Fic : Demons Part 18
Title: When Demons Come a Calling - Part 18
Author: Kimmi
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Sara and Catherine. Unfortunately CBS does, I’m just borrowing them.
Summary: When Sara’s past comes back to haunt her it arrives with a vengeance.
Spoilers: Up to Nesting Dolls, after that it takes a sharp left turn.
Authors Notes: This is dark, full of angst and deals with themes of rape and torture, although I don’t think I got too graphic. I also do not have a beta so there will be errors.
Chapters | 1 | 2-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7-8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Part 18
Sara gasped for air as she ripped herself from the icy grip of her latest nightmare. Her life and her memories had been invading her sleep for as long as she could remember. The shrink her social worker had forced her see when she’d been thrown into the system had assured her that they would fade with time; the man had obviously been a complete quack. As she got older the nightmares had only gotten worse, more vivid, until it was like she was reliving it all over again. Sometimes when she woke up she swore she could feel the cuts, bruises and broken bones she had suffered. After she had become a CSI, the victims she couldn’t help, couldn’t find justice for, had become intermingled with her parents. Their screams tore her to shreds, their accusing eyes burned her soul.
The dream that had woken her up, that made her stomach lurch and her heart freeze was a sick twisted parody of her most frequent nightmare. And worse than any other one she’d ever had.
Sara pulled the girl out of her bed, twisting her arm viciously. She ignored the child’s cry of pain as she yanked her down the hall. The little blonde tried to pull away but she just tightened her grip and snarled at her. “You are about to get a lesson you are never going to forget. This is what happens to liars and cheaters.”
She had put up with a lot of shit from the woman sprawled drunkenly across the bed, bruises and broken bones, screaming matches that lasted all night, trips to the hospital at three in the morning, being flat broke half the time because the blonde had blown all their money on booze or weed, she’d even ruined her figure giving birth to the bitch’s two brats. But to cheat on her with that man and then try to lie to her face after she had caught them, in her bed? She wasn’t going to get away with that. Catherine had to pay.
Sara tossed Lindsey into the corner and watched with satisfaction as the girl crumbled to the floor. She should have insisted that they rip that worthless thing out of her the second she found out she was pregnant, no matter how dangerous that ‘doctor’ had said it was. Turning back to her wife the brunette promptly forgot about her daughter.
The knife felt so good in her hand, it felt like retribution. Sara drew back her arm and struck hard and fast, plunging the blade deep into Catherine’s chest. The blonde’s eyes flew open in confusion that quickly turned into terror as she realized what was happening. Her first blow must had hit the woman’s lung because the only sounds in the room were sick rattling sounds as she tried to draw breath, muted thumps as steel met flesh and a wet squelching noise as the knife was yanked out. Rage coursed through her veins, driving her, until Cath stopped moving.
Sara grinned madly as she took in her handy work. Catherine’s once golden hair was now matted and crimson with gore. Her perfect Cupid’s bow lips were twisted into an eternal silent scream. Her body used to be perfect, vivacious, sexy, now it was a mutilated empty shell. That suited the brunette just fine, the slut had gotten exactly what she deserved.
Sara knew she was awake, but she swore she could still feel the long satin-smooth handle of the knife against her fingers, thick warm gore covering her hands. She could even smell the heavy copper and iron of fresh blood in the air. Her stomach lurched and bile clawed its way up her throat, sharp talons digging into tender flesh. She swallowed convulsively and forced the foul liquid back down.
When Catherine had sat beside her, held her hand, told her she was a good person, it had been easy to push away her fears for a little while. But alone in the dim light of the nighttime ICU ward with her demons screaming in her mind, darkness descended on her. Was this perverted version of the night her mother had murdered her father to be her future? Michael Thomas had wanted make her like him. But what if she already was?
‘Some people are just born bad.’ Warrick had once told her that in the midst of a case.
‘It’s already there inside you Sara. Your father beat his family and his violence lives within you. Your mother murdered him and her blood pumps through your veins. You are a born killer, designed by nature and nurtured by pain.’ All of her doubts, all the fears that stalked her when she didn’t keep her mind filled with cases and evidence, he’d hit them squarely on the head.
‘I don’t believe that genes are a predictor of violent behavior.’ It hadn’t been a definitive resounding NO. All it meant was that Grissom had no proof one way or the other and he had just been trying to calm her fears.
