AN: Thank you all for your reviews to last chapter - really appreciated. Hope everyone is doing well, thank you so much for your continued support of this story, means a lot and keeps the inspiration coming.

Take care and enjoy.


CHAPTER 27


CATHERINE POV

I feel like I'm in a horror movie.

And, unfortunately for me, I'm blonde, which gives me reasonable suspicion that anything that can go wrong here will go wrong exclusively to me.

Moving silently with my back to the wall, I still cannot believe I just broke half a dozen laws crawling over a fence into a restricted area before all but breaking into Sara's old house.

I swear, if my suspicion is wrong and she isn't even here, I am going to have one hell of a problem.

Eying the kitchen as I pass, I cannot help the shiver that runs down my spine. While the outside of this house could almost be considered charming, the inside is anything but.

I try not to give too much thought to the locks I see placed along the majority of the doors, praying they were placed there for some reason after the Sidles were forced out.

Deep down, though, I know that's not the case. And deep down, I know the reasons locks get put on doors.

Squinting in the dim light of the almost completely set sun, I pray I locate Sara before this house is plunged into complete darkness.

"Sara?" I question, voice barely above a whisper.

No answer.

Moving along slowly, I come to the staircase, unsure if I should chose to stay on the main floor or head up to the bedrooms.

Eyes searching around me, I think about the situation.

If Sara came here to force herself to confront the grisly events that occurred in this house, where better to go than the place the pivotal event unfolded?

Taking a breath, I ascend the steps, moving upwards slowly as the wood creaks beneath my feet.

Reaching the landing at the top, I peer down the hall, identifying the door that seems to be the master bedroom.

Traveling quietly, my gaze is drawn to an open door to my right as I pass by.

Doing a double take, I pear inside, my feet stopping their motion.

Pushing the door open, I my breath catches as I realize where I am standing.

This, I somehow know without a doubt, was Sara's room.

Eyes moving around me, I note the sparse furniture, the single bed and desk the only items visible in the otherwise vacant space.

There are no pictures, no posters, no personal items whatsoever.

Moving further inside, I cautiously open one of the drawers.

Inside are papers, pencils, an assortment of other items neatly organized. Looking through them, I see old school assignments, notebooks filled with a slightly neater version of Sara's handwriting.

Glancing them over, it feels like this room is a time capsule, untouched from the night Sara's father was killed and the house became evidence before it was permanently closed away.

Looking around me, I note the closet, pausing when I see yet another lock installed on the doorframe. Closing my eyes briefly, I force myself to take more deep breaths, my head rising as I breathe in deeply.

Opening them, I cannot help the bittersweet smile that comes to my face when I see the glow-in-the-dark stars dotting the ceiling. It's the only sign of anything cheerful, anything indicating children once lived here. It's the only sign of normalcy that I have seen in this entire house since entering.

Somehow I know these stars are remnants of a happier time in the Sidle house, before the family morphed into something much darker, much too sinister to have permitted such a thing, the items just subtle enough to have escaped attention.

I absently wonder if Sara watched them at night, perhaps seeing them as a representation of better times, of happiness that she perhaps hoped to one day feel again.

Clenching my jaw tightly, I shake my head, forcing myself to leave this room before I lose my flimsy grip on my emotions.

Swallowing, I exit back out into the hallway, forcing myself to make no more detours as I complete my trip to the room at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, I push the old wooden door silently open.

Nothing in this world could have prepared me for what I found inside.


"Oh God," I mutter, eyes wide as I step carefully inside the doorway.

Eyes shifting from wall to wall, I feel like I am entering one of our crime scenes, my mind already calculating the directionality of the castoff on the walls, the voids in the discoloration and what they could have represented.

My heart nearly drops to the floor when I remind myself that I know exactly what they represented.

The room looks like it has been frozen in time, dust covering every surface, but unable to hide the old and cracking blood staining nearly every surface my eyes land upon.

The walls, the floor, and the bed.

Holy hell, the bed.

It looks like someone submerged it in rivers of rust-colored water.

The sheets have been removed, likely sitting in some evidence storage somewhere, but the mattress was left behind, along with the frame.

Looking up, I see castoff splayed across the ceiling in garish streaks of brown, discoloration reaching locations across the entire surface.

"Calculating the angle of the knife?" a voice asks from behind me.

Whirling around, my hand clenches to my chest as my heart thunders beneath it.

"Jesus, Sara," I mutter, trying not to have a stroke.

Sara remains where she is standing against the far wall, hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, part of me relieved that I found her, part of me concerned that my suspicions were confirmed and she just spent the last hour or so alone in this house.

"You shouldn't be here," she tells me, voice hard to read. "The police are going to be watching this house tonight now that people know I'm back in town."

Her eyes finally shift to mine briefly.

