Here is Chapter
13..........................................................................
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Vaughn's POV
I'm relieved that Sydney didn't argue with me this time. On the other hand, that's worrying.
May be she is really ill or she doesn't have energy to argue with me. I hope she can get enough sleep tonight so that flying back to LA is not going to be too tough for her.
Now she is asleep. I take off her wet cloth from her forehead and go to the bath room to cool it down again.
I look at myself on the mirror. I do look exhausted and definitely feel exhausted.
"What am I doing here?" I think to myself.
Since Sydney walked into my life, it's been just crazy. I have never had chance to take a break... but it's not fair for me to take a break. She hasn't had a break... and I'm her handler, how could I take a break when she is working. I just cannot do that.
But sometimes, I feel really exhausted... I feel...really tired. Especially tonight...not sure why.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thought. I wash my face with cold water...
I go back into the room and sit on the chair next to the bed. I'm so comforted to see her peaceful sleep. I have never seen her as peaceful as this. I hope she is having a sweet dream.
I put my hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. It's still too warm so I put the cold cloth carefully on her forehead again.
I look at her for a while... thinking how hard it must be for her to live like this. I thought my life was tough and hard. but her life is just incomparable.
I get up and go to the balcony to get fresh air. I close the balcony door quietly, and take a deep breathe. It's quite cold tonight but it is a clear night, unusual for London.
I cannot believe I talked about my childhood and about my little sister with Sydney. It's the subject I have been trying to avoid.
Yes, I had a very good childhood... until my dad was gone.
I still have some memories of him but because the life after his death was incredibly hard for us, the memory is more about our survival without him than his memory. It is sad that although I have memories, they are not a lot...
But my sister was too young. She was only 6 years old so she is like Sydney. she has her own images of my dad, instead of memories. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or bad thing.
My dad was certainly good person, but I would say he was an average farther. He was always very busy, had a little time with us.
I guess because he had little time with us, that time with him was so special to us and these occasions become special memories and still remain in my heart... never forgetting these memories.
I smile at myself, remembering about one of these special times.
I think, I was 7 years old, almost 8. I couldn't sleep at all even thought it was really late night. I sneaked out of my room and headed for my dad's study room.
I don't know why but it always fascinated me. It wasn't a big room but for 7 years old, the room was certainly big enough. There was a big chair, a big dark brown desk, massive book-shelves and some boxes on the floor. I was often told off by my mum when I had secretly got into his room and sat on his chair.
But that night, I sneaked into his study room again, and sat on his massive black leather chair. Enjoying the feeling of it, I pretended that I was my dad. I picked up a small piece of paper and a pen, started to draw a picture.
It felt so good to be in the chair, drawing something on the paper, just like my dad used to do so many times.
I thought my parents were sleeping. then suddenly my dad appeared at the door. My heart was just pounding so fast; I could hear my own heart beat. I couldn't make any excuse. I totally expected him to shout at me and get me out of his room but he just stood there and smiled at me.
He came in, picked me up and he sat on the chair, putting me on his lap. He asked me what I was doing, I explained that I couldn't sleep and I loved his study room.
Then we just talked. I told him about the school, my sister. about my mum, well basically women. he just laughed and explained things that women were moody and men had to do all hard work for them to keep them happy. We laughed together.
We also talked about my future, what I wanted to be and how much he was looking forward to seeing me on my graduation day or other special occasions.
Then we promised to have this secret meeting again. He hugged me and took me to my bed.
It was one of the best memories I have of him. He was so gentle, soft but still strong and firm. I never forget the feeling of his hug, big strong hug you could get only from your dad. With his hug, I could feel and sense his love towards me.
4 months later, he was gone, never came back.
After his death, I sometime woke up in middle of the night, couldn't sleep. So I went to his study room, still hoping that he might come back if I waited, because he had never broken any promises.
He never appeared on the door again.
When Syd asked about my childhood, for a second I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I know I had a better childhood than hers, it wasn't certainly easy but there was no way I was going to tell her that. She has been torturing herself enough.
