Title: The Life & Times of Sara Sidle
Rating: T
Summary: (You all know by now)
Disclaimer: I am still here...not leaving any time soon...I own nothing!

September 15, 1984

It was raining. Sara decided it was rather fitting since her birthday was the next day. She sat with her knees up to her chest in her room. It was dark- she didn't bother to turn on any lights. Her casts were becoming increasingly annoying and itchy. Luckily, her casts were water-proof, so she could take a shower with ease...it was harder to get dressed and undressed, actually...pantlegs getting stuck and shirt-sleeves getting caught on the cast...

Sara looked around her room. She had been sitting in this same spot for about two hours now. Almost her entire body was going numb, yet she did not move. She couldn't get the thoughts of what could happen the next day out of her mind. Her father had come home late that morning, more than a little drunk, and the second he got inside the house he collapsed on the floor. Her mother was surprisingly taking a nap that day and not trying to clean something.

Sara got up from her place on the carpet and cracked her door open. It made more noise when it opened than she would have liked, but she stepped out of her room, sighing in relief to find her father still sprawled out on the floor unconscious and her mother still sleeping soundly on the couch. Sara walked into the kitchen on her tip-toes and opened the refridgerator, getting the carton of orange juice out. There was only a little left, so she drank from the carton and discarded it in the garbage can underneath the sink. She walked past her father and had to hold back the urge to scream when she felt her father's hand grab her foot.

Her father's eyes were still closed, but he had a smirk across his face. Sara could only guess what he was dreaming of she slapped his hand, making him drop her foot and she walked off to her room.

Closing the door, she looked out the small window she knew she could still easily climb out of. It would be a little hard, she decided, though, with a broken ankle and a broken arm. She instead climbed onto her bed and curled up in her blankets.

If worse was yet to come, Sara's relatives would come into town to 'wish little Sara a happy birthday' as they put it. They were just as bad as her parents- her mother's mother was just as obsessive over cleaning and just as frightened and her father's father was just as intimidating and just as obsessed with alcohol as her father.

If they weren't going to come, which Sara hoped with all her might, she was only left with her drunken father and her mother, who, on occasion, sought comfort from the bottom of a bottle.

Maybe her idea of running away and forming a group of rebels wasn't as bad or out-there as it sounded. Maybe she really could do that and meet other kids like her. Other kids whose families didn't really love each other. Maybe she would meet kids who were perfectionists, and find out they only tried to do better than average because they thought it would earn the love of their families.

She decided against it- they would probably die being out on their own, and Sara wasn't good with people, no matter who those people were.

So...tomorrow Sara Sidle would be 12-years-old...wow. She didn't see what there really was to celebrate, except for the fact that she was that much closer to leaving this hell-hole called a home.

Sara heard a groan coming from the living room and she opened her door. She walked through the hallway and in the living room she saw her father finally coming to. Her mother's eyes fluttered open the second her father got to his feet, and she headed to the kitchen to clean. He looked at Sara.

"Daddy's got some hangover."

Her father thought what he said was humorous- Sara didn't, since she had heard it way too often.

"I wish you wouldn't drink so much, Dad."

He stood up stretching and ruffled her hair. "I've got a surprise for you. Go get your shoes on."

"I don't like surprises."

"I know you don't, but you're going to have to live through this one," he said with a wink.

She sighed. "What is it?"

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise now, would it?"

Sara shrugged. "I guess not..."

He smiled as he walked into the kitchen. Sara went back to her room, now pacing back-and-forth frantically.

What the hell is he thinking? He never remembers I have a birthday. What does he have up his sleeve?

She sighed and sat back down on the carpet, rocking herself back-and-forth. Whatever it was her father had planned, she was hoping it wasn't going to be something that would later result in a heated argument between wife and husband...or daughter and father.

She sighed as she slipped on her sneakers and grabbed her jacket. She cracked her door open and looked to see her father actually waiting for her.

"Alright, let's go!"

She followed her father out of the house as he led her to the car. In truth, it wasn't really a car. It was a chunk of metal with four doors, four...erm..thr-, no wait, yeah, four wheels...one rear-view mirror...and four seats...well, they were sort of like seats...you could sit on them...but god-knows-what they were made of or filled with.

She got in the back-seat and her father got in the driver's side. He put the key in the ignition and the car started...but it sounded more like something was dying than a car starting. They drove off in the rain, the windshield wipers moving back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

Sara was wondering what she had agreed to do. She was expecting something she wouldn't want to do, or that she would be going somewhere she didn't want to go.

"We're here- daddy's home away from home."

Sara couldn't see outside- it was raining too hard and the rain was pouring down much too quickly.

"Where are we?"

"You'll see, honey."

She sighed as she got out of the car and her father led her over to the building they were going to. All Sara could make up were bright lights flashing every now and then and loud music pouring from the building.

"Dad..."

"Yes?"

"Is this a club?"

"Bing, bing, bing! You guessed it!"

"Dad!"

"What?"

"Why are we in a strip club?"

"Because I want you to live the life of an adult tonight!"

Oh god, the life of an adult? This wasn't what every adult did! Not everyone went to strip clubs and got drunk all the time!

"DAD!"

"Just sit here, Sara."

Sara sat down in the far corner of the building. The loud music was making it hard for her to hear anything or think for that matter, and the lights flashing everywhere was making it hard for her to see anything. She did, however, see her father walk off and go straight to the dancers. She lowered her head, covering her ears and trying to make everything go away. As hard as she tried, the music and the bright lights would not go away. She was here, and she had no idea how long she would be staying.

After a few hours, Sara was almost asleep, but she opened her eyes when her father walked over to her.

He looked happy, at least. Sara could tell he was drunk, but he looked like he had had a good time that night. "Can we go?" Sara asked, rubbing her head. It was late in the morning, Sara could only guess.

"Are you kidding?" he asked.

Sara shook her head.

"The fun's just getting started!"

He ran over to the bar and came back with a beer in his hand. Sara had closed her eyes, attempting to fall asleep, and so she failed to realize that her father had the full intention of forcing the beer down his daughter's throat against her wishes. He held her head up (she had no idea what he was going to do), and he squeezed the mouth of the bottle between her lips. The fowl liquid traveled down his daughter's throat and she choked on it's horrid taste.

"Dad!"

He smiled as he walked off to the dancers once again. Sara rubbed her head- she was 11-years-old and already a boozer. She put her head down, wishing for the taste in her mouth to just disappear, but it lingered for some time. Every time she looked up, she would see her father throwing his money away while someone danced for him, or a half-naked woman walking past her.

Happy birthday to me.

Happy birthday to me.

Happy birthday, happy birthday...

Happy birthday to me.