I always loved nights in Vegas. I loved the way the Strip illuminated the night sky; the way it never got too cold. I loved the people; I could sit and watch the tourists all day long. I always thought Vegas was one of my most amazing cities on Earth.
Tonight would be my last proficiency test; at least, I hoped that tonight would be when I became a CSI. It was a natural progression for me. I spent years in the DNA lab; I picked up extra shifts in trace evidence and fingerprinting. I carefully perfected my craft. The majority of my days and nights were spent preparing for tonight.
The case was a hit and run. A jogger was plowed down by an SUV in the suburbs. It wasn't as uncommon as people want to think; people in Vegas lived under the principles of excess. There were excess women, excess money, and excess alcohol. It wasn't uncommon to see innocent people fall victim to the excess of others. The witnesses said that the SUV was swerving from side to side of the road before it made contact with the jogger.
The jogger's body was laid out supine on the road. The body was so familiar; the brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, the lines of her face, and the big brown eyes. I wanted to vomit.
"Abby," I whispered as Grissom and I walked closer to the body. I set down my kit and began to run. Grissom was yelling at me, but right now I didn't really care. My baby sister was my DB in the suburbs.
"Greg, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Grissom yelled at me as I kneeled down next to what remained of my sister; I wanted to think that the most important parts of her were somewhere beyond this Earth.
"Someone needs to cover her up; she'll get cold," I yelled at one of the officers. At the time, my thought seemed plausible, but Grissom's disproving stare told me otherwise.
"Greg, it's a dead body," Grissom replied. Sometimes he was so unaware of circumstances; this time, I hated him for it.
"It's not a dead body. This is my sister's body. Why isn't someone trying to help her," I yelled at him. I wondered why no one was doing anything to help her. There had to be something that could save her. This wasn't supposed to happen; I was five years her senior. I was supposed to be the first to die; that's how the world was supposed to work.
"Greg, you should go back to the lab," Grissom said as he put a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm not leaving her. I can't leave her," I whispered. I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes; I wasn't going to cry here. I wasn't about to mourn her in the middle of a street where people watched what was going on like it was a circus. I wanted to bring her home.
"Greg, you need to leave her. I'm going to see if someone can pick you up and take you home," Grissom said. His voice was stern; it was that of a father's. It was a tone and quality that I hadn't heard since I was ten years old.
I reluctantly walked away from Abby. I sat on the curb across the street. I watched Grissom photograph her. I watched Abby disappear into a body bag. I wondered how she would breathe when she was surrounded in air tight plastic. The idea of her being dead; it couldn't be real. I wasn't going to let myself believe that this was real. This was what nightmares were made of; this wasn't supposed to be happening.
"Greg, are you ready to go?" Nick asked me. He might have said it multiple times. I was so far off in my thoughts that I wouldn't have noticed.
"I want to go with Abby," I replied. My voice was cracking; I was slowly losing whatever composure I still had left.
"You should go home," Nick replied as he sat down next to me.
"What am I supposed to do next?" I asked. I was so confused; I still wanted to believe that this was a nightmare.
"You should call your parents," Nick replied.
"I can't. I can't call them," I replied. My sentences were becoming more and more staccato; if I talked more, there was a good chance that my talking would give way to my grieving.
"They need to know, Greg," Nick coaxed. He just didn't get it; it was something that he could never understand. I didn't come from the perfect big family; it was something I only had in dreams and in memories.
"They already know. They've been dead for eighteen years," I whispered. I choked on the words; the words felt like they were lodged in my throat.
"I'm sorry. Can I drive you home?" Nick asked again.
"I think I need to go home," I replied. Nick went to gather my kit. I waited in the passenger seat of the SUV. I couldn't take my eyes off the patch of black asphalt where Abby died. It wasn't fair; this wasn't fucking fair.
"Where do you live?" Nick asked as he started up the SUV.
"About three miles from here. Take this road straight; turn left of Walden. I'm the fourth house on the right side of the road," I said; I couldn't believe how smoothly the words flowed.
"Are you going to be okay?" Nick asked.
"I remember the day Abby was born. I was so excited; my parents brought me to the hospital with them. I remember holding Abby thinking that she was the most amazing thing on Earth. My mom said now that I had Abby, I would never be alone again. That didn't hold up, now did it?" I said. I wasn't sure if that was an indication that I wouldn't be okay.
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Nick replied. I knew I was making him uncomfortable. I wanted to talk about Abby. She was the only stable thing that I had in my life. She was always there; with her, I was never alone.
"She was a medical student; it was her second year. She wanted to be a pathologist. I told I wanted her to have the best; it's funny how nothing ever felt like a sacrifice. I worked extra shifts so Abby could afford to take the MCAT and apply to what seemed like an endless number of medical schools," I rambled, "This morning, Abby told me that it was about time I started dating. She always teased me for being an 'old hen.' She said that I watched over her too closely; I wasn't really living my life."
The SUV was silent. I wanted something to fill that silence. My house would be even more silent.
"We lived with my aunt and uncle after Mom and Dad died. We were never treated like their kids. They wouldn't throw Abby a graduation party when she graduated from high school. I had just started working at the lab; I pulled double shifts for a week to make sure that I could afford a nice party for her and afford to fly home to see her graduate," I said.
"I remember that. You were ornery as hell that week," Nick replied laughing.
"Abby deserved the best; she was cheated out of so many years with Mom and Dad. She never complained; Abby never felt bad for herself. Girl scouts had a Father-Daughter dance every year; when Abby was ten, she didn't go. I found the flyer in her backpack one day when I was checking her homework. I made sure to take her the next year. God, she's gone isn't she?" I asked as I finally gave into all the hurt I was feeling. I tried to soften my sobs; I hadn't cried since Mom and Dad died. The scar had all been reopened. I wasn't sure how I would ever make it to tomorrow.