Title: The Life & Times of Sara Sidle

Rating: T

Summary: (You all know by now)

Disclaimer: Nope, I'm not going anywhere. I'm still in my room! I own nothing!

September 2, 1984

Sara didn't know how she did it, but she fell asleep. She managed to block out all of her thoughts of what would happen the next day and what had already happened. Unfortunately, she woke up to the sound of her parents (well, her father..) yelling at the nurses and doctors.

"What? What do you mean we can't see her?" This was her father.

"Sir, please-"

"I want to see my daughter!"

"Sir, please listen to me-"

"This is bullshit!"

Sara rolled her eyes. Dad was sober, whoop-tee-doo.

"Sir, listen to me- your daughter has many bruises and injuries she has sustained over a number of years. She also has many old broken bones that were never treated.."

"So why can't I see her?"

"Sir, it's procedure. We have to make sure that there was no child abuse going on in your home-"

"WHAT?"

Now her father was going nuts. Sara was almost one-hundred percent sure he was trying to throw punches at the doctors. Luckily, before anyone got their brains knocked out, the authorities stepped in.

"Sir, maam, please come with us..."

Sara knew her mother would go quietly, but her father wasn't going without a fight.

"Don't touch me! I want to see my daughter-"

"Sir, please-"

"SHUT UP, YOU PIG!"

Now, the authorities had to handcuff her father in order to get him out of the building without hurting anyone. Her mother walked out quietly, fumbling with her fingers as she walked. Her father was throwing obscenities over his shoulder, mainly aimed at the police and doctors.

Sara heard a sigh and then the doctor went through her door. "Sara?"

"What?"

"We're going to treat your broken bones. You have a broken arm and a broken ankle, so we're going to need to treat those before they get worse."

Sara just nodded as the doctor motioned for some nurses to come in. They brought with them bandages and some other items. She winced as the doctor lifted her broken ankle.

"Alright, it's only going to hurt for a little bit, I'm going to put a cast on your foot, so you're going to need to stay off of it for a while."

She nodded as the doctor took out a roll of bandages and began wrapping her ankle.

"Okay...now your little friends can sign it!"

Sara assumed the doctor was trying to lighten the mood. What he didn't know, however, was that Sara didn't have any friends. No one wanted to be friends with her, they all just labeled her as weird or freaky the moment they saw her.

The doctor noticed her confused expression and cleared his throat. "Well...uh...now, let's get your arm fixed up."

He went around to the other side of Sara and began wrapping her left arm. Sara's ankle was already getting itchy, but she ignored it as best she could.

"There!"

Now, she really looked like she had been hit by a car.

"And Sara, we're going to need to do a head exam just to make sure you didn't sustain any injuries to your skull or brain."

Sara nodded as they brought in a wheelchair and they helped her out of the bed before wheeling her out of the room.

September 2, 1984- Police Department

"Mr. and Mrs. Sidle, are you aware that your daughter had sustained these injuries?" the detective asked as he slid the pictures of Sara's injuries taken at the hospital forward on the table.

"I assumed she had gotten hurt at a scuffle at school," her father said shrugging.

"And you did nothing?"

"She's gotta fight her own battles."

The detective gave the forensic scientist in the room a look before turning back to both parents.

"Mrs. Sidle, what did you think of your daughter's injuries?"

Her husband shot her a look, which the detective noted to actually be an intense glare, and the woman slowly looked up.

"I...I just thought she got hurt at school."

The woman sounded scared, and the detective soon knew what to do. "Mr. Sidle, can you give me a moment alone with your wife?"

The man glared at the detective before he was lead out of the room and his wife was soon alone in the room with the detective.

"Mrs. Sidle...does your husband ever hit you or your daughter?"

The woman quickly shook her head. "No, never."

September 2, 1984- County Hospital

"Good job Sara, thank you."

Sara nodded as she was lead back to her room after the head exam and she laid in her bed. She looked up at the television positioned on the wall, but she watched it like a robot- her eyes were lifeless, her face bare of emotion. A woman walked into the room and noticed Sara's gaze. She cleared her throat, making Sara jump.

"I'm sorry, my name is Patricia, I'm with the police department."

Sara knew what was coming. "You want to question me."

