A/N: My first Theroy fic of the new season! This is not related to what is going on currently in the plot, more applicable to earlier on in the season, like episode 1 and 2. Also, this one features a much more broken couple and one very pissed off brother. And just as a warning, this may contain triggers for alcohol abuse and attempted gang rape, so avoid if this might upset you.

Anyway, I hope you like it! Reviews are wonderful creatures!

Bleeding Out

He was killing her.

Whether he knew it or not, he was the one who was slowly twisting the knife in her heart and making her bleed until her veins ran dry. But the knife wasn't made of metal and she didn't bleed scarlet. No, the blade was the bruises she found when he thought she wasn't looking. The blood was the tears she shed long after he stormed out of Verdant, the double doors slamming shut, echoing a million different words that they were both too angry to say.

She tried, she really had, to be okay with what he was doing. She tried to see things from his perspective, but the more he came back crawling to her covered in blood and barely breathing, the further he pushed her from seeing his side.

But in a way this was her fault as well as his. She had started him on this path to destruction all those months ago, hours spent plotting with him in hopes to end his relentless obsession. One look was all it would take, she would chant to herself in those days. She thought she was trying to help, but she was so much more naïve back then than she was now. With a father dead, a mother in prison, and a brother who made a bad habit out of disappearing, she had no time left to pretend that she could still be a child.

But then again, sitting on a stool in Verdant during the early hours of the morning while everyone else had closed down for the night, nursing her third shot glass of Jack Daniels, she felt more like the stupid, irresponsible child she used to be than the mature club owner she was now trying her best to become.

The alcohol burned down her esophagus; no matter how many times she drank she would never get used to the scorch. The strong flame used to repel her, but now she chased the pain like a drug. She needed the feel of pinching, searing nerves to clear her mind, and perhaps, if she drank enough, the fire would clear her heart as well - burn out the empty, heavy feeling inside.

She knew she was pushing her limit. Her tolerance level was low given that she was only so tall and thin, and her stomach couldn't settle enough to allow anything else in, so she was currently lacking a buffer, letting the liquor seep into her blood until she went blissfully numb. Her belly was on fire, but she welcomed it. That and the fuzzy feeling that clouded her mind as she sipped on her glass, emptied it, and poured another. It was a vicious cycle, but she couldn't bring herself to stop, not since she was feeling good for the first time in days.

Roy thought that she was an idiot, that she didn't know what he was doing behind her back. She knew that every word out of his mouth was a lie even though she had prayed every moment of every day that she was different to him than everyone else and didn't deserve the constant stream of bullshit he loaded onto others. And she feet so betrayed by that simple violation of trust, every word he ever spoke to her running through her mind as if to test the verity of those as well.

You deserve what you get, she reminded herself over and over again. She was always attracted to the troubled type, but they had never been this hard to figure out. Roy was unmovable, unchangeable, and she knew that if she were to walk out of his life right at that moment then he would carry on without much delay. He'd probably even have another girlfriend by the end of the week.

Another shot, another drink, straight from the bottle, frigid glass cooling chapped lips as the fire seared its way down her throat. Her hands trembled as she lowered it and she dropped the bottle, the container shattering into a thousand little pieces that cut up the top of her feet, scratching her black pumps and causing little rivulets of blood to sting as the liquor seeped into her open wounds.

"Shit," she mumbled, reaching deftly for the fragments of glass, slicing the tips of her fingers open on the sharp edges.

Pain, she still felt pain, and the vision of red mixed made her weak in the knees, her whole body slumping against the edge of the bar, curling in on herself in attempts to shield herself from any other harm. She'd finally had enough, and giving up she sobbed into her knees, her whole body wracking itself until she felt completely drained.

