DISCLAIMER : I claim no ownership
A/N : I tried a different approach on this one to keep minimum amount of grammar and spelling errors. I really hope this will be easier to read than my previous stories.
---^^^To Come Clean^^^---
This is suppose to be easy.
So easy.
I do this everyday, since my very first appearance on this very earth.
One, two, three.
Damnit. Even a baby can do it.
I try again, ignoring the buzz in my ears, the blinding white light that stabbing the inside of my eyes.
One, two, three.
Yes, my damn eyes finally open. No more white light, but the buzz is getting intense.
There's a gray ceiling atop. Wait, no, it's a wall. Grey concrete wall parallel to my eyes. Wait, if it's parallel to me, I'm standing then. Am I standing? I don't feel any floor under my feet.
Okay, i have to look down and find out if there's floor beneath me. This will be hard.
One, two, three.
Aaaargh, my neck, my back. Something is on my neck and my back. It's so hurt to look down, but I have to, I need to find out exactly where I am.
One, two, three.
Yep, there's definitely floor under me but my feet aren't on it. My feet are hanging, dangling from my upper body. They're remind me of scarecrow's feet, weak and lifeless. The only different is these scarecrow's feet has three hundreds dollars sneakers on them.
A red drop is falling down; hit my left foot before falls on top of my white sneaker. It will need one hell of cleaning party to get the stain off. The second drop is falling now, followed by the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. I groan, loud. These are three hundreds dollars sneakers we're talking about, you red drops ass.
Wait. The red drops are blood. I can smell the familiar copper from my left side. I tilt my neck, slowly. I spot my left hand, it's numb, it's sore, and it's bleeding. I'm bleeding. When? How? Why?
It's not good, definitely not good. I shut my eyes, willing for my brain to explain the whole situation. I open them and shut them again for couple minutes. It's my therapy. I forget something? I'm confused? I open and shut my eyes simultaneously and, voila, a light bulb goes on inside my head.
It doesn't work with the memory this time. I remember nothing. Only after the fifth times of opening my eyes I finally know that me, Gregory Sanders, is somehow hanging feet away from the floor. My arm is bleeding, something stab in my neck, and there's no one else in my field of vision.
"Help," my voice is rough and raucous. The buzz in my head has becoming thumps of elephant's feet.
"Help!!!!!!!!!!"
"Gregory"
"Gre... go... ry...., up and shine sweetheart," The over-coated-with-sugar voice of my mom drifts from the door and I draw the blanket tighter. It's Sunday morning, for teenage mutant ninja turtles sakes.
A hand, smells like fruit and pancake, is messing with my hair. Another hand probably smells the same, tug my blanket down. I hold the edge tighter, but the blanket keeps on slip from my body.
"I remember someone asked me to wake him up early today," She speaks so close to my ear that it tingles, but I refuse to giggle.
"Not me," I answer her with eyelids fiercely closed.
"I see, So it's not you who want to come along with daddy today huh," I peek and see her taps her chin in deep thought. "Maybe it was Fred who want to go sailing with Daddy," She rises to her feet. "I should wake Fred up then. Oh Fred!" She calls our driver and I can't help myself, I sit on my bed immediately.
"Daddy can take Fred if he wants!," I yell, I don't mean to, but sometimes I yell to my mom.
"Is that so Gregory?," a sturdy form of my father enters the room and I gasp.
"Greg!."
"Wait, there's a hole on the floor."
"Greg!"
"Can you see him?."
Familiar voices come from somewhere above me. I try to look up but it's hurt me more than if I try to look down.
"I'm here!," I shout, my voice echoes in the room.
The voices are getting closer and suddenly something fall on top of my head. It slips down my body and fall to the floor with a thud.
"Man, he's down there"
"Watch your step Nick, the debris might fall onto him" I recognize it as Sara's voice and I inhale deeply. My friends are here, I'll be fine.
"Greg! Are you okay man?," It's Nick turn to speak, and I smile at his rhetorical question.
"I don't know. I'm bleeding and hanging feet away from the floor. What do you think?," I can imagine Sara frowns at my answer and Nick, he maybe bits his lip and smile bitterly.
"Greg, you fell to the hole after the explosion, rescue team will come in a moment" Sara assures me.
"Can you make them come in half a moment? my back and neck are killing me and my left sneaker is definitely ruined." I think they both are rolling their eyes at my line.
"Uh, Sara," I try to look up again but fail miserably.
"Yeah."
"What's happened, why am I down here?."
"You don't remember?," Her voice shows concern, "We were working on Maldini's Case, the Italian who've been bombed to death in this building."
"Greg, did you hurt your head or something?," Nick asks me with no less concern in his voice.
I shake my head; completely forget that it will cost me pain. "Ugh, No, I think I can remember it." An image of someone shouting at me and throws something that suspiciously looks like a hand-made grenade is flashing in my mind.
"The suspect, ugh," I try my best to ignore my pain. "Someone came out from the closet in the room that I was processing and throw, ugh, I don't know, something..." I inhale deeply, try to gather my thought. "And it exploded, and I fall, and...," I stop, incapable of forming more lines.
