Boulevard of Broken Dreams
author: BambiBlake007
a lil back-story: um, this is the prologue of story 1 in a series of CSI:NY related stories i've been working on for a while now. there is a bit of DL angst thrown in this one especially, cos the story is set after Lindsay returns from Montana. at that time, i wasn't 100 anti-DL, so i'll admit, the angst is definitely there. but like my other stories, this is NOT A DL LOVE STORY!! the story is actually a lil bit of CSI:NY & relation to CSI:Miami. my original character, ABBY WALKER, works under Horatio Caine in this story. she will eventually be transfering to New York to work under Mac Taylor.
summary: scene of the crime.
rating: M just to be on the safe side
disclaimer: i do not own csi:ny or csi:miami or their characters, those would belong to Zuiker & company. somebody out there deserves a sparkly cape for developing the most complex character ever, Danny Messer. and whoever cast Carmine Giovinazzo in the part of Danny Messer, also deserves a sparkly cape & should be his/her side-kick!! oh, i don't own the song: "boulevard of broken dreams" this belongs to: green day. i used it for my title, tht's all. but i do own Abby Walker, she is my very own creation...from inside my head. insert evil laugher here.
author's note: all mistakes are mine. i take full responsibility. feedback is love :)
BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS
--GREEN DAY
vs. 1:
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a
chorus:
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Til then I walk alone
vs. 2:
I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the borderline of the edge
And where I walk alone
Read between the lines of what's
Fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs to know I'm still alive
And I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a
chorus:
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Til then I walk alone
bridge:
I walk alone
I walk a
I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a
chorus:
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Til then I walk alone
Prologue:
Her head hurt.
It throbbed with such intense pain that it almost blinded her, but she continued to run. She wasn't going to stop, no matter how dizzy she felt; no matter how badly she wanted to throw up again, she was not giving up, because she knew there had to be someone out there that could help her. She was not giving up hope. Not now. Not after she had run so far to get away from her attacker. They were behind her, though. She could feel them close by. They were closing in on her and she knew this. She could hear their footsteps pounding behind her on the pavement.
She felt the wind blowing through her hair. Some of it was matted to her forehead, bloody. She felt the air as it brushed past her body, her aching body, and she knew she didn't have much more in her. She wanted so badly to just stop running. To just stop and catch her breath. The wind was cold against her face and it hurt when she breathed in through her nose and all of this was making it hard for her to breath. She smelled the Hudson River to her right. It smelled metallic to her. Odd, she had never thought that water could smell metallic before, but it did.
Her knees were hurting now. She felt some kind of pain shooting through them, like a charlie-horse. Her eyes closed as she winced from the sudden cold that was coursing through her body. She screamed out in obvious frustration. But no one was there to hear her cries. The street was deserted. This was odd, too, but then again, everything about this night had been somewhat odd, she supposed.
Her ears began to ring. She had already been hit in the back of the head, and she knew the ringing was from that. Someone had hit her from behind before she had even began to run. The attack had happened while she stood on the bridge, at the far end, staring out at the city lights. It had been such a beautiful sight to behold, at first. Then, she had laughed a bit and turned to her companions who were stoned out of their minds and laughing amongst themselves like they often did when they were feeling the thrill of a high, and bam! Everything had gone black for a moment. Nothing seemed real around her. One minute she had been care-free, staring over the railing, thinking about how cool it would be to just let herself go. Who knows, maybe she could fly. And the next minute, without any kind of warning, someone had hit her in the back of the head.
And it had not ended there. The attacker had dragged her over some gravel and held her down beneath his weight. It had to have been a man who was doing this, but she was slipping in and out of conciousness and she wasn't for sure anymore if her memory served her correctly or not. As the twinkling lights danced infront of her eyes, she thought she heard a man saying her name over and over into her ear. Did she know her attacker? And if not, how did he know her? It still amazed her when people recognized her, but she knew deep inside how this stranger knew her name. He had probably seen one of her movies. She groaned, feeling the pain seething through the back of her head. The warm blood was trickling down over her temple and into her mouth. It tasted salty, but bitter, with a hint of metallic mixed in for good measure. She did not hear her friends laughing or talking now. Everything was silent, except for the rush of the river over head.
She began to scream. The person on top of her smacked her and that shut her up. He had pushed his hand over her mouth. She tasted the inside of his hand, it tasted of dirt and kind of like fish. It made her stomach turn as she tasted the salt from his palm in her mouth, mingled with her own blood. He held her in position for a few moments, causing her to stop screaming almost suddenly, but he must of enjoyed the power he had over her. She had begun to whimper after a few moments, quietening herself down to a rattling sob as she did so, but no more screaming came from her. What was the use anyway? It didn't seem like anyone was around to hear her crying out for help.
The person on top of her had his way with her right on the gravel. Within moments, she felt him inside of her, but as the pain shot through her body with agonizing force from him, she didn't think about what was happening to her. Rather, she tried thinking pleasant thoughts.
She had thought about ice-cream on a hot New York day. She had thought about her old high school--homecoming with friends, football games, and cheerleading practice. She had thought about a nice boy she once knew, named Noah.
