**IsayAmberBensonsgorgeous: Why, thank you *G* I'm rather happy with the concept myself *G*
Series: Vignettes
Number: 13
Title: Uncomfortable Chair
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.comSpoiler Warning: All of Season Five … takes place during 'The Gift'
Summary: A look at what's going on in Tara's brain-sucked mind.
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I do, however, love them, and as they reside in my heart, they belong to me. I'm not making any money off of them, though.
Rating: R for not-niceness, rather than smut.
NOTES: This is the second of the Vignette Requests. Thank you, Toughgrrl for giving me such a heart-wrenching assignment *G* ALSO … this is ANGSTY. I will be posting something HAPPY in (hopefully) a few hours (definitely >sometime< tonight) … you may want to wait until then to read this.
Uncomfortable Chair
Part 13 of the Vignettes Series
by Sassette
Tara whimpered as she banged on the walls, her fists raw and bruised. She had no idea how long she had been there, in the little room with no windows and doors, but she wanted out. Strange flickering shadows moved across the wall, the room mostly dark except for a strange flickering light coming from behind her somewhere.
She had been sitting in the chair - a very long time - and it was uncomfortable. Everything was uncomfortable, and it hurt … it hurt all over, and she couldn't make it stop. She wanted it to stop - would do anything to make it stop. And that was selfish, she knew. The fact that she wanted it to stop was selfish and mean, and it just proved how bad she was. How very, very bad.
Still, she couldn't help wanting to go outside. There was a bright and beautiful world there somewhere -she knew it… she had seen it. Had lived there once, but now she was here, in the room with no windows and no doors and an uncomfortable chair.
"No, Tara. You know you don't deserve to go outside," an eerily familiar voice said, and Tara turned around, looking towards the center of the room. There, in the middle of the floor, was an old-fashioned rabbit-eared black and white TV, a cut cord running out the back and laying limply on the floor.
"Donnie?" Tara said in a horrified whisper, her eyes growing wide.
It was, unmistakably, Donnie's face there on the TV. His scraggly beard and mean eyes, a torn t-shirt like he always wore. But most recognizable, the sneering look of distaste on his face as he looked at her. But it wasn't possible. It couldn't be real.
None of this was real.
Tara shut her eyes really tight, wishing and praying she could go back home. But even now, memories of home were fading, replaced by the TV and what it showed her.
"You can't stop watching now, Tara," Donnie said. "We're getting to the best part."
Without her permission, Tara's feet moved, and she stepped forward, again and again, until she was facing the TV, a stiff and formal high-backed chair behind her.
Donnie's face faded, replaced by flickering dots of black and white chasing each other across the screen. Tara sat down heavily, finding the chair as uncomfortable as she had thought it would be.
Soon enough - or far too soon - the screen went black, and then a scene faded in.
"You're bad," a 12-year-old Donnie said. "And I'm telling Papa that you were sitting and talking in a circle again. You know he hates it when you do that. You know it's bad."
"I-I … I didn't … umm .. m-mean," a younger Tara said, her face frightened. "Please, don't … don't tell anyo-one, please."
"I have to," Donnie said with a sly grin. "You've been bad, so I have to tell, or else I'm bad like you."
"But, I… I-I, ummm … I promise I w-won't do it again. Please," Tara pleaded.
"How about this?" Donnie said slowly, walking closer to Tara, and instinctively she took a step back, her gaze dropping to the ground. "Oh, no … you stay where you are when I'm talking to you, do you understand?" Donnie growled, grabbing her arm roughly, then stepping forward again. "Now, I won't tell Papa," Donnie said generously.
"O-oh, thank you, Donnie," Tara said, her head coming up and her eyes shining with gratitude and unspilled tears.
In her chair, Tara flinched, feeling the back of Donnie's hand connect with her face as surely as she had that day so long ago. It was the first time Donnie had ever hit her … the first time he had taken it upon himself to 'punish' her for the magick - for being a demon. For being bad. It was the first time he had betrayed her.
The scene faded out, and Donnie's current face reappeared. "Betrayed you?" he bellowed. "You ungrateful bitch! I was helping you. I didn't tell Papa, but you needed to be punished. You're bad, and you have to learn to not be bad, and so you have to be punished. So if Papa wasn't going to do it, it was my duty as your brother to do it for him."
"He's right, Tara," her father said, moving to stand next to his son. "You need to be punished."
"But … I didn't … I-I didn't do a-anything," Tara said slowly, her face miserable as she felt again the horrible sensation of being a burden, of being bad, of needing correction.
"Aww, Tara, baby girl," her father said kindly. "I know you didn't >mean< to do anything. I know you want to be good," he said soothingly, and the tone reminded Tara of the way he used to read her bedtime stories when she was very little. It was a warm and kind tone, and it brought back good memories. "But you're a demon, sweetheart. You're evil. You're bad. You can't help it. You don't want to be bad - I know that. I know that better than anyone, because I'm your father. But you're bad. You can't escape it. Now, Donnie and I are the only ones who can control it. We can help you be good, and even though it pains us, we have to punish you to keep the demon at bay. Do you understand?"