"Trying to keep away the vandals and thrill seekers now that this house is fresh in everyone's mind."

I shrug.

"You shouldn't be here either," I counter. "But, you own it. Let them try to charge us with something."

Sara doesn't react, eyes shifting back towards the bed almost as if she didn't hear me.

Standing with her in silence for a few moments, I finally fix my gaze on her.

"What did you come here for?" I ask her quietly, curiously. "What were you hoping to accomplish by seeing it?"

Sara's brows furrow slightly, but she doesn't answer.

Finally, just when I had given up hope for an answer, she shakes her head slightly.

"I didn't come here to see it."

Furrowing my own brows this time, I am about to open my mouth to question her when the moonlight beginning to filter through the windows catches on something metallic in Sara's hand.

"Sara…" I draw out slowly, eyes wide.

Eyes shifting to mine, Sara follows my gaze towards her left hand.

Clenching her fingers tighter, she lifts the lighter slightly before lowering her arm back down.

"Were you really planning…." I trail off, shaking my head in shock.

"Yes," she answers me quietly, honestly.

Then, she pushes her hands deep into her pockets, gaze flicking to mine before moving away again.

"Why didn't you?" I question, my heart still hammering tightly in my chest.

She swallows, eyes still glued to the bed.

"I wanted to walk through it one last time before I did."

"And now that you have?" I pose, genuinely afraid of her potential answer.

I honestly don't know what I'm going to do if she tells me she wants to torch the entire thing. Can I really stop her? Should I really stop her?

"I want it to stay," she responds, voice cutting off my thoughts. "It should stay."

Eyes shifting towards mine, her expression is hard to make out through the shadows that have now nearly completely taken over the room.

"As a reminder. A lesson."

Raising a brow, I look around me, taking in her answer. I know I for one will never forget this house, the story it tells.

"I think that's a good idea," I eventually tell her honestly.

All too often child abuse, and abuse in general, gets looked at as something that only happens on television or in the movies. It's never suspected in your friends, your neighbors, the house down the street with the perfectly manicured lawn.

I think having this house here serves as a good reminder that you never know what's going on in the lives of those around you. That abuse, in all its forms, is something that happens to real people. To seemingly 'normal' families.

It will perhaps inspire someone someday to take a closer look at a suspicious situation, to raise a question or concern that could potentially save a child like Sara from a whole mess of misery.

"I'm proud of you," I tell Sara, my eyes watching her profile.

Sara shakes her head, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"Something good should come out of this retched thing," she eventually mutters.

Swallowing and running a shaking hand through her hair, Sara glances at me.

"I think I need to get out of here," she tells me.

Reaching over, I extend my hand, hoping beyond hope that she takes it.

"Let's go," I tell her.


NANCY POV

Anxiously pacing back and forth, I pull my keys from my pocket only to push them back down again.

"You're making me dizzy," I voice calls from behind me. "Which, at my age, could kill me."

Turning, I'm greeted by the amused face of an older man, sitting with his hands resting on a wooden cane laid across his lap.

"Sorry," I tell him. "Although I'm concerned that you would have heart problems at the age of thirty."

"Oh bless you," the man laughs. "You're darling to say that, and even more darling to have kept a straight face while doing so."

Smiling, I place myself on the edge of the seat across from him, much too anxious to even think about sitting like a normal person.

"You waiting for someone?" I ask him, trying to get my mind off of the people I myself am waiting for.

"My wife," he tells me. "Although I hope she doesn't come while I'm talking to you. She's always had a terrible jealous streak."

Laughing, I shake my head, not really sure if this guy is just completely pulling my leg.

"You?" he asks.

"My sister," I tell him. "And a very good friend."

Glancing back down at my watch, I try not to note the fact that they're a good fifteen minutes late. Or all the potential things that could mean.

I swear, if they don't step out of that terminal sometime soon, my elderly friend here is going to see firsthand just what heart problems look like in a thirty-something year old.

Hearing happy reunions playing out all around us, I shake my head.

"Bastards," I mutter, eliciting a snort from my companion.

Just as I am literally about to have a coronary, I spot my sister exit into the lobby, Sara following shortly after.

Getting to my feet, Sara makes eye contact with me, silently pointing Catherine in my direction.

Smiling, Catherine wastes no time taking me into her arms when she reaches me. We hug each other tightly, my eyes closing in relief at having her back.

I've missed her so much. I've been worried about her so much.

Pulling away, my eyes move to Sara, who is standing tensely like she knows exactly what's coming.

And she's right.

Reaching over, I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly as her arms move slowly to return the embrace.

"I don't think your friend likes hugs," my elderly companion offers from his chair.

Shaking my head, I pull away from Sara.

"Thanks," I tell him with a roll of my eyes.

