Based on a young Sara, probably about 16, should make sense when you read it.
One-Shot, I own nothing GSR (in a distant warped way)
It is a bit weird, but hey ho, never mind aye?
Let me know if theres anything you don't get or I confuse you or just letting me know if you love it hate it or don't care about it.
Sara slammed the door without a break in her speed and collapsed onto her bed.
What was it with this place? None of the carers understood her, and none of them bothered trying. They complained when she stayed in that she never went out and that she couldn't let her circumstances stop her having a life. Then when she went out they complained that they didn't know where she was or if she was safe. She told them where she was going, they ignored her. She arranged to go somewhere and the guy who said he would take her was sat in the office smoking, saying that he were too busy to take her while she knew that he had a dirty magazine under the table and that he would open it the moment she left. Or her social worker would say that she didn't have time to take her when she'd been promising her for the last week that she would take her, when Sara then 10 minutes later would see her at the local take-away, sat by herself, her cell turned off.
Whatever she did, she did it wrong. She spent too much time in her books, so she stopped reading as much and she got told off for causing trouble when she wanted a different TV channel on, so she did homework and got into trouble for being unsociable, so she socialised and then got told off for her grades going down.
She tried to find the balance between them all but could never manage it.
She was always the girl whose father was killed, the murderers daughter, even the carers seemed to know her by those names. In the end she gave up fighting it and did what she wanted.
She lay on her bed after yet another fight. She closed her eyes and pressed her head closer to the quilt to darken them even more. She fought to keep her mind empty.
Unbidden an image arose in her minds eye, a man, she didn't know who he was. She knew nothing about him except that he always appeared whenever she needed peace, whenever she felt the need for a home, he was always there.
She tried to stifle the image, she didn't need to see him again, tempting her with a life she could never have. In the end she succumbed and watched the images in front of her.
He was in an office, a pig in a jar on one of the shelves, collections of butterflies on the walls, a fridge which she somehow knew contained dead locusts which he would eat when he needed energy.
She watched him absorbed in his work. He had a sheet in front of him, with some chemical names on it, next to it a sheet with peaks on which she recognised as a DNA graph, various photos were over his desk. She could tell that he was thinking.
She was aware of a door opening behind her in the vision, she saw the shadow from it fall across his desk.
She heard someone say something and knew they said his name but the memory of it slipped from her mind though she grasped to keep hold of it, it was a pointless as trying to hold water in her hand. The slightest trace remained but not enough to get anything from. She knew she had heard his name, she just didn't listen to it.
She gave up trying to work out a way to explain it or even understand it.
The man looked up and seemed to look straight through her at the person in the doorway. She felt a strange pull to the person in the doorway. She recognised the person in an impossible way, she seemed to know the person behind her as well as she knew herself. But for some reason couldn't turn around and look at her.
She was aware of the man replying, but failed to catch any words.
He looked back down at his work for a moment before looking back up, directly at her.
Even though she wasn't there, she felt as though his eyes were looking into her, into her soul and that they saw everything she had ever known herself.
She gasped as the gaze managed to intensify in an explicable way. She opened her real eyes and rolled over on the bed to cover her vision with real images. She could still feel the eyes looking at her and still feel their gaze piercing her.
She shut her eyes again. The man seemed to shake his head and gather the things together which were on his desk before walking out of the room.
She glanced around as the office dissolved around her and she became aware of the actual setting around her.
She found that she was breathing deeply.
She couldn't get her mind off of those eyes, those piercing, amazing, peace-bringing blue eyes.