Children of alcoholics were more susceptible to the disease than those with non-drinking parents. Statistics showed that childhood abuse survivors were more likely to harm their children and spouses than those that had had a loving upbringing. There were hundreds of illnesses that were passed from parent to child. So why not murder? Was it so farfetched to think that violence could be inherited through genetics?
It was the biggest reason why she had never even considered having kids of her own, why she had never been comfortable around them. Because while she wanted to believe that she would never be capable of hurting a child, what right did she have to take that chance? Kids were fragile, delicate, breakable, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. Tell a child often enough that they are worthless, and they will eventually believe it. Tell a child that they deserved to be hurt and they will come to expect it. The thought of putting an innocent kid through even the tiniest fraction of the hell she’d lived in for the first thirteen years of her life was enough to unplug her biological clock and throw it out the window.
Sometimes she found herself wondering where her brother was, if he had a family of his own. Did he hit his wife? Where his children intimately familiar with emergency rooms? Did they flinch when he moved too fast in their direction or when he raised his voice? Did they know what a hug felt like? Were they told that they were precious gifts to be treasured or worthless burdens? Did they know gentleness or violence? She would probably never know.
Sara hadn’t seen her brother since he had left home when she was ten. While their parents had doted on him for the most part, even his status as the favorite child, the first born son, the one they wanted, the one they loved, hadn’t made him completely immune to their fists and bitter words. He had taken a fair amount of abuse but it paled in comparison to what had been heaped on her thin shoulders.
Scott had promised her over and over again that he would take her with him when he was old enough to move out, but he had lied. He left one day while she was in school had never looked back, never tried to contact her, never tried to save her. He had obviously not wanted anything to do with her so she had let him go and never tried to find him.
“Hey kiddo that looks like an awful lot of heavy thinking for this time of night.”
Sara looked up in surprise and straight into the smiling eyes of Captain Brass. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come in. “Huh? What are you doing here at… what time is it anyway?”
Jim grinned happily at the verbal response as he pulled a chair over to the brunette’s bedside. She was talking, that was a good sign. “It’s a little after three a.m. One of the perks of the badge is I get a little extra leeway with visiting hours, and well the nurse wasn’t at her desk to stop me. I would have come by during regular hours but I’ve had a long and busy day. There was a fifteen car pile up on I-15, with fatalities, then a double homicide in North Vegas and then a drive by on D Street. Oh well maybe it’s for the best anyway, Catherine said you weren’t up to entertaining guests this afternoon.”
“Yeah, Catherine.” Sara’s thoughts ricocheted between the conversation she’d had with the blonde and the nightmare she’d just had. Catherine had said that she wanted to protect her, but who would protect Cath from her? There had to be a way to get around that damn statement without getting the older woman into trouble, she just had to think.
Brass watched with concern as Sara’s voice faded away and her eyes became unfocused. He was used to that thousand yard stare at a crime scene when she would get so deep into it that it was almost like she was there, but here in her hospital room he didn’t think it was such a good idea for her to be thinking that hard. “Sara, hey time to come back now.”
Sara snapped back to the present as a large warm hand encased her own and squeezed gently. She looked up into his worried face for a moment but had to look away. She didn’t know if she could look him in the eye while she told him the truth. She hadn’t found the answer she was looking for but she couldn’t wait for it to come to her. “Jim, there’s something I need to tell you. Actually confess would be more accurate.”
Chancing a glance up at the man beside her, Sara saw his brows raised in a silent question. She knew he wouldn’t press her and if she wanted she could chicken out and he would let it drop, but she couldn’t. Screwing her eyes closed she plunged right in, starting with her parents and ending with her assault on Catherine. The brunette tried not to leave anything out even though it was incredibly painful to tell him. She needed him to understand what a danger she was, that it was for the best if she was locked up. “So I guess I need to turn myself in.”
“Oh I forgot to tell you, the hospital sent your tox screen over to the lab.”
Sara blinked at the off-hand statement. She had just laid her entire life out for the detective and he wanted to talk about toxicology results? He was acting like he hadn’t heard a word she had said. “What?”
Brass knew he had thrown her with his comment but she had really sent him for a loop with her recounting of her childhood and what had happened with Thomas. He dealt with the victims of horrific crimes every day but this was different, Sara was different. This was a woman he cared deeply about and she had suffered more than he could ever have guessed. If he didn’t handle this right he could lose her. “Yeah they got it late this afternoon and I saw it about an hour ago, interesting reading. There was a lot of stuff that I can’t pronounce and have never heard of but I’ve been assured that they’re really unpleasant. Out of the stuff I did recognize I think the one that really stood out the most was the PCP.”
