Disclaimer : I claim no ownership for the main characters within.
A:N : A huge thanks to Danielle Lynne for her amazing beta skill, suggestions, and title. If there's anything good in this fic, it hers, the rest is mine tough
Chapter 1
"Drop your gun!" Brass shouted, his voice blaring in Sara's ear. She felt the arm that had held her for the last two hours tighten around her neck, reducing her air supply.
"Please, let her go," pleaded Grissom. With his eyes locked on hers, the horror in his deep blue orbs elevated her fear.
"No!" screamed the voice from behind her. His warm breath brushed her neck, assaulting her senses with the foul smell of cigarettes and beer; smells that she hated the most. She wriggled around, trying to loosen his grip on her, struggling to get more air. "Stay still, you bitch, or I'll put a bullet in your head!"
"It's all over for you, Clay. The police have this place surrounded and you're not leaving here alive. So, why don't you just let her go and maybe we'll have mercy on you and chop off some jail time." Brass slowly took one step closer; his hands hoisted his gun steadily.
"Stay away!" The man screamed, sending more of the foul odors wafting towards her; contaminating her nostrils. The arm slung around her neck trembled and grew tighter, causing her to cough hard.
"Please, take me. I was the primary investigator on the case; she only assisted me," Grissom reasoned, his eyes averting from hers and staggering to the man behind her. "Let her go and take me. I'm solely responsible for your mother being put in jail."
Finally, the air that she needed so badly invaded her lungs as the man loosened his grip on her. Sara could see the slightest hint of relief in her lover's eyes.
Suddenly, the distinct sound of gunfire rang through the air; echoing throughout the room. Sara heard Brass let out some profanities and Grissom calling out her name.
Instinctively, Sara ducked down and elbowed her assailant. She reached out for Grissom. As their fingers touched, she noticed his eyes widening in fear. More guns sounded and profanities encircled her. In a brief moment, Grissom pinned her down the floor, shielding her body with his. Pain stabbed her in the back of her head; the result of being tackled to the floor. Grissom let out a strained grunt from his parted lips, clenching his eyes tightly shut.
"Griss?" Sara shifted underneath him, wriggled to move his body, but the man didn't budge.
Bringing her hand to his back, Sara gasped as her fingers met a wet, sticky substance on his shirt. She hesitantly brought her hand up towards her face to examine it. Discovering that her fingertips were stained crimson red, she screamed his name helplessly from the bottom of her lungs.
"Grissom!"
Twenty years before
Sara let the water run through her fingers as it washed the blood down the drain, staining the white porcelain with pink spots. She hated pink. She also hated Gerard Keys and, at that very moment, she could feel his piercing glare digging into her back. She didn't feel like turning around to look into his eyes, so she remained where she was, letting the water wash over her.
"Oh my god, Sarah!" cried Mrs. Keys, mispronouncing her name. The grey haired, middle-aged woman peeked over her shoulder, noticing her gaping wound. "Where did you get that from? Girl, we need to put some bandages on it. Water won't stop the bleeding, Sarah, you should now that!" The woman kept ranting as she rummaged through the first aid kit over the sink. Even though she never said her name correctly, Sara never had enough energy to protest.
"Here," said Mrs. Keys, setting out a box of bandages, alcohol and scissors on the edge of the sink, "Wrap it up and tell me why there's such a deep cut in your palm." The elder woman rested her hands on her hips, staring at Sara who stood completely still.
Sara blinked once, her mind drifting back to the chicken farm. She thought about the poor animals that were about to be slaughtered and how Gerard cornered her to one side of the fence. She slightly shuddered at the way his hands worked their way over her body and how she freed herself from his grasp, cutting herself in the process. She blinked once more before she opened her mouth to answer.
"This stupid girl cut herself trying to save those stupid chickens!" Gerard answered before Sara had a chance to. He worked his way toward the sink and started to help Sara wrap her wound. "Chickens are meant to be our food, Sara. You shouldn't have been trespassing the wire fence to set themfree." The boy grinned wickedly, putting more pressure than necessary on her palm. Sara winced in pain.
