Disclaimer: I own nothing... yet... not lawyers needed
"Hey Sara, is it true your mom went crazy?" Melissa taunted loudly from across the cafeteria. "She's a murderer and you're going to be just like her. Wait and see." Twelve year old Sara Sidle looked up to see the whole school was looking at her as Melissa went on, sitting in the middle of "cool kids" table. "That's why you have to live with the Denton's, 'cause your mom's in the loony bin, or- is it jail?"
Sara could feel her chest tighten. Closing her eyes she tried to shut out the voices of laughter and ridicule. Her eyes were filling with tears, but she was determined not to let anyone see her cry or even have an inking that their words were torturing her soul. Maybe there is a murder gene, she thought. If there was, did she have it? The thought scared the hell out of her, but it also gave her a thought.
"Melissa." Sara stood up. "Are you sure you want to be mean to me then. Maybe one day, you'll find you can't wake up because you're- dead," she added emphasis for effect. Unfortunately at the moment, Carol Humburg, the lunch monitor came in and heard her.
"Sara Sidle. Outside. Now." While Melissa and her friends laughed, Sara quickly gathered her things and headed toward the exit.
"Ooo- Now you've done it, Sidle," Chessie, Melissa's best friend whispered as she passed. Dropping her contents into the trash can, Sara walked out the double door to see Ms. Humburg and Vice Principle Michaels. Without saying a word, Michaels motioned for her to follow them down the hall and into her office.
Sitting down into the chair across from her, the vice principle started interrogating her but Sara remained silent. Staring out the window, she thought about being somewhere, anywhere else, but here.
"Do you hear me, Miss Sidle? This is very serious. You don't go around talking about killing people, even if it is a joke, it's not funny." For the first time, Sara looked at the vice principal. "I'm going to have to call your foster parents and let them know that you're suspended for three days."
"For what!" Sara jumped out her chair.
"For threatening someone's life!" She threw back at her.
"I wasn't… I didn't… you didn't hear- everything," she ended in a whisper.
"No. I didn't. But, I have a pretty good idea what was said before hand."
"You couldn't've," Sara mumbled.
"Excuse me?" the vice principle asked pointedly as she picked up the phone. As Sara watched her dial the numbers to her foster mother's work, she knew she'd be in for it tonight- worse than usual and she started to feel sick. "Yes, hello," Ms. Michaels sounded sickly sweet, "can I speak with Mrs. Denton please," after a moment, "Regarding Sara Sidle. Thank you."
"I can't believe you! You stupid girl! What were you thinking?" Helen Denton screamed at the shrunken girl sitting the back seat. "I can't believe this! I knew we never should've taken you. Maybe we should just send you back. You've been nothing but trouble since you got here!" she raged on. "Just wait until Ray gets home." Sara fought back the tears. She never asked to be put in this situation; her father was dead, her mother was in the psych ward, and her brother had been shipped off to live with someone else. She didn't like being there as much as she wasn't wanted, especially when Ray got home.
Helen was bad enough, with all the verbal and mental abuse, she was getting better at tuning it out, but when Ray got home, it was ten times worse. Sara suspected, and was probably right; they only kept her around for the monthly check. Less than six months had passed since she first went into foster care and she's been passed around to three different families. She didn't even know where Michael had ended up. Finally the car pulled into the drive way and Sara was released from her steel prison, unfortunately, she was just about to step foot into another one.
Slamming the front door shut, Sara raced up the stairs to the bathroom. The tears she'd been holding back all day threatened to pour out; blinking rapidly, she forced herself to not cry. Making sure the door was securely locked she pulled out a sock a small silver razor from underneath the false bottom in her top right hand side drawer. Glancing at the mirror, she noticed how her face resembled her mothers. Same nose, same mouth, same eyes. For the second time that day she wondered, Could there really be a murder gene. Clutching the items, she slid down the wall, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she pulled her pant leg up and gently pressed down on her existing scar watching the red drops seep out of her. All the pent up frustration from the day came flowing out as she finally released her tears.
"Sara? Sara? SARA?" a voice pulled her back into the present. "Where did you go just then?" Sara looked up to see Grissom staring at her from across the lay out table.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Where did you go just then?" he repeated his question.
"I, ah, was just thinking about…" she trailed off, picking up the pictures that were spread out before her. This poor child, she thought. Looking at the picture in her hand, she noticed the thin scars on the victims left arm. She couldn't have been much older than me when I…
"What are you thinking?" Grissom tried to catch her before she got lost again in her thoughts.
"She's a self harmer," Sara whispered. Raising his eye brow, Grissom studied her.
