Victoria King
Cadet
This is seperate from the going ons of alias right now and also seperate from any of the other alias seasons, except that it has alias characters(of course!) ENJOY! and please please review! hope you like! 
again review, you make my day if you do, whether its good or bad, i like to know that ppl read my stories! ^_^
“I told you not to go past the yard when it’s getting dark, did I not?” Sydney peered through the dark lenses of her sunglasses that she still wore hiding her eyes even though the golden glow from the heat of the afternoon had died down to a soft bubbling pink, at the tiny head . “Answer me, you do know that I only made these rules to protect you? Right?”
Out of all the things that Sydney despised it was making her daughter cry. Whenever Larissa’s emerald green eyes began to gloss over with the unmistaken able glaze of tears, Sydney would try to convince herself that it is normal for children to cry and nothing can be done about it, nothing, it has nothing to do with you, nothing. When Larissa was only a baby, no larger than the size of her forearm and her unruly chestnut hair stuck up in curlicues, she blamed herself for all of her daughter’s cries whether it was for a thirst-quenching bottle or just the caressing touch of her fingers against the baby’s back.
She always felt responsible for her daughter’s happiness and tears because of her childhood, the only part of her life she recalls at all, and she has no idea who her baby’s father is. When Sydney was five and her mother would let Sydney grade papers with her ( in actuality giving Sydney old papers from past years that students did not deem important enough to take with them), the woman in her memory with a huge smile and long flowing hair, the color of hers, would spend more time paying attention to Sydney then her own scholarly papers waiting impatiently to be graded. Sydney grinned every time her mother approved the grade she marked on the paper in bright red ink, as startling as blood against a dead man’s heart, a sight that often appears in her dreams, more now than ever.
“I said I was sorry, Mommy.” Pushing her glasses over the rim of her nose, leaving the tiniest opening of light to sneak in upon her raccoon eyes, Sydney saw her four year old daughter’s shimmering eyes peering up at her in sad puppy eyes, fake of course.
“Uh, how come I can never seem to resist those eyes and you know it! Come here, dinner is almost done and I don’t want it to get cold.” Grabbing her giggling daughter by freckled hand, she began to walk up the short drive up to their two story pale yellow Victorian style house complete with the wraparound porch and tower ( Larissa’s favorite part of the house, especially when playing Princess).
Almost five years ago with stomach protruding far out in front, no ring on her finger, and only knowing her name and certain childhood memories, Sydney pulled up in her beaten down red pick up that she bought off of a man with no teeth just past the California border. The sound of the truck, which is resting peacefully in a junk yard five miles down the road, still resonates in her ears. The sound of the motor sputtering and heaving every few seconds reminded her of a gunshot even though she could never remember hearing a gun or even seeing one up close.
She had found five thousand dollars and an address and the name Sydney scrawled hastily on a ripped sheet of notebook paper in the bottom of her straw purse (cheap no doubt) that was draped around her throbbing shoulder when she awoke on a wooden park bench surrounded by running boys with dirt marks on their faces, family picnics and the overpowering smell of mulch and freshly mowed grass.
Without even questioning the money or the address or even the name that gave her the uneasy feeling of déjà vu, she began walking, letting the cool breeze of the morning, she knew it was morning because the moon was still visible if you looked real hard at the sky a certain way, it was always there, a hidden secret waiting fade in and out at the right moments, whipping at her bare ankles underneath the flowing spring dress that she just now saw for the first time.
As Sydney opened the swing door for Larissa, who jumped over the cracked step into the house with a little squeal, she felt like she was being watched. She could feel a persistent pair of eyes boring down on her and zeroing in on the back of her forehead, examining her every move and noticing the way she wore no shoes and how she wasn’t smiling when Larissa wasn’t looking.
A snap of a twig and the squawk of a crow cause her to twist her head around quickly. Expecting to see someone or at least a small animal with beady black eyes gazing back at her, she saw nothing, just a slight rustle in the bushes near the dirt road. Most likely the wind, she told herself, it’s nothing. Even though Sydney had no reason to be worried or even to suspect someone was watching her, she couldn’t fight back the feeling that someone was looking at her right now through invisible lenses that were transparent to her.
“MOMMY! What’s the matter?” Jerkily, Sydney turned to see Larissa, scraped knees and her worry lines across her forehead, standing in the crumbling doorway waiting for her.
“Nothing is the matter….nothing….” Before turning back around to her daughter, Sydney took one last glance at the lone bush just feet away from her. “Come on, let’s get you washed up for dinner, I made peach pie, your favorite.” It was nothing, don’t get so worked up Sydney, she told herself, who would be after me?
