DISCLAIMER: CSI is the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SERIES: Fourth part of the 'Stuck' series.
An' here I sit so patiently
waiting to find out what price
you have to pay to get out of
going through all these things twice.
~ Bob Dylan, Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again
As I crouched down to yet another mutilated girl, raped and then stabbed to death, it hit me with unsurprising clarity:
"Now I know why men hate us so."
Greg glanced at me, had I spoken aloud?
This afternoon, I had been waiting at our kitchen table, well not waiting, I sat and stared at my hands for some time before shift. You came home, you had been working and now I was going to work. How are we ever going to make this work? And I think I said that aloud too, because you looked at me funny. And I realized I needed to see her, to explain. Not you. You are here, with calm eyes and cool hands and you used to let me sleep, while she did no such thing: she was all mouth and hands and how am I supposed to explain this? I'm too proud to think.
"We're not having fun anymore", I said and then I told you that you didn't love me anymore, and when you started sobbing and say you didn't understand, I told you that you had fallen out of love ages ago, and it wasn't fair of me to expect you to stick by me. I have to explain that I had only used her and her games for you, to make her see I only wanted you. Why can't you see that, and why can't she, with all her talking and listening and -
Everytime I woke up from sleeping or fucking she was still gone.
Greg is standing before me, with a worried expression, mouthing something, it looks like he's laughing but he's not, he is way too serious to laugh. Someone is tapping my shoulder, and I turn and what do you know?
And then I'm on my hands and knees and he's kicking so hard and I think I have to puke, and he says "go home, Sara. I can finish this", but why would he say that? And he's wiping my cheek, but why would he do that? And I swat his hands away and I'm wiping off tears, but why am I crying? I'm too proud to be crying. And dad is kicking furiously and I roll over, curl up, I try to be smaller and Greg is shaking me and it looks like he's shouting, but I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I scream, it's TOO MUCH NOISE, and it's roaring, screeching and hissing. You used to say I made you feel safe but now you say, "what do you mean you used her, what are you telling me, Sara?" and I can't breathe. I'm too proud to be breathing. And I can hear Cath laughing, I can hear her talking why can't she stop talking and does she really think any of that is fooling me when I am using her, I'm using you to prove I'm useless, worthless, and if he touches me again I swear to God, I'll–
Now you know me, now you know. He can't hurt me no more, she can't hurt me no more. You can't hurt me no more. I'm too proud to be hurting.
I'm too proud to be hurting.
I'm too proud to be hurting.
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