Alexis's eyes snapped open. Her labored breathing echoed through the darkened living room, and she wiped the beads of cold sweat that had begun to form on her forehead.
Dream.
She lay awake in the dark for a few moments as she waited for the last remnants of sleep to fade away. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, her eyes focused, readjusted to the lack of light. The memory of the dream remained.
Nightmare.
She'd had it almost every night since she and Kristina left Port Charles. It, of course, had a lot to do with everything she repressed about her decision to keep their daughter from Sonny.
She knew it was the right thing to do. There was no way that secret would stay a secret if she had stayed in Port Charles, and more importantly, Kristina's life was at stake. Even the possibility that she might be connected to Sonny, the slightest chance of danger…there were too many risks.
But Alexis would always regret having to keep Sonny away from his daughter and Kristina away from her father.
And sometimes, when her blurred memories mixed with that sense of regret, a very potent feeling of guilt settled inside her.
And there he was. The Sonny she loved, the one she had clung to, created from the depths of her mind when she was desperate to believe there was something good inside of him. He was charming, and funny, warm and caring. He loved deeply and hurt even more so. If that Sonny really did exist like she had wanted him so badly to before, he would hate her for what she had done.
Then she would remember that none of that mattered.
The real Sonny was a cold, unfeeling, spiteful man. He was poison to everything and everyone he touched. He killed without regret and punished without reason. He was filled with hate and a taste for revenge against anyone who ever came close to crossing him. He did not deserve to have any rights regarding the life of a small child.
But sometimes, on nights like these, Alexis stared up into the sky, at the moon. The same moon she and Sonny stared up into in Puerto Rico. And sometimes, as she sat there, with the memory of her Sonny and the theatre still fresh in her mind, she wondered.
What if hers was the real Sonny, and the cold unfeeling man she believed was he was merely a product of her imagination, designed to help her sleep better at night?
The question haunted her in the eerie confines of her dark, empty living room. During their friendship she had seen something inside of him that could not be mistaken. She would swear her life on the look in his eye, the sincerity in his voice. The way he smiled…
She closed her eyes.
Sonny wasn't a part of her life anymore. He hadn't been for years, and yet, she still continued to think about him, to allow herself to get pulled back into the same old tired argument over and over and over again. It didn't matter whether or not Sonny was good or bad. It didn't matter anymore whether she made the right decision or the wrong decision because the decision was made. In the past. It was not something she should think about.
She sighed and looked at the clock.
Especially not at three o'clock in the morning.
Too tired to make the climb to her bed, Alexis turned over to her side, burrowing down into the corner of the couch until she became somewhat comfortable. She brought her knees up close to her chest, curled into a ball and shut her eyes.
~*~
Her high heels clicked on the polished linoleum floor, her presense, perceptavely cold and calm. Detached. He struggled against the handcuffs cuffed to his wrist and secured behind his back. The interrogation room was eerily quiet, still and absent of any sign of life. Except for them.
He had no idea how he came to be there. He wasn't quite sure of the feeling of the handcuffs, or the odd way in which she looked at him. It was surreal. Like the surroundings had been passed through a sifter and when they came out the other side, a piece was missing; an indescribeable, almost unnoticeable element of realism.
The unfounded fear inside of him felt disturbingly opposite.
She continued to advance toward him. Slowly, each step, each expression, a carefully calculated tactic designed to make him suffer in his confusion. Finally she reached his chair in the corner of the room. She leaned down, her face inches from his, her breath; chillingly cool against his cheek as she whispered in his ear. "Mr. Corinthos," she said. The greeting held no emotion.
He said nothing.
She edged slightly away from him so she could look into his eyes.
So much became encompassed in their still and steady gaze that a pregnant pause, deafening in its power, filled the room. He held his breath, tried not to betray the sense of anticipation that had arisen in him. He knew she was next to speak. He did not know what she would say.
A small puff of air escaped her mouth and her lips upturned in a wry, mirthless smile. She shook her head.
"You thought you could change, didn't you?"
He could feel his heart implode at the execution of her words.
The shattered pieces stuck in his gut, and he felt a deep, raw pain that swiftly stole the life from inside of him. The breath from his lungs. The essence of his soul, the fire that fueled his desire to live became extringuished.
"Well, you certainly overestimated yourself." Alexis stood up so she could look down on him as she spoke. "Don't you know?" She paused, waited. Cruelly drew out his agony.