God, she hated feeling so helpless, so gullible, so stupid. She had let herself break the one rule she had made herself maintain: keep the heart under lock and key. Too many people had taken that fragile organ and ripped it to shreds, taken so much that nothing remained. She was hollowed out at the loss of her father and brother. The loss of her friends. Her innocence. And there she was, handing out the key to someone else, and they were taking. Roy was taking, and she was letting him. And she feared that she was going to let him take everything, that one day she would wake up and find herself nothing but a shell of a girl because she had given everything away.

She had to stop feeling. If she stopped feeling, then maybe it would make her into the fearless girl she once was. Maybe it would make her wounds stop bleeding, make the Jack stop burning, make her heart stop breaking. The alcohol only numbed so much, and even the numbness was more of a burden than a blessing.

But more than anything, she had to get home. She had to go back to her house and collapse on her bed and surround herself with safe things, things that she knew could never hurt her, could protect her from the demons that haunted her every moment of every day. Once she was home she would know what to do. Once she was home, she would be safe.

So wiping up her tears she stood, albeit without grace and coordination - using the stools for a balance, holding her head up high like her mother had taught her.

If you act like nothing hurts you, then nothing will.

But that was a lie too. She was holding her head as high as she could, turning up her nose to the emptiness around her, but the view from the top was only colder than the one she found on the ground.

She stumbled out of her club without too much difficulty - she was not a novice at the drunk walk after all - and locked the front doors with barely shaking hands, only dropping the keys once in her fumbling attempts. The air around her was cold, far too cold for this early in the season. But everything felt colder to her when she was alone, especially alone in the Glades.

That thought alone sobered her a bit. She was alone. Alone and in the the Glades. At night. As a woman. That was possibly the worst position anyone her age could be put in, and her heart sped up a little bit, the equivalent of a freight train in her ears due to her alcohol-induced haze. She did try her best to look around as she walked down the street, turning and jumping at just about every sight and sound that wasn't complete silence.

She knew she needed to breathe. Her chest was becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight, her heart clenching and unclenching in her chest as she stepped quickly as she could without tripping in her four-inch heels. One wrong step could send her plummeting to the ground where she would be a sitting duck to every pervert in the city, not sure if she even had the strength to pull herself back up if that happened. She was exhausting all her energy on staying alert anyway.

The wind picked up, stinging her eyes. She didn't think that she had parked that far away…or maybe she had missed her street. The street signs all ran together as her eyes watered, her mind unable to focus on any one thing for too long anyway.

She was scared. Scared and alone, and she suddenly felt very sick, making her stop and lean against the brick of an abandoned office building. Her breath came out in short, shallow pants, each one painful. Hyperventilating. She was hyperventilating.

In a split second, the idea of going to Roy's place flashed through her mind. But then she was reminded that they weren't really on the best of terms, and that he actually had to be there to let her in. If he was gone, she'd be farther away from her home than she was now, deeper in the heart of the Glades where they would tear her to shreds.

But it was her best shot. She was fairly sure that she couldn't drive anyway; she could barely keep her head straight, none the less remember the rules of the road or make good decisions. The last time she drove under the influence she crashed and burned. This time she might not get as lucky, and she did not want to test those odds.

So she turned and headed the opposite direction, further into what had to be the absolute worst place of someone of her name and status to go.

Just get to Roy's place, she chanted to herself like a mantra, just get to Roy's and you'll be okay. Everything will be fine.

Every step was a challenge, her feet too heavy and too ladened with liquor to move properly. But she couldn't stop, not now. She was in the middle of the south-side parking ground; Roy's house was only a dozen or so blocks down. She was so close...The chill of the air nipped at her nose, numbing her fingers and toes, keeping her partially awake. Maybe if she called Roy he could come and get her…

She fumbled for her phone, searching haphazardly through her oversized purse until she found the sleek white-bodied device. She thanked the heavens that phones no longer required keys and she could just speak her commands. She would've been screwed otherwise. She could barely feel her fingers none the less use them correctly. She instructed her phone to dial the familiar number, still moving as she did so, not wanting to spend any more time in the Glades than she had to.

