Disclaimer: I don't own Devil Wears Prada or any of its characters. Neither do I own the song Hallelujah.
A/N: I hope you enjoy this as I'm not really a writer. I wrote this in response to a prompt. I would recommend listening to Hallelujah while reading this.
"And every breath we drew was hallelujah."
" Andrea Please."
" Hallelujah Miranda Hallelujah."
"Hallelujah" Miranda whispered. "All this time Andrea?" As she turned her eyes towards her captor.
"For my sister darling. I didn't want to hurt you but I had to for Amy."
Who? Now Miranda showed true confusion. Who on earth was Amy and what did she have to do with why her….. no not her Andrea, not anymore…. had taken Runway from her, tied her up in her own home and proceeded to disfigure her. "Who is Amy and what does Rachel have to do with anything?"
"Rachel? Nothing sweetheart absolutely nothing, Rachel is just a friend from college. Amy on the other hand my poor sweet Amy YOU killed. You killed my precious Amy so now I had to take what matters most to you. Your legacy, your image and finally your spirit. The girls are living with their father now they couldn't handle the pressure of being your daughters. That was some of my finer work I must admit, getting them to listen and agree with me that they should go to their father."
"An…Andrea?"
"Oh it was all an act, I majored in drama in college did you know? Of course not you believed everything I fed you didn't you. Do you know how hard I had to work to seduce you to make you mine? Bathing on the roof? Do you really think everyone does that Miranda or anyone for that matter? All those nights listening to your insecurities or playing nice with the girls when all I could think of was why did you take Amy from me and why did your lips feel so good on mine. So no it wasn't all just for Amy. The hair, that was for me Miranda." It was a cold and a broken hallelujah that fell from her lips this time. "So yes Miranda, from hallelujah."
Andrea walked away not once looking back at the dishevelled broken figure tied to the chair surrounded by her own hair and blood silent tears running down her face. This wasn't how she imagined this moment feeling. Dammit she wasn't supposed to fall in love with her. Love was not a victory march it was a cold and broken hallelujah.