Sydney sat upright in the hard chair and watched as Sark continued to
circle her, like a vulture. She avoided looking at him or taking visible
offense as his eyes scanned her body, lingering a little too long for her
comfort in certain key areas.
She felt his face lower next to hers, for a slight kiss on the cheek. Sydney tried to scream loudly, to rebel, but no sound would come out. He had her trapped.
He casually reached over to the table, now holding nothing but freezing cold soup, and fingered a pair of gleaming silver scissors. Sydney saw them glint sharply even in the dim, diffused yellow light bathing her and the room surrounding her. She closed her eyes as she saw the scissors dip towards her chest.
Her eyes closed, her breath heavy upon the tape that held her voice, fear rattling through her head, she heard the quiet snip snip and the sound of fabric fibers splitting as he neatly began slicing up the side of her shirt. That mesh monstrosity, that poor excuse for decent clothing. The cold air caused her entire body to prickle into goosebumps.
As she felt the scissors continue, cold against her thin frame, her mind flashed to Vaughn. The man that she loved, the man she could not love. His terror-filled green eyes behind the glass. Sydney felt a single salty tear sneak down her cheek, and prayed that Sark wouldn't notice as layers of black eyeliner created a trail down her face.
Sydney felt her body jerk in pain as she felt the scissors close around her skin, on her side, just below her bra. She felt rivulets of blood flow down her lower back, and even snaking down over across her abdomen. She forced her eyes open and looking into Sark's cold face, only inches from hers.
"No crying, my pet," he mummered. He brought his face in closer and licked the tear from her face. Sydney felt her body begin to shake with sobs that she couldn't hold in. Tears soon coursed freely down her dirty cheeks.
"STOP!" he commanded her, striking her across the temple with the butt of his gun just to make his point, toppling the rickety chair. Sydney tried to cry out in pain as she collided headfirst with the cold, unforgiving cement floor. She felt the side of her head bounce off the ground, and within seconds she knew that blood was seeping though not only her own hair, but that hideous blue wig as well.
Stars flying all around, the bright lights baring into Sydney's eyes forced her eyes shut. The room began to spin as she barely even felt Sark's feet begin to ravage her body, focusing on her chest and stomach. It only took one more blow to the head with his heavy, steel-toed boots to knock her from losing consciousness to completely lost. The world become black.
The first thing Sydney felt was the cold. Her body was racked with shivers before she could even force her eyes open. Her entire face felt swollen, and the entire right side of her body felt sticky with blood, from her head wound, her bleeding temple, and the large cut on her side. Sydney tried to inhale, but knifelike pains in her chest cut her breath short, throwing her into a coughing fit. The metallic taste in her mouth automatically lead Sydney to believe that she was indeed, coughing up blooding. Barely able to raise her head, as the world continued to spin around her, she looking down in horror at her bruised and battered body. She was wearing only her leather bra and pants, and her entire torso was covered in bruises and scrapes; she was also laying on some sort of bed, her feet chained together and to the footboard, her arms to sides.
Giving in to the immediate reaction to struggle, Sydney felt pain course through her body, and her right arm didn't move at all, instead it was only racked by pain. Trying to think back to earlier, she deduced that her shoulder must have become dislocated when she was thrown into the ground and then beaten. Her attempts at screaming remained silenced not only by the tape that still covered her mouth, but the pain in her chest and the immense difficulty in trying to breathe.
Before Sydney could take stock of her newer surroundings, she heard a door be thrown open not far to her right. She gathered enough strength to turn her head and see Sark approaching her.
"Well, nice to see you've decided to awaken. I thought you'd enjoy knowing that I've only begun dealing with you, dearie," he laughed cruelly, the loud noise causing Sydney's head to spin and forcing her eyes to close.
"Hey! I thought I've made this clear! No crying, no sleeping, and no TALKING...." Sydney tried to open her eyes but just couldn't bring herself to, her body filled with not an ounce of energy, only pain, fear, and sorrow. She felt Sark's palm connect sharply with her cheek. She then felt a sharp pain as something plunged into her left inner thigh, forcing her to open her eyes in time to see Sark remove the scissors from her leg and let blood course from the wound all of the way down to her toes. Her entire body throbbed.
