AN: Guess who's back...Back again ;P Yup it's me again (Finally!). I'm really sorry for not updating in a while. Things have been quite hectic with school and exams and what not, but I'm back! And, according to my previous chapter, so is Isabel *gasps* hehe, Isabel Isabitch. Just read that out loud and tell me it isn't funny. Nope, you can't. So I watched the season finale... THAT ENDING! *major fangirling* but please please please tell me that we're getting a season 4? Otherwise someone's getting murdered. I have friends in low places (in other words: I have Nyssa on speed dial). Now back to the story! *disappears into the shadows*

Chapter 7

I froze as I recognised the voice that had taunted me throughout high school. No. It can't be. My chest tightens in fear and my heart beats in my throat. I turn around and meet the cold and calculating brown eyes of my high school nemesis.

Isabel Rochev.

Her eyes narrow as they land on me, obviously searching for something. It's been a while since I've seen her, yet she looks about the same as she did in high school. Her slender figure, the long dark locks of hair, and the same look of condecension that is permanently fixed upon her features.

I push back the need to squirm as she studies me closely. She gives me a final once-over, before turning her attention to Amy. It's no surprise that she doesn't recognise me. Hell, even I wouldn't recognise me after all these years. Throughtout the most of high school I had stuck with my natural hair colour: a light brown. However, towards in my senior year I went through a rough patch. The result of my rebellious behaviour: pitch back hair. My closet also suffered the side effects of teenage-rebellion, and was suddenly filled with dark clothing (mostly black).

This phase lasted until the middle of my time at MIT, when I met Amy. She pulled me out of the deep pit of self-loathing that I was trapped in, and helped me become the person that I am today. Thankfully, I never saw Isabel again when we went our separate ways after high school. She probably thinks that I'm dead in a ditch with a needle in my arm.

Well if that bitch thinks I'd just give up that easily, then she's got another thing coming!

That doesn't mean that I'm not afraid of her though. To be honest I'm terrified, and it's really annoying. I shouldn't be afraid of her and I know it, but my hands don't seem to get the memo. I cross my arms tightly against my chest in an attempt to hide my trembling hands. It's not like she can do anything to me in here, there are too many people and something tells me that Amy is oblivious to her future sister-in-law's history.

I try to think like Amy and be the optimist. Who knows, maybe Isabel has changed. After all, we're both adults now. We should be able to handle this like adults, right?

Then another voice joins in, reminding me never to underestimate my enemies, to remain cautious. Oddly enough, that voice sounds a lot like Oliver...

I look over to Amy warily, searching for her reaction to the sudden reappearance of my nemesis. She gives Isabel a bright smile, but I can tell that it's forced.

"Hey, Isabel! You're actually just in time, we were about to try on a few dresses. I totally understand the whole working-late issue. Felicity has that problem all the time! She's always-"

I stop listening to Amy's rambling about my work life and look over to Isabel. Her cold brown eyes are fixed on me once again, only this time they're filled with concealed malice. Is it even possible for brown eyes to look so...mean? Amy doesn't seem to notice the slight change in Isabel's demeanor, and continues her rambling. Something about pancake batter and pink furry handcuffs? Do I even want to know..? Before I can grab Amy's attention, Isabel interrupts.

"Well, seeing as we're all here, why don't we get started on the dresses?" she says, but without any enthusiasm.

Amy's smile wavers for a second, but slips back into place a second later.

"Great idea! How about you girls go first, then we can do the wedding dress? It'll probably take much longer for me to find a dress and I don't want you to have to wait for me."

I smile at her. She might be overbearing at times and a bit blunt, but she's always been selfless at heart. We all thank her (although Isabel's mumbled 'thanks' could be mistaken for a muffled sneeze), pick out our dresses and leave for the dressing rooms.

After stripping down and slipping into the dress, I look up at the mirror. My breath catches in my throat at the sight before me. The strapless dress is a deep blue, almost royal blue, but darker. The bust area is covered in delicate rhinestones, but not enough to be overbearing. The long skirt flows to the floor in a soft pool of material. It's beautiful.

I try to zip up the back on my own, but to no avail. I poke my head out behind the curtains.

"Hey, can someone come and help me with my zip?" I call down the row of dressing rooms.

