Dawns Break *Slow Updates*

Chapter 10: Sydney

The second his name left Diana's mouth, Sydney's whole body seemed to freeze, stuck in a state of disbelief and discomfort, because the blue eyed man she tried to avoid in LeHorn was the first person to come to mind. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it was just a coincidence that he shared the same name as her alleged father, the crippling affect the mere notion of him possibly being the one was not easy to overlook. Suddenly, every time she encountered him replayed in her memories—every lasting stare, unexpected appearance, and unsettling warning. He was the only westerner that made her feel like he knew she came from the east, and he'd given off that vibe from their very first meeting.

Was it possible he met her mother so long ago? That he was the reason her view on westerners supposedly shifted?

But more important than that was the thought paralyzing Sydney's other functions.

Is Victor Martin my father?

Diana said he was quite a few years older than her when they met, but Victor had to be at least ten years her elder. It wouldn't be the most unreasonable age difference, certainly not large enough to discredit any truth her mother's story could hold. The only thing not adding up in Sydney's mind was, if the man she'd met truly was her father, then why did he hate easterners so fiercely. He did everything he could, it felt, to get rid of Sydney, yet she was to believe he was able to lay with one. Not only that, but produce a child from the act.

"Sydney?" By now, she was so overwhelmed by the possible revelation, that she hadn't even noticed when Diana turned back around to face her. "What's wrong? You look...haunted."

Haunted would have been preferred in this situation. Haunted implied that it was only a thing of the past that plagued her, but Victor was still very much alive last time she checked. 

Don't get too ahead of yourself. All she said was Victor. It's highly irrational to think it could be him.

Warding herself off the ridiculous notion, she shook her head and swallowed, wetting her throat that had dried up immensely.

"Um, I'm...I'm fine," she said, collecting her bearings. "I just...nothing"

Mentally, Sydney scolded herself on how her hunger for truth almost made her reveal a vulnerability to someone she couldn't trust. 

"You can ask me anything," Diana shared, her voice and expression sincere. The soft thuds of her boots stood out as she stepped toward the bed, sitting at the very edge of it. "I won't have all the answers, I'm sure, but I'll tell you everything I can."

There was a war going on in the young woman's mind—a battle between her two selves. One version, the one she predominately lived as, was the strong-willed, determined soldier. A woman who would die for the right cause, risk her life to save others, and never let her enemy get the better of her if she could help it. The other version, the one she buried the day she aged out of the orphanage, was not a woman, but a girl—a sad, abandoned, hurt girl.

All her life, Sydney struggled with who she wanted to be, which version of herself she would feed, and which she would starve. Usually, the woman won. But, this time, it seemed, was a rarity, because for once, Sydney chose to serve the girl.

She still kept her distance from Diana, for the restriction gave her the illusion that she would still be in control, but deep down she knew. She knew that the moment Diana started answering her life-long questions, she would be clay in her hands. And, while it was dangerous, going against every thing she'd taught herself, clay she would be.

"Where did you meet him?" she asked, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she stared, hard yet desperate, and allowed herself this moment. 

With a soft smile of relief that did nothing to assure Sydney she hadn't made a mistake, Diana replied, "On the road. I had just left my unit, needing space and quickly found myself wandering the dirt road to nowhere in particular. The sound of hooves got my attention, and I turned to see a horse galloping toward me. My eyes, however, were more concerned with the man riding it."