I fall down
I decided I've had my fill of romance and decided to darken it all down…
Feedback is not just approved, it is your right J
Sara slammed the door on her way in. Not finding any solace in the sudden noise she slammed the door on her bedroom, then the bathroom. It still didn't help. She still burned inside with the injustice, with the downright hypocritical so called justice system that let off a murdering scumbag just because of some technicality. She punched the porcelain sink, not feeling the crunch as bones collided, as skin split open as she did it again and again. She'd had him. She'd collected the evidence. And now he was out on the street, just waiting to do it all again.
Punk. Bastard. She left the sink, ignoring the throbbing in her hand, the picture of herself reflected back at herself. She didn't need to see to know the wild look in her eyes, that uncontrollable desire to hit something and keep hitting it till either she couldn't feel it anymore or the other person crumbled. It had taken three police detectives to keep her from the guy. Now she was alone, but had nothing to punch, nothing flesh like to take this anger out on.
On a damn technicality. He'd killed her. Oh, he might not have pulled the trigger, but he might as well have done for all he did do. But in their stupid legal system might as well as done wasn't good enough.
The silence in the apartment was stifling, closing in on her as she stood in the centre of the lounge. She stalked to the Hi-Fi, using the remote to turn it on and turn it up, the first heavy rock song she could find filling the apartment to overflow. The incessant base took up the beat in her head, behind her eyes, bringing on a monster headache. She rubbed at her temples. She needed to do something, anything to get this energy out. Needed to move, needed to stop thinking about him. His smug punk ass face gloating as he realised that he had just gotten away with it.
Sara was glad she had been sent home, because now she didn't have to tell her family that the scum who had murdered their own was going to get away with it. She didn't have to tell Mrs Delaney that her daughter's killer was going to walk free. She reluctantly thought about Keely, the daughter Mrs Delaney had spoken so passionately about, the girl she had had the mis-fortune to meet on the day she had died. Shot in the head with a .38 special.
The aim point blank range, centre of the forehead. Gun in the girls hand. Suicide considered, but put on the back burner. Girls didn't shoot themselves. They took overdoses, slit their wrists; the non-violent approach to death. The setting looked staged to Sara's trained eye. The body moved post-mortem confirmed by the coroner on his prelim.
Sara found the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard. She wasn't sure why it was there, she didn't even like whiskey. She usually stuck to the Bacardi or Malibu. She poured it into a mug anyway, filling it to the top, settling back into bad habits of her way of dealing with stress. It had been Grissom's idea, in the beginning. To find something non-work related. She wasn't sure he would approve of the drink idea, but hey, she had found something that worked, and he hadn't been complaining so much recently about her work habits. One thing about the drink, it sure helped her to sleep through the nightmares.
Someone else had been there. Sara had suspected that right from the beginning. It had finally been confirming by the second set of prints lifted from the gun barrel. Someone else had been there. Someone had done this, Sara was convinced.
She had interviewed the family, school friends. Everyone sung the same tune- Keely was a popular girl, well known, well liked. Everyone was gonna miss her terribly. Pretty, outspoken, hung with the cool kids.
So why did a cool, popular girl kill herself, or come to be killed. Her boyfriend instantly put Sara on edge. Put the suspicions on himself the first time she had talked to him and he had told her that Keely was a good lay, someone he could rely on for a good time.
Did he see her the day of the murder?
Sure, he had seen her at school.
Had they spoken?
Said hello, arranged to meet up later.
What for?
For a session. 'She was well up for it.'
The fingerprints had been in process, had arrived hand delivered in the middle of the interview.
Sara could almost watch herself turning towards him. 'Want to explain how your prints were on the gun?'
He had looked at her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A tiny shrug of his shoulder. 'She was upset. I had gone round there for a session. She had been upset. I took the gun off her, told her to sleep, we'd meet up in the morning.'
'So you tried to stop her?' Sara couldn't hide the incredulous tone to her voice.
'Yeah, man, I tried to stop her.'
'So, why was she upset?'
'How should I know? I just screwed her.'
Sara had been very tempted to knock some sense into him, but took a deep breath, held her thinly stretched patience together. 'Did you have an argument?'
'Nah, we never argued. She wanted it too bad.'
'Did you say anything to upset her?'
'Nah. What could I possibly have said?'
Remembering, Sara took a second gulp of whiskey. Then gave up on just taking sips and slugged the whole mug down in one. Feeling the slow burn deep in the pit of her stomach, feeling the general hazyness begin to settle.
