A/N: Thank you all for your continued reviews and encouragement :) In light of the recent article with EW Online about Jorja leaving the show soon, I want everyone to know that I'm still going to continue to write fanfiction. Long live Sara Sidle:D On another note, this chapter is another one that is quite dark, so just a little heads-up. Hope you guys enjoy it!
As soon as the car left her sight Catherine sprung into action, her internal alarms going off almost immediately. She began to run toward the parking lot but then remembered the keys to her mother's car were still in her english classroom along with her belongings. Skidding to a halt, she turned and dashed toward the front of the school, avoiding other students along the way who were just finishing up with their last classes of the day.
"Excuse me!" Catherine was shouting as she dodged kids and sneakers, textbooks and backpacks. "Class president, move!" That seemed to get most of the kid's attention who cleared a path for her and she dashed down the hallway to the correct classroom.
As soon as she was inside she looked around frantically for her backpack. She felt like this was a matter of life and death-- and it was. When Sara's father had come into the principal's office he looked fairly put-together, but Catherine could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away. Sara's father, who already had a horribly short fuse combined with alcohol was a very dangerous combination. She couldn't bear to leave time for her mind to wander about what he would do to her when he got her home away from bystanders.
Spotting her backpack in the corner Catherine reached inside, throwing out objects as she went. When she found the keys to her mother's car she turned and ran out without a word to the english professor who was still sitting at her desk.
"Out of the way!" Catherine continued to shout as she dashed toward the front of the school, "Move! This is an emergency!" She doubted any of the kids believed her or knew of the severity of the situation, but they seemed to move anyways which she was very grateful for. As soon as she had made it through the maze of kids she ran into the parking lot and made it to her car in record time.
Catherine thought the fastest part of her rescue expedition was going to be driving to Sara's house. She failed to remember that it was rush hour at the high school, cars going this way and that, intersections packed beyond recognition, streets blocked with cars trying to make illegal u-turns and parents waiting at the side of the road for their kids. Fifteen minutes later when she found herself still in the same line of cars Catherine had had enough. "That's it," she growled. Flipping her turn signal she grasped the steering wheel and swerved out of her lane, flipping the car around into the opposite lane to take another route to Sara's home. It was against the law; it was beyond against the law, it was reckless and dangerous, but she didn't care right now. Only one thing mattered, and that was Sara's safety.
Thirty minutes after leaving the school Catherine was parked across the street in front of Sara's house. The building left much to be desired; the plants out front were dead and rotted. The grass desperately needed to be trimmed but was yellow and dead as well. The paint was decades old and was starting to chip away, and one of the windows in the front of the house was broken and fixed with a simple board nailed in front of it. To be honest Catherine thought it looked more like a haunted house than anything else. Sara's parents didn't have any money to keep it up, and they didn't seem to care either way.
After parking the car and getting out, Catherine took a deep breath simply to settle her nerves. She didn't exactly know what she was going to do or how, but she had a feeling something bad was about to happen. The gash on Sara's face, from what she had been able to see, had to have been at least four inches long and looked fairly deep, all out of her father's rage. He was unpredictable, and Catherine knew from what Sara had told her he had no restraints.
She jogged across the street and slowly headed up the cracked sidewalk toward the front door. Her mind was screaming at her to hurry up, but her legs suddenly felt like weights and she could've sworn her shoes were now cement blocks. Her survival instinct told her to leave, but her heart told her to stay. In the end, the latter won.
As soon as she heard a loud crash come from inside the house, Catherine jogged up the creeky wooden stairs to the front door and knocked (more like pounded) on the door frantically. "Sara?" she called out. "Sara, it's me! Open the door!"
She got no answer, and just as Catherine was ready to throw a brick through the remaining glass on one of the windows the door opened, but it wasn't Sara who opened the door. It was her mother. At least... Catherine thought it was her mother. It was hard to tell for sure. The woman who answered the door looked like the walking dead; her brown hair was turning various shades of gray, it almost appeared to be a wig. Her brown eyes appeared sunken and hollow, dark circles surrounding her pupils. But the uncanny resemblance to Sara told Catherine this was indeed her mother standing in front of her.
"Are you selling something, dear?" Laura asked, and this shocked Catherine. Despite her raggedy appearance and raspy voice, she was quite polite.
"Uh... no, actually, I'm here to see Sara," Catherine told her, clearing her throat. "I'm Catherine, I'm a friend from school."
"Oh, well isn't that nice," Laura replied. "I didn't know little Sara had friends. She's always hiding out in her room, you know. She turned seven last September, she sure is an early bloomer."
"...Miss Sidle?" Catherine asked, confused. "What year is it?"
"Well '78 of course, honey," Laura answered. What was shocking was that she sounded so sure of herself.
Catherine decided not to push the issue. She was either high or beyond wasted, because the Laura Sidle Sara had told her of-- the real Laura Sidle-- was never this kind or understanding. The woman standing right in front of Catherine was the poster child for anti-drug use. "Is Sara here?" she asked. "I really need to talk to her."
"I think she's with her father right now," Laura told her, "He sure does like to spend time with his daughter!" Just as she closed her mouth there came a scream.