She waited as the phone rang and rang, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously, begging him to pick up. He didn't and she got his rather obnoxious voicemail that he refused to let her change. She didn't leave one, instead opting to call again, worrying her lip until it split under her ministrations. She tasted the sharp tang of copper and her mouth curled. She let out a frustrated cry, letting her guard slip for a moment as she stomped on the ground.

Roy needed to pick up. For once in his life, he had to answer his damned phone. She needed him.

A low and obnoxiously loud catcall sobered her almost immediately, phone slipping from her hand and back into her purse. She didn't need to turn around to know that a whistle like that could only mean trouble. Her pulse picked up again, but she willed herself to remain calm. No good would come of her being irrational.

"Hey there baby," a disembodied voice called out to her, his sickly sweet tone making her physically ill, repulsed at his come on.

Breathe Thea. Just ignore them. Ignore them and maybe they'll go away.

She tried to continue walking down the lot, but a rough hand to her arm banished any hope of leaving happening as she was spun back around and into the front of the crowd that was slowly starting to circle her. They were closer to her than she'd expected, scaring the wits out of her. There had to be at least eight of them, all rough and surely packing weapons. She knew a few self defense moves, but in her condition and against this many she didn't really stand a chance.

"Where are you going huh?" the repulsive one asked, advancing on her. She stumbled back, her heel catching on a crack in the pavement, and she heard quiet snickers from the few who had made their way behind her. She could feel their eyes razing over her, and she shut hers, praying for this all to be a nightmare.

"Please, just leave me alone," she whined with as much control as she could muster. It was taking all she had not to break down right then and there. This could not be happening. Not after everything that she had been through. If there was a God, he would know that this was not in any way fair. He wouldn't let her suffer like this after everything she'd been through.

"Oh come on baby, we just want to show you a good time!"

He ran his hand over her hair, down her cheek, and she flinched at his slimy touch, resisting the urge to swat that hand away. She knew if she did anything that it would only make things worse. As of now she still had a chance to run.

"Please, I just want to go home," she stated much more confidently than before, but her voice still held that drunken tremor, slurred with fear and exhaustion at the same time.

She just wanted to go home.

"Why don't you come home with us?"

That's when she knew that things were taking a downward turn. She was not getting out of there that easily. Play time was ending; even in her inebriated state she could see the more predatory looks coming out in these creeps' eyes. Adrenaline shot through her system, fogging her already impaired abilities, dilating her pupils until her eyes were nearly black.

Hands reached for her from all angles, and she shoved them away, trying to find any break in the circle was was stuck in. They caught her as she tried to ram her way out like some game of Red Rover, pushing her to the pavement with a thud.

Her head hit first, the splitting, piercing pain originating from her left temple and spreading in a hot wave all across her brain until she thought that the intensity would kill her. She heard the slight crack and saw a burst of white as her skull bounced off the concrete like a playground ball. There was something warm seeping from where she laid her head, thick and warm and steady. All the while she heard the voices, shaking her, poking her, playing at the buttons on her blouse. She didn't move, frozen in time, as if the blow to the head had paralyzed her.

She just wanted to go home...

But then there were screams instead of hoots and howls of sick delight. There was cracking instead of her crying and piercing shrieks instead of twisted congratulations. Something was wrong…something was very wrong.

She still couldn't see, but that didn't stop her from trying. Everything was still blurred, but the amount of voices around her were dwindling, as were the blurs she decided were people. Maybe Roy had come for her…maybe he had gotten her calls after all. Maybe he would turn out to be the hero she had always wanted, always dreamed about since she was little. He would come up with a sword in hand and scoop her up and take her far away. They would live happily ever after. Yes…that sounded nice...

She rolled her head back until she faced the sky. There were so many stars out tonight…so beautiful. The perfect night. She remembered how her father used to take her out and see the stars when he had the time, teaching her the constellations. She wished she could remember some at the moment; she was sure she was looking at many of them.

