Sara

19

"Sara!" Clark Madden, sitting in a cold waiting area by the front desk, rose as one of the guards walked Sara out toward the desk, a grey blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The shiv wound in her arm had been clumsily wrapped in a makeshift bandage but she would need to go to the hospital for stitches. Sara was okay with that; she needed to go there to see Jack anyway.

"Mr. Madden," Sara greeted wearily. She had already been interviewed briefly concerning the death of Samuel Cant and the fight with Darius and Michaelson, but she had been told she would be questioned again later by police detectives. Sara didn't care; it was all over now. That was the most important thing.

"I heard there was a fight," Darius' father asked, brows drawn together in concern. "They haven't told me what happened, though. Are you all right?"

Sara nodded. "Darius tried to kill me," she said simply.

"What? Why?"

"Because I was a witness to his killing Samuel Cant," Sara continued, exhaustion sweeping over her in waves. "He killed him to get revenge for Cedric."

Clark Madden's face fell. "Is that why he killed Leah?" he asked quietly. "To get into prison in order to commit the murder?"

Sara nodded again.

Clark sank back into his chair, staring blankly at the floor. "I can't believe it," he said numbly. "And he attacked you, Sara? Why were you there?"

Sara hesitated, not wanting to mention she had been there for revenge as well. "Answers," she said finally. "I needed answers."

Clark glanced up at her and his eyes seemed to register the tiredness on her face, the pain written in her features, and his brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"I need to go to the hospital for stitches," Sara said, gesturing to her injured arm awkwardly, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders and arms. "D – uh, I got stabbed by a shiv."

Immediately, he jumped to his feet. "I'll drive you, Sara. They won't let me see Darius now, anyway."

"What did he want to see you about?" Sara asked, already knowing the answer.

"He wanted to talk about Leah," Clark murmured. "He sounded remorseful over the phone...but I suppose he wasn't. But why call me?"

"He wanted you to be there," Sara said. "For Cant's murder. He thought you would approve of the act of revenge."

"I can't believe that," Clark said softly. "Cedric died years ago...and he still harbored resentment?"

Sara shrugged, wincing. "It's amazing what grief and anger do to people."

[----]

The ride over to the hospital was quiet, Clark not speaking and Sara staring out the window. The events of the morning flashed through her mind, playing over and over again in excruciating detail.

She had always thought she was on the right path, going to whatever lengths she had to in order to figure out why Darius had killed Leah and later to kill him. She had flirted with Michaelson, a thought that still made her shudder, then shot him in the leg, held him at gunpoint, knocked him out, and later pried about in his wound to remove the slug. She had proceeded to continue on her path of revenge even after her place of work was shot up, resulting in three injuries and one death. Yet still, she had plotted Darius' death and had come within a moment of carrying out her plan.

And she had thought she was somehow justified through all that.

Yet Darius had done the same. He and Michaelson had plotted to kill Fields, the man who had hit on her at the bar, and then had substituted Leah in once Darius had figured out she knew too much. They had committed perjury to ensure Darius received a lighter sentence and then Michaelson had probably influenced the right people to ensure Samuel Cant was transferred to Darius' prison, where they had planned the double visitation in order to carry out the murder. But instead of Clark Madden arriving to see his son commit murder, Sara had shown up.

Then the murder had taken place, Sara's own death being inevitable since she was the only witness who was likely to talk. She had somehow managed to fight back, even getting her hands around Darius' throat in an attempt to strangle the life out of him. And then, Leah's memory and the words of the man at the front desk of the prison stopped her.

Slowly, a quote she remembered her father saying crawled into her mind. He would quote it when watching movies with characters that ended up betraying the good guys or their values. "A fall from such a height is rarely straight downwards," he would say, quoting Victor Hugo's book The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

"A fall from such a height is rarely straight downwards," Sara murmured, still watching the passing scenery, the blanket of snow covering the front lawns of houses. Clark flicked his eyes over at her but said nothing.

Yes, Sara had fallen, fallen far from the safety of everything she was accustomed to. But it hadn't been a straight fall from good girl to attempted murderer. It had been full of turns and that moment, sitting beside Jack, where she had almost given it all up. But then she had heard of Darius getting the plea deal and only a year's sentence, and she had sworn revenge.

A fall from such a height is rarely straight downwards.

Sara thoroughly agreed.

Darius and Sara had both fallen, but Sara had managed to stop before she hit the bottom. Darius hadn't. He had killed for Cedric and Sara had been willing to kill for Leah, but in the end, Sara had stopped before the deed was done.

That's the difference between us, Sara thought as Clark pulled into the parking lot. I stopped. I came to my senses. I didn't let him steal my soul.

Darius had given up everything to avenge his little brother: wife, freedom, father. Sara had almost given up everything, too: mother, freedom, Jack. But while Darius had made his father lose his only surviving son, not to mention his beloved daughter-in-law, Sara's mother wouldn't have to lose Sara anytime soon.

[----]

It was late afternoon by the time Sara was permitted to see Jack, stitches patterned across her upper arm, holding the wound closed. She had already given her statement to the police detectives, with the presence of an attorney to make sure she didn't incriminate herself. It didn't look like they were going to prosecute her for attempted murder, though; her fight with Darius and Michaelson was being put down to self-defense.

"Hey," Jack greeted, sitting propped up against his pillows when she entered. "I expected to see you earlier today."

"I know," Sara said, sinking into the chair beside his bed. Jack held out his hand and she took it, her fingers tightening around his. "I got caught up in something."

Jack's eyes widened when he noticed the stitches. "What happened?" he demanded. "Sara, that wound looks horrible!"

"It's a long story," Sara said, glancing away for a minute. Jack was silent, then he squeezed her hand.

"Tell me about it."