Here are the next pages for the Prologue. As always please review =). I enjoy reading the comments. Oh, and if you have any questions feel free to ask.

“She’s not you. She’s capable of being human.”
“Being proud is being human.”
“She’s not as screwed up as you are.”
“Don’t turn your guilt into an attack against someone you know nothing about.”
Reluctantly, Cuddy finished her story in excruciating detail breezing through it as hastily as possible, talking so fast that it was borderline incomprehensible. By the time she was finished she was shaking and she looked like she was about to break down and cry. The incessant tapping of her fingers against the scarred, wooden witness stand in front of her had ceased. Instead her delicate hands were clenched into fists, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms.
“The prosecution rests,” the attorney said.
“Court will reconvene at nine tomorrow,” the judge said with a bang of her gavel.
Thank God that was over, Cuddy thought to herself as she began to exit the courthouse. However, that was not the worst of it. Tomorrow she would be cross-examined. She was entertaining the notion of punishing Wilson with clinic duty when a cold hand clasped her wrist breaking her reverie. It was Tritters’ hand. By this time the courthouse had emptied, no one was there except for Tritter, Cuddy, and the judge, who oddly was just sitting at her bench glaring at Cuddy with intense hatred.
“That was a very fascinating story,” Tritter mocked, “Too bad no one will believe a word of it.”
Cuddy stood frozen with fear.
“Tomorrow my attorney will fry you. This case will not go on to a trial and your fragile, fake image of perfection will crumble around you taking you down with it.”
Cuddy wrenched her wrist from his grasp and walked briskly away. By the time she had made her way to the hall she was furious. She marched over to where Wilson, Sarah, and House were standing, undoubtedly talking about her testimony.
“Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut,” she snapped glaring at Wilson.
“I was trying to help you,” Wilson replied.
“Well, nice job. This is not going to go to trial.”
“You can’t know that.”
“The judge hates me.”
“You can’t know that either.”
“And you can’t know that I can’t know that!”
All three of them stared at her.
“Tomorrow the defense attorney is going to drag my name through the mud, dissect my testimony and thus completely disgrace me. Then the judge is going to pardon the asshole making me look like a complete whore. Thanks for your help,” she continued bitterly.
“Wilson went by the book,” Sarah interjected, “Wilson did what you would have done if I were in your shoes. The fact that he trusts the police makes him as naïve as the average American. The fact that the judge hates you is not his fault.”
Both Cuddy and Wilson looked at her.
“You’re defending me,” he asked shocked.
“Well it sounds like it Florence. God you’re an idiot. You’re making your namesake look bad.”
After Wilsons’ affair with one of his patients, Sarah had taken to calling him Flo, Florence, or Nightingale.
“See you do something minutely nice and then bam, your back to being a heinous bitch.”
“Suck it Flo. As I was saying, Cuddy, obviously you’re pissed off, and believe me I would be too, but it’s only minutely Flo’s fault.”
The only response she got was the loud clacking of Cuddy’s heels as she left.
“You should talk to her,” Wilson said.
“Golly gee willakers batman,” Sarah said sarcastically, “I never would’ve thought to do that what with my psychiatry training and practice.”
Her combat boots made a loud thunking sound as she stomped down the hall and out the door.
“What do you think happened to her,” Wilson mused, “Her mother’s not like this.”
“Joanna’s like this she’s just a lot less like this,” House replied, “And not even Cuddy really knows what happened to Sarah.”
Without preamble Sarah marched into Cuddy’s office and flopped down on the new couch. Even though Cuddy continued reading the file in front of her without even bothering to look up. She could tell it was Sarah from the angry stomping and clunking of combat boots that were two sizes too big.
“You mad at me,” Sarah asked calmly.
“No,” Cuddy replied flatly.
“Good…in six weeks I would appreciate it if you would let me psychologically assess you.”
“I’m fine.”
“That would depend upon your definition of the word fine, however, it is pointless to argue with you right now so…you should have no problem proving it in six weeks.”
For a moment Cuddy remained silent.
“Do you think I’m screwed tomorrow,” she asked softly.
She was looking for reassurance, for Sarah to tell her that everything would be fine.
“Yes,” Sarah replied.
Unfortunately for Cuddy it was Sarah’s opinion that false hope did more damage than good.
“I think you are screwed as far as this trial goes. However I don’t think it has to ruin your life.”
For a minute Cuddy said nothing. She sat in tortured silence twirling her hairband around her index fingers. In due time she would say what she needed to say, but for now Sarah allowed the silence. If Cuddy felt she was losing control of the situation she would shut down and not talk.
“Even if he goes to jail…” Cuddy started.
“All rapists use the universal threat of ‘I’m going to kill you if you talk’, that doesn’t mean they actually go through with it.”
“He didn’t say…”
Cuddy broke off and brought her hand to her forehead.
“Then he used the second favorite line: ‘I’m going to kill the people you care about.’”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what, Cuddy?”
“I dragged you down with me. He’ll ruin you.”
“You didn’t actually tell anyone. House, Wilson, and I figured it out.”
“I should’ve been able to hide it better.”