Sources

Chapter 13

When Sara was fourteen, her caseworker made her start seeing a counselor named Connie Rodriguez. Connie wasn't what she'd expected; she was in her mid-twenties and always wore jeans and a loose ponytail. At their first meeting, she told Sara that she wasn't going to ask her any questions. She was going to give answers to any questions Sara had for her.

At first, Sara had reacted with scorn. "Okay, my question is, how many men have you slept with in your life?" She waited for the inevitable reprimand.

"Three," Connie replied without hesitation.

Sara blinked in surprise, then tried to find a more invasive question. This woman had to have boundaries. "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

"My father molested me until I was ten."

"What's your biggest regret in life?"

"Not reporting my father earlier."

They had a staring contest for several minutes, while Sara assessed the woman sitting across from her. Connie had an open, honest face. It wasn't long before she earned Sara's trust.

They never spoke about the night Michael Sidle was killed, because Sara never asked her any questions about it. She did, however, ask Connie how to manage her claustrophobia.

For many weeks, she and her counselor practiced coping strategies. By the time she turned 15, Sara could sit in a closet for five whole minutes without having an attack. She'd hear Connie's voice in her head, telling her that she was in a safe place, that she was in no danger.

"Saaaaraaaa.."

Her head jerked up and she looked around the cinder block room with alarm, startled out of her memory. Ignore him, she told herself. Go back to Connie's voice.

"Sara, the walls are closing in. The room is getting smaller, and smaller." She heard his deep chuckle and covered her ears. You are in a safe place. You are choosing to be here. No one is forcing you to stay. You can leave at any time. Breathe slowly. You are in no danger.

She jumped when the doorframe shook. He was pounding on it.

"Sara, you don't have to stay in there. You can leave that tiny, shrinking room. All you have to do is ask, you sexy little thing."

A glance at her watch told her she'd been in this room for 20 hours. Suddenly her five-minute victory was not so impressive. Sure, she was sweating profusely and was braced tightly against one wall. But she hadn't given in to him.

"I noticed there's no window in that little room, Sara. It must be hard to breathe. Are you running out of air?"

She gasped shallow breaths in spite of herself. Closing her eyes in defeat, she realized that she was not going to last in this room much longer. She was going to have to ask to leave it, and agree to let him rape her again.

Grissom will come, a voice inside her insisted. He'll find the charm, he'll know you needed protection from someone. So he'll check to see if you've ever been attacked, and then he'll find Bobby.

Sara found herself arguing with the voice. "My name won't be in any databases, I was a minor," she whispered fiercely.

The voice was silent, then responded, Oh, then you're screwed.

Great, she was going crazy on top of everything else.

"Saaaaaraaaa.. You know you want it. Just say the words."

With startling clarity, Sara realized she wouldn't be leaving this house alive. She thought about her friends. Nick and Warrick, playing video games and laughing, making bets on who would win. Greg, blasting rock music and dancing around the lab, oblivious to the fragile beakers around him. Catherine, sharing a sweet moment with Lindsey before starting her shift. And Grissom, with his arm around her in an elevator, his blue eyes searching her soul.

They would all take her death hard, but Grissom would take it hardest of all. He'd know that he hadn't put the clues together in time. He'd think he let her down. If only she could see him again, tell him that it wasn't his fault he didn't love her. Just as it wasn't his fault that she couldn't help loving him.

"Hey, Sara, after I'm done with you and Laura, maybe I'll start in on that pretty little blonde thing you've got living with you."

She panicked. "You said if I came with you, you'd leave my mom alone!"

She heard the laugh again. "I can convince a Sidle woman of anything. I even had your mom convinced that your father was abusing you."

Sara gasped.

"Oh, yeah, it was priceless. The more rough I raped you, the more Laura wanted my comfort. I had my cake. and ate it, too."

Somewhere, deep inside her, a rage awakened in Sara. She looked down to see her hands clenched tightly into fists. She forced herself to remember everything she'd learned in her weaponless combat training.

"Let me out, Bobby. I'm ready."

Sara Sidle was not going down without a fight.