Sara had walked out, needing something, anything to pin on him. She had gone back to the school, asked to talk to the class in small groups. She was there all afternoon, lack of sleep and annoyance making her short of temper. Till she hit pay dirt as one guy finally confessed that everyone knew Keely was an easy lay, and that Mike had found out.
'Found out what?' She had asked deliberately slowly, carefully, trying to force the emotion from her voice.
'That she was sleeping around on him.'
'Was he upset?'
'Are you kidding? He was hopping mad.' He had looked at her, looked all around him as if to check he was on his own, then leaned into her. 'Look, reputation is very important in this school. When Mike found out his girlfriend was cheating on him it wasn't so much the cheating part that got to him, it was the fact that his girlfriend was seen as easy. It's just not done.'
The second mug of whiskey slid down easier than the first, it's path all ready cremated, the effects hitting hard and fast.
She had gone back into that room. To him. Asked him straight out whether he had killed Keely because she had been sleeping around.
Of course, the lawyer pointed out that her client had already denied this. Rich kid with Daddy's lawyer.
Sara had held her tongue, but it had been a hard long battle. She had turned back to Mike. 'How did you feel when you found out Keely was cheating on you?'
'Mad, ya know? She was my girlfriend.'
'Why were you mad? You were only in it for the sex, weren't you?'
'She had no right to sleep with anyone else. Whore.'
'So you were mad at her. You went round her house, with a .38 special and you shot her.'
'I did not shoot her.'
'You shot her because you didn't have the perfect girlfriend anymore.'
'I did not shoot her.'
'You took the gun off her?'
'Right.'
A flippant comment made that afternoon by one of Keely's friends came back to her. 'She was hung on him. She was smart, popular, I never knew what she saw in him. But she had something because she did anything he told her to do.'
'Where was she, when you came in the house?'
'In her bedroom.'
'You let yourself in?'
'As always. My parents and hers are friends. I've been going round there since I was a kid.'
'Did she say why she was holding a gun to her head?'
'She said she didn't want to live anymore. She had had enough.'
'What did you do?'
'I took the gun off her, told her she was being silly. Told her it would look better in the morning.'
'What did you do then?'
'I left. Put the gun back in the cupboard downstairs, and left.'
'Her alone? How did you know where to put the gun?'
'It was her Dad's. As I said, I've been going round there since I was little.'
'Look, my client has told you what has happened. If you have no further evidence to support your claim, then I'm moving to terminate this interview now.'
Sara collapsed on the sofa, her legs unable to support her, the tears starting in earnest.
They didn't have the evidence, just a lot of hearsay and conjecture. The fingerprints were confusing. But as Sara nodded, stood up, she saw it play in her minds eye, the little evidence they had finally falling into place.
'You got her to shoot herself.'
Mike had stood up, been about to leave. 'What?' He had asked.
'You took the gun up to her, told her you knew what she had been doing behind your back, and got her to shoot herself. That's why the your fingerprints on the barrel, but hers are on the trigger.'
He hadn't said anything, and as the scene got clearer in her head, so her voice had began to rose, the fight with her temper a lost battle.
'You sat there, and handed her the gun and told her that it was the only way. She wasn't perfect anymore, she had a reputation. What would dear old mommy and daddy say? What if they heard the rumours. And she was going to lose you. And you sat there and convinced her that her life was so desperate that she had no other option than to kill herself.'
And he had looked at her, with that same smug expression, and said to her. 'Prove it.'
Brass had walked her to Grissom's office, his silence speaking volumes. He believed her, knew she was right, but she had crossed the line, let a case get personal. The look on Grissom's face as Brass told him the details, his reflection Sara watched off some glass monitor as she steadfastly refused to meet his eye.
Administrative leave…full enquiry…assault charges…the words meant little as Grissom had detailed them before telling her to go home.
She didn't remember getting home, was surprised that she hadn't been arrested for reckless driving as well.
And as she sat on the sofa, head in her hands, she thought back to the stress of high school, being a loner, wanting nothing more than to be part of a gang, to belong to something. Joined CSI became part of a team, still ended up on the outside looking in. Loneliness was a bitch. Why hadn't Grissom ever included that in all his lectures?
She gave up on the mug, and drunk from the bottle instead, waiting, praying for the alcohol to hit, to send her to sleep, wondering if she had enough strength in her to reach the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to help her on the way.