"I can help you with that." comes a sharp voice from behind me.

I jump and spin around. Oh for the love of all that is sweet and sugary, why her? I give her a tight lipped smile.

"Thanks, Isabel."

We step back into the dressing room and I turn my back to her, sweeping my hair off my shoulders. I feel her hands grip the dress and zip, but she makes no attempt to pull it up. She tightens her hold, creating a kind of tugging effect and causing me to take a step back. She brings her mouth to my ear.

"I know it's you, Felicity." she whispers.

I swallow nervously as I meet her piercing eyes in the mirror. I want to say something, but my mouth stays shut. Isabel takes my silence as submission and fear (although she's not far off on the fear part), and smirks at me.

"I see you're still the same pathetic loser that you were in high school."

Her verbal jab loosens my tongue and my eyes narrow at her reflection.

"And you're still the same cold-blooded iguana, only this time I see you've actually grown a pair of tits. Tell me, are those real?"

It's no secret that Isabel had lacked in the breast-department during high school, but was never taunted about it because of her status. I always knew that it was her one insecurity, but remained silent out of fear. Which is why my comeback surprises the both of us. She looks taken aback by my answer, but quickly recovers, her smirk slipping back into place.

"I almost didn't recognise you, what with your blonde hair and all. Almost exactly like your mother's. Trying to follow in her footsteps, are we?" she taunts and gives a humourless laugh. "I can't say that I'm surprised, though. What else is there to expect from the daughter of a whore? You were always a slut, it's embarrassing really. Is that how you afforded MIT, or did your mother start throwing herself at the headmaster?"

By the end of her rant, my blood is boiling. Everyone has their insecurities, even Isabel. Mine just so happened to be my family. Saying that it's just my mother would be a lie, seeing as my father left us. Unfortunately, Isabel knows this. I clench my fists in an attempt to avoid punching her.

"Listen here, you half-boob bitch! You have no right to speak of my mother in that way." I hiss at her. "The fact that my mother worked several shifts at a cocktail bar to keep us both alive does not make her a whore! I may not have the best relationship with her, but I think that her hard work makes her a damn good mother. She went through a lot, made some bad choices, but she bounced back. No one had to sleep with the headmaster to get me into MIT. You and I both know that my grades alone got me in, or have you suddenly forgotten who had to do your homework throughout high school? I got in through my own hard work, which is more than I can say for you. It must me nice to have parents with so much influence, huh? Let's not even start on how much money was involved..."

Her victorious attitude falls away and I see her emotions flick from shock, to anger, to malicious.

"Shut up! It doesn't matter how I got into university. My father was willing to do what it took to get me into the most prestigeous university. What did your father do?"

My reaction is immediate. Any feeling of pride from making Isabel mad dissipates and is replaced by a stab of grief. Grief that I have yet to mourn. After my father left, my mother made some...bad choices. That was her way of escaping her grief. Mine was studying and taking apart electronics. I chose never to think about it, and I still do. This is why the very thought of him nearly brings me to tears. Isabel notices this and smirks.

She zips up my dress and leaves the dressing room, her head high. I look at my reflection, but I don't see the dress. The colours are blurred with tears. I take a deep breath and swallow thickly. Closing my eyes, I start repeating sentences like a mantra: Don't let her get to you, you don't need really him. She's not worth your tears. He's not worth your tears.

After my emotions are back in check, I steel myself and walk out of the dressing room.

The rest of the afternoon consists of dressing, undressing, giggling and, thankfully, no more Isabel. Although she's quiet, the look on her face still puts me on edge. At the end of the day we have the bridesmaids' dresses, my dress as maid of honour, and Amy's wedding dress. Amy insists that I wear the first blue dress, saying that I look irresistable in it. I'm not complaining though. I fell in love with the dress the moment I laid eyes upon it. The bridesmaids have short dresses of the same blue, with delicate straps keeping the dress secure. Amy's wedding dress is absolutely amazing. It's a white strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline, showing off her full breasts. The bust area is coated in tiny white crystals and pearls all the way down to her waist, before flowing out in a soft material. She looks like a princess, but still shows off her model figure.

"How about we all go out for drinks? I'm buying." Amy suggests as we walk out of the boutique.

A chorus of mumbled yesses reply, including Isabel's. That makes my decision for me.