Okay what do you think?! Im trying something so if you like reply, if you don’t reply! IF YOU DON’T REPLY I WONT KNOW WHAT TO DO OR IF I DID SOMETHING RIGHT OR WRONG! THANKS!!
again review, you make my day if you do, whether its good or bad, i like to know that ppl read my stories! ^_^ “I told you not to go past the yard when it’s getting dark, did I not?” Sydney peered through the dark lenses of her sunglasses that she still wore hiding her eyes even though the golden glow from the heat of the afternoon had died down to a soft bubbling pink, at the tiny head . “Answer me, you do know that I only made these rules to protect you? Right?”
Out of all the things that Sydney despised it was making her daughter cry. Whenever Larissa’s emerald green eyes began to gloss over with the unmistaken able glaze of tears, Sydney would try to convince herself that it is normal for children to cry and nothing can be done about it, nothing, it has nothing to do with you, nothing. When Larissa was only a baby, no larger than the size of her forearm and her unruly chestnut hair stuck up in curlicues, she blamed herself for all of her daughter’s cries whether it was for a thirst-quenching bottle or just the caressing touch of her fingers against the baby’s back.
She always felt responsible for her daughter’s happiness and tears because of her childhood, the only part of her life she recalls at all, and she has no idea who her baby’s father is. When Sydney was five and her mother would let Sydney grade papers with her ( in actuality giving Sydney old papers from past years that students did not deem important enough to take with them), the woman in her memory with a huge smile and long flowing hair, the color of hers, would spend more time paying attention to Sydney then her own scholarly papers waiting impatiently to be graded. Sydney grinned every time her mother approved the grade she marked on the paper in bright red ink, as startling as blood against a dead man’s heart, a sight that often appears in her dreams, more now than ever.
“I said I was sorry, Mommy.” Pushing her glasses over the rim of her nose, leaving the tiniest opening of light to sneak in upon her raccoon eyes, Sydney saw her four year old daughter’s shimmering eyes peering up at her in sad puppy eyes, fake of course.
“Uh, how come I can never seem to resist those eyes and you know it! Come here, dinner is almost done and I don’t want it to get cold.” Grabbing her giggling daughter by freckled hand, she began to walk up the short drive up to their two story pale yellow Victorian style house complete with the wraparound porch and tower ( Larissa’s favorite part of the house, especially when playing Princess).
Almost five years ago with stomach protruding far out in front, no ring on her finger, and only knowing her name and certain childhood memories, Sydney pulled up in her beaten down red pick up that she bought off of a man with no teeth just past the California border. The sound of the truck, which is resting peacefully in a junk yard five miles down the road, still resonates in her ears. The sound of the motor sputtering and heaving every few seconds reminded her of a gunshot even though she could never remember hearing a gun or even seeing one up close.
She had found five thousand dollars and an address and the name Sydney scrawled hastily on a ripped sheet of notebook paper in the bottom of her straw purse (cheap no doubt) that was draped around her throbbing shoulder when she awoke on a wooden park bench surrounded by running boys with dirt marks on their faces, family picnics and the overpowering smell of mulch and freshly mowed grass.
Without even questioning the money or the address or even the name that gave her the uneasy feeling of déjà vu, she began walking, letting the cool breeze of the morning, she knew it was morning because the moon was still visible if you looked real hard at the sky a certain way, it was always there, a hidden secret waiting fade in and out at the right moments, whipping at her bare ankles underneath the flowing spring dress that she just now saw for the first time.
As Sydney opened the swing door for Larissa, who jumped over the cracked step into the house with a little squeal, she felt like she was being watched. She could feel a persistent pair of eyes boring down on her and zeroing in on the back of her forehead, examining her every move and noticing the way she wore no shoes and how she wasn’t smiling when Larissa wasn’t looking.
A snap of a twig and the squawk of a crow cause her to twist her head around quickly. Expecting to see someone or at least a small animal with beady black eyes gazing back at her, she saw nothing, just a slight rustle in the bushes near the dirt road. Most likely the wind, she told herself, it’s nothing. Even though Sydney had no reason to be worried or even to suspect someone was watching her, she couldn’t fight back the feeling that someone was looking at her right now through invisible lenses that were transparent to her.
“MOMMY! What’s the matter?” Jerkily, Sydney turned to see Larissa, scraped knees and her worry lines across her forehead, standing in the crumbling doorway waiting for her.
“Nothing is the matter….nothing….” Before turning back around to her daughter, Sydney took one last glance at the lone bush just feet away from her. “Come on, let’s get you washed up for dinner, I made peach pie, your favorite.” It was nothing, don’t get so worked up Sydney, she told herself, who would be after me?
Okay what do you think?! Im trying something so if you like reply, if you don’t reply! IF YOU DON’T REPLY I WONT KNOW WHAT TO DO OR IF I DID SOMETHING RIGHT OR WRONG! THANKS!!
