Unravel Me | Arrow [ COMPLETED ]

chapter twelve

"So try to love me and I'll try to save you"

TWENTY-ONE PILOTS - 'Lovely'

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She was four, a number loudly declared with a bright smile only days ago, and she was dying.

The hospital monitors beeped frantically as she choked on the tube in her throat, her body seizing and spasming as too many hands grabbed at her arms and legs. Her mother was crying silently, but Tommy was wailing like a newborn, held tightly by her father. She could see all three of them through the haze of pain.

They looked like angels in the light, and she tried to ask, "Am I dead?" but it got caught on the tube and came out as a strangled gargle. She convulsed sharply, coughing and gagging.

Tommy screamed as blood dribbled down her chin.

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Cali woke up in a fit of panic, her entire body jolting upright as her chest heaved. Her vision took a moment to catch up, which did nothing to soothe her anxiety. She couldn't remember if she'd been dreaming or not. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and she brought her arms to her chest in an attempt to calm herself down slightly.

The room was still dark, which meant she hadn't managed to sleep through to morning. She wrapped the black of night around her like a cloak, her shuddering breaths rasping out of her throat and floating on the still air.

Something was very wrong in Starling City tonight, Cali could feel it in her bones.

She scrambled out of bed, untying her jacket and sliding it on in an instinctual movement. She yanked her phone out of her pocket and squinted at the bright screen. It was just past two o'clock in the morning, the morning after the shooting. She mustn't have been asleep that long, which was odd considering how exhausted she'd felt when she'd come face-to-face with Oliver.

Speaking of Oliver, Cali still wasn't convinced that he was alright. He'd come home looking worn down and flat, his eyes unhappy and his smile a twisted mockery of contentment. Something had happened last night, something that wasn't televised.

Something that Oliver wasn't telling them.

He did that a lot - not saying things. He kept all his words and secrets locked up behind his tongue, ready to unleash them in a brutal wave if he was ever backed into a corner. Olvier knew how to make his words hurt, knew how to forge them into weapons and stab them into the chest of everyone around him. That's why he said so much without talking. There was less chance of getting cut.

Unlike most, Cali wasn't afraid of Oliver hurting her. She knew that he got spooked by things that weren't scary, which is why he made a move with Sara the minute Laurel hinted at being something more with him. Oliver was quick to pull away, quick to insist that the world go on without him. He lashed out while pretending to be drunk, all the while secretly hoping that the people he was pushing away wouldn't actually leave.

Cali recognised his strategies. She'd used them once, when Michael Martin had looped a chain around her heart and bound her to him for two years. And maybe Oliver wasn't with anybody at the moment, but the struggle was there. He considered himself broken, knew his edges were jagged. He didn't want anything to try and touch him and only end up with blood on their hands.

Ollie was in a tailspin that was getting faster by the day, and he was reaching out for help, even if he didn't know himself. If nobody latched onto that outstretched hand, if nobody gave him the outlet that he needed, he would crash into the ground in a brilliant ball of fire and he would bring the whole damn city down with him.