"I'd really love to, Amy, but I've kind of got a work thing to get to..."

That has to be the worst excuse that I have ever come up with. I've totally over-used my work-card and let's face it: I'm a terrible liar. Amy doesn't look convinced (hell, I'm not even convinced!), but lets me go anyway. I silently make a mental note to apologise profusely later and to explain everything. That can wait until later, for now I've got a fake meeting to attend.

Once I'm driving, my mind tells me to set the course for home. My sub-conscience, however, has other plans. I end up in front of the one place I know is safe: Verdant. It's a Saturday, so Oliver and Diggle probably won't be in the lair tonight. Hopefully they aren't. I type the pass code into the glowing keypad, and the door unlocks. I push it open cautiously, trying not to make too much sound. If they are here, I don't want to alert them of my presence. They'll question my reasons for being here and I really don't feel like getting into that tonight.

I slink to the bottom of the metal stairs and peer around the dark basement for any signs of life. Aside from Hades, the Daddy-long-legs spider in the far corner of the basement, there seems to be no one else down here. Yes, I did name a spider after the Greek god of death. Deal with it. I decide to leave the lights off and move to sit against the wall.

I close my eyes and try to block out Isabel's voice, but her words cut through like a knife. What did your father do? The question rings in my ears and seems to echo through the dark, cement-covered basement. Tears spring into my eyes as I easily find the answer: Nothing. After he left, he did absolutely nothing. No calls, letters or even birthday cards. I remember one night when my mom contacted him, though. She called saying that I was still his daughter and that I deserved to at least hear his voice once more. Their argument got so heated, that I could hear him tell her that I was an accident. My father, my own father, called me an accident, said I was nothing of his, that I was merely a bastard product of their mistake. My mother had comforted me, of course, saying that he didn't mean it and that it was an in-the-heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. I knew she was lying.

My eyes burn with tears, but I don't try to hold them back. The moment I close them, the tears stream down my cheeks. All the pain of my childhood rushes into my mind like a dam that burst. I'm not a self-pitying type of person, and I never have been, but this is not self-pity. These are pent up emotions that have surfaced after many years of neglectance, and I'm worried that it might never cease.

I draw my knees to my chest and bow my head, hiding my face. Who from, I can't tell. It might just be to shield myself from the penetrating stare of Hades the spider, but I could be wrong.

Then I hear the familiar muffled beeping of the keypad, and I tense. Oh please, no. I sense the door swinging open silently, flooding the otherwise dark basement with light. The light disappears just as quickly as it came as the door shuts. The footfalls coming down the stairs are light, yet solid and steady. They move with agility and vigilance. I don't have to look up to know who it is: Oliver.

The footsteps come to rest and silence fills the lair.

"Felicity?" Oliver finally asks, surprised.

I turn my head to face away from him as I try to get my tears to subside. However, my attempts are in vain. I swallow thickly and an involuntary sob escapes my throat. Damn it.

I can practically feel his gaze burning holes into the back of my head. I hear him move towards me slowly. He sits down beside me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Talk to me, Felicity." he whispers softly.

I reluctantly lift my head and look at him through tear-filled eyes. I meet his concerned gaze and just start shaking my head as a fresh wave of tears attacks me. He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his embrace. I bury my face in his chest while he traces soothing patterns on my back, while whispering words of comfort and reassurance.

My lids become heavy from the exhaustion of crying, and soon I am engulfed by darkness.

AN: That was a pretty long chapter (or at least I hope it was!). Before you ask: No. I did not randomly make up Hades the spider. You see, there was a spider in the window sill next to me in my accounting class, so I named him Hades. Yes, I know, it's weird. Deal. With. It.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it ended on a sad tone. Please tell me what you think! Oh, and there will be no shout outs for the previous chapter, mainly because I'm now finishing this in the middle of the night and I'm in a bit of a hurry. Like, literally, it's twenty minutes past midnight right now.

We spent most of the night watching Chappie. OMG I laughed my ass off! Who of you have seen the movie? I'm telling you, it's hilarious. I feel kind of bad for people who don't understand Afrikaans, though. There were a couple of things said/written in Afrikaans that just made me completely crack up.

Anyway, you know the end-of-chapter drill ;)

See you when I see you!

DDxx