“PCP? Angel Dust?” Sara felt a shudder ripple through her body. The drug was notoriously dangerous and unpredictable. It could cause the user to feel unconnected to their body, experience schizophrenia-like symptoms that could take up to two weeks to dissipate, violent behavior, fear, anxiety and panic. The effects usually depended on the situation and the user’s state of mind. To give it to someone with a past like hers while she was being tortured was like playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun with a hair-trigger. It certainly explained some of her behavior, but did it excuse it?
Jim could see the fear in the brunette’s ebony eyes. She knew even better than he did the effects that particularly nasty drug could have not just on the body but on the psyche of the user. When he had seen the report he had realized immediately that she needed to know. Now that she had told him what had happened while that bastard had held her and Catherine, as well as her past, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that coming here in the middle of the night was the right decision. “There was no mention of any kind of assault by you in Catherine’s statement. You know as well as I do that without any evidence, no complaining witness and forced drug use, there’s no judge in the world that would sign an arrest warrant. Hell no prosecutor would even try to bring something like this to trail. You weren’t responsible for what happened. In fact, I’m not convinced that anything actually did happen. It was probably a hallucination.”
No, it had definitely happened. Catherine had said that it wasn’t her, that she wasn’t herself, but even she admitted that Sara had touched her. The blonde had given her an out, Jim was giving her an out, the question was could she accept it? Was she strong enough to fight her past to keep it from becoming her future? Sara didn’t think she was, not by herself. But could she break down her walls enough to allow someone to help her? She had been taking care of herself since she was old enough to realize that no one else was going to. It wouldn’t be easy to put thirty years of self-reliance aside, but if she wanted to stop her nightmare from becoming her reality she had to try. “Will you help me?”
Jim’s heart soared at the tentative plea and he grinned widely at her. “You betcha Peanut. You couldn’t beat me off with a stick.”
“Peanut?” Sara couldn’t help the snort of laughter or the very fat tear that rolled down her cheek. No one had ever called her something like that. It was affectionate, loving, the kind of thing a father would call a daughter.
“What? Too Father Knows Best? Maybe we should stick with kiddo, huh?” Brass gave her a wink, happy he could lighten the mood even a little. He had hope that between himself and Willows they could get the brunette through this. The detective was certain that he could count on the blonde now that he knew how far she had already gone to protect Sara.
“So we’re okay?” Sara knew it was a pretty stupid question but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. Jim had already shown her that he had her back but the last few years had sharpened her insecure nature to a razors edge.
“Yeah we’re good, as long as you’re over this notion of turning yourself in for something you didn’t do.” He tried to give her a stern look but the smile wouldn’t leave his face. Brass knew there would be setbacks, but for the moment they were making progress.
Sara looked into his caring eyes and felt any resolve she had left slip away. With both Jim and Catherine proclaiming her inculpably and vehemently against letting her do what she thought she had to, fighting was pretty much pointless. Knowing the two of them the brunette was sure that if she tried to go around them they would find a way to stop her. “I won’t turn myself in.”
“Good, now that that’s settled there’s just one more thing I need to tell you before I let you get back to sleep. Your parents didn’t deserve to have a kid like you. Personally I think you must have gotten switched at birth because there’s no way you could come from a couple of idiots like them.” Jim knew he had ignored his parental duties, spending his time either on the job or in a local pub drinking but he had never raised a hand to Ellie, he had certainly never abused her. Sara’s parents were lucky they were either dead or in jail because after hearing what they had done to her he wanted to kill them himself.
“Thank you.” Sara gave the hand that had never let go of hers a squeeze. She hoped the gesture conveyed more than her inadequate words could.
“No need to thank me, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. You know you’ve got a lot of people that care about you, all you have to do is let them. And I meant what I said yesterday, I love ya like you’re my own, so just keep that in mind.” Jim stood and started for the door, happy with the outcome this little heart-to-heart.
“I’ll try to remember that, Dad.” The smile on his face was all she needed to see to know that she had made the right decision to let him in. Jim Brass was a good man and if he was willing to take a chance on her she needed to be willing to do the same. As he left the night seemed a little brighter than it had before. Maybe there was hope for her with someone like him on her side. Between him and Catherine maybe, just maybe, she could avoid her parents’ legacy.