I decided I've had my fill of romance and decided to darken it all down…
Feedback is not just approved, it is your right J
Sara slammed the door on her way in. Not finding any solace in the sudden noise she slammed the door on her bedroom, then the bathroom. It still didn't help. She still burned inside with the injustice, with the downright hypocritical so called justice system that let off a murdering scumbag just because of some technicality. She punched the porcelain sink, not feeling the crunch as bones collided, as skin split open as she did it again and again. She'd had him. She'd collected the evidence. And now he was out on the street, just waiting to do it all again.
Punk. Bastard. She left the sink, ignoring the throbbing in her hand, the picture of herself reflected back at herself. She didn't need to see to know the wild look in her eyes, that uncontrollable desire to hit something and keep hitting it till either she couldn't feel it anymore or the other person crumbled. It had taken three police detectives to keep her from the guy. Now she was alone, but had nothing to punch, nothing flesh like to take this anger out on.
On a damn technicality. He'd killed her. Oh, he might not have pulled the trigger, but he might as well have done for all he did do. But in their stupid legal system might as well as done wasn't good enough.
The silence in the apartment was stifling, closing in on her as she stood in the centre of the lounge. She stalked to the Hi-Fi, using the remote to turn it on and turn it up, the first heavy rock song she could find filling the apartment to overflow. The incessant base took up the beat in her head, behind her eyes, bringing on a monster headache. She rubbed at her temples. She needed to do something, anything to get this energy out. Needed to move, needed to stop thinking about him. His smug punk ass face gloating as he realised that he had just gotten away with it.
Sara was glad she had been sent home, because now she didn't have to tell her family that the scum who had murdered their own was going to get away with it. She didn't have to tell Mrs Delaney that her daughter's killer was going to walk free. She reluctantly thought about Keely, the daughter Mrs Delaney had spoken so passionately about, the girl she had had the mis-fortune to meet on the day she had died. Shot in the head with a .38 special.
The aim point blank range, centre of the forehead. Gun in the girls hand. Suicide considered, but put on the back burner. Girls didn't shoot themselves. They took overdoses, slit their wrists; the non-violent approach to death. The setting looked staged to Sara's trained eye. The body moved post-mortem confirmed by the coroner on his prelim.
Sara found the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard. She wasn't sure why it was there, she didn't even like whiskey. She usually stuck to the Bacardi or Malibu. She poured it into a mug anyway, filling it to the top, settling back into bad habits of her way of dealing with stress. It had been Grissom's idea, in the beginning. To find something non-work related. She wasn't sure he would approve of the drink idea, but hey, she had found something that worked, and he hadn't been complaining so much recently about her work habits. One thing about the drink, it sure helped her to sleep through the nightmares.
Someone else had been there. Sara had suspected that right from the beginning. It had finally been confirming by the second set of prints lifted from the gun barrel. Someone else had been there. Someone had done this, Sara was convinced.
She had interviewed the family, school friends. Everyone sung the same tune- Keely was a popular girl, well known, well liked. Everyone was gonna miss her terribly. Pretty, outspoken, hung with the cool kids.
So why did a cool, popular girl kill herself, or come to be killed. Her boyfriend instantly put Sara on edge. Put the suspicions on himself the first time she had talked to him and he had told her that Keely was a good lay, someone he could rely on for a good time.
Did he see her the day of the murder?
Sure, he had seen her at school.
Had they spoken?
Said hello, arranged to meet up later.
What for?
For a session. 'She was well up for it.'
The fingerprints had been in process, had arrived hand delivered in the middle of the interview.
Sara could almost watch herself turning towards him. 'Want to explain how your prints were on the gun?'
He had looked at her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A tiny shrug of his shoulder. 'She was upset. I had gone round there for a session. She had been upset. I took the gun off her, told her to sleep, we'd meet up in the morning.'
'So you tried to stop her?' Sara couldn't hide the incredulous tone to her voice.
'Yeah, man, I tried to stop her.'
'So, why was she upset?'
'How should I know? I just screwed her.'
Sara had been very tempted to knock some sense into him, but took a deep breath, held her thinly stretched patience together. 'Did you have an argument?'
'Nah, we never argued. She wanted it too bad.'
'Did you say anything to upset her?'
'Nah. What could I possibly have said?'
Remembering, Sara took a second gulp of whiskey. Then gave up on just taking sips and slugged the whole mug down in one. Feeling the slow burn deep in the pit of her stomach, feeling the general hazyness begin to settle.
