Dare to Trust
Disclaimer: None of the characters, etc. are mine. This story is just for fun.
Ten year old Sara Sidle lay in bed, starring into the darkness that enveloped her. She kept completely still, both arms wrapped tightly around herself. A sharp crack broke the silence that had momentarily filled the small house and she jumped slightly, cringing despite herself at the all too familiar sound. Every night was the same. Her father's voice, low, yet demanding, floated to her ears through her closed bedroom door. Though too muffled to make out what was being said, his tone was raised high in anger and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if by the sheer force of her will she could block it all out – make it go away. She hated the sounds – hated the feelings that accompanied them. The anger and hate and fear that came with those sounds permeated the house and brought with it a darkness deeper and more all-encompassing than the literal darkness that came with the setting sun. This darkness filled her up, seeping into her dreams long after she would finally be able to drift to sleep. She couldn't escape it. She was entirely helpless to fight it off. And she resented that with everything she was. While she knew no other way of life, she was convinced that these dark feelings were not what she wanted running through her.
Without knowing why, she shuddered slightly, despite the warmth of the blankets wrapped around her. She paused in thought while she tried to ascertain what had triggered such a reaction in her. Something was different. Then it hit her. The sounds had stopped. Absolute silence hung all around her, contrasting sharply to the yelling and fighting she typically heard until the early morning hours. While she embraced the sweet release that came with the absence of the sounds, the silence held a different sort of fear for her. Slowly she opened her eyes, assessing this uncommon development. What could possibly have caused the sounds to stop?
She sat up, peering towards her bedroom door, expecting the sounds to resume at any moment. But they never came. The silence grew louder and louder the more it continued. Cautiously she pushed the blankets off of her and climbed out of bed, all the while straining her ears, anticipating something...anything. She slowly crossed the small distance over to the door and paused, waiting. Her breath now came out in shaky bursts as she tried to control the uneasiness rising through her young body. She crouched down in front of the door and lifted a shaky hand up to the doorknob. Her body tense, mind alert, and heart racing, she slowly turned the handle, careful not to make a sound. A thin column of light cut into the darkness of her room as she pulled the door open ever so slightly. She leaned forward, a small lock of her light brown hair falling in front of her face. Peering through the thin crack, she blinked several times, surprised by the bright intensity of the light. Eventually her eyes adjusted and she was able to make out the hallway wall directly outside her room. Strange red lines streaked along the old, white surface. Her initial reaction was fear – her father would be furious at such a mess. Then a new, more intense feeling crept over her, pushing her concerns of her father's temper to the back of her mind. She'd never felt this way before and it brought a strong sense of foreboding with it. An unusual, almost metallic smell floated in the air and she wrinkled her forehead, unsure of what it could be from. She sat there for a moment, frozen by the unwelcome feeling that surrounded her, entering even into her deepest thoughts. Managing to shake it off, she quickly closed the door, as if by doing so she could somehow trap that feeling outside.
Breathing heavily, she hurried back to her bed, climbed on top, and crawled to the side furthest from the door. Once she reached the wall, she turned around and faced the door, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Defensively, she pulled her legs close to her chest, not daring to take her eyes off of the closed door in front of her. She didn't know what lay on the other side, but she knew she wanted no part of it. She wanted to wrap herself tightly in her blankets and stay here in her small room, forever isolated from the silent monster that had somehow suddenly entered her life.
Sara Sidle shot up suddenly, breathing heavily as the memories from her dream continued to dance through her mind. The worst part was that it wasn't merely a bad dream. Rather, it was the actual memory of her youth, coming back to her in full force, all too vividly – with all the feelings attached to it.
She looked quickly around her, taking in her surroundings. The dream had been so clear, so real, it still lingered in her mind, leaving her feeling disoriented, full of panic. Gradually, the reality of the dream faded and she began to remember her true circumstances. She was in Grissom's apartment – on his couch. They'd come here after work the previous night, as they often did. They'd spent a calm evening together, enjoying each other's company. The last thing she remembered, they'd been sitting comfortably on the couch. She had been leaning back on him while he had encircled his arms around her as he related some of the finer points of his Walden Pond Seminar to her. She had felt entirely at ease, perfectly content to be in his presence, listening to his mellow voice. Somehow she had drifted off to sleep. If only she'd been able to keep those feelings with her as she slept.
"Sara?" Grissom came in from the next room and looked at her with a small smile on his face. "I thought I heard you." He said simply, cocking his head to one side as he approached her. A look of concern crossed his face as he was able to get a better look at her. She was pale, breathing heavily, looking frazzled and oddly on edge, her hair damp on her forehead. He quickly sat next to her and reached a hand up to gently caress her cheek. "Honey, are you all right? You're shaking." He observed, his voice trailing off as he reached his other hand out to rest on her own cold hand.
"It's nothing." She said simply, trying to calm the tremor in her voice. She felt better now that he was with her, yet strangely guarded. "It was just a bad dream." She added quickly, noticing he wasn't convinced by her initial, vague attempt to dismiss the subject.
"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked gently, looking deeply into her eyes.
"No." She responded quickly. Then, shaking her head, as if doing so would also shake the bad feelings away, she added "I just want to forget about it."
He nodded once, regarding her carefully, making sure she was truly all right, then pulled her close to him. He gently stroked her hair and softly spoke comforting words to her. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly lift off of her. The truth was, the events of that single night of her childhood had turned her life upside-down – had completely challenged everything she'd ever believed in. After that night she'd had to rethink everything she'd ever allowed herself to trust in. The resurfacing of those memories was unsettling, to say the least.
"It's all right." He was whispering soothingly, his voice full of kindness. "It was just a dream. Just calm down." She stiffened slightly at his choice of words. She knew it was just a coincidence, knew he could have no way of knowing what she associated those words with. But despite his good intentions, he had managed to pull yet another unwelcome memory up to the front of her mind.