PROLOGUE

"You fucking bastard. Did you really think you could change that damn slut?"

"Shut up. She's no slut. I love her, I…"

"Don't go fucking sentimental on me, blondie. Now did you think you could change the bitch or what?"

A pause. Tears welled up in the eyes of the young, red haired female that had hidden herself in the cupboard and barricaded the door from the inside with a heavy cardboard box.

"Fag." The first voice snorted, "You don't give a damn about what happens to her. Tell me where the fuck you've hidden her so she can get what she had coming."

"No. You're never gonna lay a hand on her again. Not for as long as I live."

"That's why I brought this. I'm gonna slide it down her throat real smooth, so the last thing she'll be calling is your name. And then I'm gonna rip…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" the second voice cried out. It started the 17 year old girl. She perked up and leaned towards the door, pausing for a moment and contemplating if she really wanted to know what was going on at the other side of the door. Her curiosity and concern getting the better of her, she leaned forwards some more, peeking through the keyhole.

To this day, Elizabeth Stokes wished she never had.

"Hey Lizizzle?"

A small grin curved the lips of the young male CSI as he looked around the door that lead to the garage of the Lab. The room was somewhat dimly lit, a few rays of sunshine falling through the small, rectangle shaped windows at the very top of the walls. One of the TL lights was emitting a sick, white light, constantly flickering on and off. It was odd, really. That light had been broken for as long as he could remember, and the garage had never been too well lit, creating a feel that was typical for a room almost completely built underground, but he'd never really minded it before. Now, the cold, gasoline scented air that hit him square in the face when he took a step inside sent chills down Ryan Wolfe's spine. It was quiet, really quiet. He'd never been able to hear his footsteps echo through the room before; normally it was Fall Out Boy or Greenday, blasting through the speakers in the corner at such rate that the ceiling creaked and tiny pieces actually came down.

"…Liz?" he mumbled, concern clouding his deep brown eyes. Ryan's eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he pulled his hands from the pockets of his linen trousers. This was more than creepy. Even if Liz was out, there was music on. There were sounds coming from the garage. But not this time.

Suddenly, the male perked up, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol that was neatly tucked away in the black holster, at the height of his hip. Sound, from his right. It didn't sound like a threat, though. More like…Someone sobbing?

"G-go away!" Liz stuttered, her voice, which was already croaky and hoarse from crying, slightly muffled – she'd probably covered her face with her hands. The 27 year old was sitting neatly hidden from view in a corner on the right, a car parked right in front of her, obscuring the view of anyone that came in. Most of her long, red hair was tied back in a ponytail, a few loose strands falling down both sides of her face. Liz has indeed covered her face with her hands, but small tears had managed to leak through her fingers, falling apart on the navy blue overall she was wearing. Judging by the amount of small stains on her trousers, she'd been sitting there for quite a while.

Despite the female telling him to get lost, Ryan made his way around the car in less than 5 seconds, sinking down besides Liz and pulling her into a hug. He ignored the quiet protests she gave at first, holding her tightly until she gave in, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Hey…Shh, it's okay. It's okay…" he whispered, stroking the girl's hair soothingly. Liz took a deep breath, not bothering to clean her face from the tears she'd cried. Ryan gently let strands of her bright red hair slip through his fingers, carefully resting his chin atop of her head.

This had been the second time in his still short career as Crime Scene Investigator that he caught Liz Stokes, known for her happy-go-lucky, somewhat hyper attitude around the Lab and even outside, crying in the corner of the garage. The first time was because she had to put her cat down, after bringing it to Miami. Even though, at that time, she swore never to get a new cat to replace Rebel, she got herself a kitten not too long ago. For some reason, Ryan knew there had to be more behind it. This was something that couldn't be solved by just talking about it – if that would've helped, Liz would've started talking already. This was something bigger, something personal.

What bothered him the most was the fact that he had no idea how to cheer up the one person, the thought of whom alone would make him go to work with a smile on his face.