6 months later
Sara tossed the newspaper back on to the table. She had read and reread the story over and over throughout the day. Lincoln Burrows had been exonerated. The story was also all over the television newscasts. Sara flipped through looking for a station covering the story. Then telling herself that she was being crazy she flipped the TV off, and tossed the remote on to the table, where of course it landed on the newspaper making her want to scan it's print again for any mention of Michael. He was dead and she knew this, yet somehow Sara still found it hard to accept. She had gone to his funeral. Though, that hadn't proven anything to her overactive imagination. The casket had been closed. Anyone could have been in there. Those were the things she had told herself the first few weeks. Then she had accepted his death, or at least she had told herself she accepted it. Now Sara was at it again. Just the mention of Michael's brother being aided by an unknown source had sent her mind into overdrive thinking the unknown source could be Michael.
She was going to
drive herself crazy thinking like this.
She pushed her hand
through her hair and settling down on the couch she made herself
think about something other than Michael Scofield. Sara tried
thinking about the Children's clinic she volunteered at 3 days a
week. Since her OD, Sara had been 'let go' at Fox River, which was
fine with her. She couldn't have imagined going back there anyways.
Especially not after...
There she went again. It seemed no matter
what she thought about it would all inevitably lead back to Michael.
The last few nights she had even dreamed of him. She sighed as the
dream came back to haunt her. She had been sitting at a table holding
a small baby, a baby with bright blue eyes. The baby was looking at
her with such an intense look in its eyes, almost like it could see
right through her. That was how Sara had felt when Michael looked at
her all those days at the infirmary. The dream had ended with the
baby crying and Sara's alarm clock going off in unison. And although
technically Michael hadn't been in the dream, Sara knew that the baby
she was holding was his. Sara was so tired of thinking about this!
She needed to get out...needed to go somewhere. But the sad truth
was, Sara really didn't have any friends. She was such a private
person. After her OD she had gone to NA meetings, but she never let
herself get close to other addicts. It was ironic that the people
Sara might actually feel some kind of bond with were also the ones
who could lead her back down the path of self destruction.
With no friends,
Sara spent most of her evenings home alone. Some nights she would
have dinner with her father, but those nights were few and far
between. She got up and went into the bathroom to draw a bath. Maybe
a long hot soak would help relax her. She poured in her favorite
bubble bath. She almost didn't hear the phone ringing over the sound
of the water pouring from faucet. She hurried in to the bedroom and
snatched the receiver up. "Hello", she said slightly out of
breath. Sara listened to the voice on the other end of the line. As
the words were spoken she felt her legs give out. She caught herself
on the edge of the bed and eased herself down to the floor. She knew
the voice on the other end was waiting for a response, but she
couldn't make any words come from her mouth.
What was she supposed
to say? What did one say to the person telling you that your father
was dead? She dropped the phone and curled up on the floor. Why did
everyone she loved always have to leave her?