A/N: Ugh, I'm sorry guys. School, life, life, school. Who needs it, really? ;) I want to thank you all again for your wonderful reviews and continuous encouragement and I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter :)

"Would you like something to drink, Sara?"

"N-No thanks."

They had been sitting in the interrogation room at the police station for what felt like forever before the detective's voice broke the silence. The small room was only really big enough to occupy maybe four people at the most, and the cold metal table and set of chairs was cold and uninviting. Catherine was sitting right there by her side, but she still felt as cold and as alone as she would've if she weren't. She was anxiously playing with the bandages wrapped around her hands so she wouldn't have to look at the detective sitting across from her.

"Are you sure? We have sodas in the breakroom, or even just a cup of water?"

"N-No, I'm fine, thank you."

Catherine knew the detective was trying his hardest to coax Sara into drinking something-- no doubt he had read the files and results the hospital had sent over to them and had learned how dehydrated she was. But Catherine knew Sara well enough to know that wasn't going to work, and up to this point she hadn't been able to eat or drink much of anything without throwing it all up afterwards. She couldn't really blame her.

"Alright, then," the detective nodded, pulling his small legal pad out of the coat pocket of his dress jacket. He clicked his ball-point pen as he turned to a blank page. "I'm just going to ask you a few questions about what happened the other night, alright Sara?" She stiffly nodded. "Okay," he nodded his approval once more. "But before we start, I want you to know that you can stop at anytime, or if you need to take a break, just let me know, okay?"

When Sara didn't reply, Catherine spoke up. "Thank you, we appreciate it."

"Okay," the detective started, setting his pad down on the table and twirling his pen between his fingers. "How did you get hurt, Sara?"

Catherine glanced down at the floor in shame, knowing that she had done nothing to help Sara's current state. She had probably made her injuries worse from the festivities of their... study session.

"I... I don't know," Sara replied in a tone almost nothing above a whisper. "I... I must've fallen or... or ran into a door or something. I'm pretty clumsy."

Catherine frowned in disappointment. That had to be the most desperate and pitiful excuse Sara had come up with yet. It was right up there with accidentally running into her mother's hot curling iron or accidentally running into her father's broken beer bottle. Yeah, she had ran into a door... that just happened to slice up her vagina.

"Sara..." Catherine started before the detective could open his mouth. She knew it was better for her to say it than to have someone who barely even knew Sara to say it. "You know as well as we do that's not what really happened. Tell him the truth, please... for me." If she said it like that, Sara didn't really have much of a choice.

"Sara?" the detective tried again. "I'm going to ask you once more, and this time I want you to tell me the truth, okay?" he asked. Sara simply nodded, gnawing her bottom lip raw. "How did you get hurt?"

The room fell silent, so quiet that if someone dropped a pin on the ground it would've sounded like a gunshot. Finally after about a minute Sara began to open her mouth to speak and glanced over at Catherine for her approval.

"It's okay, Sara," Catherine told her, trying to smile at her encouragingly. "Go ahead and tell him."

She turned so that she was facing the detective again who was waiting eagerly yet patiently.

"...Well..." Sara began, biting her lip nervously, "I'm really clumsy..."

Catherine bit her tongue so that she wouldn't yell in frustration. She wasn't angry at Sara-- she knew it wasn't her fault. But all she had to do was say that it was her bastard of a father that had hurt her and he would be given what he deserved. "Detective?" Catherine asked. "Can we take a short break, please? I'd like to speak with Sara alone."

The detective nodded, putting his notepad back in his pocket. "Of course. You and Sara can come back in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks," Catherine told him, grateful. Getting to her feet, she held a hand out for Sara to help her get to her feet. "Come on Sar," she tried to smile for her sake, "Let's go get something to drink." Once she had helped Sara to her feet she wrapped a steadying arm around her waist and threw one of her arms around her shoulders to support her as they headed toward the door. The detective quickly walked over to help them with the door and held it open for them as they both walked out.

"Thank you," Sara barely whispered, staring down at Catherine's sneakers she was letting her wear. She knew what was coming from Catherine, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

Catherine helped Sara walk into the breakroom and helped her sit down on the couch, grabbing a paper cup from the dispenser and pouring her some water. "Here, drink this," Catherine offered, holding the cup out to Sara.

Sara took the water, planning on dumping it into the flower pot of the nearest plant when Catherine wasn't looking, but took a small sip just to appease Catherine.

"Okay," Catherine sighed, sitting down next to her. "I'm guessing you know what I'm about to say, you look like you're on Death Row." Sara simply nodded. "Then... I don't even have to say it. But why, Sara? Why won't you just tell them what happened?"

The truth was, Sara didn't know. She was scared, but Catherine and the other officers had assured her time and time again that as soon as she said the word they'd go pick up the person who hurt her and they would never be given the chance to do so ever again. Catherine had told them it was her father, but without Sara actually saying it to them, or without DNA comparison from her father they had no way of knowing.

