Shattered Paradise
Chapter 12: From Red to Black
A/N: Too emotionally attached, manda bear? That's too funny… Kerry, I'm impressed. This must have taken you ages to read… Yes, you have to love the M&M's. It's turned into almost a game now, but you'd have to ask Stef about that… Thanks so much for the reviews everyone. Sorry that this chapter's not much better, but I needed to do some explaining and setting up… And sorry about the odd spacing. My computer at school does that for some reason. You know how it is, I'm sure… More action to come, and we're almost through with the angst… Please let me know what you think…
She had pulled herself together after that first incident, the first meeting. Just barely, but she had done it. She hadn't cried anymore, would never cry again. Not while she was in his house, not while he could walk in and see her. She wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.
She waited, knowing that Michael would come, knowing that he would save her. A year ago, she would have gotten out of there as soon as she could have. She wouldn't have waited for Michael; she would have saved herself. But now…
Minutes clicked to hours, and soon it had been more than a day. She knew because she had spent the entire time at the window. She had seen the sun set and rise again, and now the horizon was once again painted in brilliance.
Normally, she would have enjoyed it, would have loved it. But there was nothing to take pleasure in. This wasn't a beautiful sunset that she was watching from her backyard. The colors were the same, the vivid orange and red and purple, melting away to blue, dancing upon the clouds and the tops of the buildings. The colors wouldn't change; the sun would set everywhere.
But here it was different. She didn't have Michael's arms around her. She couldn't turn around and gaze into his eyes, see their sparkling emerald contrast with the deep orange and red hues.
She was… No, she didn't even know where she was. It wasn't Cairo, probably wasn't Egypt either. But aside from that, all she knew was that this place, whatever and wherever it was, belonged not to her and Michael, but that man. And he could walk in at any minute, any second, any time at all...
He did come. She had known that he would. He had to eventually; he couldn't stay away. He would try to touch her, try to kiss and caress her. But she would back away, as fast and as far as she could, as her little baby would let her.
His touch was slimy and greasy. Filthy, dirty, and ugly. It made her shiver, but not out of passion and want as Michael's touch did. This was raw fear and suppressed anger, sadness and worry. She never knew what he would try to do, when she would be able to escape, or when Michael would save her. She never knew when her nightmare would become a reality.
Sydney hadn't slept since she had woken from her drug-induced slumber. She was afraid of what he would do to her, both in reality and in her sleep. She didn't want him to haunt her dreams, and knew that he would. It was inevitable.
She made it successfully through the second night without sleeping. She was so tired, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But she wanted to make this last as long as possible; she knew that the second she closed her eyes the nightmares would descend upon her, choking whatever hope and happiness she had left.
Shadya would be coming soon, as she had come for the past few days. She would bring Sydney's food, the red M&M's that he somehow knew about and used to taunt her. If they were any other color, it would have been easy, but red…
It didn't make it any better to close her eyes. The red still taunted her from behind her closed lids. She could still see it, see Michael sorting through the candy dish, picking out every other color: blue, green, orange, yellow, and brown. Michael never ate the red ones. Never. They did taste different, like acid and poison, difficult to stomach, burning their way down.
Somehow, Sydney always managed to choke them down, but only because they were the all he gave her to eat. She knew that she needed some type of food, even if it was as low in nutritional value as the now despised candy-coated pieces. Something would have to keep her and her little baby alive.
Tonight was no different. She crunched reluctantly on the candy, shuddering as she swallowed it and felt it make its way down her throat.
Shadya left, and Sydney was alone. Her eyes became heavy and she somehow made her way to the bed before sleep washed over her.
She woke with a start, her breathing quick and uneasy, sweat glistening on her forehead. The pictures played ruthlessly over and over in her mind. His hands and his face, clear now in the moonlight. His eyes glistening cruelly. His touch threatening to break her. But his laugh…
That's what had shaken her from sleep and kept her from going back to it again, no matter how much her muscles and eyelids protested. She was wide awake now, mind racing and filled with cruelly unforgettable thoughts.
When Shadya returned in the morning, she found Sydney sitting straight up in the middle of the bed, shoulders hunched, and blankets pulled tightly around her.
And that's how the girl came to find her every morning. And when Shadya brought her the dish of food, less and less was gone as the days passed. For days had swept into weeks, now. And Sydney's hope was beginning to slowly trickle away with the time.
But at least she would still eat. She would hold herself away until she felt the little baby kicking inside her, begging its mother for nourishment and food. Then she would force herself to let some of the candy pass her lips. She would make it stay down, and not let it find its way back up her throat. It wasn't much, but it was all she had, all she could hope for.
