Hmmm... my turn. The last chapter was amazing. Let's see if I can keep it up.

Enjoy the update

Sara's POV

Groggily I open my eyes. I am met by a blinding whiteness. Snapping my eyes shut I slowly try again. Glancing around I realize I am lying in a hospital bed, "Fuck! Not again," I whisper bitterly. I was not supposed to wake up. This was supposed to be over. My life was supposed to be over. Disappointment floods me. I needed life to be over.

Anger quickly follows. This is my third attempt and each time I wake up in a fucking hospital! How the hell did I end up here this time? Anger hot and blinding is flowing freely through me. "Ah Ms. Sidle," A quiet voice says making me jump. Turning my head a cheerful looking woman hustles into the room. "You gave everyone a right scare with your little act there." I ignore her words. I know she is trying to make me feel guilty about what I've done. I don't feel guilty though. Only fury, confusion, and disappointment live within me.

"How the fuck did I end up here!?" I snap. Not bothering to keep my voice down.

"I think you know very well why you are here Ms. Sidle." I examine her as she checks my IV.

"Fine let me rephrase my question then. WHO IS THE FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO SAVED ME!?" I swear to god when I get my hands on whomever it is I am going to…

"I did," replies a tired, quiet voice. Propping myself up so I can see around the nurse I catch a glimpse of a figure in the doorway. Well I'll be damned. That was the last person I expected to see…

Catherine Willows.

The nurse leaves the room and Catherine begins to come closer. Her cheeks are tear stained and vibrant blue eyes bloodshot. As she gets closer I can tell she is slightly shaking. She is in the same clothes she had on at the lab yesterday. A black button up shirt and black jeans.

The momentary shock at her appearance has subsided and I can feel the anger coming back at full force. "What the fuck Catherine! God damn it I was doing you a favor! I'm better use to you dead aren't I? So why in hell's name didn't you just let me die!?"

I watch her opening and closing her mouth as she stares at me. A fresh wave of tears is streaming down her face. "I went to your house to apologize…" Her eyes become distant and I can tell she is reliving every moment up until now. I should feel guilty. I should want to comfort her. I should want to fix things.

I feel nothing.

I roll over so that I am facing the wall with my back to her. Staring straight ahead I say quietly, "I wanted to die."

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In the darkness I stare up at the ceiling. The emptiness inside me is overwhelming.

Turning my head I watch the slumbering form beside me. I ignored Catherine. I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want her here. After all that she did you think I could get a break from her. She was the last person I ever expected to hit me. She was the last person I expected to keep me from ending it all. I can't stand looking at her.

Yet I am drawn in my hollow state to her. At some point I dozed back off. When I woke up Catherine had pulled a chair over to the side of my bed, curled up, and fallen asleep in it.

I don't understand why she is still here. Why she even stayed after she was certain I was alive and in the hospital. She has made so many things perfectly clear to me. I know that I was doing her a favor even if she won't admit it.

Maybe she couldn't live with allowing me to die on her conscience.

Her eyes flutter open reveling stormy blue pools. For a moment we stare at each other. A dormant emotion begins to stir deep within me. Something unrecognizable. Something I only feel around the woman sitting in front of me.

I turn back over to face the wall. I want to savor the numbness before my demons return along with a whirlwind of emotions. Before I am forced to remember every second of every day why I tried to kill myself. Why I have always wanted to kill myself.

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I groan as a voice I do not recognize interrupts my dreams. Opening my eyes I blink a few times attempting to make my vision less blurry. Looking in the direction of the voice I find a red headed man watching me. "What?" I ask with a horse voice.

"I need to check your stitches Ma'am." I send him a death glare, but he pretends not to see it. Glancing around the room while I wait for him to be done I notice that Catherine is no longer here. "Took her long enough," I mumble to myself.

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that." I read the guys name tag 'Colin.'

"Nothing." Suddenly it hits me like a punch to the stomach.

It's back.

Crawling beneath my skin. Searching for a point of weakness. Ready to consume me. Waiting for the perfect opportunity when I am fragile. Emotions make me weak, but how long can I keep up the emptiness?

"Well Miss your stitches are fine. I will be back to check up on you later." As he leaves I hear a door open on the opposite side of the room than Colin is leaving. Changing the direction of my focus I let out a frustrated grunt.