Tears leaked out of the corner of Tara's eyes as she sat forward in the chair, her head bowed and her hair hiding her face. Biting her lip, she nodded, her eyes shutting tight. She understood. She didn't mean to be bad, but that made no difference. She couldn't fight the demon on her own, so she needed Papa and Donnie to take care of her - to keep her from hurting anyone.
"Now, apologize to your brother," her father ordered sternly. "Tell him you're sorry for accusing him of betraying you. You know he was just helping you."
"I-I'm, ummm … I-I'm s-so sorry, Donnie," Tara said, her face scrunching up as she tried to hold back the tears. "I know you w-were just trying to, umm … h-help."
"That's okay, Tara," Donnie said with an easy grin. "As long as you know I'm just trying to help. What are big brothers for?"
"Now, tell him you're bad," her father instructed.
"I … I'm bad," Tara said, her voice a ragged whisper.
"And what else?" her father prompted.
"I-I'm a … a d-d-demon," Tara said, her chest aching as she held her breath and wished with all her might that it wasn't true - wished that she was just another girl, and that she could be good.
"But you can't be good, Tara. You want to, but you can't. You're bad. And because you're bad, what do we have to do?" her father asked. "What do we have to do to keep the demon from taking over?"
"Y-you have to h-hurt me," Tara said softly.
"That's right, Tara. We have to use pain to keep the demon from taking over. We have to hurt you. You know we don't like it, right? You know we just do this to keep you safe?" her father asked.
"I-I, umm… I kn-know," Tara said with a little nod.
"All right then," her father said with a nod. "We're going to do some work on that demon for you, and then you're going to watch more TV, okay?"
"A-all right," Tara said, her eyes widening as she looked around. There wasn't anything in the room … just the TV and the chair. What could hurt her here? What could stop the demon in this place?
"Be brave for me, sweetheart," her father said, his image and Donnie's fading away.
"I'll be brave, Papa," Tara said with a little sniffle, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. The image faded completely, and the black and white fuzz reappeared on the screen, the sound of static in the air.
The black bits grew larger as Tara watched, and the static sound faded into an eerie clacking noise. The shadowy things moved faster and faster, crawling out of the TV screen and chattering.
With wide eyes, Tara stood, the chair falling to the ground as a whimper escaped her throat. Some kind of bugs seemed to pour forth from the screen, skittering across the cold floor and towards her. She backed up, further and further, until her shoulders hit the wall, and even still she tried to get away from the things, standing on her tiptoes, until it was too late and they were there.
Eyes shut tight, her heart pounding in her ears and her teeth clenched together, she felt the bugs with their creepy little legs start up her feet, some moving over the soft cotton of her pants, and some crawling underneath to the skin of her legs.
"Oh, God, No!" she yelled, feeling some of them burrowing under her skin, others stinging, others still biting. The pain stole her breath - it was fiery and hot, shooting across her nerve endings, agonizingly scraping them raw - as they crawled higher and higher, swarming over her. Finally, she managed enough of a breath to scream, and then she fell, covering her ears with her hands and curling up into the fetal position on the stone cold floor, the bugs crawling all over her.
And still they came, more and more of them until she was completely covered, every inch of her body sending signals of sheer agony shooting to her brain. And the noise - the terrible, horrible chittering sound their chitinous bodies made as they bumped into each other and crawled across her skin. But she deserved it - she knew it.
She was bad.
Her Papa had told her so.
A sound caught her attention, something other than the eerie noise of skittering bugs, and she looked up, cracking her eyes open to see four holes had been torn in the wall. Beams of light shot into the room, landing on her, and the bugs crawled off of her, fleeing before it.
Breathing heavily, cuts and scratches all over her body, burrowed holes bleeding, she raised herself to her knees and turned towards that light, letting it wash over her. As the light hit her skin, all of her injuries closed up, and a lightness entered her soul.
No, she wasn't bad. She didn't deserve to be here.
There was … something. No, someone. Someone was there.
"I'm in here!" she yelled, waving her arms frantically. "I'm in here!"
As if hearing her words, the beams of light cut vertically through the wall, all the way to the ground, coming together at the bottom so she had enough room to escape. Scrambling to her feet, she ran forward, diving through the opening.
To Willow.
Willow was there - Willow had saved her.
She was flung back, and she landed heavily, looking around, completely disoriented. And then Willow was there, holding her, cradling her, rocking her gently. Willow, alive and warm, so very close and perfect, stroking her hair and making soothing noises as she cried.
Because she was back, in the bright beautiful world that had Willow in it, and no one would hurt her ever again for being bad.
"I … I got so lost," Tara managed to say.
"I found you … I'll always find you," Willow promised.
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I Think The Hellmouth Tastes Like Chicken -- Autumn