Chapter 4-Helpless
I stared into Vaughn's eyes capturing his heart in her mind. I didn't know how long we stood there and I didn't care. I had lost track of time and I didn't mind that, as long as he was right in front of me. Vaughn's exquisite lips began to move. He mouthed three words that I couldn't make out, because the overwhelming tears had found their way to the surface, fogging my vision. The sound of heavy determined footsteps filled the silence. His eyes became drawn forward, scared looking. Our stares became more intense, sensing that this may be the last time we might see each other. I didn't cry, I forced myself not to cry. He would not see me like this before.. … before….. A single distinct tear found its way to the outside getting rid of the lies. I smiled at him letting him see my dimples which I know drive him crazy. He simply grinned holding back his tears; I know he didn't want me to remember him crying.
The earth-shattering sound of the footsteps grew near until they were stopped in front of our doors. I turned my back, I couldn't face him. Tears flowed, but no sounds were heard. I turned back around to see if he had left. He hadn't, he just stood there staring at me with a smirk that I would love to smack off of his face. The horror of his smirk didn't hit me until he turned around and casually opened Vaughn's blurry world of hate. Sloane made sure that I saw why he waited for me to see him smirk. Behind his back, he waved a pistol nonchalantly at me. Teasing me. Torturing me.
I couldn't breathe. I gasped for any slight feeling of oxygen circulating through my brittle body. I heard the faint sound of a distant door slamming, recognizing that it was he's. I grabbed my heart to hear it pound, over and over, faster and faster. I walked insignificantly toward the opposite wall staring at a small speck of dirt. Following it, oblivious to anything happening within a mile. I reached my frail index finger towards the speck and lifted it up off the bare wall. Examining the tiny speck, I saw myself. Grasping on to anything with any form of strength. I turned to face the door, expecting myself to run to the window to seek out the truth of what was happening. I didn't. I didn't dare do that, never. Instead I leaned on the secure bare wall, and fell to the ground holding onto the speck, staring at it. I felt myself leaning forward over my useless hands into my stained black skirt that held my sorrow. I created more patterns finding comfort in the sheer darkness that I found in closing my eyes. I imagined the worst which was probably what was occurring so close to my heart. My head became unclear with dizzy thoughts and imprecise feelings. I blacked out. I couldn't handle the situation that seemed too bizarre to be real, even in my world of craziness.
I dreamed of Vaughn and I running through a crowed street, hands latched on to each other never separating. People were screaming in every language, which we both understood. Every person was telling us to hide, to run away. We tried to. We kept running, but the street kept getting more crowded, full of sticky and unwanted people. I screamed for them to move.
"We need to get through. They are chasing us. Move."
Vaughn was screaming as well, but he always kept an eye on me. I felt safe, even in all of the commotion going on around us. I tried to retighten my grip on his hand, but couldn't. His hand had become limp, as well as his entire being. Gunshots and bullets filled the street with more commotion. I fell to his side, tightening my grip around his entire body. What was happening? Why?
"Sydney!!! Sydney!!" He kept screaming my name, over and over again.
His voice mixed with a never ending stream of gunshots and the smell of fresh blood buried itself in my mind. With one remote clear gunshot, louder than the thousands of others, I snapped my head up.
"Sydney!" In the near distance, I heard my name in a noticeable voice. My stomach dropped to the bottom of my heels. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. Nothing at all. I rocked back and forth, wildly. My breathing became deep and raspy, forced. In a flurry of confusion, I heard it. That distinct sound that filled my haunting dream, that ate away at my soul. A solitary gunshot.
I sprang up out of my trance. My brain took control over my body telling my numb legs to move, but they wouldn't. They just remained stationary, shocked. My face was puzzled. Tears welled up in my eyes. I crawled to the far corner away from the window, from the man that lay dead on the ground two doors beyond me. I scratched at the dusty cement ground painting it with tears. My fingers became raw from the scratching, bleeding. I, I, needed something to grab onto, to destroy. I grabbed my skirt. Pulling at it, tearing it to shreds so that it was just a frayed piece of cloth covering my deadened hollow speck of dust. I couldn't stand to sit, but didn't have the energy to stand. I gripped my hair with fierceness and began jerking at random pieces that made their way into my coarse hands. I finally was able to emit a sound, a terrible shrieking. I crumbled into my ratted skirt, sobbing like a five year old, helpless.
Heaving and shaking from head to toe, I didn't hear the fumble of keys or the soft footsteps approaching my distraught dwelling. I didn't notice the two pairs of eyes gazing at me intently with sorrow and hurt. I didn't notice the door knob turn ever so slowly without making a solid sound. I didn't notice him walk in and stand above me.
"Sydney."