But, in my peripheral vision, I see a smile playing at the corner of Sara's mouth, making me rethink my previously sarcastic thanks as it helped break some of the tension in her features.

"Take care," I offer him, my tone genuine this time as I take hold of one of my sister's bags for her.

"You too," he says. "And thanks for leaving before I had to explain you to my wife."

Raising her brow, Catherine sends me a look as we walk through the lobby towards the outside.

"What?" I eventually question, keeping my face neutral.

"Care to explain?" she asks.

"Ours was a brief, but torrid affair."


NANCY POV

"Welcome back," I offer to Sara as I move to stand next to her by my Civic in the drive.

She sat in the back on the car ride home, leaving most of the conversation to me and my sister. This is the first chance we've really had to speak to one another since their return.

"Thanks," she responds, sending me a quick smile before turning to light the cigarette in her hand.

Eyes glancing back towards my house to be sure my sister is still inside, I lean my hip against my car.

"Your house has been released," I tell her, keeping my eye on the front door for any signs of Catherine. "It's ready for you if you still want to go back there."

Breathing out, Sara nods slowly.

"Thought I'd tell you before my sister so you can have some time to figure out what you want to do."

Eyes briefly meeting mine, Sara directs her gaze back out towards the porch.

"Thanks," she tells me quietly.

"You know you're welcome here, right?" I ask her genuinely.

Nodding, this time Sara's eyes stay on mine.

"I know."

"Okay," I tell her.

Breathing out, Sara shakes her head.

"I'm sorry things are so awkward," she offers. "That everything's become so complicated."

I shrug.

"Me too," I tell her simply.

Sara stays quiet, her brows furrowed in obvious thought, her mind focused on things I can only guess about.

"Nancy," she eventually says quietly, eyes rising back up to mine. "I…"

Trailing off, Sara shakes her head in frustration.

Swallowing, she clears her throat. "Just, thank you."

Smiling slightly, I take a chance and reach out and squeeze her shoulder, relieved that she doesn't pull away from me.

"You're welcome."

Sara moves to lean against the car next to me, both of us silently lost to the depths of our own thoughts.


NANCY POV

"She asleep?" I question in shock, handing my sister a cup of coffee, eyes glancing towards the couch.

Packed bags still sitting next to her, Sara is slouched over, body awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Yeah, I think so," Catherine says quietly. "She didn't sleep much on our trip."

Nodding, I gesture out towards the back porch with my head, hands wrapped around the warm mug beneath my fingers.

Following me outside, we situate ourselves on the swing. Reaching over, I pull the blanket over our laps, wrapping my legs up under me.

"I'm glad you're back," I tell her honestly.

Smiling, Catherine moves closer, running her fingers through my hair before leaning in to place a kiss into the tangled locks.

"Me too, Nance," she tells me quietly.

Swallowing some coffee, I rest the mug in my lap.

"You okay?" I ask her seriously, fixing my gaze on her. "I can only imagine what that trip must have been like for you guys."

Catherine shakes her head.

"I honestly don't know how I am," she answers. "The things I saw…about her…about her past…"

Trailing off, Catherine lets out a shaky breath.

I take my sister's free hand into my own.

Squeezing mine, Catherine turns her gaze to me.

"Are you okay?" she questions. "This is hard for you, too."

I take a deep breath.

"Sometimes I'm fine. Sometimes I'm not."

Nodding, Catherine directs her gaze out toward the yard.

"Part of me wonders if Sara isn't actually coping the best out of all of us," Catherine mutters.

I follow her gaze.

"I think Sara's just better at pretending than we are."

Smiling slightly, Catherine nods. "We always were quite blunt with our thoughts and feelings."

Squeezing her hand tighter, I shake my head.

"Yes, and please, don't you dare change."

Looking over at my tone, Catherine searches my eyes.

"Nancy?"

My eyes plead with her own.

"I'm worried, Cath. About her, about you. And I can't stand the thought of being shut out by both of you," I say, swallowing. "I don't know what I'd do."

Letting out a breath, Catherine pulls me close, her arm securely around my shoulders.

"Never, Nancy," she tells me sternly. "We've never shut each other out before, and I'm not starting now."

I search her eyes, finding only openness and honesty.

"Okay," I get out.

"Okay," she says firmly. "And that goes both ways."

"You have my word," I promise her without hesitation.

Trying to relax into my sister's embrace, I rest my head on her shoulder.

Part of me is relieved at knowing Catherine and I will at least have each other as we continue to deal with all that has happened.

But, another part of me grows fearful, suspecting that Sara will decide to move back into her old home.

But, what has me the most worried, is not what will happen if Sara leaves.

It's what will happen if Sara leaves and doesn't ask my sister to come with her.


AN: Thanks for reading.