Ghost of the Past
My Immortal by Evanescence
Disclaimer: Though I wish to the contrary, I do not own CSI or any of the characters related to the show. The song contained in the short story is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I don't own it either.
Author's Note: I wrote this while listening to the song on repeat. In my opinion, I think it's kind of how Sara felt after Natalie put her under the car to die. If you like it, maybe you like it enough to leave a review. If you don't like it, but you want to tell me why you don't like it, please do it constructively.
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The two figures stood on opposite side of a gloomy, empty room. There was no furniture; just four dark walls, a floor, and a ceiling. From one side of the room, Sara Sidle watched the kid with the haunted eyes. The young girl stared back at her not saying a word. Sara wasn't sure what she was going to do but she knew that any decision to be made had to be made soon. They couldn't exist together, in this half life. Sara knew that she needed to take care of the kid before her life could go on.
"Why are you here?" Sara asked.
"Because you need to move forward with you're life and you've finally decided to face your past."
"Why now?"
"This time it was your choice. I didn't force it for once."
"What am I going to do with you, kid?"
"I am you. I'm part of you. There's nothing to DO with me."
Sara knew that what the little girl said was partially true. The kid was her younger self; the one still hiding in the corner trying not to be seen. The one who held back the person Sara was trying to be. This kid was the one ghost of her past that she could never seem to get rid of. She was the incarnation of all Sara's fears, insecurities, and repressed feelings that could never come to light. Sara had spent most of her teenage and adult life locking the little girl away in dark rooms, trying to keep the younger her from taking over the life the older Sara wanted to lead. Too many of her relationships had been ruined by the little escape artist.
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because you presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
"Why won't you just leave?" Sara's voice broke as she asked the question
"I've been trying to leave ever since that night! You keep locking me back up!"
"What other choice did I have? Every time you escaped that room something in my life would get screwed up. I had to keep you locked in there. It was the only way I could have peace of mind."
"You could have dealt with me. I escaped so often because you kept hiding me away. I had no other choice. You weren't dealing with that tragedy well. By escaping I was trying to force you to deal with me."
"Why do I have to do anything with you?"
"You – I – We've never recovered from watching mom kill dad. We hid watching as she stuck that knife in his chest over and over again. Then, when we were in foster care, you never once talked about it; not to a teacher, social worker, or foster parent. You barely even talked about it with Gil and only then because he pushed you into a corner. Mom killed dad. It's something that you have to accept. It's the only way I'll every go away."
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
"What the earliest and clearest memory you have, Sara?"
"Summer vacation after first grade. Mom and dad had just purchased the B&B. The beach was only a ten minute walk from home. Mom and dad spent most of that summer getting it all read for winter. We painted a lot. I got to choose the color of my room. Daddy hadn't really started drink heavily yet. I remember one Saturday spent at the beach. We swam and played, had a cook out and a bonfire. I got to stay up real late and sleep in the next morning. I made a few friends because they thought my parents were really cool."
"Do you remember what dad did that night? The yelling? The fight? Do you remember what mom looked like the next morning?"
"Stop it! Nothing happened." Sara yelled at the girl.
"That day at the beach, which is such a good memory for you, is a horrible memory for me. Dad got really drunk that day and when we got home he started yelling at mom. He said that she was strutting around on the beach for all the men to look at her. He said she was doing it on purpose. Then he started yelling about all those friends that you had made coming over to eat our food that he had worked soooo hard to provide. Mom yelled back that it was good for you to make friends and that he hadn't provided anything except the beer, which none of your friends had consumed. Do you remember what happened next? Do you?"
"Why are you saying that? It was a good day!" Sara declared.
"You're so stubborn. I remember the crack of his hand against her cheek. It echoed like a gunshot in the house. Then it got really quiet for a few minutes. Dad slammed the front door as he left and mom started sobbing. You hid in the closet until it got quiet and then crawled out to go to bed. Do you remember the next morning?"
