoid exposing my boob entirely, the entire suit drags down one side and it generally looks like I have been puked on in the bath.

So I wrap myself in a towel and go out, where Felicity is waiting.

"Take the towel off, Caitlin."

"I don't wanna." My voice is reminiscent of a two-year-old.

"Take it off, Caitlin."

When I finally do, she gasps, and runs into her room, yelling nonsensical words like a crazy person.

Then she emerges with a black bikini.

I love it immediately. For a bikini, it doesn't seem to show a lot.

"This is officially yours for the weekend." Felicty hands it to me.

I gasp. "I couldn't really, I mean-"

"Caitlin, I have about five more bikinis in my suitcase. Don't make me call the fashion police."

Felicity purses her lips.

"Well, I think putting you outside is a done-for way to get arrested. Plus, I need you to not scare off my game."

I accept the two-piece.

"Aren't you with Oliver?" I yell through the bathroom door as I'm getting dressed.

"Yeah, but it's like a candy shop for a broke person. You can look but you can't have." Felicity yells back.

In a minute, I'm dressed and decent, and Felicity seems eager to go.

"The sooner we go, the sooner you can tell me about your boy problems!"

"I don't have boy problems!" I protest, and I put my flip flops on (thank god they're actually nice and clean) with my towel and keycard tucked under my arm.

Felicity puts on a wide-brimmed straw sunhat to go with her see-through robe and sunglasses. Her hair seems to have grown since I've last seen her. She's wearing a bright pink string bikini; the string of which is longer than pasta but about the same circumference.

She strikes a pose. "Come and get me!"

I chuckle a bit.

Someone takes us to two deck chairs, we thank them and take a seat.

Felicity pulls the menu off the table.

"Oh, goodie! Poolside service!"

"Cool." I stare at the pool, thinking about Barry. How was he?

Has he woken up?

Did he remember me, us, it?

"Hey! CAN I GET A MARTINI OVER HERE?!" Felicity yells from beside me.

Eventuallly, someone gets her one, for the next time I snap out of my thoughts, she is sipping a deep pinkish-red liquid with a pink straw and a lemon wedge.

A/N: Sorry for the short update. I really am.

But I'm dying slowly, and it's worse than drinking hemlock.

What is the great point? What is the way out?