It took her a moment to realize that someone was approaching her; noise had turned to static to her ears, making hearing nearly impossible lest she counted the relentless ringing. Was it Roy, there to save her? Or the creep back to finish his handy work? Either way she hoped they would let her sleep…she was so, so tired.

Still she could feel the vibrations of heavy footsteps growing closer and closer as her eyelids drooped lower and lower, much too heavy to keep up anymore. She caught glimpses of her surroundings, of that stranger before she shut her eyes altogether. She swore she could hear her name screamed out like a plea, a cry. Whoever was approaching her was worried about her, but she couldn't find the will to care.

She wondered why anyone would even care about her anyway…there was nothing good about Thea Queen, nothing to want, nothing to desire or aspire to be. She wondered when the night got so dark and why the wind felt so warm all the sudden, rushing under her, around her. She wondered if she was flying, if she could fly up to the sky finally find out what lied beyond the stars.

And more than anything she wondered when heroes started wearing green hoods.

Oliver didn't know what he was expecting when Felicity told him of a Triad deal going on in the Glades that night. Maybe a few thugs, the woman with the white hair, maybe he'd even get to fire an arrow or two. But he was not expecting to run into an in-progress gang bang. A gang bang with his sister as the target.

And after the homicidal rage subsided and he had decided on seriously maiming instead of murdering Thea's attackers, he realized that he was actually panicking for the first time since the Island. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and his pulse practically throbbing in his neck. He was sure that Felicity was screeching in his ear, thinking him dead from the amount of frantic breathing he was giving off. But he just couldn't help it, because every cell in his body was telling him to run, to go to Thea and kill whoever stood in his way.

She was not fine. He had successfully terminated the problem before it became too much, but she was still hurt, bleeding out in the middle of the parking lot. She wasn't even scratched that badly, just a few bruises from falling on the concrete when she passed out, a few cuts on her fingers from something unknown. She was fine bodily, but when Oliver went to pick her up, she hung limp and lifeless, completely unresponsive. She was alive, but he still didn't allow himself to breathe. Not until he practically ran all the way back to Verdant with Thea in his arms and had Felicity run every test and scan she knew how. He needed to know for sure that Thea was fine. That she was going to live.

He had forgotten all about the Triad, but something told him from the looks that Diggle and Felicity were giving him that it could wait. Thea was more important. Other than being out cold, suffering from a mild concussion, and having a dangerously high BAC level, Felicity determined that Thea was fine, and Oliver, for the first time since he found her in the alleyway, could take a breath. When he did it was painful and tired, and not at all relaxing. He promptly excused himself to take Thea back to the Queen mansion, ready for this night to be over. No more words were spoken. He assumed that his friends were both smart enough by now not to talk to him when he wanted to be alone.

The drive back to his home was a long one, one spent checking his rear view mirror every ten seconds to make sure that nothing had happened to Thea in the moments he had looked away. He had grown more protective of everything after having everything taken from him on the Island, and Thea was no exception. He wasn't going to let her go ever again.

He parked the car in the garage, thankful that his mother was asleep upstairs at this time of night. He didn't want her to worry, to see Thea like his. To see him like this. She had only just overcome her demons; the last thing she needed was to pile on his.

The walk up the stairs was harder with the added weight, but Oliver managed with ease. He had carried heavier farther, and he would do anything to help his sister. He tucked her into bed like she was a child, making sure to change her bandaged hands and ice her bruises one last time. He knew that those would hurt when she woke up, and the hangover she was going to have would not help. He laid out a few aspirin and a glass of water for when she woke, knowing she would need them desperately. With that, he reluctantly left her room, shutting the door with a click. As much as he wished to stay with her and watch her sleep, he knew that she would not appreciate the gesture and most likely reject it. She just didn't understand…but maybe it was better that way.