"Men like you don't get a chance at redemption."
Dream.
She lay awake in the dark for a few moments as she waited for the last remnants of sleep to fade away. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, her eyes focused, readjusted to the lack of light. The memory of the dream remained.
Nightmare.
She'd had it almost every night since she and Kristina left Port Charles. It, of course, had a lot to do with everything she repressed about her decision to keep their daughter from Sonny.
She knew it was the right thing to do. There was no way that secret would stay a secret if she had stayed in Port Charles, and more importantly, Kristina's life was at stake. Even the possibility that she might be connected to Sonny, the slightest chance of danger…there were too many risks.
But Alexis would always regret having to keep Sonny away from his daughter and Kristina away from her father.
And sometimes, when her blurred memories mixed with that sense of regret, a very potent feeling of guilt settled inside her.
And there he was. The Sonny she loved, the one she had clung to, created from the depths of her mind when she was desperate to believe there was something good inside of him. He was charming, and funny, warm and caring. He loved deeply and hurt even more so. If that Sonny really did exist like she had wanted him so badly to before, he would hate her for what she had done.
Then she would remember that none of that mattered.
The real Sonny was a cold, unfeeling, spiteful man. He was poison to everything and everyone he touched. He killed without regret and punished without reason. He was filled with hate and a taste for revenge against anyone who ever came close to crossing him. He did not deserve to have any rights regarding the life of a small child.
But sometimes, on nights like these, Alexis stared up into the sky, at the moon. The same moon she and Sonny stared up into in Puerto Rico. And sometimes, as she sat there, with the memory of her Sonny and the theatre still fresh in her mind, she wondered.
What if hers was the real Sonny, and the cold unfeeling man she believed was he was merely a product of her imagination, designed to help her sleep better at night?
The question haunted her in the eerie confines of her dark, empty living room. During their friendship she had seen something inside of him that could not be mistaken. She would swear her life on the look in his eye, the sincerity in his voice. The way he smiled…
She closed her eyes.
Sonny wasn't a part of her life anymore. He hadn't been for years, and yet, she still continued to think about him, to allow herself to get pulled back into the same old tired argument over and over and over again. It didn't matter whether or not Sonny was good or bad. It didn't matter anymore whether she made the right decision or the wrong decision because the decision was made. In the past. It was not something she should think about.
She sighed and looked at the clock.
Especially not at three o'clock in the morning.
Too tired to make the climb to her bed, Alexis turned over to her side, burrowing down into the corner of the couch until she became somewhat comfortable. She brought her knees up close to her chest, curled into a ball and shut her eyes.
~*~
Her high heels clicked on the polished linoleum floor, her presense, perceptavely cold and calm. Detached. He struggled against the handcuffs cuffed to his wrist and secured behind his back. The interrogation room was eerily quiet, still and absent of any sign of life. Except for them.
He had no idea how he came to be there. He wasn't quite sure of the feeling of the handcuffs, or the odd way in which she looked at him. It was surreal. Like the surroundings had been passed through a sifter and when they came out the other side, a piece was missing; an indescribeable, almost unnoticeable element of realism.
The unfounded fear inside of him felt disturbingly opposite.
She continued to advance toward him. Slowly, each step, each expression, a carefully calculated tactic designed to make him suffer in his confusion. Finally she reached his chair in the corner of the room. She leaned down, her face inches from his, her breath; chillingly cool against his cheek as she whispered in his ear. "Mr. Corinthos," she said. The greeting held no emotion.
He said nothing.
She edged slightly away from him so she could look into his eyes.
So much became encompassed in their still and steady gaze that a pregnant pause, deafening in its power, filled the room. He held his breath, tried not to betray the sense of anticipation that had arisen in him. He knew she was next to speak. He did not know what she would say.
A small puff of air escaped her mouth and her lips upturned in a wry, mirthless smile. She shook her head.
"You thought you could change, didn't you?"
He could feel his heart implode at the execution of her words.
The shattered pieces stuck in his gut, and he felt a deep, raw pain that swiftly stole the life from inside of him. The breath from his lungs. The essence of his soul, the fire that fueled his desire to live became extringuished.
"Well, you certainly overestimated yourself." Alexis stood up so she could look down on him as she spoke. "Don't you know?" She paused, waited. Cruelly drew out his agony.
"Men like you don't get a chance at redemption."