He sat on the bed next to Sydney, jostling her body and causing her a significant amount of pain. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the pain and fatigue and dizziness consumed her. Her eyes, however, jerked open as she felt his hands on her body and heard her pants zipper being opened, very, very slowly. She saw her fear-stricken gaze connect with his cold stare, and saw his expression turn to one of torturous amusement.
He began to roll her tight pants off her sticky, blood-soaked, swollen legs, ever-so slowly. Her lacy black translucent thong was soon in sight, but the pants continued slowly down, snagging only slightly on the torn wound still pulsing on her thigh. He savagely tore the pants off of it, causing the forming clot to break free and the blood to flow once again. Soon the pants were at her ankles, then entangled in the chains that held her down, and now as Sydney noticed in terror, kept her legs apart.
Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks, mixing with blood and dirt and previous tears. She tried to keep her body as still as possible as she felt the sobs come out, as any movement, even a breath was excruciating.
She felt Sark's hot breath on her cheek as he kissed her mouth through the tape, then the tip of her nose, her cheek, her earlobe, her forehead. She felt a sickening trail of warm kisses trail from her neck, down her chest and stomach. She fought the urge to vomit and felt odd relief that she had been too apprehensive to eat on the plane. As she felt a warm, sticky tongue encircle her navel, she felt two hands pull frantically at the side of her underwear. Within seconds, they too were part of the clothing pile around her feet.
As Sark's mouth continues to ravage her body and sicken her, his hands were removing his own clothing. As she felt him, stiff and warm against her thigh Sydney's eyes opened in shock and she nearly began to hyperventilate. Her eyes darted around the room for any possible means of escape, anything she could grab, anything she could use as a weapon. She had begun to struggle once again, adrenaline masking the pain in her body. Then she felt him savagely enter her, causing pain to shoot from her hips to her neck. She let out a cry even audible from behind her gag.
Her insides were burning, tearing, she could feel herself bruising. Her mind was in agony, images of Vaughn, Danny, her father, and even her mother flashing before her eyes. She tried to kick, to fight, to scream, but her body could not and would not cooperate.
Just as Sydney felt as if she literally was going to die, her body being ripped apart by pain and emotion and him -- this cruel, disgusting man, HER BROTHER -- she felt him tense and release inside her, causing the bile to continue to rise in her throat. She tried to close her eyes and just pretend that none of this was happening, but all she could she was him, on top of her, penetrating her. Raping her.
He collapsed on top of her chest, sweaty and disheveled. His dead weight against her chest caused her even more pain and made it even more difficult to breathe, gasping behind the duct tape.
"I must say, sis, not half bad." Sydney's head spun at his words.
Sydney looked around frantically as he appeared to be falling asleep atop her, exhausted. Continuing to fight for breath, she noticed Sark's white button-down just inches away from her right arm. She willed her body to move her fingers, and despite the massive pain from her shoulder, she felt them wiggle slightly. Slowly she moved, consumed by pain, until her fingers grasped the fabric of the chest pocket. There was something small and hard inside. She achingly slowly, and excruciatingly carefully, maneuvered her fingers inside until she felt them grasp a tiny key.
Hoping and praying, she moved her wrist and with quickening motion, tried to fit the key into the keyhole on her wrist. She felt the key click into place, but a wave of pain forced her to let go and return her wrist to its normal position. She tried to move it again, but the entire side of her body was paralyzed by pain. She could see that the key remained in the keyhole, but the matter in question was, how to turn it.
Sydney slowly pushed her entire arm towards the side of the bed, trying to force her arm to move by pushing it with her chest. She felt the key hit the side of the bed, and then went about rotating her wrist, nearly crying out in pain. She tried to remain as subtle and silent as possible, in fears that Sark would awaken.
Just when Sydney was about to give up, she heard a slight click and felt her wrist snap free. She tried to lift her arm, but it was virtually useless and she knew she had further damaged it by trying to free herself. Freeing another limb would be impossible. She continued to scan the room with her eyes for any hope.
That was when she spotted his shoulder holster, lying just within reach on a night table. She forced her fingers to slowly walk over to it until they could grasp the weapon. Sydney ignored the pain as she slid the weapon back towards her body. Unable to lift her arm, she awkwardly rolled it onto her chest, next to Sark's head.