TBC
Author: Kimmi
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Sara and Catherine. Unfortunately CBS does, I’m just borrowing them.
Summary: When Sara’s past comes back to haunt her it arrives with a vengeance.
Spoilers: Up to Nesting Dolls, after that it takes a sharp left turn.
Authors Notes: This is dark, full of angst and deals with themes of rape and torture, although I don’t think I got too graphic. I also do not have a beta so there will be errors.
Chapters | 1 | 2-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7-8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Part 18
Sara gasped for air as she ripped herself from the icy grip of her latest nightmare. Her life and her memories had been invading her sleep for as long as she could remember. The shrink her social worker had forced her see when she’d been thrown into the system had assured her that they would fade with time; the man had obviously been a complete quack. As she got older the nightmares had only gotten worse, more vivid, until it was like she was reliving it all over again. Sometimes when she woke up she swore she could feel the cuts, bruises and broken bones she had suffered. After she had become a CSI, the victims she couldn’t help, couldn’t find justice for, had become intermingled with her parents. Their screams tore her to shreds, their accusing eyes burned her soul.
The dream that had woken her up, that made her stomach lurch and her heart freeze was a sick twisted parody of her most frequent nightmare. And worse than any other one she’d ever had.
Sara pulled the girl out of her bed, twisting her arm viciously. She ignored the child’s cry of pain as she yanked her down the hall. The little blonde tried to pull away but she just tightened her grip and snarled at her. “You are about to get a lesson you are never going to forget. This is what happens to liars and cheaters.”
She had put up with a lot of shit from the woman sprawled drunkenly across the bed, bruises and broken bones, screaming matches that lasted all night, trips to the hospital at three in the morning, being flat broke half the time because the blonde had blown all their money on booze or weed, she’d even ruined her figure giving birth to the bitch’s two brats. But to cheat on her with that man and then try to lie to her face after she had caught them, in her bed? She wasn’t going to get away with that. Catherine had to pay.
Sara tossed Lindsey into the corner and watched with satisfaction as the girl crumbled to the floor. She should have insisted that they rip that worthless thing out of her the second she found out she was pregnant, no matter how dangerous that ‘doctor’ had said it was. Turning back to her wife the brunette promptly forgot about her daughter.
The knife felt so good in her hand, it felt like retribution. Sara drew back her arm and struck hard and fast, plunging the blade deep into Catherine’s chest. The blonde’s eyes flew open in confusion that quickly turned into terror as she realized what was happening. Her first blow must had hit the woman’s lung because the only sounds in the room were sick rattling sounds as she tried to draw breath, muted thumps as steel met flesh and a wet squelching noise as the knife was yanked out. Rage coursed through her veins, driving her, until Cath stopped moving.
Sara grinned madly as she took in her handy work. Catherine’s once golden hair was now matted and crimson with gore. Her perfect Cupid’s bow lips were twisted into an eternal silent scream. Her body used to be perfect, vivacious, sexy, now it was a mutilated empty shell. That suited the brunette just fine, the slut had gotten exactly what she deserved.
Sara knew she was awake, but she swore she could still feel the long satin-smooth handle of the knife against her fingers, thick warm gore covering her hands. She could even smell the heavy copper and iron of fresh blood in the air. Her stomach lurched and bile clawed its way up her throat, sharp talons digging into tender flesh. She swallowed convulsively and forced the foul liquid back down.
When Catherine had sat beside her, held her hand, told her she was a good person, it had been easy to push away her fears for a little while. But alone in the dim light of the nighttime ICU ward with her demons screaming in her mind, darkness descended on her. Was this perverted version of the night her mother had murdered her father to be her future? Michael Thomas had wanted make her like him. But what if she already was?
‘Some people are just born bad.’ Warrick had once told her that in the midst of a case.
‘It’s already there inside you Sara. Your father beat his family and his violence lives within you. Your mother murdered him and her blood pumps through your veins. You are a born killer, designed by nature and nurtured by pain.’ All of her doubts, all the fears that stalked her when she didn’t keep her mind filled with cases and evidence, he’d hit them squarely on the head.
‘I don’t believe that genes are a predictor of violent behavior.’ It hadn’t been a definitive resounding NO. All it meant was that Grissom had no proof one way or the other and he had just been trying to calm her fears.
