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: Thanks for the reviews, guys:)

Living Room of Unknown House- 6:34 pm- January 12, 1990

Sara sighed deeply to herself, sitting on the black couch indian-style, one of her knees bouncing back and forth. With her hands resting in her lap, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her, trying to ignore the drunk people stumbling past her and the overwhelming smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Sara knew these smells all-too well from her childhood- the smell of alcohol from her parents and the cigarette smoke from the hookers her father used to bring home to his wife and daughter.

Sara wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She was not going to do this. Not here, not now. She was a big girl now, she would make it through this. She was not going to let those memories come back now to haunt her, wasn't that what sleep was for? Now was not the time to think about her drunk father coming home reeking of rum and whiskey. Now was not the time to think of that night her mother finally stood up to him. And now was definetly not the time to think about Matthew...no, it was really not the time for that line of thinking.

Flinching a little when she came back to reality, she took a deep breath to try and compose herself. She needed to calm down, or she was going to have a panic attack right in front of all these people. She was going to show them all how emotionally unstable she was, and she was not about to let that happen. She was not going to reveal that to the entire world, because not only would they learn that, but they would learn about her past, and that was something she could not afford to let happen.

She closed her eyes, lowering her head. Happy thoughts, she told herself. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Think of that bunny from that sticker you got at school that time...no! No, too close to home. Alright...think...of that little dancing green dinosaur from that televison show at the hospital with Jos-- no! No, quit thinking about the past!

Sara tried her best to get those thoughts out of her mind, but the more she tried, the more the thoughts came flooding back. She lifted her knees up to her chest as they all came back to her, shutting her eyes tightly and wrapping her arms around her knees. Finally opening her eyes and taking in her surroundings again, she looked at the open beer bottle to her right.

She slowly reached for it and took it in her hand. She stared down at the bottle, her eyes running up and down the mouth and the bottom of it. So this was what her mother and father used to look at all the time, huh? This tiny brown bottle was their release, their comfort, what they used to temporarily seperate themselves from reality.

Sara ran her fingers over the bottle. This bottle took their pain away...took them away from what was right in front of them, from what was ailing them. This small bottle could take the painful memories of her past that were resurfacing in front of her. It was practically screaming at her to drink it, calling her name.

Sara slowly looked back and forth, as if to check to make sure no one was watching her. Everyone else was off doing their own things and she slowly turned back to the bottle. Holding it in one hand, she raised the nose of the bottle to her lips. She hesitated. Should she really do this? Should she really try this form of release, choose to do this to take those bad memories away? She made her decision when she saw Matthew's face flash back into her mind and shoved the bottle between her lips, the liquid entering her mouth.

One sip to clear her mind. Two sips to forget her father. Three sips to remove the pain of his fists against her skin. Four sips to forget her last birthday with her parents. Five sips to forget going into foster care. Six sips to forget her therapy session.

Sara threw the beer bottle down as it was finished and reached for another in a cooler in front of her. Throwing the cap off, she shoved it into her mouth, starting the sequence once again.

Seven sips to forget school. Eight sips to forget Josh trying to move away. Nine sips to forget Matthew's face.

At this point, things started getting cloudy. Closing her eyes, Sara wondered if this was enough. Enough to forget. She decided it wasn't. It was not enough, she could still think...she could still hear their voices, see their faces, feel his hands on her...god she could still feel his filthy hands on her body.

Throwing the bottle to the floor, she quickly opened another bottle and gulped it down as quickly as she could. She continued this for about a minute or two until she couldn't drink anymore. She let out a deep sigh, falling back against the couch and closing her eyes. Everything was muted out. She couldn't feel the present, she couldn't feel the past. And that was the way she wanted it.

When she woke up from her drunken slumber, she opened her eyes to try and figure out where she was. She sat up slowly, only to put a hand on her head to try and control the pounding in her head. Groaning quietly, she leaned against a wall only to feel a jerk in her stomach. Jumping to her feet and running to the room next to her, she was surprised to see a toilet and sink; it was a bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach. She didn't know how long she continued to retch. She stood up and turned on the light of the bathroom. She was in her dorm, how she got there she did not know.

She turned the faucets of the sink on and cupped her hands together. Throwing water onto her face, she grabbed a towel and wiped the water away from her face. She set the towel down on the counter and walked out of the bathroom. Swaying, she held her arm out and leaned against the wall near her bed to keep herself from falling. After steadying herself, she collapsed on her bed, breathing heavily. Now she was drained. She couldn't remember what happened that night, she could've ran through the entire campus naked and she didn't know it.

Closing her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep, her head resting at the foot of the bed.