Obviously he was too worked up to sleep. There was no way that after the excitement of the night he was going to get to have rest. Any other night he would suit up and prowl the streets until he could see the sunrise, but he didn't want to go back out there again, not in his unstable condition. So, he settled for what any other overly protective brother would do: he went through her belongings.

He wanted answers, clues as to why Thea was out in the Glades at that time of night in the first place. It wasn't like her, so he started going through her jacket pockets, checking for receipts or checks or tickets. When those came up empty save for a gum wrapper, he went through her purse, pulling out everything but still no clues unless he counted the little bag of Vertigo pills that he pocketed immediately. He frowned, remembering her distasteful addiction and made a mental note to talk to her about it in the near future.

But finally he reached her phone, and when he did his heart froze at the tiny specks of blood dabbled over the screen. Obviously she had tried to call someone when she had injured her fingers, and in a frenzy he went straight to her contacts to see who she had called. Three consecutive calls, all minutes before Oliver found her lying on the ground. All to Roy.

Now he saw red, but this time it was behind his eyes. Thea had called Roy, and he didn't pick up. She needed him and he didn't pick up. She was hurt, she could've almost been killed had the Arrow not miraculously shown up, and Roy didn't. Pick. Up.

Oh, Roy would pick up now, Oliver would make sure of it, even if he had to suit up and drag him to the mansion by his legs.

In a blind fury Oliver dialed Roy's number from Thea's phone. He didn't pick up the first time, hearing the dial tone just drone on and on until he was forced to hang up and try again, this time with even more venom. Oliver's fists clenched as the ringing continued, almost considering going over there if he didn't pick up, when suddenly he heard the connection, a disgruntled voice getting on over the other line.

"Look, Thea, I'm sorry I missed your calls but I can't talk-"

"Oh, you'll make time to talk," Oliver snapped much more viciously than he had expected, effectively silencing Roy.

"Oliver…?" Roy asked questioningly, only ever had a handful of encounters with Thea's brother before, enough to know he was not someone to mess with. He wondered, with a slight panic, what he was doing on Thea's phone at this late at night.

"Good evening Roy. Can you tell me what was so important that you ignored all Thea's calls?" Oliver asked with his mock politeness, the anger beneath so obvious that the ruse wasn't even worth the effort.

"I was just, busy…" Roy trailed, and Oliver could feel his blood pressure increasing, his temperature boiling.

"Well, did you know that while you were busy that my sister was lying unconscious in the middle of road in the Glades?"

"What?" Roy was literally speechless, and Oliver felt a sick sense of satisfaction that he knew he shouldn't have. "Is she alright?!"

"She'll be fine," he replied shortly, secretly wanting Roy to suffer, to wait in unknowing agony, but not even he was that cruel. "Apparently she had fallen unconscious after calling you. Had the Vigilante not shown up and brought her back home she would've been much worse."

"What happened?" Oliver could hear Roy's voice shaking, and just for a moment his anger slipped into something reminiscent of pity, but only for a moment. He was fueled by rage, something he had honed to go off of for a very, very long time.

He ignored Roy's question, completely ready to be done with this conversation.

"If I were you Roy, I'd get over here. Right now."

And with that he hung up with a click, tossing Thea's phone roughly back into her purse. He could hear it vibrate again, but he didn't dare pick it up. Roy Harper knew what he had to do if he wanted to know anything about Thea now.

Heaven was so warm, so cushy. There was bright yellow light and a soft feeling of happiness surrounding her at the moment, and she never wanted to leave this paradise. At least Thea hoped she was in heaven. She had tried her best to be good in her life, but life wasn't always good to her. She hoped that God would take that into consideration.

If this was heaven then maybe she'd see her father here. Maybe they could sit down and play a game of checkers or sing songs or even go out biking like they used to. She wondered if he still had her pink Barbie bike from when he taught her how to ride. She loved that bike, even when the tires went flat and the bell fell silent after years of abuse...

Thea.