And so she survived, just barely, but she survived. Privileged with only a few visits from him. Thanking God that there were days when he wouldn't stop by at all. Those days were what kept her going, and the thought that each day might be one of them pushed her along.
She only had to survive alone until Michael came. He would come, she knew; there was never a doubt in her mind of that. But whether he would come in time was another quite different matter. For she soon realized that time was a factor here. And she didn't have much of it.
He came to her one day. That bastard. A day long after she had lost count of how long it had been since she had arrived, one in which day and night seemed to blend into one. His sudden appearance made her realize that she hadn't seen him in awhile. It had been as close to heaven as this place would ever get.
She was sitting in the chair by the window, as she did every time she wasn't restless enough to pace or tired enough to go to bed. The view from the window allowed a certain amount of freedom, the sky brought her some hope.
"Sydney, my dear," he said, his voice as sugary sweet as poison, "What seems to be the matter?"
If she had had it in her, she would have laughed. But she didn't. She had lost that a long time ago, she didn't remember when.
She didn't answer, hadn't spoken in so long that she didn't know if her voice would have worked if she had tried.
He came closer; she could see his reflection in the window, mirroring back at her, taunting and evil. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear…
"Why aren't you eating your food, my love?" he asked, suddenly bringing a hand to rest on her shoulder.
She shrugged it off and turned to face him, eyes angry and dangerous. She didn't have her strength, but she still had her spirit. He hadn't been able to tear it all from her yet.
He laughed, but she wouldn't let herself shudder. When he was gone, she'd go into bed and pull the covers over her ears, and try to drown out the noise, but when he was in the room…
"Sydney, you know that you need your strength for our ba…"
She wouldn't let him finish. "This is not your baby," she hissed. A whisper, that's all she could produce. Her voice was too weak, hadn't been used in too long.
The laughter again, callous and jarring. "Here, my dear." With that, he picked up the untouched bowl of candy, and held it out to her. "You really should eat something."
"No." It was a whisper. It was all she could do.
His eyes were gleaming with unspoken laughter. It was only a matter of time before the sound reached her ears; she could already hear its echo.
"I insist, my dear."
She wouldn't do it, she wouldn't. Michael never ate the red ones…
He didn't change his tone, the laughter never left his eyes. But he suddenly became more dangerous, picking some of the candy pieces from the bowl and holding them before her. "Open up, my love."
She gazed up at him, her eyes a mixture of fury and terror.
His hand was on her chin, the other hovering nearby with the candy. She brought up her hands to push him away, but he simply smiled.
His words were slow and deliberate and poisonous, "You're quite a feisty one, my dear. I'm sure your Michael had quite a time with you in bed…"
That would have been enough, but he continued. He couldn't just kill her spirit, he had to massacre it brutally, chew it up, spit it out, and stomp on the remains…
"As a matter of fact, I know he did. Ah, the wonders of audio and visual surveillance. I have tapes, if you are ever seeking some entertainment…"
And that was more than enough. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry… To cry is to show weakness, to show that you've given in. And she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't…
But she didn't have to. Fahim knew she had given in the moment he had spoken those words. He laughed, and pried her mouth open, shoving the candy inside.
"Eat up, my love."
And she did. But only to keep herself from choking. Only because if she hadn't, then the little color-coated pieces would have made their way down her throat, putting a quick end to her pain.
She almost let that happen. Almost made death-by-chocolate more than just a rich dessert. But then her little baby moved inside her, as it had a habit of doing when she needed it most. It reminded her that there was something to live for after all.
But that still didn't make the chocolate any sweeter. It didn't stop it from burning its way down her throat.
He knew that; and he turned and left the room. His smirking face dancing crazily behind her closed eyes.
And this time, she didn't try to stop the candy from making its way back up her throat. She turned away as the waves of nausea swept over her, choking and coughing, continuing to heave long after the contents of her stomach had been empty.
Somehow, when it was over, when she was able to see straight and room wasn't swirling quite as badly, she managed to pull herself out of the chair and make her way to the bed. She wanted so badly to cry, but wouldn't, couldn't.
A chill washed over her, cold sweat dripped down her face and back. And the dreams hadn't even started yet. She hadn't even fallen asleep.
