Growing Up Without you
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter One: The Beginning of a Lifetime * * * * * *
"Let's play cops and robbers." The little tomboy screamed. Armed with her fake police badge and toy gun, she stepped into her role. Little did she know, that she wore her daddy's badge and that later on she would be aiming a real gun.
She mused over her childhood possessions when she came across the same photo. In it she brandished her weapon accurately like a trained assassin. The only repressed memory, that was not visible to a stranger, was the woman capturing the moment.
Her mother.
More than twenty years was wasted glorifying her dead hero, when in truth she deceived the one person she loved, or pretended to love. It was time, she would finally end the game of cops and robbers or spy vs. spy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Every morning the little angel would wake up alone, cradling her mother's locket. The dream was always different, but the ending remained the same. Sometime, the girl would be swinging from a tire tied to the old elm as her mother gaily pushed her to the heavens, or they would construct a fort of marshmallow pillows strong enough to with stand a fiery dragon's breath.
Yet for every beginning there is an end. Laura patted Siddy's head and wiped the smeared lipstick off her daughter's cheek. She disregarded her baby's cries, though in the morning the wailing was the only sound heard. Her mother revved the engine and drove off into the sunset towards Old Creek Bridge as Sydney tried to follow on foot trying to erase the inevitable.
A sudden jolt, mixed with sweat and tears, rocked the six year old from her slumber. A foreigner to her world burst through the door and whispered sweet words of relief. It was never her father to embrace his broken daughter and in return she never adored him like other little girls do.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The chapters are short, but they need to be formatted like this.
~Stephanie
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter One: The Beginning of a Lifetime * * * * * *
"Let's play cops and robbers." The little tomboy screamed. Armed with her fake police badge and toy gun, she stepped into her role. Little did she know, that she wore her daddy's badge and that later on she would be aiming a real gun.
She mused over her childhood possessions when she came across the same photo. In it she brandished her weapon accurately like a trained assassin. The only repressed memory, that was not visible to a stranger, was the woman capturing the moment.
Her mother.
More than twenty years was wasted glorifying her dead hero, when in truth she deceived the one person she loved, or pretended to love. It was time, she would finally end the game of cops and robbers or spy vs. spy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Every morning the little angel would wake up alone, cradling her mother's locket. The dream was always different, but the ending remained the same. Sometime, the girl would be swinging from a tire tied to the old elm as her mother gaily pushed her to the heavens, or they would construct a fort of marshmallow pillows strong enough to with stand a fiery dragon's breath.
Yet for every beginning there is an end. Laura patted Siddy's head and wiped the smeared lipstick off her daughter's cheek. She disregarded her baby's cries, though in the morning the wailing was the only sound heard. Her mother revved the engine and drove off into the sunset towards Old Creek Bridge as Sydney tried to follow on foot trying to erase the inevitable.
A sudden jolt, mixed with sweat and tears, rocked the six year old from her slumber. A foreigner to her world burst through the door and whispered sweet words of relief. It was never her father to embrace his broken daughter and in return she never adored him like other little girls do.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The chapters are short, but they need to be formatted like this.
~Stephanie