Author: Freda King
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: Yes PLEASE!
Note: I'll be up dating this frequently, please tell me what you think.
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"You know something? We really need to think about changing our phone number!" Francie was now pacing back and forth along the kitchen, obviously annoyed. "Sydney, they might be casing us! Trying to find out when we're home, so they can come and . . ." her voice drifted off as she eyes fell on Sydney. She stopped and stared a second and then said, "Oh baby!"
The picture she had seen, Sydney framed by the door, standing there in total dejection. Her hair hung limply around her face, sticking to her cheeks; she had a cut on her forehead with a scab that spoke of violence. Her shirt was torn and soiled, her shoulders slumped in defeat. But most piercing of all were her dark eyes, filled with pain, and sorrow; downcast, and crushed, eyes that longed to close and never open.
Rushing towards Sydney, she came and wrapped her arms around her. Rocking slowly back-and-forth she cradled her head in her arms. Sydney buried her face in Francie's neck and hair. Attempting to bury her pain deep within her heart. Slowly Francie stepped back, her hands wresting on Sydney's upper arms. Looking Sydney in the eyes Francie said slowly "I'm gonna make tea, and pull out the chocolate, and we're gonna sit down and cry this out."
Leading Sydney to the couch, and sitting her down, Francie began to bustle around the kitchen, and soon the tea-kettle was humming and the stereo was playing appropriately sad songs in low tones.
Once seated beside Sydney each with a cup in hand Francie touching Sydney ever so lightly she asked, "What's wrong baby?
As tears marked a path down her cheeks Sydney forced herself to think, the pain of losing him, the pain of her mothers wickedness. The pain of killing her. Her mind pounded: You killed her. You killed your mother. She fought the voice, and then said sternly to herself, "Yes, I killed my mother."
Francie missed the first word, but heard the rest. Moving a hand to Sydney's chin, she turned her head to face her. Looking Sydney in the eyes she said, "These demons of guilt, the ghosts of the past that plague you, you cry yourself to sleep every-night tormented by their hollow threats. You were not responsible for your mother's death, you were not responsible for Danny's death, you did not create the monster your father became, and you did not initiate Noah's selfish behavior. You are innocent of the lies these demons haunt you with."
"No. I killed her. I asked her about Vaughn, and she laughed at me." Pain filled Sydney's voice as she recalled the scene. The words tumbling from her mouth, the story out of order and incomprehensible to Francie. "She said 'You can find another man, Sark is always available dearest.' It was then that I killed her; she didn't expect me to attack. She didn't even see the danger coming." Hysterical now, she began to weep and fell into Francie's lap, lost in pain and grief.
Francie stared down at the mass of tangled brown hair; her eyes wide with shock. Desperately attempting to comprehend. Desperately wishing she remembered more from Psychology 101.
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Next chapter: Recollections
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: Yes PLEASE!
Note: I'll be up dating this frequently, please tell me what you think.
************************************************************************
"You know something? We really need to think about changing our phone number!" Francie was now pacing back and forth along the kitchen, obviously annoyed. "Sydney, they might be casing us! Trying to find out when we're home, so they can come and . . ." her voice drifted off as she eyes fell on Sydney. She stopped and stared a second and then said, "Oh baby!"
The picture she had seen, Sydney framed by the door, standing there in total dejection. Her hair hung limply around her face, sticking to her cheeks; she had a cut on her forehead with a scab that spoke of violence. Her shirt was torn and soiled, her shoulders slumped in defeat. But most piercing of all were her dark eyes, filled with pain, and sorrow; downcast, and crushed, eyes that longed to close and never open.
Rushing towards Sydney, she came and wrapped her arms around her. Rocking slowly back-and-forth she cradled her head in her arms. Sydney buried her face in Francie's neck and hair. Attempting to bury her pain deep within her heart. Slowly Francie stepped back, her hands wresting on Sydney's upper arms. Looking Sydney in the eyes Francie said slowly "I'm gonna make tea, and pull out the chocolate, and we're gonna sit down and cry this out."
Leading Sydney to the couch, and sitting her down, Francie began to bustle around the kitchen, and soon the tea-kettle was humming and the stereo was playing appropriately sad songs in low tones.
Once seated beside Sydney each with a cup in hand Francie touching Sydney ever so lightly she asked, "What's wrong baby?
As tears marked a path down her cheeks Sydney forced herself to think, the pain of losing him, the pain of her mothers wickedness. The pain of killing her. Her mind pounded: You killed her. You killed your mother. She fought the voice, and then said sternly to herself, "Yes, I killed my mother."
Francie missed the first word, but heard the rest. Moving a hand to Sydney's chin, she turned her head to face her. Looking Sydney in the eyes she said, "These demons of guilt, the ghosts of the past that plague you, you cry yourself to sleep every-night tormented by their hollow threats. You were not responsible for your mother's death, you were not responsible for Danny's death, you did not create the monster your father became, and you did not initiate Noah's selfish behavior. You are innocent of the lies these demons haunt you with."
"No. I killed her. I asked her about Vaughn, and she laughed at me." Pain filled Sydney's voice as she recalled the scene. The words tumbling from her mouth, the story out of order and incomprehensible to Francie. "She said 'You can find another man, Sark is always available dearest.' It was then that I killed her; she didn't expect me to attack. She didn't even see the danger coming." Hysterical now, she began to weep and fell into Francie's lap, lost in pain and grief.
Francie stared down at the mass of tangled brown hair; her eyes wide with shock. Desperately attempting to comprehend. Desperately wishing she remembered more from Psychology 101.
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Next chapter: Recollections