The woman smiled. "You're a smart little girl."

Sara didn't say anything and the woman pulled up a chair next to Sara. "Can you tell me how you got those injuries?"

Sara stared at the wall in front of her, not sure of what to say. Should she tell them? Tell them that her father enjoyed hitting his wife and daughter? What would happen if she did, would he get even angrier if he found out what she said?

"I get hurt at school."

The woman wrote something down in her notebook before looking back up at Sara. "Why?"

"Kids don't like me."

The woman responded with a weak nod before writing something else down and clearing her throat. "Sara, do your father or mother ever hit you?

Yes! Yes, my father hits my mother and I all the time! Help me! she thought.

"No."

September 2, 1984- 8:30 pm- Sidle Residence

"We apologize for the misunderstanding..." the officer standing at the door started.

"Yeah, you better be," Mr. Sidle said before slamming the door. He turned to his wife and daughter. He pointed at Sara. "You- get in your room. Now."

Sara limped over to her room as quickly as she could.

"You," she could hear her father talking to her mother. "Fix dinner."

Her mother obeyed and went to the kitchen looking around for pots and pans. Sara sat in her room, again hugging her blue hippo. She looked at the stuffed animal- it was ripped in certain places and the eyes were beginning to fade. She felt warm tears falling down her cheeks; she had been unaware that she had even been crying. She closed her eyes, holding the stuffed animal close to her chest in her arms as she drifted off to sleep.

September 2, 1984- 11:37 pm

"I didn't tell them anything, John!"

Sara woke up startled at the sound of her mother's frightened voice.

"You sure about that, Laura?" came her father's voice.

"Yes!"

Sara cracked her door open, but her father heard.

"You! You close that door you little runt!"

Sara quickly slammed the door out of fear of being hit. She heard her mother scream and hit the floor. She couldn't take it anymore. She threw the door open and walked over to her dad. She jumped on his back.

"Gah! Damn it, get off of me, you little bitch!"

Sara threw her arms over her dad's face so he couldn't see. Her injured arm had become a weapon and she whacked her father across the head. He backed up and rammed her into the wall and she fell off of him, winded.

"Leave her alone, John!"

Sara looked up to see the blurred figure of her mother pleading with her husband who only looked down at his daughter. Sara watched as he kneeled down beside her and then stood up. He walked out after grabbing his jacket. Sara could only guess where he was going. Her best guess was that her father was going to go to some club or liquor store, get incredibly drunk, and then come back late the next day with a hangover asking himself how he got so drunk.

Sara looked at her mom as she walked over to the kitchen and started on the dishes, as usual. Sara crawled back into her room and closed the door. She found her blue hippo and squeezed it with all her strength. A loud crack of thunder was heard outside and she curled up in the middle of her room into the fetal position. She wrapped a small blanket around herself and drifted off to sleep as her mother continued to wash the dishes while her father was out getting drunk.

She could only imagine what her birthday was going to be like. Most likely, her mother would force her to invite people she despised most from school to come over and 'celebrate' her birthday. Of course, this would only be if her father was out that day. She appreciated the fact that her mother would try and throw her a party, but she knew a long time ago she would never have a real party ever again. There were too many things she would have to hide, too many things she would have to make lame excuses up for.

She would much rather go to the library and read all that day. Her mother and father wouldn't care, they would fail to notice she was gone in the first place. She enjoyed the library, she frequented it often and the librarians were actually very nice people. They knew Sara was a bookworm, so whenever they got new books in, they sent her letters and set copies aside just for her. She had been a proud customer of the library for five years now, and her library card was worn-out and ripped. They didn't care, however. They knew she was a very responsible girl for her age and she always returned the books in the same condition they were when she borrowed them.

Now, her thoughts went back to her birthday. She was dreading that day...September 16...the number '16' made her shudder. She could imagine what would happen- there would be old beer bottles thrown around the house and her father would be out in the recliner in the living room, snoring. Her mother would be trying to clean as much as she could and Sara would be sitting alone in her room, holding the paper party hat she had made herself and blow out the imaginary candles on her imaginary cake. She would pretend everyone was clapping and wishing her a happy birthday. The sad thing was, imagining all of this was better than actually living the moments.