CSI: NY

I've been trying to type this out for weeks now but never really got satisfied with how it turned out. Anyway, now I've done just that, this story basically focuses on Lindsay who is trying to retell what really happened when she has to play the Game of Insanity. Of course, the rest will be involved. This is only the prologue so it's a little short. It's just a little introduction.

Please read and review.

Game of Insanity

Still on the path of recovery, Lindsay Monroe decided that she was ready to talk to Mac on behalf of the new CSI who was currently in comatose. It was the only way to keep her sane after being claimed to play the Game of Insanity.

Prologue

She ascended the crippled wooden stairs slowly, step by step. It creaked from under her weight. A few steps ahead of her stood a wooden door – the only door to her freedom. She pressed both of her palms against it and gave it a hard and firm push – it didn't budge outward. She tried pulling at the metal ring on the door – nothing; it was locked. She was locked in. She banged her shoulders once against it. What sounded like a metal lock rattled against the wood. She banged harder.

She knew there was somebody nearby and she heard them talking. If she could get their attention with the rattling, then she wasn't about to pass that chance up.

She needed to get out.

Taking a deep breath in, she rammed her shoulders against the door with all her might. She repeated it several times, the determination and willingness of getting out growing stronger with each hit. She stopped though, just for a brief moment, breathless and in pain. She focused her eyes on the woman lying unconscious at the foot of the stairs as she gained endurance.

They needed to get out.

Her jacket was tattered and frayed, matted with blood. So was her hair. Bruises, scratches, and deep gashes were all over her body. The smell here—wherever here was—was too overwhelming. She knew it was blood, and something else. The smell was everywhere – the smell of death. She saw bodies here and there and many were mainly fresh ones. It was a horrible sight for even a CSI like her. Sure she had dealt with worse cases than this, but many little children and teenagers? It was a massacre down here.

"Wherever down here is," she muttered as she banged her fists this time against the door. I'm not staying down here any longer. She banged ferociously, and even kicked the door with her left leg when she remembered she had sprained her right ankle. "Help!"

It surprised her even when she had not started crying yet. She wanted to but somehow she felt calm and collected enough to keep repeating that there was a way out over and over again in her head. It had become a mantra for the past few…days, perhaps? It was too dark down here. There were no windows, no fresh air, no sunlight and no contact with the outside. It could be weeks, even.

Then there was a voice – from the other side. "…say?" Though she couldn't quite hear, it was a familiar voice. "Lind…" The voice was muffled up.

She opened her mouth to call back, to respond but instead she found herself finally crying. She didn't know what happened. She was strong all along, right from the start, going through unnecessary obstacles, running away from a man who had gone totally psycho, watching the only sane company she had going into unconsciousness…up until now.

She just broke down.

"Lindsay?" the voice reached her ears clearer now. There was banging on the door. "Irina?" It was a masculine voice, and it sounded unsure at the mention of the latter name, as if not knowing if he should called for Lindsay or Irina. "Talk…me!"

It finally dawned on her. She knew why she so suddenly started crying. Hearing that masculine voice, the presence of that man standing on the other side of the door, was enough to assure her that it was over – the nightmare was over. He had finally found her – Danny Messer.

"Danny?" she managed to squeaked out, banging on the door once.

"Lindsay!" He sounded relieved. She heard him messing with the metal lock, probably trying to unlock it, and then the door shook twice. "Are…in there?" His voice came out muffled up again.

She didn't bother asking what. "Danny, I want to get out."

There was silence.

"Lindsay…around you…" The next moment the voice spoke, it was loud and clear. "Where are you? Look around you." It was an authoritative voice that could only belonged to one man – Mac Taylor.

She did a quick glance around. It was just walls on either sides of her with a really narrow space to walk through in between it and the damp ground beneath her feet. Not to mention the condition down here was filthy. Then her eyes fell upon the unconscious body. She turned back around to the door.

"It's uh, it's like a narrow passageway," she answered as clear as she could, hoping her voice wasn't muffled up.

"Where's Irina?" Mac asked next.

"She's at the foot of the stairs – unconscious." She wiped the sweat away from her palms onto her pants. "Mac, please, I want to get out."

"Okay, listen to me. I need you to step away from the door, as far as possible. Cover Irina and face away from the door. Do you hear me, Lindsay?"

"Yes, Mac," she replied, staggering down the steps.

"We're going to get you out," Mac's words reached her ears as she wiped a tear away. "It's a promise."