A/N: I do not own "Repo the Genetic Opera" or any of the material contained therein. I am making no profit from this writing.
Summary: This is the sound of a little girl's heart breaking.
Rating: T (Language, Self Harm, Substance Abuse)
"He's not'a worth your tears."
Pavi draped a blanket over Amber's shoulders and shoved a hot toddy into her hand, coming around to join her on the couch. She said nothing. Her face was impassive now, but only moments ago, she'd been a shattered china doll of a girl, more child than woman. Now, stone. Silent. She stared ahead and didn't look at her brother, didn't sip from her drink.
"He's our father," she said at long last, as if Pavi's words finally reached her. "How else 'm I supposed to-"
Her voice broke and she took a sip from her drink. Too strong. She coughed violently. Pavi regarded her from underneath his latest mask – his constant brown eyes anchored her just a little and the coughing fit subsided. Again, silence descended. Pavi drank from his own glass and stared from her to the holographic window, displaying a winter's night.
"You know what he said?" Amber croaked. "That if I was his son, he'd be proud, but that no daughter of his acted like such a tramp."
A hollow laugh escaped her throat and she shook her head.
"Fuckingsexist pig," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "You can fuck any GENtern you want and the man won't bat a lash. I have onnne affair with a surGEN and suddenly I'm a whore."
"So it's true," Pavi said quietly. "You'a were fucking Doctore Haddon."
"So what if I was?" Amber asked. She looked at him to see hurt surprise in his eyes. "Jesus, Pavi. It wasn't like that. He's just a symptom." Amber took a bolder sip from her drink. "Just one more thing I can't do because I'm a woman. Just one more thing that makes me a fuck up in his eyes."
Tears again pooled her eyes. Amber swallowed hard and blinked.
"Daddy called me a whore, Pavi," she murmured. "He s-said that I'm…"
She choked and without warning hurtled her half-full, steaming hot drink across the room. The glass broke against a wall and alcohol stained the white carpet.
"Daddy, the king of whores, called me a whore! Me! His only fucking daughter! For- for what? Not putting my goddamn chastity belt on? For having one night of fun? How many fucking women has he gone through, now, Pavi? Ten? Twelve? How many whores did hepromise were going to be our new mother before…? And then he… He has the fucking nerve to compare me to them?"
Somehow, she was standing now. She wanted to break something else. But instead, she stomped over to the mess she had made, toeing the shards of glass with a high heel. She kicked up a spray of glass, some of which stuck in the wall. She was crying now, full force.
"That's all I am to him, isn't it? A whore. Disposable."
She yanked one large shard of glass for the wall. It sliced her hand and the bite of pain stopped her crying. She held it up, shiny with her blood and looked at Pavi.
"If I'm so fucking disposable, do you think he'd cry if I went and got cut?"
She slid the glass over her palm and watched the swell of red bloom on her hand. A warm, strong hand gripped her wrist and the glass fell to the ground.
"Sister, please," Pavi said. "Look at me."
She turned to face him. Again, those brown eyes anchored her. She collapsed into his chest
"You are hanging too much of your'a self worth on him," Pavi reminded her, stroking her hair. "You know'a nothing we do will change him."
"He's a disgusting… D-disgusting…" She cried harder. "I'm disgusting."
"If'a you are, then I am," he said. His voice was gentle and rolling. "And if'a we are, then who is it to blame?"
"Him," she said hoarsely. "Him."
"Esattamente," Pavi said. "Now, dry your eyes. Don't let him know'a he has broken your heart. Don't'a give him the satisfaction."