Disclaimer: still don't own csi, never have and never will
Thanks for reading and reviewing D
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She sat there at her desk, reading silently, as was the rest of the class. It was usually like this; her sitting there silently, reading and studying until the last bell at the end of the day rang and then she'd walk to the park or to the library. It was always like this, it had been for the past two and a half years, but today was on of those days.
Instead of walking to the library or reading in the park, she walked back to the house of which she currently resided and stuck the key to the house in the keyhole of the doorknob, but just as she was ready to turn it and unlock the door, it opened from the inside. A small boy who also lived here let her and told her something.
"Michael wants to speak with you in his room," he said, his voice was shaky and Sara was starting to think something was wrong, but this place had seemed perfect, well at least it was a lot better than the Bed and Breakfast that she called home before.
She strode down the hallway to the girls' room first to set down her things and see if the younger girls arrived back from elementary school, but none had so she proceeded down the hall and to the first door on the left; Michael's room. Ever since her parents were arrested, she was sent from one place to another. Currently, she resided in southern California, just west of Los Angeles and she lived with six other kids that were somewhat around her own age. Michael Bradford was their, caretaker, so to say. He owned everything they had, save for whatever they had brought with them from where they lived before, but for most it was a change of clothes and some toys or pictures.
Those who only saw Michael outside of the house would have though he was a generous man, doing good for the poor kids who were so unfortunate, but to those who knew him, he was a man just like the people these kids had hoped to stay away from. He was violent, though never because of alcohol, and didn't understand that the kids were there to live happily and get a good education. To him, the kids were there to make him happy and that was their one, soul purpose.
She knocked on the door and heard him mumble something, "Sara? You come in here; I'd like a word with you."
She froze; whenever a kid went in there alone, they never came out the same as when they had entered. She knew that nothing good would come out of her going in there, but she had to do it. If she didn't go in there, she knew she would have it coming to her whenever he found out that she'd fled and might tell someone what he did to them. So, reluctantly, she entered.
And there he was, waiting for her just behind the door, ready to pounce when she came walking through the door.
"Don't you make a sound, you hear? It'll do you no good, screaming out to those kids out there who don't give a damn about you. They won't listen, oh but I care about you Sara. I sure do." As much as she wanted to scream right then, she knew she shouldn't. She had to give herself up to him; she let him do what he did to her, she had no choice.
When he got done with her, he left her on the bed and locked her in the room. But as he left, she nearly broke down. Michael was wrong, outside of that room she knew that the kids were worried about her, just as much as she was worried about them whenever he called them in there. Whether he did this to the other kids or did something worse, she wasn't sure, but she knew that she couldn't do anything about it.
Quietly, she put her clothes back on and returned to her room and after an hour and a half, she fell asleep into a world of nightmares.
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After that one time, she was called in that room once or twice more before she left that house, but even so, nobody but the other kids knew what went on in there. She left that house; inside she was happy and afraid. Even though she was leaving that terror, she could only imagine what other person would be put through that hell after she was gone. She though about how she had carved her name into the wall behind the bed and the dates she had been called into the room; other girls did the same, just to record how much horror they withstood and by the time she left, she had made a few friends that way. Some left with her, some stayed. It was a sad day, a day of leaving one pit of Hell, only to be relocated to another.
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A/N anyone here go on CSI:Guide's forums? Just wondering
Yeah next chapter will be up soon because I can't stop writing this D