Sara had walked out, needing something, anything to pin on him. She had gone back to the school, asked to talk to the class in small groups. She was there all afternoon, lack of sleep and annoyance making her short of temper. Till she hit pay dirt as one guy finally confessed that everyone knew Keely was an easy lay, and that Mike had found out.
'Found out what?' She had asked deliberately slowly, carefully, trying to force the emotion from her voice.
'That she was sleeping around on him.'
'Was he upset?'
'Are you kidding? He was hopping mad.' He had looked at her, looked all around him as if to check he was on his own, then leaned into her. 'Look, reputation is very important in this school. When Mike found out his girlfriend was cheating on him it wasn't so much the cheating part that got to him, it was the fact that his girlfriend was seen as easy. It's just not done.'
The second mug of whiskey slid down easier than the first, it's path all ready cremated, the effects hitting hard and fast.
She had gone back into that room. To him. Asked him straight out whether he had killed Keely because she had been sleeping around.
Of course, the lawyer pointed out that her client had already denied this. Rich kid with Daddy's lawyer.
Sara had held her tongue, but it had been a hard long battle. She had turned back to Mike. 'How did you feel when you found out Keely was cheating on you?'
'Mad, ya know? She was my girlfriend.'
'Why were you mad? You were only in it for the sex, weren't you?'
'She had no right to sleep with anyone else. Whore.'
'So you were mad at her. You went round her house, with a .38 special and you shot her.'
'I did not shoot her.'
'You shot her because you didn't have the perfect girlfriend anymore.'
'I did not shoot her.'
'You took the gun off her?'
'Right.'
A flippant comment made that afternoon by one of Keely's friends came back to her. 'She was hung on him. She was smart, popular, I never knew what she saw in him. But she had something because she did anything he told her to do.'
'Where was she, when you came in the house?'
'In her bedroom.'
'You let yourself in?'
'As always. My parents and hers are friends. I've been going round there since I was a kid.'
'Did she say why she was holding a gun to her head?'
'She said she didn't want to live anymore. She had had enough.'
'What did you do?'
'I took the gun off her, told her she was being silly. Told her it would look better in the morning.'
'What did you do then?'
'I left. Put the gun back in the cupboard downstairs, and left.'
'Her alone? How did you know where to put the gun?'
'It was her Dad's. As I said, I've been going round there since I was little.'
'Look, my client has told you what has happened. If you have no further evidence to support your claim, then I'm moving to terminate this interview now.'
Sara collapsed on the sofa, her legs unable to support her, the tears starting in earnest.
They didn't have the evidence, just a lot of hearsay and conjecture. The fingerprints were confusing. But as Sara nodded, stood up, she saw it play in her minds eye, the little evidence they had finally falling into place.
'You got her to shoot herself.'
Mike had stood up, been about to leave. 'What?' He had asked.
'You took the gun up to her, told her you knew what she had been doing behind your back, and got her to shoot herself. That's why the your fingerprints on the barrel, but hers are on the trigger.'
He hadn't said anything, and as the scene got clearer in her head, so her voice had began to rose, the fight with her temper a lost battle.
'You sat there, and handed her the gun and told her that it was the only way. She wasn't perfect anymore, she had a reputation. What would dear old mommy and daddy say? What if they heard the rumours. And she was going to lose you. And you sat there and convinced her that her life was so desperate that she had no other option than to kill herself.'
And he had looked at her, with that same smug expression, and said to her. 'Prove it.'
Brass had walked her to Grissom's office, his silence speaking volumes. He believed her, knew she was right, but she had crossed the line, let a case get personal. The look on Grissom's face as Brass told him the details, his reflection Sara watched off some glass monitor as she steadfastly refused to meet his eye.
Administrative leave…full enquiry…assault charges…the words meant little as Grissom had detailed them before telling her to go home.
She didn't remember getting home, was surprised that she hadn't been arrested for reckless driving as well.
And as she sat on the sofa, head in her hands, she thought back to the stress of high school, being a loner, wanting nothing more than to be part of a gang, to belong to something. Joined CSI became part of a team, still ended up on the outside looking in. Loneliness was a bitch. Why hadn't Grissom ever included that in all his lectures?
She gave up on the mug, and drunk from the bottle instead, waiting, praying for the alcohol to hit, to send her to sleep, wondering if she had enough strength in her to reach the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to help her on the way.