Not only that, telling her about my childhood could complicate my feelings towards her. I don't usually think about her mother when I'm with her but talking about my childhood would certainly bring up her mother's issue and I don't want to think about it. think that her mother is the killer of my father.
Things I told her were truth. My sister sometimes can understand me more than my mum. She is my best friend as we have been through so much together. I helped her and she helped me, simple as that.
For all those years, I have noticed that loosing your partner, soul-mate is different from loosing your parent. But probably, in the end... we had the same ground... losing someone you loved, adored, admired, and depended on.
The difference between me and Sydney is that after my dad's death, we survived together, with my mum and my sister, but Sydney was left on her own to cope with all horrendous and horrific feelings you go through after loved one's death.
I look at Sydney who is sleeping peacefully. How many nights she can get peaceful sleep... my guess is...very few nights.
She cries, gets upset but she still smiles and laughs... she just shows how incredible human beings can be.
I take another deep breath...closing my eyes and feel the cool air of night.
I wish I could take away all her pains, sorrows, nightmares and worries. I wish with all my heart that she doesn't have to suffer anymore... doesn't have to feel anymore pain in her heart. She has been through enough, why can't she have a happy life?
I just feel... hopeless...useless and I hate it.
I sigh. looking at her pure innocence in her sleep... I wish her a sweet dream tonight.
I get into the room and prepare to get some sleep.
I hope no-one is going to report about my 'total breach of the protocol action'. If someone did... is Jack going to back me up? I have no idea...
I go back to Sydney's bedside, take off the cloth and cool it down again with running water. I really hope her fever is going down tonight... otherwise the flight is going to eat her energy up.
I go back to her, checking her temperature. I'm relieved a little as it feels like her temperature is going down a little. Maybe the capsules are working.
I carefully put the wet cloth on her forehead again.
"Good night Syd, I wish you many sweet dreams" I whisper to her.
I get on the sofa and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow will be a better day for her, wishing tomorrow, she can smile more than today.
............................................................................ .................................
Vaughn's POV
I'm relieved that Sydney didn't argue with me this time. On the other hand, that's worrying.
May be she is really ill or she doesn't have energy to argue with me. I hope she can get enough sleep tonight so that flying back to LA is not going to be too tough for her.
Now she is asleep. I take off her wet cloth from her forehead and go to the bath room to cool it down again.
I look at myself on the mirror. I do look exhausted and definitely feel exhausted.
"What am I doing here?" I think to myself.
Since Sydney walked into my life, it's been just crazy. I have never had chance to take a break... but it's not fair for me to take a break. She hasn't had a break... and I'm her handler, how could I take a break when she is working. I just cannot do that.
But sometimes, I feel really exhausted... I feel...really tired. Especially tonight...not sure why.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thought. I wash my face with cold water...
I go back into the room and sit on the chair next to the bed. I'm so comforted to see her peaceful sleep. I have never seen her as peaceful as this. I hope she is having a sweet dream.
I put my hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. It's still too warm so I put the cold cloth carefully on her forehead again.
I look at her for a while... thinking how hard it must be for her to live like this. I thought my life was tough and hard. but her life is just incomparable.
I get up and go to the balcony to get fresh air. I close the balcony door quietly, and take a deep breathe. It's quite cold tonight but it is a clear night, unusual for London.
I cannot believe I talked about my childhood and about my little sister with Sydney. It's the subject I have been trying to avoid.
Yes, I had a very good childhood... until my dad was gone.
I still have some memories of him but because the life after his death was incredibly hard for us, the memory is more about our survival without him than his memory. It is sad that although I have memories, they are not a lot...
But my sister was too young. She was only 6 years old so she is like Sydney. she has her own images of my dad, instead of memories. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or bad thing.
My dad was certainly good person, but I would say he was an average farther. He was always very busy, had a little time with us.
I guess because he had little time with us, that time with him was so special to us and these occasions become special memories and still remain in my heart... never forgetting these memories.