Her entire body shaking, she reached up with the last bit of strength she held in her body to cock the weapon. At the sound Sark's eyes shot open and he looked, confused, into Sydney's battered and bloodied face. With that she pulled the trigger directly into his temple. The blast threw his body into the wall next to her. Sydney's shaking hand could barely hold onto the weapon, but she knew she had to hold on just a little longer. She next aimed it at the chain keeping her left arm bound, and fired, breaking her arm free. With that she dropped the weapon from her barely usable arm, pain radiating through it, and sought about finding the key somewhere on the other side of her body.
Although it was awkward using her left hand, she quickly unchained her feet, sobbing hysterically, then unclasped the handcuff from her left wrist. Next she ripped the blood-soiled duct tape from her face, and was astonished by how loud her cries were. Sydney could barely sit up, and slammed her left arm down onto Sark's cold, stiffening body in order to bring herself into a sitting position. She cautiously swung her legs off of the side of the bed, even that slight movement causing stars to appear and a wave of dizziness to overtake her. Sydney managed to remain conscious, and tried to untangle her pants from the mess at the foot of the bed. She could hardly manage to get them on, as the majority of her body was swollen and bruised, she could scarcely breathe, and was forced to use her non- dominate hand only. As she tried to pull them up, she could feel her entire lower body, sticky with blood and him. As she reached her thighs, she cried out in pain and emotion, her body was so sore, and all she could think about was him. Inside her, violating her. She stood on shaky, rubbery legs and turned around. She looked one last time at his still body before grabbing his gun, it's weight heavy in her left hand, and then started for the door, leaning on all available furniture along the way.
As she struggled to remain upright, she tried to assess her injuries, but it took all she had in her just to remain conscious and not pass out. As she reached the door, Sydney stopped. Sark had told her several hours ago that everyone else had gone, and only he had been left to deal with her in case anyone came for her. But she didn't know exactly how much faith to put in him, as he had just brutally raped and beaten her. She tried to focus her mind, raised the unfamiliar weapon, and readied herself to face whatever (or whoever) might be waiting for her.
She felt his face lower next to hers, for a slight kiss on the cheek. Sydney tried to scream loudly, to rebel, but no sound would come out. He had her trapped.
He casually reached over to the table, now holding nothing but freezing cold soup, and fingered a pair of gleaming silver scissors. Sydney saw them glint sharply even in the dim, diffused yellow light bathing her and the room surrounding her. She closed her eyes as she saw the scissors dip towards her chest.
Her eyes closed, her breath heavy upon the tape that held her voice, fear rattling through her head, she heard the quiet snip snip and the sound of fabric fibers splitting as he neatly began slicing up the side of her shirt. That mesh monstrosity, that poor excuse for decent clothing. The cold air caused her entire body to prickle into goosebumps.
As she felt the scissors continue, cold against her thin frame, her mind flashed to Vaughn. The man that she loved, the man she could not love. His terror-filled green eyes behind the glass. Sydney felt a single salty tear sneak down her cheek, and prayed that Sark wouldn't notice as layers of black eyeliner created a trail down her face.
Sydney felt her body jerk in pain as she felt the scissors close around her skin, on her side, just below her bra. She felt rivulets of blood flow down her lower back, and even snaking down over across her abdomen. She forced her eyes open and looking into Sark's cold face, only inches from hers.
"No crying, my pet," he mummered. He brought his face in closer and licked the tear from her face. Sydney felt her body begin to shake with sobs that she couldn't hold in. Tears soon coursed freely down her dirty cheeks.
"STOP!" he commanded her, striking her across the temple with the butt of his gun just to make his point, toppling the rickety chair. Sydney tried to cry out in pain as she collided headfirst with the cold, unforgiving cement floor. She felt the side of her head bounce off the ground, and within seconds she knew that blood was seeping though not only her own hair, but that hideous blue wig as well.
Stars flying all around, the bright lights baring into Sydney's eyes forced her eyes shut. The room began to spin as she barely even felt Sark's feet begin to ravage her body, focusing on her chest and stomach. It only took one more blow to the head with his heavy, steel-toed boots to knock her from losing consciousness to completely lost. The world become black.
