Anger
Anger
A/N: This is the second in my series. The first story is called Denial. I guess this story could make sense if you didn't read it, but you definitely should read it first. Enjoy!
Summary: Sequel to Denial. A killer stalks his victims before finally becoming overly jealous of their significant other. He kills his victims, leaving them in their homes to be discovered and moves on to another kill. The CSIs catch this case as the killer escalates, becoming more and more dangerous with each kill.
Ships: Grissom/Sara, Warrick/Catherine, and friendship everywhere. Oh, and maybe some Hodges/Wendy. Hmm… I think that's it.
Rating: T for blood, sex, and all that good stuff. I rated it "T" because everything I will have in this story is shown on TV, because if they can show all that stuff on TV and rate it PG-14, then I can rate this T.
Click Prologue
Click.
Her image was captured forever. He felt like he was taking a little piece of her soul every time that he took her picture. It made him happy to know that he owned a part of her.
Click.
Another picture. This time it was of her profile. She was a beautiful woman. Her brown hair was just long enough for her to throw over her shoulders. He loved watching her. She was everything he wasn't: smart, beautiful, successful, loved.
Click.
He often wondered what she would think if she knew he loved her. He wanted to just step out of his car and tell her how he felt, but if she turned him down, it could ruin everything.
Click.
This time, the woman was meeting a man. The man was tall and handsome. The woman was smiling, giggling at something he had said.
Click.
The photographer was furious. Even his camera sounded angry. The woman took the stranger—how dare she go somewhere with a stranger? Didn't she know it wasn't safe?—by the hand and led him down the street.
Click.
Another image of her was captured forever. He took a deep breath before he turned on his car. Maybe they were just friends. After all, she hadn't tried to dress up or anything. She could just be meeting this stranger for a drink or something equally unserious. If it was serious…
Click.
He never finished his sentence, instead choosing to follow them slowly in his car. He placed the camera on the seat next to him so he could drive well. The couple walked into a corner restaurant and he parked where he could see them.
Click.
They were ordering drinks.
Click.
Their drinks had arrived and they were discussing the menu.
Click.
Their food arrived.
Click.
The man touched her hand.
Click.
She smiled his smile at him. The photographer was insanely jealous. Her smile belonged to him, not this stranger.
Click.
Their dessert came.
Click.
He insisted on paying the check.
Click.
They walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand. They were headed back to her apartment. He went in with her. This time, the photographer took no pictures. She had betrayed him. She was going to sleep with this stranger. The stranger would destroy her innocence. And, she belonged to him!
He waited five minutes, giving the man a chance to come down. After the five minutes passed, he left his car. He jogged to the building, pulling out a duplicate key from his pocket. He had copied her key several weeks ago, just in case. He walked up the two flights of stairs, acting like he was supposed to be there. The three people that he passed didn't give him a second glance. No one expected that this man was a killer.
2C.
Her door was just sitting there, begging him to open it. Putting his ear to the door, he listened carefully as he slipped the key in the door. He heard a few noises coming from the bedroom. The door unlocked easily and he slipped in, locking the door behind him. He went first to the kitchen, grabbing a knife.
He had been here many times before, but this was the first time he wanted to be seen.
The knife was dangerous looking in the semi-darkness. It glinted every so often from the eternal light of Vegas that flooded through the curtains. He walked silently to the bedroom, his feet making little to no noise on the carpet. He peered into the bedroom, disgusted with what he saw.
The stranger was on top of his woman. He had stripped off her shirt, throwing it carelessly on the ground. His was half off his shoulders and he was working on taking off her pants.
The woman saw him first and screamed. The stranger turned and the photographer attacked him. He stabbed him over and over and over and over again. The woman was stunned into a terrified silence. He reached over to move a piece of hair out of her face and she flinched. Angry, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Her large hazel eyes were full of tears and the smile he loved so much was gone. The reality hit him a little too hard. She didn't love him. She loved the man who was lying dead on the floor. He had never told her how he felt and now it was too late. He finished what the stranger had started, taking her as his own.
After, she cried. He told her to stop, but she couldn't. He wanted to hold her, to make her feel better, but she started screaming again. Without thinking, he stabbed her, just like he had done to the stranger. But, she only screamed louder. He stabbed again and again and again. Sometime after his third stab, she had grown silent, but he kept stabbing her.
Everything was silent after he stopped. He wiped his prints off the knife with his shirt, desperately trying to clean up. He stepped into the shower, fully clothed. He scrubbed away all traces of blood and found a bottle of bleach after he was done. He threw the bleach all over her bed and all over her. The stranger wasn't such a big problem: he had been too surprised to fight back.
He ran off, heading to his car. He left, making sure that no one saw him. On his way home, he pulled the film out of his camera and opened it, ruining all the pictures of her. He put in another roll of film and looked for someone else.
Later that morning, he found her.
Click.
He now owned part of her soul.
CSICSICSICSI
Greg and Nick had gotten the call. They headed out in their Tahoe and drove to the woman's apartment. It was a double homicide. According to Grissom, this was "their turn" to take the especially gory scene. As they entered the apartment, they could see why.
The place reeked of a mixture of bleach and the coppery tang of blood. The kitchen and living rooms looked normal, but the bedroom was a different story. Two bodies lay in there with similar wounds. The woman lay on the bed, wearing only a bra and underwear. She was stabbed at least ten times.
The man lay on the floor, stabbed at least five times. His eyes were wide and glassy, staring up at Greg and Nick as they entered.
The source of the bleach smell was apparent. The woman and the bed were drenched in it. Her eyes were shut, as if she was trying to block out the face of whoever had stabbed her.
Sofia Curtis was the detective on this case. She stood outside the door, looking grim. "Female's name is Christine Little. She lived here. The man is Steven Fuller. The two were college sweet hearts, according to one of the neighbors."
Nick and Greg nodded and began processing the scene of this particularly gruesome crime.
CSICSICSI
A/N: Okay! That's all for this chapter. Well, it's only a prologue… And, I promise the rest of the CSIs will be in it in the later chapters. Sorry for the delay, but I had a hard time deciding what the criminal should do. So, leave me a review! Please?