Exiting the bathroom is a showered and changed Catherine. She locks eyes with me and I try my hardest to turn away, but something in the depths of those eyes keeps me captivated. Fear. Never have I seen Catherine show her fear. I thought that besides for anger she was unshakeable. Untouchable. But I know I am not mistaken; panic is rapidly filling the darkest depths of those pools.

As she sits back in her chair anger rises within me. What the fuck does she think she is doing!?

I realize I have let my guard down but it is too late. Images of Catherine's fury soar in front of my eyes. I can feel the sting of her hand colliding with my face. I can feel bile rising in my throat. The look of hatred in her eyes. A burning sensation. Her expression when she snapped.

I lean over the side of the bed and empty the contents of my stomach. I can feel Catherine holding my hair and rubbing my back. I try to block it out. I can't have her touching me. Not now. Even after I have finished the images start flashing faster and faster in front of me. Tears are threatening to fall.

Taking deep breaths I attempt to calm myself. I try to block out Catherine's touches. I quickly turn back onto my back so that I can stare at the ceiling. I cannot bring myself to even spare Catherine a glance.

Her hand caresses my forehead as she moves strands of hair from my face. Instead of soothing me her touch stings and tears at me. "Don't touch me," I say with venom that is backed by a level of anger I have never experienced before.

When I force my eyes to connect with hers she takes a few steps back. I want to hurt the woman standing in front of me. Hurt her as much as she has hurt me. I want her to feel the pain. Understand the torture I have to live with everyday. I want her to experience the inexplicable agony that I feel. That she has contributed to. I want her to understand that she made a mistake.

I want her to understand why she should have left me to die.

"I'm going to go find someone to clean up. I'll be back."

"Don't bother," I mumble as she starts to leave the room. She freezes for a moment but then continues on as if she didn't hear me.

For a brief second I consider ripping my stitches while she is gone, but it is a waste of effort. Catherine will just come back and play hero again.

Catherine re-enters the room looking nervous. She sits back down. I wait for the man that followed her in to finish and leave the room. The smell of death and bleach is even stronger when he is done. I hate hospitals.

"Why are you still here Catherine? Don't you have better things to be doing like fucking men?" I need a release. I want a fight. I want to hurt her. I need to hurt her.

Her jaw flexes in anger, but for once she does not take the bait. I am shocked. She takes advantage of my unbalanced emotions and looks me straight in the eyes. "I'm not leaving you."

I let a harsh, hollow laugh escape from me. Now she cares. Now she won't leave. It takes me almost dying for her to finally start caring. This causes me to laugh even harder.

I can sense Catherine's eyes on me. She is probably trying to judge my sanity. Look at where I am; did she really think I had much sanity left?

I return to staring at the ceiling. "They guys are stopping by later," Catherine says quietly.

"Oh how fan-fucking-tastic." The bitterness in my voice is overpowering.

The scent of cheep alcohol, stale cigarettes, and BO catches me off guard. It is enveloping me. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow. There is a weight pressing down on my chest. Sitting up I curl my legs into myself and bury my face in my knees trying to calm down. Trying to fight off the lingering smells of my past.

"Sara?" Catherine asks cautiously."What's wrong?" It feels as if someone has pressed a cloth over my mouth as the pressure in my chest increases. "Hey Sar calm down. It's okay." I can feel Catherine beside me. Hesitating to touch me. "Breathe sweetheart. Breathe." As I listen to her voice it distracts me from what is happening. I can feel my breathing evening out. "It's going to be okay Sar."

My head snaps up. "NO IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY CATHERINE! You have no clue what you have done. I should have died. You should have let me die!"

I turn to face the wall once again. I don't have to turn around I can hear her shallow breathing. I can picture the tears rolling down her porcelain skin.

Why do I have to be this way? Why do I have to be so horrible to Catherine? She didn't know my needs when she stopped me from leaving the pain behind. The glistening of the knife returns to me. The sight of it sinking deep into my father's chest. Now I remember. I remember why I want to cause her pain. Why I verbally lash out since I could never physically hurt her.

I could never bring myself to physically hurt another unless I my life was threatened.

I hear many voices coming closer. I turn on my back so that I can observe the people without talking to them. I can place the voices to faces immediately. Warrick enters the room first followed by Greg, Nick, Gil, David, Brass, and Doc. Robbins. Instantly they become quiet. I examine them as they look at each other unsure of what to do or say, and then they return their attention to me. All of their eyes are burning holes in my skin. I can see Catherine making an effort to pull herself together.