"Oh, Sarah," Mrs. Keys reached out to smooth her hair. "Act smarter, next time, girl," she nodded toward Gerard. "Take good care of her wound and make sure she doesn't go near the chicken farm again, Gerard. You're the oldest among theses kids," she spread her hands, gesturing to the other children in the room. "You should act as a big brother to them." Having finished her speech, Mrs. Keys walked out of the room, hauling a big basket full of clothes with her.
"See?" Gerard toying with the scissors in his hand, his eyes buried into hers. "I'm your big brother, Sara. You, just like all the other kids in this foster home, should obey me." He ran the blades of the scissors along her thigh and nuzzled into her neck, his breath tickling her skin. She could feel fear mingling with disgust as the presence of bile rose in her throat. She bolted out of the room could sense fear mingled with disgust rising in her throat, she quickly bolted from the room; away from fear, away from disgust, and mostly, away from Gerard.
_____________________________________________________________________
There was a good two quiet miles from her school to the foster home. Sara enjoyed walking alone on the roadside, reciting current lessons she learned from the class.
She was working to wrap her mind around Archimedes' Law when someone stopped her midway. She looked up to find a pair of black eyes staring deeply into her.
"Mother wants you to help me with the groceries," Gerard informed her, tightly gripping her arm with one hand, while his other hand waved a grocery list.
"Gerard, I can't. I have homework," she tried to explain firmly, but her tone of voice was laced with a sign of fear.
"Don't act smart on me, Long Legs." His black eyes wandered down to her legs, resurrecting a familiar sense of disgust rumbling in her stomach. "Help me with the groceries and maybe we'll visit the chicken farm afterwards." His hands now wandered down her legs and she fought hard the urge to vomit all over his shoes. "You can watch them die and cry, while I continue what I started yesterday." His words emerged between the sounds of his tongue passing over his lips. Sara shivered, letting a single teardrop fall down her cheek.
Pleading had worked previously she was in the same situation with her father, so she tried her luck again, hoping for a positive outcome. "Gerard, please. I have homework to do and today, I'm scheduled to do the laundry and baby sit."
Unfortunately, this only added fuel to the fire. Something in his evil black eyes sparkled, his fingers now tracing up and down her arms. Sara was three years younger, but she was as tall as he was. She could make out the freckles on his face and the hair that rarely grew on top of his upper lip that he kept insisting on licking. She gulped, feeling the bitter taste of vomit in her mouth.
"Come on, we don't have all day!" Gerard tugged on her arm.
"No," she pleaded, standing still. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Long Legs, Long Legs," Gerard shook his head. He tugged harder on her hand, sending a wave of pain through her bandaged palm. "Don't you ever say 'No' to me, or I'll make mother kick your ass out of the foster home! She trusts me, remember?" His last words were whispered manipulatively into her ear. "You don't want to live on the streets, do you? After what happened to your parents?"
She curled her fingers into a tight fist, her eyes to the ground. There were images flashing into her mind. Her mother; holding a knife in hand. Her father; clutching his bleeding bloody. Herself; sitting in the corner, crying silently. Before she knew what was happening, her fist slammed into Gerard's nose. She punched him aimlessly, and was rewarded by a dictionary full of profanities from him. He tried to fight back, which only earned more punches from her. When she finally freed herself from Gerard hands, Sara run away as fast as she could.
Sara didn't know how long she'd been running, but she knew it had been quite a while when she felt the awful cramp in her abdomen. Her shoes were coated by dust and it felt like she'd exhaled fire from her lungs. She stopped to catch her breath, resting her hands on her knees. Exhausted, she started to scan the environment around her, looking for a place to rest. There were only trees, grass and dirt. She ran some more, until she came upon a wrecked wooden house with yellow caution tape all around it. She managed to drag her feet to the porch when suddenly the world around her turned black. The last sound she heard was a voice exclaiming in triumph, "Gotcha, Long Legs."
TBC
R&R please, and thanks for reading