the_chappy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_chappy) wrote2006-08-13 11:02 pm
the_chappy) wrote2006-08-13 11:02 pm
(no subject)
When they lived in Virginia they had a tree like this one, large with deep roots and low-slung branches. He had added a tire swing, the kids wanted one and it seemed to fit with the whole package ... two kids, a house in the suburbs with a backyard and a large tree. The kids wanted a treehouse too but the upper branches were too close together to make that possible. Besides, it was too high up and it made him nervous. Not that it ever stopped Chris or Ryan from racing as far up the tree as they could go.
He could hear someone laughing and was brought back to that backyard in Virginia where it was Chris' laugh and she was right near by. Safe at home and he'd never let anything bad happen to her.
His mind veered between the remembered past and the imagined present. Days of teaching her to play baseball, stargazing, soccer games and vacations mingled with memories of reports and his own knowledge of what happens during interrogations. It was no stretch to imagine what was happening to her now, what could happen, the horror bolstered by the truth.
Ryan took one breath, then another and found it hard to breathe deeply without concentrating. Everything he had of her was in the past. Every moment and memory were all relegated to the past tense and soon that would become the new normal. A future he never wanted unfolded before him.
Even then, it was cold comfort to the knowledge that she'd likely never see her family again, that if she were alive she'd spend decades as a hostage until her eventual "suicide". His only hope was that he might see her again here and even that was a slim chance. Beyond that, he had nothing.
He could hear someone laughing and was brought back to that backyard in Virginia where it was Chris' laugh and she was right near by. Safe at home and he'd never let anything bad happen to her.
His mind veered between the remembered past and the imagined present. Days of teaching her to play baseball, stargazing, soccer games and vacations mingled with memories of reports and his own knowledge of what happens during interrogations. It was no stretch to imagine what was happening to her now, what could happen, the horror bolstered by the truth.
Ryan took one breath, then another and found it hard to breathe deeply without concentrating. Everything he had of her was in the past. Every moment and memory were all relegated to the past tense and soon that would become the new normal. A future he never wanted unfolded before him.
Even then, it was cold comfort to the knowledge that she'd likely never see her family again, that if she were alive she'd spend decades as a hostage until her eventual "suicide". His only hope was that he might see her again here and even that was a slim chance. Beyond that, he had nothing.