I smile at myself, remembering about one of these special times.
I think, I was 7 years old, almost 8. I couldn't sleep at all even thought it was really late night. I sneaked out of my room and headed for my dad's study room.
I don't know why but it always fascinated me. It wasn't a big room but for 7 years old, the room was certainly big enough. There was a big chair, a big dark brown desk, massive book-shelves and some boxes on the floor. I was often told off by my mum when I had secretly got into his room and sat on his chair.
But that night, I sneaked into his study room again, and sat on his massive black leather chair. Enjoying the feeling of it, I pretended that I was my dad. I picked up a small piece of paper and a pen, started to draw a picture.
It felt so good to be in the chair, drawing something on the paper, just like my dad used to do so many times.
I thought my parents were sleeping. then suddenly my dad appeared at the door. My heart was just pounding so fast; I could hear my own heart beat. I couldn't make any excuse. I totally expected him to shout at me and get me out of his room but he just stood there and smiled at me.
He came in, picked me up and he sat on the chair, putting me on his lap. He asked me what I was doing, I explained that I couldn't sleep and I loved his study room.
Then we just talked. I told him about the school, my sister. about my mum, well basically women. he just laughed and explained things that women were moody and men had to do all hard work for them to keep them happy. We laughed together.
We also talked about my future, what I wanted to be and how much he was looking forward to seeing me on my graduation day or other special occasions.
Then we promised to have this secret meeting again. He hugged me and took me to my bed.
It was one of the best memories I have of him. He was so gentle, soft but still strong and firm. I never forget the feeling of his hug, big strong hug you could get only from your dad. With his hug, I could feel and sense his love towards me.
4 months later, he was gone, never came back.
After his death, I sometime woke up in middle of the night, couldn't sleep. So I went to his study room, still hoping that he might come back if I waited, because he had never broken any promises.
He never appeared on the door again.
When Syd asked about my childhood, for a second I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I know I had a better childhood than hers, it wasn't certainly easy but there was no way I was going to tell her that. She has been torturing herself enough.
Not only that, telling her about my childhood could complicate my feelings towards her. I don't usually think about her mother when I'm with her but talking about my childhood would certainly bring up her mother's issue and I don't want to think about it. think that her mother is the killer of my father.
Things I told her were truth. My sister sometimes can understand me more than my mum. She is my best friend as we have been through so much together. I helped her and she helped me, simple as that.
For all those years, I have noticed that loosing your partner, soul-mate is different from loosing your parent. But probably, in the end... we had the same ground... losing someone you loved, adored, admired, and depended on.
The difference between me and Sydney is that after my dad's death, we survived together, with my mum and my sister, but Sydney was left on her own to cope with all horrendous and horrific feelings you go through after loved one's death.
I look at Sydney who is sleeping peacefully. How many nights she can get peaceful sleep... my guess is...very few nights.
She cries, gets upset but she still smiles and laughs... she just shows how incredible human beings can be.
I take another deep breath...closing my eyes and feel the cool air of night.
I wish I could take away all her pains, sorrows, nightmares and worries. I wish with all my heart that she doesn't have to suffer anymore... doesn't have to feel anymore pain in her heart. She has been through enough, why can't she have a happy life?
I just feel... hopeless...useless and I hate it.
I sigh. looking at her pure innocence in her sleep... I wish her a sweet dream tonight.
I get into the room and prepare to get some sleep.
I hope no-one is going to report about my 'total breach of the protocol action'. If someone did... is Jack going to back me up? I have no idea...
I go back to Sydney's bedside, take off the cloth and cool it down again with running water. I really hope her fever is going down tonight... otherwise the flight is going to eat her energy up.
I go back to her, checking her temperature. I'm relieved a little as it feels like her temperature is going down a little. Maybe the capsules are working.
I carefully put the wet cloth on her forehead again.
"Good night Syd, I wish you many sweet dreams" I whisper to her.
I get on the sofa and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow will be a better day for her, wishing tomorrow, she can smile more than today.
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