Lindsay Monroe's life had never been perfect. It had gone from bad to worse very quickly. After her friends deaths she felt so alone; everyone was sympathetic but no one wanted to be her friend. No one could ever replace her friends. Lindsay had been in shock since the incident. Her heart had been poured out to therapist after therapist but no one actually helped. No one could tell her they knew what she was going through and actually mean it, no matter how sincere they were. Her mother had insisted she stayed in therapy until the next summer. Every therapist had prescribed her anti depressants. The slowest form of suicide. Lindsay tried to resist the pills but she couldn't stay away from them. They were the only things that could get her through her ordeal. The things her parents approved of. Lindsay was out nearly every night since her friends left her. She would go out to sleazy bars and let sleazy men buy her drinks. They numbed the pain. When she drank, she forgot everything, all the pain, and all the sorrow. The guilt.
Lindsay was beyond the year of therapy when she quit. It just clicked. She was moving on. She switched her masters from Art to Forensic Psychology and graduated top of her class. With a degree in Forensic Psychology and a job with the Bozeman CSI, she could finally put her past behind her. Lindsay tried to put everything behind her, and she almost did. The Apollo case. Her first case that reminded her of her friends. She broke down at the scene. Lindsay was taken home by one of her colleagues; she spent the night with the one thing she knew she could trust. Vodka. Lindsay had drunk so much that she was rushed to hospital and had to have her stomach pumped.
Lindsay's boss had applied for Lindsay to be transferred to another CSI. She was hoping that Lindsay would move to day shift, or swing shift. Not to New York.
She was the new girl. People in New York were different. Her secret was just that. Hers. The first case she worked was nothing traumatic. She met her boss and her partner. Her partner was cute, despite telling herself not to get too close to anyone, she found herself spending more time with him than any other co-workers. He was soon becoming her best friend. He was always there to look out for her, and she liked it. Every case had been fine, but then she got that one.
Henry Darius. He killed those girls at the school. Sarah Endicott was the one who was kept alive. Lindsay knew how Sarah girl must have felt. Even though Sarah caused her friends and sisters to die, Lindsay still sympathised with her. Sarah was like Lindsay; she would never be able to truly move on with her life. She ended it. Sarah Endicott was found dead in her bedroom only two weeks after Darius was caught.
Lindsay had contemplated suicide on many occasions. She got as far as slicing into her wrist. There was still a scar on her right wrist. A constant reminder of her weakest moment. She saw herself dying in her sleep. Every time she tried to move on to a happier place, she a stopped. Life called her back. She couldn't play God. The latest nightmare was the worst.
Her boyfriend was sat in her dormitory, at Bozeman University. Lindsay was sat in her bed, cowering under the cover. He had got Lindsay drunk and raped her. "You know Linds, you may as well get it over with now. No one would really care if you died. You are lucky to have me. Just pop into the bathroom and take the pills. They are all lined up for you in there" He told Lindsay to die with the most serious tone in his voice. The nightmare quickly changed. She was hiding in the toilets of a café. Someone had just murdered her friends and was coming for her. Before he got to her, everything changed. She was stood in her own bathroom. Vodka bottles were drowning in the bin and a sea of anti-depressants was hidden behind the mirror. Her fragile hand reached for a bottle of tablets. She put the open bottle to her lips and the tablets crashed to the back of her throat. She dry swallowed the tablets and blacked out.
Lindsay screamed in her bed. Her eyes shot open. She tried to regain her senses but her last nightmare was too over powering.
She kicked the covers off her dainty body and slid out of bed. She traipsed to the bathroom and slid back her mirror, revealing the pills she had seen pure minutes ago. Her hand grasped a bottle, which had never been opened, and her lip-gloss. Before she did anything else, she wrote a message on the mirror. Just as in the dream, she emptied the contents of the bottle into her mouth and swallowed the pills. She reached for a bottle of Vodka with just enough poison in, but collapsed before her hand made contact. Her eyes were slowly going blurry and it was becoming harder for her to breathe. Within seconds Lindsay's lifeless body was laying below her message.
"Close the door on the way out"
