Title: A flash of fire
Author: Lady Angel
Email: valarltd@hotmail.com
Rating: PG for psychological violence
Summary: About 5 years down the road, Tara broods after a fight with Willow
Spoilers: Who Am I? Season 4.
Disclaimer: These are not my character. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB.
I receive no monetary gain for these stories.
Distribution: Any and all. You want it, you got it.
Feedback: Here's where I get paid, in applause. I'll do the Happy Dance in your honor.
*****
A Flash of Fire
by Angelia Sparrow c 2000
*****
I lie on our bed, staring at the stars outside the window, and wondering how we came to this
place. My head hurts, the bruise on my cheek hurts, and my heart hurts most of all.
Willow hit me.
I can't believe it. It's so out of character for her. No, that's a lie. A lie I'm telling myself. I
need to quit lying.
I do love her. And that is not a lie. But I hate her a little, too. And I'm afraid of her. She's
changed since we handfasted.
That was a sweet ceremony. We wrote it ourselves, and pledged ourselves to each other in front
of our friends. Well, her friends. I don't have any. I never did. Lately, we'd been talking about
marriage.
But I can't enjoy pleasant memories. I have to think what to do. Do I leave? Do I stay? Do we
go for therapy? This was never covered in Mom's Rules on Relationships.
I think it all started the night I anchored her on her first trip to the Nether Plane. I told her I
loved her, that I was hers, and she didn't say anything. She just smiled like it was meant to be
that way. She didn't understand what the confession meant to me.
That little incident has built into a thousand since. Every day she finds some way to tell me I'm
not pretty enough, not smart enough, not as powerful as she is.
I do love her. But she doesn't love me. I don't know if she ever has.
Yesterday, she commented on how pretty Misty was. The day before she called me needy. Last
week, I was "clingy." I wonder if she's seeing Misty behind my back? Misty is very pretty, and
almost as powerful as Willow. No, that's silly.
I want to cry. I feel the sting of tears but they won't come. I learned a long time ago not to cry.
And I don't want her to hear me. She'll either comfort me or be angry with me. I've had all of
her anger I can survive for tonight.
She only hit me once. A slap across the face. But I saw the power in her eyes, and that scared
me. She didn't even realize she smiled when she did it. Next time, she'll hit me harder, and one
of the times after that, she'll put me in the hospital.
That's the way it goes, isn't it? The words, the blows, the hospital, the restraining order, the
morgue?
I didn't think it was supposed to be like this. I thought only men beat their partners. I didn't
think women were abusive. But what does a "weak needy bitch" like me know, anyway? A lot
less than I thought I did, apparently.
I hear her coming up the steps. In a moment she'll come in, and it will be like it always is.
She'll apologize, we'll cuddle. And all will be forgotten. Until next time. There's always a
next time.
The door is opening and I see a flash of fire. Her lovely hair.
I do love her. Don't I?
Author: Lady Angel
Email: valarltd@hotmail.com
Rating: PG for psychological violence
Summary: About 5 years down the road, Tara broods after a fight with Willow
Spoilers: Who Am I? Season 4.
Disclaimer: These are not my character. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB.
I receive no monetary gain for these stories.
Distribution: Any and all. You want it, you got it.
Feedback: Here's where I get paid, in applause. I'll do the Happy Dance in your honor.
*****
A Flash of Fire
by Angelia Sparrow c 2000
*****
I lie on our bed, staring at the stars outside the window, and wondering how we came to this
place. My head hurts, the bruise on my cheek hurts, and my heart hurts most of all.
Willow hit me.
I can't believe it. It's so out of character for her. No, that's a lie. A lie I'm telling myself. I
need to quit lying.
I do love her. And that is not a lie. But I hate her a little, too. And I'm afraid of her. She's
changed since we handfasted.
That was a sweet ceremony. We wrote it ourselves, and pledged ourselves to each other in front
of our friends. Well, her friends. I don't have any. I never did. Lately, we'd been talking about
marriage.
But I can't enjoy pleasant memories. I have to think what to do. Do I leave? Do I stay? Do we
go for therapy? This was never covered in Mom's Rules on Relationships.
I think it all started the night I anchored her on her first trip to the Nether Plane. I told her I
loved her, that I was hers, and she didn't say anything. She just smiled like it was meant to be
that way. She didn't understand what the confession meant to me.
That little incident has built into a thousand since. Every day she finds some way to tell me I'm
not pretty enough, not smart enough, not as powerful as she is.
I do love her. But she doesn't love me. I don't know if she ever has.
Yesterday, she commented on how pretty Misty was. The day before she called me needy. Last
week, I was "clingy." I wonder if she's seeing Misty behind my back? Misty is very pretty, and
almost as powerful as Willow. No, that's silly.
I want to cry. I feel the sting of tears but they won't come. I learned a long time ago not to cry.
And I don't want her to hear me. She'll either comfort me or be angry with me. I've had all of
her anger I can survive for tonight.
She only hit me once. A slap across the face. But I saw the power in her eyes, and that scared
me. She didn't even realize she smiled when she did it. Next time, she'll hit me harder, and one
of the times after that, she'll put me in the hospital.
That's the way it goes, isn't it? The words, the blows, the hospital, the restraining order, the
morgue?
I didn't think it was supposed to be like this. I thought only men beat their partners. I didn't
think women were abusive. But what does a "weak needy bitch" like me know, anyway? A lot
less than I thought I did, apparently.
I hear her coming up the steps. In a moment she'll come in, and it will be like it always is.
She'll apologize, we'll cuddle. And all will be forgotten. Until next time. There's always a
next time.
The door is opening and I see a flash of fire. Her lovely hair.
I do love her. Don't I?