"I... I don't know," Sara admitted. "I... I think I'm scared or something...?"

Catherine simply nodded in understanding, trying not to sigh. "I know you are, Sara... but I'm going to be in there with you the entire time. I won't leave even if they tell me to, okay? I promise."

Sara smiled just a little at that. "So if a chainsaw-wielding maniac comes in demanding that you leave..."

"Not a chance in hell," Catherine grinned. "He would never get the chance to hold that chainsaw ever again."

Sara couldn't help but laugh, wiping at the tears in her eyes before they could fall. "It's... it's just..." She fought for the right words. "It's just... even if he did all of that... even... even if he was a..."

"A self-centered, violent, drunk son of a bitch?" Catherine offered.

Sara nodded, but she was quite serious. "Yeah... even if he was... he's... he's still my dad," she whispered, staring at Catherine with tear-stained eyes. Even if he had beat her into a corner with his old ratty leather belt time and time again, he was still her dad that had taken her down to Santa Cruz when she was a little girl. Even if he had called her a bitch and a slut and a good-for-nothing little whore, he was still the person who had held her when she was a baby and had mumbled over and over again how many times he loved her. Even if he had forced her to her knees or shoved her on her back on more than one occasion, he was still that same person.

"I know, Sara," Catherine told her, "And believe me, I understand... but Sara, he hurt you pretty bad. You can barely walk on your own. If he really cared about you... if he really, truly cared about you, he would never have hurt you in the first place. Parents are supposed to protect and love their children... not use them for self-gratification."

Sara choked on the sob that was rising in her throat, nodding her head to indicate that she understood. "I know that... I do, I really do..."

"Don't let him get away with this, Sara," Catherine told her, leaning closer so that she could wipe the tears from her face that had began to fall. "You don't owe him anything... don't let him continue to do this to you. You have the power to make him stop."

It took a few moments, but Sara finally nodded her head in agreement, wiping the tears from her eyes to compose herself. "Okay."

-----

The next morning Catherine drove Sara to the police station and told them that she was ready to tell them what happened. Despite Catherine making her eat breakfast to regain her energy, and despite letting her know that she was going to be in the room with her the entire time, Sara still felt sick and was beginning to think that her breakfast was going to be making a reappearance in the near future.

"Make yourselves comfortable," the detective from the day before instructed them both, sitting down across from them at the cold metal table.

Between Catherine's continuous whispers of "It's okay" and "You're doing really well, Sara" and the suffocating atmosphere that was the police station interrogation room, Sara felt anything but comfortable.

"Alright Sara, let's just pick up from where we left off yesterday afternoon, okay?" he asked, twirling his pen between his hands. Sara simply nodded. "Remember, same as yesterday, if you need to stop early or take a break for whatever reason, just let me--"

"No, I'm ready," Sara shook her head. If there was one thing she did not want to do again it was come back to this godforsaken place and tell this story all over again. It was better to get it over with.

"Okay," the detective nodded, removing his notepad from his pocket again. "We're tape-recording this conversation, is that alright with you?"

Sara refrained from saying what she was thinking which was "Do I really have a choice?" and instead just nodded to say that it was. Catherine patted her shoulder to let her know she was there.

"Alright," the detective started, "So how did you get hurt, Sara?"

Sara shot Catherine a look out of the corner of her eye and Catherine returned it before she turned her attention back to the detective. "...Someone... someone... assaulted me." She hated the actual term.

"Who assaulted you, Sara?" the detective asked, writing that down on his notepad.

Sara was about to make up some ridiculous false name like Dr. Bob Pepper and his accomplice Sherri Coke, but she remembered what Catherine had told her the day before and decided against it. "...My... my dad did, Sir."

The detective wrote that down too, nodding his head. "Has he done this before, as in more than once?"

"What does the damn medical file say?" Sara shot back, the nausea beginning to make her head spin.

"Hey, Sara, it's okay," Catherine told her, gently rubbing up and down her back with her hand. "It's okay... just take a deep breath. They're trying to help you, remember?"

Sara took a deep breath and let it out shakily, slowly nodding her head. "...I'm sorry," she apologized. "But... yeah, it's been more than once."

"How long has the abuse been going on?" he asked.

"I guess it's... it's been about sixteen years now," Sara replied.

The detective's eyes widened in astonishment and Catherine quickly cleared her throat. "I think he means the other abuse, Sara..."

"...Oh, right..." Damn. "It's been about a year now I guess. Or a few months. I'm not sure."

The detective looked doubtful. "Sara... a year and a few months... there's a big difference there... can you try to remember which one it was? We need specific details to make sure he never does this again."

Sara felt the room spinning again but she was grounded by the feeling of Catherine squeezing her hand in hers. "It's been about a year, then," she told him. "My fa--" she caught herself. He wasn't her father anymore. He was a monster. "That son of a bitch has been abusing me for a year."

And this time, she did not stutter.

TBC