Sara sobbed as she felt the cold metal press against her temple; a gun held tightly in her hand. Tears spilled from her eyes, staining her suicide note as she wrote it:
I'm so sorry. I can't go on like this anymore. I hope that you can understand, everyone. I've lived my whole life with ghosts. Every year here, they've become more apparent. If I leave, I'll never come back.
She paused, shaking. She didn't know how long the break room would remain empty.
I know that I couldn't live without you all with me. That's why I feel I must do this.
Gil, I love you. I feel I always have. I'm so sorry.
Be well,
Sara
She clicked the pen and dropped it on the floor. She stood up and looked at the doorway. In the hallway she could see people passing, eyes fixated on carts and evidence and envelopes. She gave a quiet, frightened gasp, and gripped the trigger with her index finger.
"Goodbye," she whispered, closing her eyes.
She hesitated, hearing footsteps fast approaching. They stopped; she held her breath. "Sara?" a familiar voice, Grissom, asked, horrified.
Sara exhaled.
BANG!