At the current moment, Sara was trying to hold back tears. The memories came flooding back to her- the good and the bad.
Her father ran to her room and knocked on the door.
"Sara? Sara, sweetheart, please open the door."
"No!"
"Sara—"
"I said no, dad!"
"Sara, please listen to me. I didn't mean—"
"Then what did you mean, dad? Huh?"
"Sara, I just got mad, and I'm sorry." The door threw open revealing a red-eyed Sara with an angry expression on her face.
"So am I dad," she started. "I'm sorry you're such a big fat jerk! You've been lying to me all these years! All these years saying how much you've loved me- all lies! I can't believe you, dad!"
Her father lost it; he had never done this before to his daughter. Never. He raised his hand to her and slapped her across the face. Then, there was silence. Tears were welling up in the little girl's eyes. Her father was just as shocked as she was.
"Sara, I—"
The little girl backed up, now more frightened than ever.
"Sara, please, I didn't mean to hit you—"
She didn't let him finish and she slammed her door, locking it. She rubbed the skin on her face from where he had hit her- it still stung and the skin was turning red. The next thing she heard made her throw her door open again. She heard a drawer open and metal clinking around.
She looked to see what was happening- her mother was going through the many drawers in the kitchen until she pulled out what she was looking for. It was a huge knife- Sara had seen her father cut hams and turkeys with it before on special occasions.
"Laura, put the knife down…" she heard her father pleading and backing up.
"You stay the hell away from my daughter, you hear me?" her mother screamed. "Don't you lay a finger on her!"
The next thing Sara heard was a cry of pain and fear from her father, and the next thing she saw were his lifeless eyes staring at her. He had a large stab wound in his chest, and a pool of blood was slowly surrounding his body. Her mother dropped the knife to the floor, in shock.
"Mom…" Sara walked closer to her mother and the lifeless body of her father. She bent over her father's body. "Dad? Dad, come on…say something! Dad!" she knew deep down he was dead, but she refused to believe it.
"Sara…" her mother started.
"Dad! Come on! You can't be dead!"
"Sara, I'm sorry—"
"How could you?" Sara stormed standing up. "You're a murderer! You killed dad!"
"Sara…"
"He didn't mean it! I just over-reacted! You killed him! You're not my mother anymore; I don't even know you!"
Her mother walked over to her.
"Now see here, Sara—I was protecting you! I did this to protect you, you hear me?" she said putting her hands on the little girl's shoulders.
"Don't touch me!" Sara said hitting her hands away. She ran to her room and grabbed the phone dialing 9-1-1.
Sara was now asleep. The book she had been reading had fallen to the floor of the break room. She quickly opened her eyes, hearing clearly in her mind-
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
And then, her small and scared voice was on the other line.
"P-Please help me!"
Then, back to the operator.
"What's wrong? Are you alone?"
"N-No…my mom…she just killed my dad!"
She felt the tears well up in her eyes as the scene unfolded in front of her yet again. She looked down at her watch. It was time to go see her mother. She sighed as she picked the fallen book off of the floor and headed out of the lab.
She jumped into her Denali and drove to the penitentiary slowly. When she arrived, she got out, taking a deep breath. She walked up to the building.
Inside, she saw all of the other inmates- male and female. They were all staring at her with cold, lifeless eyes- they reminded her of her father's last glance at her. She turned away. A guard led her to the front desk.
"Who are you here to see?" asked a woman on the other side of the desk.
Sara took another deep breath before speaking.
"Laura Sidle; I'm her daughter, Sara."
TBC…