The Rise of Athena (An Arrow: Season 1 Fanfiction)

Chapter 21: A Conversation of Sentiment; A Conversation of Schemes

WARNING: mentions of self-harm and suicide, and sexual violence, - read at own risk. 

(still) Evelyn Queen's POV 

I sniffled, sitting on the bed, toying with a silver pocket blade that was retractable, courtesy of Anatoly. It had etchings on the blade that said, Афина (Athena). My twin red, long daggers said War Goddess in Russian, but this blade was special. I had remembered one year of my birthday, and though the Bratva didn't really celebrate birthdays much, Anatoly doted on me especially and had the blade made. I'd kept it ever since on my person, never letting it out of my sight. I'd gotten really miserable lately, and I'd contemplated self-harm, but suicide was a lingering thought. 

Flashback (in Russia) 

Christmas, 2009. 

'Come, come, pet,' I heard his voice say. I shuddered. It was cold in Russia, and the lingerie I was wearing didn't help matters. The door opened and he stepped in, climbing on the bed next to me. I tried to shrink away from him, but he grabbed my chin and wrenched it to face him. 'Hello, pet.' He stroked my jaw, and moved closer. I let out a whimper and shuddered again. He reached over and stroked my neck, then the outside curve of my bralette. I tensed, feeling the bud beneath harden. He leaned forward and kissed me. 

'Please... just stop.' 

'Never ask me to stop. You hear? You're mine.' He reached behind and took off the bralette, throwing it to the ground. He pushed me softly back to the bed and crawled on top of me. I could feel him through the pants he was wearing. He undressed both myself and him and pulled me on his lap. I began to cry as he started the usual 'treatment'. He scolded me as I squirmed on his lap, trying to get away. I attempted to crawl off the bed when he was done and run, but he grabbed me by my hair and threw me back on the bed. I began to cry more. I looked up to see him holding my hair with a look of anger. 

'Stop... please... I'll do anything, just please stop hurting me.'

'I'm not hurting you. You just have to stop asking me to stop.'

'You are hurting me. It hurts. It burns. Please.'

'You. Are. Mine.' His hand gripped on my hair tighter. I tried to grab for his hand to stop him, but he twisted my hair, making me yelp in pain. 'My wife. My girl. You will listen to me. You will let me fuck you when I please. You got it?' I nodded, furiously. Still keeping hold of my hair, he dragged me over to the foot of the bed, and grabbing a handcuff, cuffed my arms above my head to the bedposts. 'You will not move. At all.' Then he left, slamming the door, leaving me alone, naked, and in the bedroom. 

The bedroom that would soon become my hell. 

End of flashback 

I snapped out of the memory, hearing footsteps on the stairs and sniffled some more, wiping a tear away from my eye. I looked at the blade and ran a finger along its sharp edge. I wondered what it would feel like to run the blade across my wrists, feel the burn, feel the warm blood course down my arms. Tears fell down my face, and I angrily scrubbed them away. Then I heard a knock on my door. 

'Just go away!' I screamed, but the person kept knocking. 'GO AWAY!!' I screamed again. 

'Evelyn, it's me. It's Oliver. Are you alright?' 

'Please... just go away. I'm okay, just go away.' The door opened, and Oliver stepped in. I met his eyes. 'Go away.' He stepped forward cautiously, trying to ascertain whether I was okay. 

'Evelyn - you don't look okay.' 

'I'm fine,' I said mournfully, tears streaking my cheeks. He came over, and my breath kept catching in my throat. He looked down at the knife I was holding. 'I'm sorry, Oliver.' 

'For what?' he asked softly. 

'I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry. I didn't want to ruin anything. It hurts. The pain. Please. It hurts so much. Just take it away from me. Take it from me, please.' 

'I don't understand.' I turned to him and grabbed his hands, looking into his eyes, and placed the blade in his hand. 

'Please... just kill me. Please. It'll fix it. It'll take it away. Just take it away. No one else will do it.'

'Ellie-bear, you're talking about committing suicide.' 

'I've got nothing left. No one. No one except you. Oliver, please, please. Just do it. No one has to know. You guys can have an actual funeral for me. Bury me out the back, next to Dad.' 

'I took those down, Evelyn. Remember?' I shook my head vehemently, tears still falling down. I grabbed her hands more fiercely and looked into her eyes. 'No one is killing themselves on Christmas, Evelyn. Not here. Not now.' Tears started to come to my eyes and with that, I threw my arms around him desperately, clinging to my brother for dear life. When I pulled away, he was looking into my eyes in concern. 'Are you okay now?' I nodded. 'You wanna help me celebrate Christmas?'

'Yeah... sure.'

'Together, Evelyn. Baby steps. Little steps. We'll be able to erase those bad memories and make new ones.' He leaned forwards and kissed me on the forehead. 'I love you, Ellie-bear.' 

'I love you too, Ollie.' 

Time skip - near a warehouse at night 

Third Person POV 

'Douglas Miller came to see me today, quite concerned,' Malcolm Merlyn said to Moira as they stood near a black limo. 'He said your husband interrogated him, and his questions suggested a knowledge he shouldn't have of the list.' 

'Let me talk to him,' she replied, as cool and calm and collected as she could be. 

'I think we're past the point of conversation, Moira. A month ago you came to me and you told me to stay away from your family, and I did. But your family isn't staying away from me. Which means something must be done about it. Don't you agree?' 

'Yes, I do. And I'll handle it.' 

'I guess what I'm wondering is...' Malcolm said, still staring into her eyes, 'whether it's time for our associate to handle it.'