Disclaimer: I don't own anything- they don't let crazy people have any sort of responsibility.
AN (though calling myself an author is a bit much): Unbelievably corny, but, oh well.
I don't know how long I've been holding her. All I know is that when Sara started talking about her parents in that broken voice, my maternal instincts kicked in and I couldn't let go.
At Gil's suggestion, I ended up going over to her apartment to talk. Not that I was planning on speaking civilly. My original plan was to come over, ask her what the hell her problem was, and duke it out. Basically, continuing what happened before Ecklie stepped in.
Only it hadn't worked out like that.
When Sara opened the door, I had my mouth open, prepared to continue our… 'conversation'. But I froze up when I actually got a look at her.
Her eyes were red, and her eyes were wet. All of her just looked… defeated. Her clothes were rumpled and I smelled alcohol on her breath.
She tried to hide it all when she realized it was me- standing up straighter and glaring.
"What do you want, Catherine?"
At any other time, her tone would have made me snap back. But I couldn't. Not when I had just seen her so clearly upset.
"Can I come in?" I remember asking in a quiet voice. I expected her to roll her eyes and shut the door in my face.
But she didn't. She looked at me in dumb shock and nodded her head. Thinking back, I probably shouldn't have found that expression so adorable.
Once inside, we both sat down on her couch. Her eyes kept on shifting focus points- from me, to the floor, to the door, and then back to me.
Without me even saying a word, she just started talking. It sounded like she was explaining a crime scene.
But as it went on, Sara started to let emotion seep into her voice. That's when I started to hold her, and that's when she started to cry.
Before she was even done telling me all of it, I was crying tears of rage, wishing that I could take a few swings at the monsters who had called themselves parents. Just thinking about what Sara had gone through…
God… she was even younger than Lindsey when the abuse started. I can't even begin to imagine hurting my daughter, and yet those… they had hurt Sara so badly.
I was relieved when I heard that her father was dead, and that her mother was in jail. Then I heard how both came to be.
Sara had watched her mother brutally murder her father.
I was terrified the first time I testified in court. A real wreck. And yet, she had done the same thing when she was thirteen. Hearing her description of the murder, I also realized that her case was probably more violent than most of what we've ever worked.
When she was done, I just rocked her in my arms. I remember doing that for Lindsey when she was younger, but I've gotta say, I didn't feel anything maternal about it.
After she stopped crying, her whole body stiffened, and she looked up at me- her expression panicked.
I kissed her then. Just so that she had no doubts about me caring. For a second I was scared about her reaction. But relief quickly replaced the panic on both of our faces.
"Do you want me to stay?"
Sara nodded her head.
And now here I am, holding her while we're lying in her bed.
She shifts in my arms and looks up. I smile through my still falling tears.
"It's okay, Sara. I'm here."