She awoke and sat up suddenly, a small whimper escaping her dry lips from the movement in her side. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved her eyes to scan the room. The room was lightly dimmed, which was working in her advantage as it allowed her to assess the room for any exits or any weapons that she could use to defend herself, something Oliver and Digg had taught her.
The room wasn’t familiar to her in the slightest. She wasn’t in the loft surrounded by hers and Oliver’s things. She wasn’t in the hospital. There was no illuminating white walls and no medical machines that beeped in sync with her raising heart rate. Instead, she was surrounded by dark cement walls, a dusty mattress which was as far away from the door as possible, and two lights that hung from the roof.
She was confused. How in Googles name did she get here?
The last thing that she could remember was leaving a message for Oliver to let him know that she was in a car accident and that she was stuck… she remembers just before she blacked out, after the phone call, the sound of footsteps rushing towards the wreckage of the car.
Guess it wasn’t the police like she thought it was. So if it wasn’t the police, who was it? The ghosts? Cooper? How long had she been here?
There was nothing in the room that could aid her in working out how much time had passed since the car crash, or how long she had been out. She knew that the crash happened on Wednesday night. The meeting she had with the financial advisor ran late and when she had left Palmer Tech, it had been dark. When she was driving in her mini, she had decided to cut through the Glades as it took about ten minutes off the normal route. She hadn’t seen anyone tailing her in her rearview mirr-
The sound of a fist roughly tapping against the door that closed her off from the rest of the world startled her out of her thoughts.
“Food,” A flat and deep male voice shouted through the door as a tray slid through the cubby hole at the bottom of the door.
“Wait! Come back!” Felicity shouted as she heard the footsteps retreat away from the door, “Where am I? What do you want with me?” Her gaze moved down to the floor where the tray sat. She moved slowly to the tray, surprised not at the hunger she was feeling, but instead surprised at how little her side hurt as she moved. It felt as though she just had a bruise and not as though she had been impaled.
She lifted her peach coloured top to have a look at where her injury should have been. When she was in the car she could feel a glass shard impaled into her side. She vividly remembers the feeling of blood all over her fingers. How it only got worse as she sat there upside down.
She lifted up her, what was a peach coloured top, but now looked more like a crimson red top, shocked when she found a jagged pink scratch roughly ten centimetres long. There was no scar, no stitches, no evidence that it had healed, instead it was just a scratch.
Her brows burrowed at the scratch, this all reminded her of a time when she was six years old, just before her dad had left her.
Her dad had spent the whole weekend with her, buying her ice cream, books, anything her little heart had desired.
They had spent the morning of the day he had left together.
Her mum was working and her dad had decided to take her to their local park which was down the road from their apartment in Las Vegas.
He watched her climb a tree. She had been halfway to the top when her foot had slipped and missed the branch. She fell, tumbling and sliding through the lanky branches. Her dad had caught her just before she had hit the ground stopping her from having any broken bones. She had nasty cuts and bruises all over her body. But she had one scratch that stood out from the rest. It was on her side, the same side that the glass had hurt her, it was a deeper cut and it bleed heavily.
Her father had held her as she cried and pulled out his handkerchief from his pant pocket, he had placed it on the blood. She remembers watching the handkerchief soaking up the blood. He placed his hand under her chin and moving her head so her eyes met his.
“There is nothing in this world that is more important than you, my sweet Lissy Bug. “
He moved the handkerchief and placed it back into his pocket. Felicity’s eyes following his hand, her eyes burrowing in confusion at how her cut turned into a scratch.
She had never understood how her father was able to fix her cut. Her six year old brain couldn’t figure it out. Her genius brain that looked for facts and science she still couldn’t. She had always thought that she had imagined it, but now, looking at her fresh scratch that she had, she was curious. She has either been here, stuck with these people for quite some time, maybe they drugged her and couldn’t remember it healing. Otherwise this has something to do with her father.
“Or maybe this is all a dream and I will wake up if I pinch myself.” She muttered to herself as she walked towards the tray and pinched her forearm.
“Ouch! Okay then. Not a dream.”
She picked up the tray gently, her stomach clenching uncomfortably and brought it back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the foot of the bed. She grabbed a piece of bread that was sitting on a paper plate and inspected it closely, unsure if was safe to eat.
Her stomach rumbled which made her decision for her. She broke off a piece and placed it in her mouth. Yup, just normal bread. She finished the piece of bread in her hand and the other one on the plate. She picked up the bowl of cut fruit and made herself comfortable on the bed.
She has a feeling she is going to be here a while.