The first thing Sydney felt was the cold. Her body was racked with shivers before she could even force her eyes open. Her entire face felt swollen, and the entire right side of her body felt sticky with blood, from her head wound, her bleeding temple, and the large cut on her side. Sydney tried to inhale, but knifelike pains in her chest cut her breath short, throwing her into a coughing fit. The metallic taste in her mouth automatically lead Sydney to believe that she was indeed, coughing up blooding. Barely able to raise her head, as the world continued to spin around her, she looking down in horror at her bruised and battered body. She was wearing only her leather bra and pants, and her entire torso was covered in bruises and scrapes; she was also laying on some sort of bed, her feet chained together and to the footboard, her arms to sides.
Giving in to the immediate reaction to struggle, Sydney felt pain course through her body, and her right arm didn't move at all, instead it was only racked by pain. Trying to think back to earlier, she deduced that her shoulder must have become dislocated when she was thrown into the ground and then beaten. Her attempts at screaming remained silenced not only by the tape that still covered her mouth, but the pain in her chest and the immense difficulty in trying to breathe.
Before Sydney could take stock of her newer surroundings, she heard a door be thrown open not far to her right. She gathered enough strength to turn her head and see Sark approaching her.
"Well, nice to see you've decided to awaken. I thought you'd enjoy knowing that I've only begun dealing with you, dearie," he laughed cruelly, the loud noise causing Sydney's head to spin and forcing her eyes to close.
"Hey! I thought I've made this clear! No crying, no sleeping, and no TALKING...." Sydney tried to open her eyes but just couldn't bring herself to, her body filled with not an ounce of energy, only pain, fear, and sorrow. She felt Sark's palm connect sharply with her cheek. She then felt a sharp pain as something plunged into her left inner thigh, forcing her to open her eyes in time to see Sark remove the scissors from her leg and let blood course from the wound all of the way down to her toes. Her entire body throbbed.
He sat on the bed next to Sydney, jostling her body and causing her a significant amount of pain. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the pain and fatigue and dizziness consumed her. Her eyes, however, jerked open as she felt his hands on her body and heard her pants zipper being opened, very, very slowly. She saw her fear-stricken gaze connect with his cold stare, and saw his expression turn to one of torturous amusement.
He began to roll her tight pants off her sticky, blood-soaked, swollen legs, ever-so slowly. Her lacy black translucent thong was soon in sight, but the pants continued slowly down, snagging only slightly on the torn wound still pulsing on her thigh. He savagely tore the pants off of it, causing the forming clot to break free and the blood to flow once again. Soon the pants were at her ankles, then entangled in the chains that held her down, and now as Sydney noticed in terror, kept her legs apart.
Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks, mixing with blood and dirt and previous tears. She tried to keep her body as still as possible as she felt the sobs come out, as any movement, even a breath was excruciating.
She felt Sark's hot breath on her cheek as he kissed her mouth through the tape, then the tip of her nose, her cheek, her earlobe, her forehead. She felt a sickening trail of warm kisses trail from her neck, down her chest and stomach. She fought the urge to vomit and felt odd relief that she had been too apprehensive to eat on the plane. As she felt a warm, sticky tongue encircle her navel, she felt two hands pull frantically at the side of her underwear. Within seconds, they too were part of the clothing pile around her feet.
As Sark's mouth continues to ravage her body and sicken her, his hands were removing his own clothing. As she felt him, stiff and warm against her thigh Sydney's eyes opened in shock and she nearly began to hyperventilate. Her eyes darted around the room for any possible means of escape, anything she could grab, anything she could use as a weapon. She had begun to struggle once again, adrenaline masking the pain in her body. Then she felt him savagely enter her, causing pain to shoot from her hips to her neck. She let out a cry even audible from behind her gag.
Her insides were burning, tearing, she could feel herself bruising. Her mind was in agony, images of Vaughn, Danny, her father, and even her mother flashing before her eyes. She tried to kick, to fight, to scream, but her body could not and would not cooperate.