Children of alcoholics were more susceptible to the disease than those with non-drinking parents. Statistics showed that childhood abuse survivors were more likely to harm their children and spouses than those that had had a loving upbringing. There were hundreds of illnesses that were passed from parent to child. So why not murder? Was it so farfetched to think that violence could be inherited through genetics?
It was the biggest reason why she had never even considered having kids of her own, why she had never been comfortable around them. Because while she wanted to believe that she would never be capable of hurting a child, what right did she have to take that chance? Kids were fragile, delicate, breakable, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. Tell a child often enough that they are worthless, and they will eventually believe it. Tell a child that they deserved to be hurt and they will come to expect it. The thought of putting an innocent kid through even the tiniest fraction of the hell she’d lived in for the first thirteen years of her life was enough to unplug her biological clock and throw it out the window.
Sometimes she found herself wondering where her brother was, if he had a family of his own. Did he hit his wife? Where his children intimately familiar with emergency rooms? Did they flinch when he moved too fast in their direction or when he raised his voice? Did they know what a hug felt like? Were they told that they were precious gifts to be treasured or worthless burdens? Did they know gentleness or violence? She would probably never know.
Sara hadn’t seen her brother since he had left home when she was ten. While their parents had doted on him for the most part, even his status as the favorite child, the first born son, the one they wanted, the one they loved, hadn’t made him completely immune to their fists and bitter words. He had taken a fair amount of abuse but it paled in comparison to what had been heaped on her thin shoulders.
Scott had promised her over and over again that he would take her with him when he was old enough to move out, but he had lied. He left one day while she was in school had never looked back, never tried to contact her, never tried to save her. He had obviously not wanted anything to do with her so she had let him go and never tried to find him.
“Hey kiddo that looks like an awful lot of heavy thinking for this time of night.”
Sara looked up in surprise and straight into the smiling eyes of Captain Brass. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come in. “Huh? What are you doing here at… what time is it anyway?”
Jim grinned happily at the verbal response as he pulled a chair over to the brunette’s bedside. She was talking, that was a good sign. “It’s a little after three a.m. One of the perks of the badge is I get a little extra leeway with visiting hours, and well the nurse wasn’t at her desk to stop me. I would have come by during regular hours but I’ve had a long and busy day. There was a fifteen car pile up on I-15, with fatalities, then a double homicide in North Vegas and then a drive by on D Street. Oh well maybe it’s for the best anyway, Catherine said you weren’t up to entertaining guests this afternoon.”
“Yeah, Catherine.” Sara’s thoughts ricocheted between the conversation she’d had with the blonde and the nightmare she’d just had. Catherine had said that she wanted to protect her, but who would protect Cath from her? There had to be a way to get around that damn statement without getting the older woman into trouble, she just had to think.
Brass watched with concern as Sara’s voice faded away and her eyes became unfocused. He was used to that thousand yard stare at a crime scene when she would get so deep into it that it was almost like she was there, but here in her hospital room he didn’t think it was such a good idea for her to be thinking that hard. “Sara, hey time to come back now.”
Sara snapped back to the present as a large warm hand encased her own and squeezed gently. She looked up into his worried face for a moment but had to look away. She didn’t know if she could look him in the eye while she told him the truth. She hadn’t found the answer she was looking for but she couldn’t wait for it to come to her. “Jim, there’s something I need to tell you. Actually confess would be more accurate.”
Chancing a glance up at the man beside her, Sara saw his brows raised in a silent question. She knew he wouldn’t press her and if she wanted she could chicken out and he would let it drop, but she couldn’t. Screwing her eyes closed she plunged right in, starting with her parents and ending with her assault on Catherine. The brunette tried not to leave anything out even though it was incredibly painful to tell him. She needed him to understand what a danger she was, that it was for the best if she was locked up. “So I guess I need to turn myself in.”
“Oh I forgot to tell you, the hospital sent your tox screen over to the lab.”
Sara blinked at the off-hand statement. She had just laid her entire life out for the detective and he wanted to talk about toxicology results? He was acting like he hadn’t heard a word she had said. “What?”
Brass knew he had thrown her with his comment but she had really sent him for a loop with her recounting of her childhood and what had happened with Thomas. He dealt with the victims of horrific crimes every day but this was different, Sara was different. This was a woman he cared deeply about and she had suffered more than he could ever have guessed. If he didn’t handle this right he could lose her. “Yeah they got it late this afternoon and I saw it about an hour ago, interesting reading. There was a lot of stuff that I can’t pronounce and have never heard of but I’ve been assured that they’re really unpleasant. Out of the stuff I did recognize I think the one that really stood out the most was the PCP.”
