2004-11-10 - 4:47 p.m.

Chapter 16

Single shot. Direct hit, not to his heart, but to the soul of Gil Grissom.

He could avoid mirrors forever, but he couldn’t avoid the reflection of his brother in Sara’s eyes.

His chin dipped so low Sara panicked for a moment that his neck had somehow snapped. His knees straightened and he was standing, but without conviction. His presence had diminished to a bleak blot in the sun. She watched helplessly as he turned his back to her.

“Do you think you can find your way back to the house?”

The question took her by such surprise Sara didn’t answer right away. Eventually she managed, “I think so.”

“Take the car. Stay as long as you want, or need. I won’t come near.”

With that Gil set the keys to the rental on the ledge of a window and disappeared into the house.

Sara cried. In the beginning it was just tears, sliding down her face, numbly. No real understanding behind them slowly her brain began revealing images, endless moments of quiet attraction between herself and someone she could not identify. This brought the quiet moans of frustration. When the rape replayed for her self-torturing pleasure she sobbed and tore at lumps of grass and dirt with her hands. It was the last few moments, and Gil’s quiet acceptance of her accusation that released the torrent. She lay on her side, the green blades insinuating themselves into her hair, ears, nose. She wailed. Tears, snot, and wet saliva mixed and ran down her face, her neck, and throat. Her entire body convulsed with each new wave of misery. Part of her feared that she would never stop, that she would merely awaken one day, tied to a bed in some hospital muttering and drugged beyond all memory. What truly frightened her is that some piece of her hoped for it. Instead the convulsions slowed to shivers and the sobs to ragged gasps for air. Her head throbbed and her cheeks were raw. Not knowing what else to do she retrieved the keys headed for Trina’s.

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