She heard her name and turned her head at the sound. She wondered if that was her father calling her. His voice didn't sound the same as she remembered, not as deep and rumbly, but rather more high pitched and light. But maybe things just sounded different in heaven. Either way she followed where she heard the voice come from, but didn't see anyone.

"Dad?" she called out to the open, blank space, but there was no one else around.

Maybe she was just losing her mind, hearing things. She always did that, so why was heaven any different.

Thea.

This time it came again, but stronger than the last and brought with it a bright light white that made her turn away from its intensity. She had to shield her eyes in her elbow, the edges watering at the purity of the white beams flashing in front of her. And when they finally did die down and she was able to see anything other than blurred splotches of color, she was faced with the very man she had been dreaming of.

Her father stood before her with a smile, arms open, welcoming her in to his embrace. She was startled, eyes wide in disbelief, reaching out tentatively to touch his outstretched hand before rushing to him and collapsing into his strong chest. He held her she took him in, all of him, just as she remembered.

"Dad? Is it really you?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid of the question. She was so used to people leaving. Everyone always left her, and if this was real she wanted to be sure. She didn't want to get her hopes up to be crushed once more.

Not again.

Thea, please...

That sonorous voice rippled through her body, making her skin prickly with goosebumps. His voice was still off, not loud and reverberating like she had remembered from when he laughed as a child. But it was still him, lips moving against her hair, and she shuddered into his embrace, willing his warmth to seep into her own soul.

But far too soon he was pulling away, slipping from her tight grasp on his lapels. She twisted her fingers in that familiar suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life, but he kept retreating, holding her at arms length, then stepping away, closer to that light he had come from.

"Dad! Don't go!"

Thea felt herself falling to the ground on her knees, arms reaching for the one person she needed most. She felt as helpless as she did when she was five and had fallen off that bike she loved so much, reaching for her daddy when her knees were too shredded to make walking possible without immense pain. She needed him to pick her up again, to reach down into that dark hell she had fallen into over the past five years and carry her into the light. But there he was, arms open in welcome, yet he was running.

No. Not this.

Not again.

Thea please, wake up.

Wake up.

Her eyes flew open at the command, the light washing over her and pulling away like the tide, leaving her behind on the shore of somewhere colder and more dangerous. Everything was blurry, like she the world was out of focus, so she blinked, eyes rapidly opening in closing in hopes to drive away fuzz that obscured her vision. When it finally did clear, she was able to make out a color: green. The white of the ceiling coupled with the edges of jade green paint and ivory crowned molding were all so familiar, almost as familiar as the warmth of the light.

Movement caught her in the edge of her field of vision, so she shifted her head, rolling it over like a log to find the walls covered in familiar posters, vanishing behind bronze-framed mirrors and vanities and closet doors. So much furniture that it made a room of this size feel small, small and secluded, just like she liked things. She was back home, and the thought brought a smile to her lips, but it fell just as soon as she spotted the source of movement.

All she had to do was avert her gaze down to the edge of her king-sized bed to see her supposed prince hunched over the side, clearly nodded off, his head lolling forward, bobbing jerkily. He looked like hell, dark circles around his eyes peeking out from the shadows cast upon his face, hair just a bit greasy from unwash, his clothes disheveled like he'd been in a rush. But she couldn't fathom any sympathy, not at the moment. The prince was supposed to save the princess, not a masked Robin Hood with a knack for killing.

"You alright Speedy?"

Thea followed the unexpected voice to find Oliver leaning on the doorframe across the room, his face all concern and devotion. Oliver was a good brother; Thea knew she was lucky to have him, even if she wasn't the best at showing it. She appreciated him, knowing that he was probably to thank for most of her great care. She could only imagine the fright of finding her in the condition she was in, cut and bruised and bleeding. He must've had a heart attack... But there was something else about him when she looked at him now with that look of possessiveness across his face, something that made her think that there was something else lying beneath those words than just brotherly concern. But she banished the thought, her brain not up to psychoanalyzing anything for a long time.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Thea ended up nodding in response though she could not have been any further from convincing.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm right down the hall."