"STOP IT!" It was unmistakably Sara's voice.
"Go check on her!" Catherine shouted at Laura.
"Oh nothing's wrong dear, they're just playing around," Laura told her. "Would you like to come in? I just made some fresh cookies and they smell absolutely delightful."
Catherine completely ignored the fact that there was no absolutely delightful smell of fresh-baked cookies, intruding into the house past Laura who was helpless to stop her. Since Catherine had never been to Sara's house more than once, she didn't know exactly where her bedroom was. "Damn it," she hissed under her breath. She was about to make a run down the hallway when a door was thrown open in front of her and Sara stumbled out on all fours, her mouth dripping blood.
"Sara!" Catherine shouted. Sara turned and looked at her, her eyes filled with pure terror, her hands and legs shaking. She took a step toward her but her legs felt like jelly and she could've sworn she saw two of Catherine but maybe that was just her eyes playing tricks on her again you know they liked to do that sometimes especially--
"I've got you," Catherine whispered, catching her before she fell. She helped Sara to her feet, trying to grab her arms to keep her from shaking so badly, but it was to no avail. Sara was opening her mouth to try and speak but no words were coming out. "Sara, take a deep breath alright?" Catherine coached her, "I'm going to get you out of here, but you need to relax!"
"Cath..." Sara finally sputtered, "Going... hurt... belt... you..." She wasn't making any sense whatsoever.
A second later, or maybe hours, no one could be so sure as time seemed to freeze in the Sidle household at that moment, a large figure emerged from the bedroom reeking of cheap whiskey and five dollar hookers. "Sara Marie Sidle, you get your ass back in that room before I beat your ass black and blue."
Sara's eyes widened in horror as she began to shake more violently.
"No," Catherine immediately said. "She's not going back in there. She's not your punching bag anymore." She didn't know what the hell she was doing, she just knew she wasn't going to continue to let him hurt Sara.
"The hell are you?" John slurred, staring at Catherine in resentment and faint confusion. "Get your ass off my property or else."
"N-No, Daddy it wasn't her fault," Sara finally spoke again, pulling herself out of Catherine's embrace as she took a hesitant, cautious step toward her infuriated drunken father. "It wasn't her fault... please don't hurt her."
"Get out of the way, Sara," John growled, unfastening his belt buckle and pulling it off. He grasped the ratty leather between his hands, his knuckles turning white as he glared at Catherine. "This is your fault. This is your fault she's going to get hurt."
"DADDY, NO!"
John had brought his arm back to strike, his fist clenching his belt tightly. As he had brought his arm down Catherine found herself frozen like a statue. Her feet, that before she had been so sure had turned to cement blocks, were now deep in quick sand. She just had enough time to close her eyes and cover her head with her arms before it came down.
She became confused at the absence of pain but the sound of ripping flesh. Opening her eyes she found Sara standing in front of her, fighting back a wave of fresh tears that were threatening to fall. After a few moments a drop of blood fell onto the carpet.
"S-Sara..." Catherine whispered. "...Sara... Sara!" it seemed as though it was the only thing she could say.
"Damn it," John growled. "You can never do anything right, Sara! But I guess we should've known after your mother had you, you were always good for nothing."
"C-Catherine," Sara finally spoke, staring at her with tear-stained eyes. She was fighting back the urge to run away and never look back and the urge to cry from the pain her body was currently enduring. "Go... please..."
"No, Sara," Catherine shook her head, her tears quickly turning into anger at her father. "I'm not leaving without you!"
"Wait a minute," John hissed. "I see what's going on here." Without warning he struck Sara's back with the belt again and she cried out in pain. "You little whore! You little slut! I should've known why you were suddenly wanting to spend so much time with this little--"
"DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING ABOUT CATHERINE!" Sara screamed, turning around to face him in defiance.
"You bitch," John advanced on her, "How dare you..."
Catherine took that opportunity to grab Sara's arm and bolt for the door which was currently unblocked. Laura was in the kitchen, basking in the sweet aroma of invisible fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. As soon as she was outside Catherine shoved Sara toward the passenger's side door of her waiting car across the street, digging into her pocket for her keys. "Get in!" she shouted. They got in the car and drove off in record time, John Sidle standing in his front yard shouting after them.
The second they tore out of the neighborhood Sara broke down in sobs, her head held in her arms. She was bloody, her clothes were torn, her cheeks were tear-stained and she was in excruciating pain, mentally and physically. Her life had fallen apart once again in the past 24 hours for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Sara, hold on," Catherine whispered, speeding through every intersection she crossed. "I'm going to get you some help."
Sara looked over at Catherine, her eyes red and puffy, her split lip already beginning to swell and the long gash on her face covered with dried and crusted-over blood. "Cath," she whispered. "I'm not going back there again!"
"I know Sara," Catherine told her, desperately wanting to take her into an embrace but unable to do so at the speed she was travelling down the roads at. "I'm going to take you to my place, and we'll go from there, okay?" Catherine knew there was no way Sara would agree to go to the hospital, but her mother had taken basic classes in first-aid to her relief. "I promise, Sara... you won't have to go back to that place ever again."
TBC