The Truth
Sara was not sure what woke her. Her sleep was dreamless, the room quiet. But she woke nonetheless, and when she did, the first thing she saw was the other half of the bed.
It was painfully empty, just like how it had been the other times, when she would fall asleep in Raaf's arms but never woke in them. She had been able to let it go the previous times, thinking she had all the time in the world to figure it out on her own.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, the sight of all that empty space unsettled her heart, and she found herself curling her body into a ball.
If her Raaf had still been beside her in bed, it was possible that all the evil doubts and insecurities lurking stealthily in the back of her mind would never have made their way to the surface. If he had still been there, he wouldn't even have to say a word. She would only need a second to lose herself in his Paul-Newman-blue eyes, and she would be at ease, her heart no longer troubled.
If only he was there.
But because he was not, there was now this terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she could feel it crawling up, up and away...
Until it punctured her lungs and every breath she drew became a struggle.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
She wanted the awful feeling to just stop crawling, but still it went up until it filled her mouth, and its taste was as distressing as it was familiar.
Oh, how she knew this taste.
She had felt this the first time she touched herself, and now, with her mind saturated with images of what she had allowed to happen between her and another boy - she felt it again, and of course it was nothing else but guilt and shame.
Raaf will make it alright, Sara told herself.
She only felt guilty and ashamed right now because everything was still new, and it was all too easy to beat herself up for wanting and enjoying something that the rest of the world would find sordid.
She just had to find Raaf, and he would tell her again she had been magnificent - that was his word, wasn't it?
Magnificent.
The sooner she could hear that one word from him again, the better, and so she forced herself to get up and started mentally listing the places he might have gone to.
Lounge? Fly deck? His office?
But her worries proved unnecessary the moment she stepped out of her room.
Voices from the lounge in the main deck drifted down the hallway; the first one was familiar; it was Raaf, and he sounded harsh. The second voice, however...
"And your biological father?"
Sara's steps came into a clumsy stop.
"Didn't he rape your mother?"
That voice was also familiar.
"Gacy and company suffered unspeakable horror..."
That truly was her father speaking.
Her father!
She was shocked at first. Confused after. And finally, agitated.
Panic overrode all thoughts and emotions, and Sara ran up the steps, a part of her already fearing the worst. But when she finally reached the landing, all she saw were the two most important men in her life, both of them stiff and tense as they met her stunned gaze.
Raaf watched his Sara's eyes dart between him and her father. While a part of him dreaded seeing accusation darken her gaze, another part of him almost needed to see it, if only so he could convince himself that she was not perfect.
He needed her to be imperfect, dammit.
But instead, she was looking at him as if he was merely a man who had some explaining to do.
A man, but not a monster, and it was that which killed him.
William saw the way the younger man's face had whitened under his daughter's innocently bewildered gaze, and he knew then that his words had succeeded in sowing a few seeds of doubt in Karvelas' mind. All he needed to do now was to let those seeds grow, but for that to happen—-
Sara was startled with how her father suddenly blocked her way when she attempted to reach Raaf. She tried sidestepping, but her father only moved to block her way again, and she found herself looking at Raaf in mute appeal. She was not used to going against her father's wishes like this. Would he not do something about this?
Raaf knew what his Sara was asking of him. But at the same time, he could not stop thinking about William's words either. Because what if her father was right?
Raaf was the product of rape, and he had also been raised by a woman who reveled in the abuse and torment of other women. A man like him could never deserve a girl like Sara, and when he heard her say his name entreatingly—-
"Raaf?"
It no longer sounded right, his name akin to a blasphemy when uttered by someone as gentle as his dove.