Oliver cast a glare towards a waking Roy before turning to leave, his expression all hostility and disappointment, and Thea knew in that moment that the only reason Roy knew anything at all about this was because Oliver had scared him into knowing. She finally realized that Roy didn't care. He probably wouldn't even have noticed a difference if she hadn't shown her face around him for the next few days. She had been lying in the middle of the street, about to be raped last night, and Roy wouldn't even had known.

The thought repulsed Thea, bile rising in her throat.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have even thought that he would come to her rescue, that he would somehow know and come to her side in attempts to make things right? The only person who saved her was Oliver, Oliver and the Vigilante. She owed them her life. She owed Roy nothing but there he was, leaning over her bedside like a pathetic puppy dog, pretending to be concerned when the truth said anything but.

There was a tense silence that followed Oliver's wake and Roy and awoken from his fitful slumber. It was clear that he wanted to say something, the confliction in his eyes and the stress in the air palpable. She didn't care what he had to say; she wanted to yell at him, demand for him to go away. She wanted to throw things and punch him and cry and yell. She wanted to tell him how miserable he made her, how he'd broken her heart time and time again. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't live like that anymore. She just couldn't make herself suffer anymore.

But all that came out was a whispered, "You didn't answer my calls."

Roy hung his head, running his hands over his weary face.

"No, I didn't," he sighed, his sunken voice aging him decades. "Thea, I'm sorry. I was busy and-"

"Busy with the Vigilante."

It wasn't a question. A question would imply that she was seeking the truth, but there was no point in her asking what she already knew to be truth, a truth that Roy validated by offering no response of his own. Perhaps he had learned a thing or two about honesty, but that unspoken admission was like the straw that broke the camel's back. She felt used, and not from the creeps that had tried to take her. Her trust felt used; her love felt used. Roy had dirtied her and thrown her aside as if she were something to be ignored, only important when he deemed her so.

Her lips were trembling when she found the nerve to speak again.

"I needed you. I needed you and you didn't pick up. You weren't there."

The silence that settled between them was great, almost smothering, leaving little room to breathe. As if she even could in the first place, her lungs constricted with sobs that she refused to release. She was just so angry, so betrayed, that she could barely contain her fury, her rage leaking out in small tears of anger that ran down her cheeks. She knew that Roy would think she was sad, that she was upset, but in reality she was just enraged. He had broken her trust in him, and she could barely stand the sight of him.

Roy was the first to break the silence, shifting in his seat, averting his gaze to avoid eye contact, at least for the moment. His irritated baby blues scanned the room frantically for any answer that could possibly correct his stupid, ignorant mistakes, but he knew that there was none. At least none that would be good enough to justify himself to Thea. All he had left was the future, his best and only shot at making her happy again. He would offer her his future, and he would try his best this time, try his best to stay out of trouble. For her happiness, he would always try.

She watched him carefully as he reached down for her hand, watched him react with hurt as she tried to recoil from his touch. She let him know that he was not welcome, not now, but he pressed on even though she knew that it had to wound him. She shivered with dislike at the kiss he placed on her knuckles, and as he tried to look her in the eye she tore her head away, fixing her gaze on the ceiling. She could not let him in. One look in his heartbroken eyes and she'd melt into his will like putty, and she could not do that anymore.

Hold your head high. If you act like nothing hurts you, then nothing will.

"I promise Thea. It won't happen again."

Liar, she wanted to scream as more angry tears were squeezed out of her screwed-shut eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that no amount of empty promises could fix this. They were ripping apart at the seams, and she was just lying there, letting him. But she couldn't find the words to tell him, so she laid there and let him hold her hand, let his fingers run over hers, binding them together.

She lied there as he took and let herself bleed out.