Sagittarii

”Aust, where the hell are you?” Kate laughs over the phone. “I’m all dolled up and ready to go but my better off isn’t here yet, what gives Birdie?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find anything to wear!” I chuckle, “plus I was on the phone with Frankie then I got a call from Jackson that ended with him bitching that I wasn’t in L.A with him on his birthday.”

“You’re out here to spend time with your dad and to go to school,” Kate scoffs, “I don’t get that boy at all. It’s not like you’re out here cheating on him.”

“Try telling him that.”

“Anyway, none of that tells me where you are so you need to hurry up.”

“I’m like two blocks away from your apartment,” I laugh, “I’ll be there in a minute; don’t worry…”

As I get closer to Kate’s, I can’t help but have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Paranoia; the worst thing to suffer from when you’re a young girl walking the streets of New York by yourself like a dumbass.

I feel my pace quicken as I cross the street, with a few guys behind me. I don’t think anything of it at first, but when I walk another block and they’re still following me; I begin to worry. Knowing a short cut to Kate’s through an alleyway, I quickly begin to run; sharply turning into that alleyway in an attempt to lose the guys. But my half-assed plan didn’t work; the two guys that were following me are joined by three more, equally as big, guys. One stands out from the rest. He’s roughly 6’3, nicely built and has a face that looks cold and mean. And when he speaks, his voice sends shivers up my spin.

“Look what we have here boys,” he smiles to his gang, “looks like one of Cade’s girls got away from her pimp; she’s trying to escape.”

“Do you honestly think I’m a fucking hooker!?” I spit at him, which is the wrong idea. The man walks over to me and backhands me; sending me to the ground. A metallic taste fills my mouth.

“You are dressed like one,” he says as he bends down; hooking his thumb into one of the many holes in my fishnet, tearing it even more.

“Just because I’m wearing a goddamn short dress and fishnets that have more than necessary doesn’t mean I get paid to have sex with losers like you.” Another snarky comment, another hit in the face. This time it was more of a punch than a slap. And before I knew it, he grabs a hold of my wrist and yanks me off the ground and slams me up against the nearest brick wall.

“Such a mouthy little thing,” he purrs with one of his hands ghosting down my leg to my knee. He forces that leg to hook around his waist as he pushes himself onto me even more. I struggle to break free of his grip to no avail; he’s too strong for me. “Cade is going to love breaking you so much. I might even get a raise for it.”

“I’d like to see him try.” I sneer, spitting some of the blood that’s been collecting in my mouth into his face. He doesn’t wipe it off and the smirk on his lips only seems to grow even more.

“Oh honey, he’ll succeed in breaking you,” one of his friends hands him a rag, “and he’s going to enjoy every last fucking minute of it.” He forces the rag onto my face. I scream and struggle against him; failing at both as I feel myself grow weaker and weaker and weaker…

I wake up in a cold sweat. It’s been a month since moving to Starling City and the nightmares are coming back; more frequently too. Everyone said coming out here would be good for me, I’m really starting to disagree with them. The dreams are coming back, worse than before and my memories are coming back clearer. And no amount of alcohol seems to drown them out anymore; it’s as if they’re immune to everything I throw at them.

As I sit up in bed, I can feel the sweat running down my back. Feeling gross, I toss the covers off of me and get out of bed; heading towards my bathroom to take a shower; a routine I’m getting into.

After my shower, I get dressed and head to my kitchen. I open the fridge and see nothing but beer and Chinese take out. Bypassing the leftover sweet and sour chicken, I grab a beer and close the fridge. I grab my purse off the counter and pull out a bottle of some kind of prescription my psychiatrist gave me before coming out here. I pop one in my mouth and take a swig of beer to follow it. With my beer, I head into the living room and begin my day filled with drinking and netflix; not like there is much else for me to do…

Oliver

It’s around five in the evening when I find myself walking to the address I got off of Hawkeye. For some reason he really wants me to keep an eye on his daughter as if she’s about to self-destruct. Part of me wants to just walk away knowing that she doesn’t want my help but the other part of me urges me to knock on that door. A sigh of annoyance escapes my lips as my arm raises and I give three loud knocks on her door. After the third knock, there is a couple moments of silence before I hear someone unlocking the door. Upon opening the door, Austen stands in front of me. Her eyes are completely dilated and she smell of beer and various other drinks. She looks tired, beaten. Nothing like the girl I first meet; well almost nothing like her.

“May I come in?” I ask. She doesn’t move, only stands there looking at me.

“What are you doing here?” She questions, slurring her words a little bit. “More importantly how the hell did you find out where I live?”

“Your father, “I reply, “he wanted me to check up on you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she sneers, “so you can go away.” She attempts to slam the door in my face, but I grab it just in time; pushing myself into her apartment despite her protests.

“You obviously need my help,” I point out. “You smell like alcohol and it looks like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Because I haven’t!” She exclaims with a smug look on her face, “it’s been roughly a couple weeks since I slept through the night. Memories are coming back at me vividly every time I go to sleep; but I’m sure you know what I’m going through.”

“No I don’t remember?” I ask, earning a question look from her. “You said I have no idea what you’re going through. We lived in different types of Hells, remember?”

“Now isn’t the time to use my words against me,” she drunkenly growls before collapsing onto her couch. She leans forward enough for her to grab a can of beer. I sigh as I rush over and grab the empty can away from her. “Give me back my beer!”

“No, not going to happen!” I tell her as I walk over to her kitchen, dumping the contents down the sink and go over towards the trashcan. A frown appears on my lips as I notice the amount of empty cans are in there. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” I ask as I drop the final can in.

“Like you care.” I walk over towards her and sit on the coffee table; directly in front of her.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care,” I point out. “I may not know you, but I know self-destruction when I see it. I may not know what happened to you during that week but I do know that drinking yourself to death isn’t going to fix another.”

“I know it doesn’t,” she sighs, “but it makes me numb enough to kill the memories and flashbacks. It doesn’t make me so hyper-vigilant, it makes me forget what happened to me. But it’s slowly not working. Everything is growing a tolerance and that scares me.” I’m surprised she’s even admitting this to me. “And I’ve got nothing to do besides wallow in my self-misery all day and night. I’m alone with my thoughts and that scares me the most.”

I put my hand on her cheek and she instantly backs away; fear in her eyes. “How about I help you? But I’ll only help if you actually want it. Believe it or not, I’ve been in your shoes. It’s scary but you’ve got to move on or the memories and flashbacks will eat you alive. But in order to move on, you’ve got to look at everything you fear right in the face. Can you do that?” She meekly nods her head. “Then tomorrow, we’re going to start detoxing; meet me at Verdant tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why are we meeting at the club?”

“Because the arrowcave is right around there, and that’s where our practice starts…”