I move my eyes to the ceiling, but soon their presence becomes too overwhelming for me. I turn my back to them and hope they will leave soon. I hear footsteps crossing the room followed by Warrick's hushed words to Catherine, "Do you want to go home for a while?" I can't hear Catherine's reply, but I know she is too stubborn to go anywhere. "Are you going to be okay girl?" Again I do not hear Catherine's words. Perhaps there are none. "Okay."

I am relieved they gave up their endeavor to visit me. Now all I have to do is put up with Catherine. The room rings with their voices as they say goodbye to Catherine and I.

If only I could get Catherine to leave too.

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I haven't turned around since the team was here. Darkness has fallen upon the room. I can feel Catherine's presence behind me although I am unsure if she is sleeping or not. She hasn't bothered with the lights. I have lost all sense of time beyond whether it is day or night.

Hands roaming my body. Rough lips on mine. Foreign scents lingering around me. Warm blood soaking me. Fire running through my veins. Cold steel biting at my skin.

Tears start to fall. I allow them to shake my whole body silently.

Being pushed down the stairs. Through a glass door. Their words ring in my ears. Catherine's voice slicing me like a knife. Her hand against my face. Determination. Screams. Victims. Young rape victims. Hate crimes. Senseless actions.

Catherine's chair creeks. A weight is on the bed behind me. She is rubbing circles on my back. I cover my face not wanting Catherine to see my tears. My weakness. It is a little late for that, but I still must hide it as much as I can.

Catherine leaves the bed. I can hear footsteps. There is a hand on mine trying to pull it away from my face. I give in and she removes both of my hands. "You don't have to do this alone Sara," she whispers. I can hear the concern in Catherine's tone. The fear in her tone, but no traces of pity. She holds my hands tightly. I can sense her watching me. Getting a good view of my weakness.

I'm sure she believes I am fragile. That I am pathetic. I try to raise my hands back to my face, but she refuses to let go. She refuses to let me hide. "I'm here Sara. I'm here," she reassures me quietly. Her words do little to calm me.

They have the reverse effect. They cause me to cry harder. I didn't want to drag anyone else into my battle. Least of all Catherine. She has so many other things to do. She has a daughter to worry about. She tightens her grip on my hands to reinforce her presence.

Finally the tears subside. Catherine is still holding my hands. Opening my eyes I stare directly into her clear blue ones. She has crouched beside the bed so that we are eye level. She sends me a small smile. I don't return it. Emotions swirling in my mind. Catherine squeezes my hands and then gets back up to return to the chair.

For the first time I feel guilty. I turn and observe her curled up in that wooden chair. It has to be uncomfortable. Despite my feelings toward her at the moment, she is the first person to ever stay with me. The first person to care enough to stay. She is also showing no signs of going anywhere despite my protests.

"You should sleep." I am surprised with myself. The first civil words I have spoken to her so far. I watch her close her eyes. "Not in the chair Catherine." She opens her eyes and stares at me puzzled. "I'm not going to bother to try and get you to leave, because I know you won't, but you have been in that chair for two days." I move over to one side of the bed.

Surprise is clearly playing across her face. Ripping her eyes from the spot on the bed she gazes at me again trying to figure out if she is interpreting my meaning correctly. "Are you sure?" She sounds uncertain.

"Yes." She stands up and sits on the bed beside me. "Lay down. You need to sleep." I cannot comprehend why I am suddenly concerned about her well being. I roll my eyes at her as she lies down on top of the covers. I pull the blankets from beneath her and cover her with them. "Sleep," I tell Catherine before turning around, and listening to the sound of her breathing.

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Sitting on the bed I stare around the room. Light blue walls meant to calm patients, a desk, a barred window, a bed, and a dresser. That's all there is for me to look at. No possible way for anyone to hurt themselves. This isn't the first time I've been in one of these programs. I know how it works. Depending on how fast I make progress I should be out of here in about a month.

I have just had my first group therapy. A whole week closely monitored.

A whole week I have been caged in.

I wouldn't be here if the hospital hadn't forced me to be. If I do not complete what is required here they will refuse to release me.

My stomach growls. I know there are a few more hours until dinner. Until I am a level two I cannot be allowed out of my room on my own.

The door opens and Cheryl the nurse walks in. "Ms. Sidle you have a phone call." I was approved for phone calls on the second day.

I glance at the stack of slips on the dresser. My unread messages. All from one person. "Who is it?"

"Catherine Willows."

I let out a sigh. "I don't want to talk to her."

TBC...