Ward had yelled at her. Had took her by the shoulders and basically told her she was worthless, and it had hurt her. Hours later he apologized for it, he said he didn't mean a word of it, that it was the Berserker Staff talking. She believed him. So every time he yelled at her, she would stand there, tears rolling down her face at the hurtful and monstrous things he'd tell her. Skye knew that in the end he didn't mean it. That he was all rage and hardly Ward anymore, and so she would stand there and take it. Because him raging at her was better in some way than him shutting her out all together. But one day, her standing there idly ended with more than venom words from him. He had tossed her across the room so easily; her neck had snapped just as easily.

The splitting noise broke Ward from his rage, and he sunk to the floor next to her, caressing her lifeless body against him. Her eyes were staring up, but not at him. Not at anything, not anymore.

But even if she hadn't died, she would have stood there and taken it, because in the end, he didn't mean to say such hateful things to her, didn't mean to put his hands on her with terrible intentions, and hadn't meant to kill her.