"It's okay Greg, we got the man, apparently he comeback to this building to pick up hidden explosives from the room you're processing," Sara explains in a morbid tone. "Hold on Greg, the officers are trying to find something to help you."
I feel something shifts in my back, then something else scratches my already wounded neck. Despite my self control, I groan as something cracks behind me. Next time Grissom asks me to reprocess an abandoned apartment complex, he have to make sure that the suspect isn't well trained with explosive devices. Hell, if I have my next time, I'll just tell Grissom to reprocess the scene himself.
"Shit that's hurt,"I close my eyes. I feel something is poking at my neck and it surely hurt.
"Try not to move Greg, you're stuck in some kind of wire and pole, I don't think they can hold your weight for long," I frown, leave it to Nick to deliver a good news.
As if being summoned by Nick, whatever things that hold me against the wall are creaking. My body is lowered by its weight and i hear the sound of fabric rips.
"Guys, hurry up" I whine, can't help it. The prospect of fall down onto a concrete floor from this particular high will make anyone whine, I guess.
"Nick! He's falling, find some rope or wire to help him!," Sara's instruction is clear but I know it won't work.
"Sara, I can't move my arm. Rope will be useless."
"Shit," there, comes the famous profanity of one Miss Sidle, I can make out the image of her forehead wrinkle in concern.
"Dispatch, where's the rescue team!," Nick is definitely in his angry and impatient mode.
I hear the rips of fabric again. It must be my vest, stuck in something. My body is creeping down the wall, the pain in my neck is so intense that I almost cry. I try to imagine anything else except the feeling of my body hit the floor, but I can't. The image of my limbs splay in weird positions and David kneels beside me, checking my liver temp, are messing with my mind.
"God!" I groan as my body falls down.
I fall into silence, don't want to meet my father's eyes. His eyes are the same color with mine and in some others days I will love to see them but after last night, I don't think I like his eyes anymore.
"Are you really want me to bring Fred today, Gregory?," I feel my bed give as my father sit on it. I raise my head and see him, arms cross on his chest, eyes stare deeply into mine.
"Yeah, bring him. I hate sailing anyway," I cross my arms too and look up to the window.
"Really?," The corner of my eyes don't miss the weird gleam in his eyes and suddenly I feel very afraid. I look over for my Mom and find her wraps one hand on my Father shoulder.
"Don't be to hard on him Paul, he's seven," I hear my mom whispers.
My father's face becomes steely and I squirms. "Seven is old enough to know that doing his homework is better than playing with those dangerous chemistry things,"
"It's not dangerous," I know I sound weak, but I have to defense myself and my chemistry kit.
"It's not dangerous Paul. I already went thought it. Only Microscope, pipette, gelatin, some cups, watercolor, and scales. It mostly contains the same things with his backpack," My mother gives me a wink. She doesn't know about the citric acid, baking soda,lead paper and matches that I hid in my drawer yet.
My father let out a huff and slowly raises himself up. "If he wants to go sailing with me, He has twenty minutes to meet me downstairs,".
"Now big boy", Mom reaches for me and I look up into her warm eyes, "We need to talk".
I hear Nick and Sara, they are arguing about something. I hear the creaking sound behind me, sound that similar with a never lubricated door. I open my eyes, with no hard effort this time, to find myself still dangles over the concrete floor.
Now that there's nothing poking my neck, I manage to tilt my head. I look over my shoulder, my vest is stuck on an iron bar and my body is totally hanging on it. I remember seeing one of my neighbors lifts his cat this way, feet and hands dangle in the air. Great, in this position, now i have the possibility to hit the floor head first.
"Way to mess your hair, Greg," I mutter to myself.
Nick is barking something to dispatch and Sara is shouting about tying someone to a rope. God, whatever they want to do, please make them do it quick. I don't think my vest is made to hold my weight for a minute longer.
I close my eyes, calculating the distance form my body to the floor. Add my weight and gravitation as other variables. Geez, I might hit the floor in what miles per hour? I don't care. Just lift me up already!.
I try to think about something else. My pretty goldfish, her breakfast will be served late today. My mother, she will likely gets a cardiac attack to hear the news. My father, he probably will grimly say something about the danger of chemical. Sara will finally kiss me on the lips after put a bouquet over my dead chest. The case and the evidences will be handled by someone else. Well, the case and the evidence be damned. The case and the evidence are the main reasons that drag me to such situation. They all can go to hell.
My vest is tearing apart, and once again, the horror of being a smashed-onto-concrete meat flashes in my mind. I feel something fall, hit my back with a thud and cost me more pain. Debris and dust are raining on me. I shut my lids so the dust don't get into my eyes. Great, now the building is falling apart too. Let's die inside this damn building together, just me, Sara, and Nick. How happy.
TBC
A/N : So how was it? was it easy to follow or confused you to no end? Thanks for reading, and leave me your oppinion please:)
