Title: The Life & Times of Sara Sidle

Rating: T

Summary: (You all know by now)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters!

A/N: This chapter is more of Sara's POV. Just her thoughts and feelings of what happened and how it's affecting her.

July 22, 1986- 11:20 am- Residence of Ted and Nancy Wilcoff

Sara had been released from the hospital that day. Now she was lying in bed. She felt uncomfortable. Unsafe. She was much too close to where it all happened. She was too close to him. She knew he could come back at any second. Her bedroom was right next to his. Right next to the scene of the crime. It made her shudder. She couldn't even bear to look into the room- to see the disturbed furniture, the one ripped piece of her blouse he had torn off.

To Sara, it was like reliving the experience. The nightmare. Looking into that room, she could see him clearly. She could see the shadow of her ignorant self walking into the room, wondering where he went. She could see him hiding behind the door, smiling to himself, fantacizing on what was to be. And then, she heard the door slam. She could feel his hands wrapping themselves around her wrists. She could feel him slam her into the wall. She could smell the cheap cologne he was wearing. And she could feel the fear rising up inside of her. Again.

The feel of the fabric of his bed comforter had forever been etched into her mind. The feeling of his hands on her flesh would never go away. She could see his shiny green eyes staring straight into hers filled with excitement. No remorse. No guilt. He was excited. Excited. She could feel his lips press against hers, his tongue enter her mouth. She could feel his nails scrape against her skin as he tore her shirt. And she could feel his hands move to the waistband of her jeans.

The sweat dripping down her face as he unbuttoned her jeans. The nausea forming in her stomach as he moved to the zipper. The whimper that escaped her lips as he slid them off of her legs and slid his boxers off of his waist.

It was all too real. And it felt as though it was happening again. Here she was, lying helpless on the bed, him on top of her, doing it all over again.

And she could do nothing.

She was powerless to stop it from happening.

Again.

It scared Sara to death. He had overpowered her. He had taken something away from her. Who was to say he wouldn't do it again? She couldn't stop him. Not by herself. She couldn't even protect herself.

Noting that Josh had finally been forced to go home, she got out of bed. Shaking slightly, the memories still etched in her brain, she opened her bedroom door and walked into the hallway. She grabbed a towel and wash-cloth from the hallway closet. She walked to the hallway bathroom and opened the door, closing and locking it behind her. She need to wash him off of her. Cleanse her body from feeling so violated, so unpure.

She set the towel down on the bathroom counter near the sink. The wash-cloth she threw over the side of the shower so that it rested right above the door for easy reach. She turned the faucets on in the shower, completely ignoring the faucet with a capital 'C' on it. She turned the hot water faucet as far as it would go and waited for the water to warm up.

She slowly slid off her socks and pants. She had to reassure herself that he was not here. It was just her. She was safe. He was not doing it again. It was harder than it sounded. Eventually, she had stripped of all her clothing and stepped into the shower.

The water was scorching against her creamy smooth skin. Steam was coming out the top of the shower as if a volcano was erupting. She let the hot water hit her body for a long moment. She didn't care that it was burning. She needed him off.

She reached for the bar of soap on the soap dish. She started on her arms, using way too much soap on them before grabbing her wash-cloth and scrubbing. She scrubbed furiously, hard. She moved to her wrists and again scrubbed hard. She had to get the feeling of his hands off of her. She winced as the wash-cloth and pressure she was applying was added to pain of the bruises on her wrists, but she continued to scrub.

Her legs were next. She again scrubbed furiously. The skin on her legs turned red and raw when she was finished scrubbing. She moved the shower head so that it sprayed directly onto her legs. She winced yet again as the scorching water burned the now raw skin on her legs washing the soap off.

When she was finally finished, there was no hot water left. She had no clue how long she had been in the shower, but frankly she didn't care. This was something she had to do. She emerged from the shower and grabbed her towel, wrapping it securely around her. Tucking the sides of it in, she reached into the drawer of the bathroom. She pulled her toothbrush out and a tube of toothpaste. This was followed by a large bottle of mouthwash which she opened quickly. She poured a large amount into the cap and took a swig of it. She rinsed long and hard, tears forming in her eyes from the burning sensation it left in her mouth. She finally spit it out. She put toothpaste on her toothbrush and brushed her teeth for way over two minutes. She could still feel his tongue in her mouth. She could taste him. She rinsed again with a swig of mouthwash and finally left the bathroom.

She walked into her bedroom and closed the door, turning the lock. She went to her closet and picked out an outfit to wear. She flipped through her clothes until her hand hovered above a pair of jeans.

Jeans.

She slowly ran her hand over them, the material brushing against the tips of her fingers. She shook her head quickly and picked out a pair of slacks instead. She threw them on her bed and picked out a shirt.

She got dressed and laid down on her bed. She looked up at her ceiling as she thought. She still felt unclean. She had scrubbed so hard, but it made no difference. She could still feel him pinning her to his bed. She could feel him slide his hand along her leg. She could feel and taste his tongue in her mouth. She had made no difference. The memories were still there. She could shed three layers of skin and she would still feel him.

And feeling him was only part of her problem. She could hear him. She could hear his breaths quickening with excitement as he slammed her onto his bed. She could hear him whispering into her ear, telling her to enjoy it. And she could hear him asking her if she had fun when it was all finally over.

But it wasn't over. At least for Sara it wasn't. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw was him. She had too many nightmares over the course of time from the day that it all happened. She couldn't shake them out of her head.

And Josh knew that Matthew was dangerous. He had warned her, but she was stupid and didn't take his word for it. She ignored his warnings, ignored the things he told her. She thought that Matthew was a nice person. That he would never do anything to hurt her. He was someone she trusted.

And one of the biggest fears Sara had right now was the fear that he would come back. That he would do it again. And she knew damn well she couldn't stop him. He was too strong for her, not to mention that he was about twice her size.

And she couldn't live with that on her mind. She didn't think she could bear another trip to the hospital. She didn't want the EMTs swarming around her. She didn't want to be laid onto a stretcher. She didn't want to ever see the blinding white of the room she was in. She didn't want to be able to feel the thin white fabric of the hospital gown they dressed her in. She didn't want to feel so helpless, just lying limp on the hospital bed as nurses and doctors ran around.

Sara slowly closed her eyes and wrapped herself in the blankets of her bed. She was exhausted physically and mentally. Her eyelids closed as she began to drift off into sleep. She knew deep inside, however, that this sleep wouldn't last long. And she knew that for a fact for as soon as she fell asleep, she could feel him all over again.