Noah had been a kid from her neighborhood with dreams of being a basketball star. He had been her first kiss, her first boyfriend, and her first time. She had loved him. And he had said that he loved her, too. He had promised to take her away from New York and that they would get married, but that day never came. He had gotten shot in a drive by, a drug deal gone wrong. She had never forgotten him. He was a good memory. She thought about Christmas and Thanksgiving. She thought about her parents, her siblings, and her neices and nephews. The tears came without her knowing it. She cried, but not because of what was happening to her, but because she knew she was never going to see the people she loved the most ever again.
After this horrible monster was done, he had stood up and she had heard the zipper. It made her stomach lurch forward and she felt the chunks rising. She vomitted and she got it all over the front of her dress. Afterwards, she had lay still for a moment, wondering if it was really over or not. She had been around enough to know that most likely, he was going to kill her. She had sniffled a few times as she lay in the damp grass and wondered where her friends were. What had happened to them? Why weren't they helping her? Had he done something terrible to them while she had been blacked out? She balled up her fists just thinking about her friends being hurt. Her finger nails dug into her palms. She hadn't noticed, though.
The person was standing over her again in a few moments. It was definately a man, but it was too dark to make out much more than his sillouette. She stared up at him and he chuckled, staring back down at her. She realized that he was lowering his body down toward her, ready for round two, no doubt, because he had left her sprawled out on the ground, her underwear gone. She had decided to take the opportunity of him being in his own sick, sadistic world to knee him in the crotch. He had groaned suddenly and fell backwards. She had stumbled up and turned to run back toward where she had been only moments earlier, but she had stumbled within only a few steps forward. And he was on her in a matter of seconds, like a cat. He had grabbed her ankles and began to pull her back to him, the gravel stabbing into her stomach and middle from were her dress had come up over her thighs. She had fought hard against him, crying out as she dug her finger nails into the dirt, determined to grasp for anything to help her. But there was nothing there, only twigs, rocks, and dirt.
He held her by the ankles and pulled with all of his might. He pinned her once more and smacked her over and over again, muttering that she had been a very naughty girl under his breath. She tasted the fresh blood oozing from her nose and mouth. She cried when she felt the pain hit her. It was full blast this time. He was being deliberate to hit her over and over because he wasn't playing this time--he wanted her to know he meant business. She gave up trying to fight him, she had only been able to get a couple blows in, anyways, and decided to take the beating. She rolled beneath him, shielding her face as best as she could. He stopped suddenly. He was breathing heavily above her, but he was not finished with what he had started. He thrust her legs apart once more.
He raped her again. This time, she felt everything. There was no way she could think about anything pleasant as he did what he did to her. She lay there, still and aware. It hurt so bad. She wanted to cry, but she was not about to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry. When he was done with her, he stood again and walked away, a few feet over toward some trees. She lay there, eyes closed tight. She smelled cigarette smoke then. It was definately coming from direction she was sure had walked toward. She inhaled a couple times, making sure that it was indeed cigarette smoke she was sensing, then opened her eyes to see what was happening. She didn't see him. He was not standing as close as she had assumed only moments before. He was no where in her peripheral vision. What kind of game was this? Where was he? Was he just lying in wait?
She set up, feeling the pain as it hit her with so much force, she almost passed out. She had reach up and gingerly touched her head. The blood had dried, but she knew it was still there. She had surveyed the area, squinting her eyes to see in the dark, but nothing out of the ordinary as far as she could tell. She had stood, feeling nauseous once more, but ignoring it, as she stumbled toward the sound of the river. Her eyes were bruised from the blows he had inflickted on her and so was her mouth, she couldn't speak, she found when she tried to cry out for help, and she was wobbly on her feet. But she ignored all the protests from her aching body, and just headed toward the sounds of the water. She was just up the embackment, when she heard someone laugh behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know exactly who it was. It was him. He called her name.
And that had been when she had started to run.
But now she was angry at herself for giving up so easily. She screamed once more, feeling herself fall forward. She fell flat on her face, blacking out for a moment. Slowly, relunctantly, she surcummed to the darkness that settled over her. Then, she saw twinkling lights above her head. She opened her eyes, painfully slow, and the twinkling lights that had danced before her faded away. She saw the night sky, purple over- head. She saw the stars, maybe the Big Dipper, she wasn't sure. Then, she saw him standing over her. She saw his eyes, dark and wild. She let one painful scream escape from her, but he silenced her with one hard blow.
A moment of peace settled down over her. She felt as if she were falling. But she wasn't afraid, she thought about landing on a cloud. The tension from her body floated upward and she let herself go down, down, down. She saw Noah's face--He smiled at her--She reach for him. The sudden realization of a light blinded her, but it felt warm and inviting. She knew she was supposed to follow it. She knew that it was where she was supposed to go. She did not fight the warmth and serenity that she felt then. She let it take over and she slipped into the unknown, unafraid as she did so.
He had hit her with a tree branch, but she didn't know that. He hit her repeatedly, until he knew she was dead and not just unconcious, but while he was using such force to do his job, he was careful not to mess with her face anymore than he already had. He wanted to preserve her beauty. He kicked her a couple times just to have something to do. When he had realized that she was no longer breathing, he turned and ran back toward the direction he had came like the coward that he was. No one had seen him that wasn't supposed to see him. He saw the headlights as they passed by him, but he ignored them, because he knew who it was that was in that particular car. That person had given him 1000 to do what he had just done. He didn't look back as he jogged down toward the embackment where he had raped the girl who was dead on the bridge now. Anyway, he was sure that no one would care in the morning that a girl like her was dead. She was nothing; no one special. No one would miss her...