Chapter 6
Dr. Case caught Sara's eyes before asking, "Where was Grissom while you were being chosen by this man?"
"He, uh, I don't remember. He had gone to check on something, it seems so far away, everything that happened before that moment. He had gone to find a key I think. When he came back with security Adam had the…whatever…to my throat."
"What did Grissom do? Did he pull you away?" Not letting her eyes go, Dr. Case pressed on.
"They were locked out."
"Answer the question. What did he do, say?"
"He told the guard to open the door. He had the wrong key, Gris told him to open it anyway." Sara remembered it as if she were seeing it from Grissom's perspective for the first time. "His voice, it was so controlled, low and completely in control. He just kept saying, 'Open the door. Please open the door."
"But knowing the guard didn't have the key, an illogical request. That doesn't sound like the Grissom you've described to me."
Sara withdrew her gaze, her hands smoothed her jeans at her thighs. "He kept his eyes locked to mine, he didn't even look at what he was doing. He was telling him to open the door but it felt like he was trying to somehow stop what was happening just by keeping our line of vision."
"How did that make you feel?"
"Safe. Only I think Adam knew that because he yelled at me to look at the floor, so I looked away. That was the hardest thing to do."
"Obviously they got to you in time. Then what?"
"Adam cut his own throat when Grissom came in with the nurse who turned out to be his mother." Sara immediately disengages with this information. She loses her focus and becomes nervous.
"What did you do? Did you stay close to him, try to stop him, run from him?"
"I ran, or walked, it felt like running, to the window. I could still feel his hands on me. I didn't try to help him."
"Did he go to you?"
"Grissom? Yeah, but he kept his distance. I told him about my mom, about how she was in a place like that for a while. I told him that crazy people make me feel crazy." Sara's throat got tight; it was clear there was so much more she wasn't letting rise to the surface.
"Do sane people make you feel sane?"
The thought hadn't occurred to her.
"Nothing makes me feel sane. Sane people just help me not notice for awhile I guess."
"Kind of like working obsessively?"
Sara smiled sheepishly, "Maybe."
"How did Grissom react to what you said?"
The long legs protected her chest again, her chin dipping behind her knees. "He said he could replace me." Anger dripped from her words, more than hurt or fear Sara's anger permeated the room.
A small smile played at the corners of Dr. Case's lips, which from her was as good as a belly laugh. "How did you choose to filter that?"
"I knew what he meant, I reacted to what he meant. I told him I appreciated it, but I had made a choice to move on and I wanted to finish the case."
"Interesting Sara, but not at all an answer to the question that I asked." Business again, not letting her slide on a single note. "Later, when you played this scene over in your head, and Grissom told you he could replace you, what did you tell yourself he meant?"
The anger spilled out again, redirected, "I hate it when you do that. I hate it when you ask me questions you know the answer to just so I'll have to say out loud and see how stupid it sounds that I made it about him being able to replace me in his life as easily as replacing a light bulb in a socket. Throw me in the trash like all the other broken things he sees."
The therapist lifted her hefty frame and walked away for the small cocoon made by the chair and sofa. She raised her voice, got just a little testy, "What does that do for you, Sara? What do you get out of being broken, out of pretending that instead of comforting and protecting you Grissom wanted to throw you away and replace you?"
"What?" She was small again, anger, bravado, out the window. Her voice shook, "I don't…I don't get anything."
"Well you must. You must get something from it because you keep it and you polish it like a gemstone, this brokenness. Some people fantasize about being wealthy, some about being beautiful, others fantasize about having the lover of their dreams but you, Sara, you fantasize about the man you fixate on leaving you for trash. WHAT DOES THAT GET YOU?" The question was spit out, one word at a time. A challenge, a gauntlet thrown that must be picked up.