[And Sonya...Sonya hates Jesse Pinkman. She hates him with every fiber of her being, every capillary and tendon, down through the depths of her soul. She hates him so much. But she also...
Her brother had come out of Sing Sing like this. Struggling with addiction, hardened and sad. Mom and Father hadn't wanted anything to do with him, and Mehrdad and Omaid had been too young to make decisions on her own. Sonya alone had been caught at the crossroads - side with her parents or side with her brother, her brother whom she'd ruined by being...smart, and obedient, and bratty, and a bitch, and awful in every way so that Mom and Father had gotten disgusted with him. And she'd sided with him, gone to see him, and gone to watch him die on 139th and Willis. Hadn't gotten to him until he'd bled out.
So maybe that's a little bit of it. Maybe that's why she closes her eyes, pain pricking below and behind the crease of her lids, and gently rocks him back and forth. And maybe that's why her lips purse so that she can hush him like she would a baby, whispering that instinctual, ancient sound of comfort - that Shhhh, shh shh shhh, shhhhh, shh shh shh. And that's why her hand moves every once in a while, rubbing his back, as she murmurs:]
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Her brother had come out of Sing Sing like this. Struggling with addiction, hardened and sad. Mom and Father hadn't wanted anything to do with him, and Mehrdad and Omaid had been too young to make decisions on her own. Sonya alone had been caught at the crossroads - side with her parents or side with her brother, her brother whom she'd ruined by being...smart, and obedient, and bratty, and a bitch, and awful in every way so that Mom and Father had gotten disgusted with him. And she'd sided with him, gone to see him, and gone to watch him die on 139th and Willis. Hadn't gotten to him until he'd bled out.
So maybe that's a little bit of it. Maybe that's why she closes her eyes, pain pricking below and behind the crease of her lids, and gently rocks him back and forth. And maybe that's why her lips purse so that she can hush him like she would a baby, whispering that instinctual, ancient sound of comfort - that Shhhh, shh shh shhh, shhhhh, shh shh shh. And that's why her hand moves every once in a while, rubbing his back, as she murmurs:]
It's okay. It's okay.