It's Sara's birthday and she spends it alone thinking of that horrible night. Sounds like a healthy life right?
Kind of ooc.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI nor do I own the song "Ask the Angels" by Patti Smith.
--
It's hard to remember what it felt like. I tried to block it out, almost successfully. He'd come home and grab a beer or two. Not enough to get him drunk, but enough to help him forget what he shouldn't do. When corporal punishment turned into beating your child. It wasn't even the alcohol that made him that way, I don't know what did. But all I know is that when it started the best thing to do was just take it. Recede into your mind and try to imagine you were somewhere else. I'd always think of songs, just play them over and over in my mind until there was nothing left but music.
--
"Laura! What the fuck is this shit you call dinner?!" He yelled. A younger Sara sat in her room, reading a book. She knew what was coming. The sound of heavy work boots followed by a sharp "thud" and the muffled sound of her mother's yelp. There was silence other than the sobs of Laura.
Sara was already preparing for the next beating when she heard the work boots of her father approaching her room."Ask the angels who they're calling, go ask the angels if they're calling to thee " She hummed to herself, closing her brown eyes as the door swung open. "Ask the angels while they're falling, who that person could possibly be" she sang in her head, waiting for that first hit. It came all to soon. Then a second, third, forth, they kept coming. "And I know you got the feeling, you know, I feel it crawl across the floor" she continued to let the music fill her head as she covered her face, and curled up. He was yelling something at her, or maby her mother. Sara was gone now in her head. "And I know it got you reelin' and honey honey the call is for war and it's wild wild wild wild."
This was the longest he'd ever gone. Then... It stopped. But there was screaming still. And warm liquid poured onto her. She dared to open her tear filled eyes to see her mother stabbing her father. 4, 5, 6, 7 more times. It continued until her mother was ripped off of her father. 13 times, the number burned into her memory.
--
You'd think I'd remember that case worker's name, because I couldn't let go of her hand. Anyway, I'm here sitting in my apartment. Alone. Again. Who cares, right? It's not like it's against the law to be alone on your birthday. I took to day off of work to assure no surprise birthday party would be given to me. I don't need some reassurance that people like me that's in the form of cake and fake smiles.
Don't get me wrong, I like the guys. Nick and Warrick are like big brothers to me. Despite me coming in and having to investigate Warrick. Greg has become a really good friend, probably the best I've made since I've moved here. Gil can be a bit oblivious to everything around him, but I've come to admire that about him. Wendy, Mandy, Bobby, and Sofia have always had my back, and provided small talk in between cases.
Suddenly a phone interrupts my trail of thought. "Fuck. who could that be?" I complain, my voice falls on no ears. It could be one of two things. One: The team calling to wish me a happy birthday. Two: Gil or Catherine calling me into work. Either way I'm not picking up that phone. I just let the sharp ringing fill the room until my answering machine picks up. "Sidle. Leave a message" the machine states. A very demanding machine if you ask me. The next voice is very expected. "Geez Sara, you'd have to have the black plague to miss work." A strong southern voice says. It's Nick, but I can hear others too.
"Give me the phone!" Greg says in the back round. "One minute!" Nick snaps at him. "I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, here's Greg"
"Hey Sara! What's with skipping work on your birthday!? You know we wanted to buy you breakfast!" He pouts. "Anyway, happy birthday! Here's Warrick!"
"Looks like you're 'Never miss a day of work' streak is finally broken." He kids before saying what everyone else has said "Happy Birthday, I missed you at work!"
After Warrick pretty much every lab tech, Sofia, Brass, Gil, and even Ecklie said their "Happy birthdays" and made their friendly comments. What the hell? did everyone stay after work just to do this? And doesn't this message machine cut off at any point? Finally the final person makes their message.
"Hey, it's Catherine." Why would she want to wish my a happy birthday? We can hardly say 'Good morning' to each other "We should get drinks this weekend to celebrate." Wait what? "See you at work tomorrow" and the message ends.
I listen to the message once more and frown at the machine as if it just told me some bad news. It's weird how a group of friends leaving a cheerful message has left me feeling so... Empty. I brush off the message and walk to my bathroom . Where I undress and climb in the shower.
--
It was Sara's 15th birthday. She lost count of how many foster homes she'd been in. This one was a litter better than the others though: they let her stay home alone without locking up all the knifes. The lanky brunette was filling up a bath when her mind wandered to that night. To every lonely night since that horrible night. To every time she got those looks. She'd had enough.
She turned up her music and laughed bitterly at the song. "Well this is ironic" she said to herself as she grabbed a knife. Just as she climbed into the tub Patti Smith's voice boomed over the silence. "Ask the angels: who they're calling, go ask the angels if they're calling to thee" The words from the song were enough to cause her to drag the blade over her wrists. "Ask the angels while they're falling, who that person could possibly be" Blood poured out into the water, and she began to hope no one would come home anytime soon. "And I know you got the feeling, you know, I feel it crawl across the floor" Now came the time to wait. She was cold, and beginning to become dizzy. "And I know it got you reelin' and honey honey the call is for war and it's wild wild wild wild." Everything was dark. It was going to be okay.
--
Yeah well it wasn't. My foster mother at the time came home early and saved my life. I still wish she'd come home just ten minutes later. Just ten.
Oh wait, I've been in the shower for like an hour now. I quickly turn of the now cold water and step out. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror as I dry off. I feel too lazy to get dressed right now, so I just lay on my bed in a towel and stare at the walls.
Then, a novel idea passes through my head: I have a gun. It will be fast, and no one can stop me. A surge of happiness fills me, and I practically jump up. I'll have to put some clothes on because I'd hate for someone to find my naked. Boxers and a tank top should be enough.
I quickly put on the clothes and go to my night stand table. My heart's beating fast already as I slowly open the drawer. I grab my standard issue gun and make my way to my living room to turn on some music. I flip on the switch, and you'd never guess what was on at the moment.