"She wasn't attacked by the intruder. See the scars on her left arm, they aren't new. She, she was a self mutilator." Grissom watched Sara silently as she put down the photo and glanced down at her own left arm, pulling her sleeves further down; tears were forming in her eyes. The look was one of understanding. No, he thought. Not, Sara. Not his Sara. How did he not realize it before? How could the scars have escaped his notice? Just as he was about to open his mouth something stopped him. This couldn't be something he brought up; she needed to bring it to him. Walking around the table, Grissom stood beside Sara looking at the pictures displayed before them.
He knows. He can tell. Sara thought to herself not being able to meet Grissom's eyes. She knew she couldn't look into those cool blue eyes and keep her secret. He wants me to tell him. I can feel his eyes on me. I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone. It was…It is… my secret.
Shifting uncomfortably, Sara collected the photographs and put them in numerical order of how she thought the scene was beginning to play out. Looking at the rest of the pictures that were taken in the hospital, Sara started noticing more scars on the victim's body; arms and legs were covered in tiny one and a half to two inch scars.
"I thought I'd find you guys in here." Capt. Brass said entering the room. "Wow, you could cut the…" Grissom shot a "don't you dare say it" look at the captain. "Fine, fine; but it's true." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the victims name is Elizabeth Woods. She's originally from Ohio and she's on holiday visiting a friend, an Andrea Perkins, she's in the lobby, waiting to talk to you whenever you're ready.
Peering through the glass, Sara saw a young woman with long blonde hair sitting anxiously on the bench. She had no idea how to explain the situation to this girl. Her house was robbed, her friend was injured; but not by the intruder, by her self. Sara wasn't even sure she should tell the girls secret. What if Elizabeth was okay? What if she woke up? Would she want her secret to be revealed? Feeling suddenly cold, Sara could hear the sounds of the day when the first and last person ever found out about her secret.
"Sara, open the door," said a small voice. "C'mon. I know you're in there."
"I'll be out in a second," called a delayed voice. Sara quickly finished wrapping up her arm and pulled down her sleeve. Her arm was starting to hurt a little as she stuffed the sock and razor back into her back pack. Stepping out of the stall, Sara came face to face with her best friend, Madison; Maddie, for short was tall with red hair, striking green eyes, and a warm inviting smile.
Sara didn't grow up with a lot of friends and Maddie's friendship still surprised her. She had been moved to yet another foster home, but this time it was a little better; she had been placed with the same family as Michael, who, when they had found out that child services had separated them immediately asked for custody of Sara as well.
The Jameson family lived two towns over, which also meant that Sara was able to transfer schools. On her first day, Sara walked anonymously through the halls reading Moby Dick for the millionth time when Maddie had come over to her and complimented her on her taste in fiction and with that their friendship was sealed.
"Talk to me, Sar." Maddie's eyes met Sara's reluctant ones.
"It's... nothing."
"I'm not falling for that one, Sara Lynn Sidle," Maddie said in a mock stern voice. Looking down, she noticed something under Sara's jacket. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Sara said immediately.
"Yes. You are. Let me see."
"Maddie, wait!" Sara pleaded, but it was too late.
"What happened," Maddie demanded still holding onto Sara's arm.
"Nothing, I swear."
"Tell me, or I'm taking you to Dr. V." As Sara yanked her arm out of Maddie's grip and her bag went flying.
"Sara, please tell me what's going on, please," begged Maddie.
"I want to, Maddie, I do," Sara cried through her sobs; fear filling her eyes, "but, I can't."
"Why?" Maddie's voice cracked as she started sobbing. Sara slid down to the floor, covering her head with her hands. "Sara," Maddie whispered. "I think I know what's going on, but you have to trust me; I'll bring you through this. I swear." Reaching over, she put her arms around Sara and together they sat and cried.
"Are you ready?" Brass stepped behind Sara who jumped.
"Uh, yeah." Silently, they walked into the waiting room.
"Ms. Perkins?" Sara greeted a tall, blond hair girl who stood up immediately.
"Yes," she croaked. "What's going on? I got home. Police cars. Crime tape," she stammered." They wouldn't even let me inside."
"There was a break in at your home today. Miss Woods is at Desert Palm Hospital in critical condition."
Andrea dropped to the bench, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was only gone for a few minutes. I told Lizzie I'd be right back." Sara was unable to look the young woman in the face as she cleared her throat.
"Did, Miss Woods ever talk to you about the scars on her arms?" Sara asked quietly. Andrea looked up.
"Scars? N...no..." she stammered. "Liz always wore long sleeves."
"The intruder didn't attack Elizabeth. Elizabeth, it seems, attacked herself and this wasn't the first time." Sara said finally looking into Andrea's eyes.