"Dad was in the kitchen cooking breakfast like nothing had happened. He was whistling some tune. He handed you a plate and then mom came in. He walked over and hugged her as if he hadn't created the bruise on her face. That was the beginning of the end of our family."
"It didn't happen again until a few months later. Business was going good; dad cooked the food, mom check guests in and out, and you cleaned up the rooms. Dad got mad because he thought one of the guests was paying too much attention to mom. He got drunk after dinner one night and took his frustrations out on mom. That's when I showed up. Anything that you didn't want to deal with was given to me. All the fighting, the yelling, and the abuse that you don't remember is because I have it."
"He'd used his belt on her that night. Her arm broke when she tried to defend herself. It just made him madder that she wouldn't just take it." Sara remembered.
"I cried and cried for someone to help her but no one could hear me. Not even you."
"I wanted to help her but I didn't know how. All I could think was that she should just pack up and leave him or kick him out. I did hear you but I couldn't find a way to answer you. So I did what I could in my own six year old way."
When you cried I wiped away all of your tears
When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
"I guess in some ways, I wanted to be you, kid. You got to hide in that corner of my mind, watching everything that was happening but not having to interact with it."
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away the sanity in me
"Do you know why mom had finally had enough of dad? Or are you still blocking that out?"
"I guess mom got tired of being his punching bag. She worked up enough guts to defend herself against him." Sara said.
"She wasn't defending herself, she was defending you."
"Why would she need to defend me? Dad never really bothered with me when he was drunk. I stayed out of his way just to make sure that he never noticed me."
"Ahh, but that night you did something that made your presence known."
"I broke a glass. I stood on a chair to get a cup down so I could get a drink. I grabbed one of my cups and knocked another one down at the same time. Dad yelled something but mom came in to help me clean it up. She sent me up to bed afterwards."
"What happened next?"
"I don't know! I don't remember!" The agony and pleading in Sara's voice reverberated in the room. Sara leaned against the wall and slid down, wrapping her arms around her knees. She started rocking back and forth as memories long suppressed started floating to the surface.
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I wiped away all of your tears
When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
"Think Sara!! Use that big brain of yours for something other than solving crimes. Which cup did you break? What happened after mom sent you to bed?" The urgency in the kid's voice forced and answer from Sara.
"I was climbing the stairs and I heard dad come into the kitchen. Mom was still sweeping the floor to make sure all the glass was picked up. Dad asked her what happened and mom said that I had accidentally broken a glass. I saw dad look into the garbage can."
"Which glass did you break, Sara?"
"It was dad's favorite. The one he likes to stick in the freezer until it gets really cold. It's the one he likes to drink beer out of."
"What happened after he looked in the trash can?"
"He got really mad. He started yelling at mom about what an ungrateful, no-good brat I was. I was going to be taught a lesson. He started taking off his belt. Mom was pleading with him, telling him that it was just an accident; that I hadn't meant to do it. I guess it didn't matter to him. He took off his belt and started heading towards the stairs. Mom started pounding on his back with her fists. He back handed her into the counter. He said that he was going to teach me a lesson and then her. She grabbed a knife from the counter, it wasn't very big; just a paring a knife. She kept shoving it into his chest."
"She was making sure the he could never harm you." The girl's voice sounded hollow and metallic. Sara looked up from her position on the floor. Where a solid vision of her younger self once stood, there was now a translucent version.
"What's going on? Where are you going?"
"You're finally beginning to accept the fact that mom is not the villain in your life story. You're accepting all those memories that you tried so hard to keep locked up. It's up to you now." With those final words, young Sara was gone, leaving the other alone.
I've tried to tell myself you're gone
And though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
Sara blinked as the harsh light of day filled the darkness of her room. She rolled into her pillow and sobbed. Hot tears slid down her cheeks as dark and miserable memories made themselves known. She cried until there were no tears left to cry. She dried her face and sat up.
"It's up to me now."
Sara reached for the phone on the side of her bed. The ten digit number popped easily into her head. She heard it ring once, twice before a voice said, "Hello?"
"Mom? Can I come over?"