“PCP? Angel Dust?” Sara felt a shudder ripple through her body. The drug was notoriously dangerous and unpredictable. It could cause the user to feel unconnected to their body, experience schizophrenia-like symptoms that could take up to two weeks to dissipate, violent behavior, fear, anxiety and panic. The effects usually depended on the situation and the user’s state of mind. To give it to someone with a past like hers while she was being tortured was like playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun with a hair-trigger. It certainly explained some of her behavior, but did it excuse it?
Jim could see the fear in the brunette’s ebony eyes. She knew even better than he did the effects that particularly nasty drug could have not just on the body but on the psyche of the user. When he had seen the report he had realized immediately that she needed to know. Now that she had told him what had happened while that bastard had held her and Catherine, as well as her past, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that coming here in the middle of the night was the right decision. “There was no mention of any kind of assault by you in Catherine’s statement. You know as well as I do that without any evidence, no complaining witness and forced drug use, there’s no judge in the world that would sign an arrest warrant. Hell no prosecutor would even try to bring something like this to trail. You weren’t responsible for what happened. In fact, I’m not convinced that anything actually did happen. It was probably a hallucination.”
No, it had definitely happened. Catherine had said that it wasn’t her, that she wasn’t herself, but even she admitted that Sara had touched her. The blonde had given her an out, Jim was giving her an out, the question was could she accept it? Was she strong enough to fight her past to keep it from becoming her future? Sara didn’t think she was, not by herself. But could she break down her walls enough to allow someone to help her? She had been taking care of herself since she was old enough to realize that no one else was going to. It wouldn’t be easy to put thirty years of self-reliance aside, but if she wanted to stop her nightmare from becoming her reality she had to try. “Will you help me?”
Jim’s heart soared at the tentative plea and he grinned widely at her. “You betcha Peanut. You couldn’t beat me off with a stick.”
“Peanut?” Sara couldn’t help the snort of laughter or the very fat tear that rolled down her cheek. No one had ever called her something like that. It was affectionate, loving, the kind of thing a father would call a daughter.
“What? Too Father Knows Best? Maybe we should stick with kiddo, huh?” Brass gave her a wink, happy he could lighten the mood even a little. He had hope that between himself and Willows they could get the brunette through this. The detective was certain that he could count on the blonde now that he knew how far she had already gone to protect Sara.
“So we’re okay?” Sara knew it was a pretty stupid question but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. Jim had already shown her that he had her back but the last few years had sharpened her insecure nature to a razors edge.
“Yeah we’re good, as long as you’re over this notion of turning yourself in for something you didn’t do.” He tried to give her a stern look but the smile wouldn’t leave his face. Brass knew there would be setbacks, but for the moment they were making progress.
Sara looked into his caring eyes and felt any resolve she had left slip away. With both Jim and Catherine proclaiming her inculpably and vehemently against letting her do what she thought she had to, fighting was pretty much pointless. Knowing the two of them the brunette was sure that if she tried to go around them they would find a way to stop her. “I won’t turn myself in.”
“Good, now that that’s settled there’s just one more thing I need to tell you before I let you get back to sleep. Your parents didn’t deserve to have a kid like you. Personally I think you must have gotten switched at birth because there’s no way you could come from a couple of idiots like them.” Jim knew he had ignored his parental duties, spending his time either on the job or in a local pub drinking but he had never raised a hand to Ellie, he had certainly never abused her. Sara’s parents were lucky they were either dead or in jail because after hearing what they had done to her he wanted to kill them himself.
“Thank you.” Sara gave the hand that had never let go of hers a squeeze. She hoped the gesture conveyed more than her inadequate words could.
“No need to thank me, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. You know you’ve got a lot of people that care about you, all you have to do is let them. And I meant what I said yesterday, I love ya like you’re my own, so just keep that in mind.” Jim stood and started for the door, happy with the outcome this little heart-to-heart.
“I’ll try to remember that, Dad.” The smile on his face was all she needed to see to know that she had made the right decision to let him in. Jim Brass was a good man and if he was willing to take a chance on her she needed to be willing to do the same. As he left the night seemed a little brighter than it had before. Maybe there was hope for her with someone like him on her side. Between him and Catherine maybe, just maybe, she could avoid her parents’ legacy.
TBC