Just as Sydney felt as if she literally was going to die, her body being ripped apart by pain and emotion and him -- this cruel, disgusting man, HER BROTHER -- she felt him tense and release inside her, causing the bile to continue to rise in her throat. She tried to close her eyes and just pretend that none of this was happening, but all she could she was him, on top of her, penetrating her. Raping her.
He collapsed on top of her chest, sweaty and disheveled. His dead weight against her chest caused her even more pain and made it even more difficult to breathe, gasping behind the duct tape.
"I must say, sis, not half bad." Sydney's head spun at his words.
Sydney looked around frantically as he appeared to be falling asleep atop her, exhausted. Continuing to fight for breath, she noticed Sark's white button-down just inches away from her right arm. She willed her body to move her fingers, and despite the massive pain from her shoulder, she felt them wiggle slightly. Slowly she moved, consumed by pain, until her fingers grasped the fabric of the chest pocket. There was something small and hard inside. She achingly slowly, and excruciatingly carefully, maneuvered her fingers inside until she felt them grasp a tiny key.
Hoping and praying, she moved her wrist and with quickening motion, tried to fit the key into the keyhole on her wrist. She felt the key click into place, but a wave of pain forced her to let go and return her wrist to its normal position. She tried to move it again, but the entire side of her body was paralyzed by pain. She could see that the key remained in the keyhole, but the matter in question was, how to turn it.
Sydney slowly pushed her entire arm towards the side of the bed, trying to force her arm to move by pushing it with her chest. She felt the key hit the side of the bed, and then went about rotating her wrist, nearly crying out in pain. She tried to remain as subtle and silent as possible, in fears that Sark would awaken.
Just when Sydney was about to give up, she heard a slight click and felt her wrist snap free. She tried to lift her arm, but it was virtually useless and she knew she had further damaged it by trying to free herself. Freeing another limb would be impossible. She continued to scan the room with her eyes for any hope.
That was when she spotted his shoulder holster, lying just within reach on a night table. She forced her fingers to slowly walk over to it until they could grasp the weapon. Sydney ignored the pain as she slid the weapon back towards her body. Unable to lift her arm, she awkwardly rolled it onto her chest, next to Sark's head.
Her entire body shaking, she reached up with the last bit of strength she held in her body to cock the weapon. At the sound Sark's eyes shot open and he looked, confused, into Sydney's battered and bloodied face. With that she pulled the trigger directly into his temple. The blast threw his body into the wall next to her. Sydney's shaking hand could barely hold onto the weapon, but she knew she had to hold on just a little longer. She next aimed it at the chain keeping her left arm bound, and fired, breaking her arm free. With that she dropped the weapon from her barely usable arm, pain radiating through it, and sought about finding the key somewhere on the other side of her body.
Although it was awkward using her left hand, she quickly unchained her feet, sobbing hysterically, then unclasped the handcuff from her left wrist. Next she ripped the blood-soiled duct tape from her face, and was astonished by how loud her cries were. Sydney could barely sit up, and slammed her left arm down onto Sark's cold, stiffening body in order to bring herself into a sitting position. She cautiously swung her legs off of the side of the bed, even that slight movement causing stars to appear and a wave of dizziness to overtake her. Sydney managed to remain conscious, and tried to untangle her pants from the mess at the foot of the bed. She could hardly manage to get them on, as the majority of her body was swollen and bruised, she could scarcely breathe, and was forced to use her non- dominate hand only. As she tried to pull them up, she could feel her entire lower body, sticky with blood and him. As she reached her thighs, she cried out in pain and emotion, her body was so sore, and all she could think about was him. Inside her, violating her. She stood on shaky, rubbery legs and turned around. She looked one last time at his still body before grabbing his gun, it's weight heavy in her left hand, and then started for the door, leaning on all available furniture along the way.
As she struggled to remain upright, she tried to assess her injuries, but it took all she had in her just to remain conscious and not pass out. As she reached the door, Sydney stopped. Sark had told her several hours ago that everyone else had gone, and only he had been left to deal with her in case anyone came for her. But she didn't know exactly how much faith to put in him, as he had just brutally raped and beaten her. She tried to focus her mind, raised the unfamiliar weapon, and readied herself to face whatever (or whoever) might be waiting for her.