When she awoke a few hours later, shaking and screaming, a pair of arms encircled her, holding her tightly. For a moment she was scared. She thought that he had come into her room, that he was in her bed. Panic swept over her, dizzying her, threatening to choke her…
But these arms were sweet and loving, and she thought for a second that it would be, could be… No, she would have known if it had been him, would have been able to tell as soon as she woke up, even before she opened her eyes.
Michael was not before her, but neither was Fahim. She breathed a sigh of relief at this second realization, and was surprised to find that it was Shadya's arms that were tight around her, that it was the young girl who had somehow found it within her to try to alleviate her pain.
Shadya rocked her gently for a moment, and pulled back. Sydney searched her eyes for an answer, for reassurance. In the dark, she could see that the girl's dark eyes were scared, haunted. And suddenly Sydney knew that the girl had seen hr interaction with Fahim earlier, knew from where she came, and she took the child back into her arms and hugged her.
"It's going to be all right," Sydney whispered into the dark.
And even without hearing, Shadya understood.
She would come every night, after he had had his way with her, and lay down next to Sydney. Although the fact that the girl was next to her was comforting, it could not quell the turmoil of emotions that had been set loose inside of her. It was too late for that.
Slowly, she began to lose track, she began to forget. She would go for days on end without eating, for she would no longer touch the vile red candies. Even the food that Shadya brought her, the bits of bread from the girl's own meager meal, became too much to swallow.
She began to live her nightmare, would see it playing out before her eyes even when they were open and she was awake, until it became too much, too painful even to stay awake.
The window no longer brought her any hope or comfort, for now the nightmare was real and the dream was no longer. It no longer mattered if he didn't come, for he was always there to haunt her, his echoing laugh haunting her ears.
But the worst of all was not that she no longer knew how long she had been there, or even that the window no longer brought her any hope. By far, the worst was the fact that the movement of her little baby no longer reminded her of why she had to live. It no longer brought her joy or hope; it no longer served to comfort her.
Sydney had never been one to give up. But that was back when she was Sydney Bristow, foolish and young, and with nothing but false hope and broken promises. Sydney Vaughn had so much more that was worth living for. And, at the same time, so much more to lose.
She lived in a storm of nightmares and fantasies, overcome by violent chills at one moment and an intense, unbearable heat the next. The headaches descended upon her, blinding her with their ruthless fury.
And that's when it was the worst, when it reached its peak. When she was awake only in the physical sense of the word, shaking with cold and pain, pleading with him not to hurt her, to leave her and her little baby alone. When he wasn't in the room and Shadya would try to alleviate the pain and the fever with a cool cloth, Sydney trying to push her weakly away, not knowing who was in the room with her.
She lived in this stupor for days, becoming so bad, that even Fahim seemed worried.
"Shh, my love," he murmured, as he mopped the sweat from her forehead. "It will be all right."
And that's when she began to cry.
Her spirit had been crushed, and Fahim almost considered sending her back home. She wouldn't be any good to him this way. It wouldn't be worth it to spend the time and money to feed and take care of her, she wouldn't be any fun.
But he didn't send her away. He didn't get a chance to do it before it happened.
Sydney awoke from a fitful sleep to find herself alone. She gasped with the sharp pain that had wakened her, the pain that for once, was not just coming from her head.
She brought a hand down to her stomach, as if realizing for the first time in days that her little baby was still there.
The pain receded quickly, only to return again at intervals that came closer and closer together. She was able to ignore the pain for awhile, letting her body absorb it and become numb, as it had been wont to do in the past weeks. But soon it returned with such strength and force, knocking the wind from her and bringing tears to her eyes.
She pulled herself out of bed, knowing what was happening, but not what to do. It was too soon, too soon. But there was nothing she could do about that. Not here. Not now.
She knew who she needed, who should be there. The one to make it better, to make it right. To hold her hand, to kiss away the pain, to look into her eyes and make it all worth it.
"Vaughn," she whispered, stumbling from the bed and across the room. "Please, Vaughn…"
Swirling and panicked and agonizingly painful. The room swam around her, in and out of focus, transforming to one thing and then another; the room of her dreams, the room of her nightmares… Faces appeared before her, flashing before her eyes: her father, her mother, Fahim, Vaughn… The little baby raised above her, dripping in the insufferable moonlight… Laughter. Tears… Kisses, sweet and soft, urgent and passionate… Anger. Sadness. Despair… Red M&M's threatening to pelt her, choke her… Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…
A bright light, startling and painful. Her angel appeared in the doorway, but it couldn't be, it couldn't be.
"Vaughn…"
Darkness swirled down upon her, bringing an end to the pain…