Disclaimer: don't own Alias blah blah
Timeline: mid season 3 blah blah
Thank you SO much to all the people who reviewed by first two fics. You are all way too kind. I'm thinking of making this more than a one parter, so if u want, let me know if you agree! Thanks! Love dani xxx
A cruel twist of irony
Sydney cried out in pain, the agony she was experiencing worse that any torture she had ever been subjected to before. Her throat was savagely raw from her weeping; her chest was tight, restricting her breaths, worsening her hyperventilation, her eyes were red and swollen from their abuse. She tried not to cry, she had tried so hard, she couldn't stand him knowing he'd finally got to her, that she'd given in, that he'd broken her. She didn't understand. She was trained to withstand this type of pain, to compartmentalise. From where she'd collapsed in the room by the heavy door, she had slowly crawled, propping herself up against the wall, swaying gently. She didn't want to be too loud in case somehow he heard her. He always managed to notice her pain; he'd only make it worse by asking her questions, and any physical contact only resulted in her aching more.
She remembered the way he looked at her; his eyes were empty and cold as he distanced himself from her. Sydney realised this was his way of bringing an element of objectivity to the situation, for anyone that cruel had to have a conscience, right? He had to feel a pang of guilt when he went to bed, but the pain he had inflicted upon her kept her awake.
Sometimes he'd say things, such callous and terrible things, and she wondered if he prepared them, or just allowed them to materialise out of his own hate. Part of her despised him, but other parts of her tried to justify his actions, saying he knew no better and he didn't understand the degree of torment he had created for her. His torture was magnified by her own weakness she decided, and she kept coming to the same conclusion: that it was her fault she was alone in a cold, uncomfortable room. She was to blame for her anguish. She had gotten herself into this mess.
Someone was at the door. She froze, fear thundering through her body. It was him, her torturer, she knew it. The door of the cold corridor-like room swung open and he stood there watching her. His breath hitched after finally seeing the extent of her suffering. He walked towards her; she flinched and pressed herself up against the wall trying to escape from his out-reaching arms. To her surprise he fell to his knees in front of her. Was he hurt? She thought. Had the tables been turned? His voice broke as he whispered her name. She was shocked he still remembered it and became flustered when he held her close to him. The pressure he applied to her body caused her to cry out with grief, and she pushed him away.
"No Vaughn!" she screamed to her tormentor as her body took another assault from her emotions "You can't comfort me anymore! You're no longer my Guardian Angel! You caused this! Do you hear me? You caused this!" she ran out over her prison-like apartment, leaving her torturer sobbing as she had been seconds before, for the tables had indeed turned, in a cruel twist of irony.
Timeline: mid season 3 blah blah
Thank you SO much to all the people who reviewed by first two fics. You are all way too kind. I'm thinking of making this more than a one parter, so if u want, let me know if you agree! Thanks! Love dani xxx
A cruel twist of irony
Sydney cried out in pain, the agony she was experiencing worse that any torture she had ever been subjected to before. Her throat was savagely raw from her weeping; her chest was tight, restricting her breaths, worsening her hyperventilation, her eyes were red and swollen from their abuse. She tried not to cry, she had tried so hard, she couldn't stand him knowing he'd finally got to her, that she'd given in, that he'd broken her. She didn't understand. She was trained to withstand this type of pain, to compartmentalise. From where she'd collapsed in the room by the heavy door, she had slowly crawled, propping herself up against the wall, swaying gently. She didn't want to be too loud in case somehow he heard her. He always managed to notice her pain; he'd only make it worse by asking her questions, and any physical contact only resulted in her aching more.
She remembered the way he looked at her; his eyes were empty and cold as he distanced himself from her. Sydney realised this was his way of bringing an element of objectivity to the situation, for anyone that cruel had to have a conscience, right? He had to feel a pang of guilt when he went to bed, but the pain he had inflicted upon her kept her awake.
Sometimes he'd say things, such callous and terrible things, and she wondered if he prepared them, or just allowed them to materialise out of his own hate. Part of her despised him, but other parts of her tried to justify his actions, saying he knew no better and he didn't understand the degree of torment he had created for her. His torture was magnified by her own weakness she decided, and she kept coming to the same conclusion: that it was her fault she was alone in a cold, uncomfortable room. She was to blame for her anguish. She had gotten herself into this mess.
Someone was at the door. She froze, fear thundering through her body. It was him, her torturer, she knew it. The door of the cold corridor-like room swung open and he stood there watching her. His breath hitched after finally seeing the extent of her suffering. He walked towards her; she flinched and pressed herself up against the wall trying to escape from his out-reaching arms. To her surprise he fell to his knees in front of her. Was he hurt? She thought. Had the tables been turned? His voice broke as he whispered her name. She was shocked he still remembered it and became flustered when he held her close to him. The pressure he applied to her body caused her to cry out with grief, and she pushed him away.
"No Vaughn!" she screamed to her tormentor as her body took another assault from her emotions "You can't comfort me anymore! You're no longer my Guardian Angel! You caused this! Do you hear me? You caused this!" she ran out over her prison-like apartment, leaving her torturer sobbing as she had been seconds before, for the tables had indeed turned, in a cruel twist of irony.
