Disclaimer: I don't own anything CSI related. So, don't sue me - I'm a
poor starving student - I don't have any money.
Note: This is my first fanfic. Please R&R. I would appreciate all your comments and suggestions.
She was shrouded in darkness. The small glimpses of light were suddenly obscured; all she heard was a sharp thud above her. She coughed. The damp cold smell of dirt filled her nostrils. She was barely aware of her surroundings. Thud. More bits of dirt fell on her face. Suddenly, her aching body was suddenly gripped by panic; she fingers stretched and searched. Her heart racing, she was frantically banging with palms of her hands against the hard, immovable sides of whatever it was she was trapped it. Thud. She cried out. Her screams choked by the dirt.
***
He heard her screaming and grinned pleasurably. They always scream, he thought. He ignored the desperate pleas for help and continued with his work. He kept on shoveling - the simple pine box barely visible in the light of the car headlights. The frantic and hopeless screams were becoming more and more faint. He leaned on the shovel, exhausted. Silence. He became aware of his own heavy breathing and racing heart. He had taken too long, he thought, silently chastising himself as he gathered his tools and walked to his car, placing his things in the trunk. He then fumbled with his car keys and opened the door to the driver's sit. As he climbed in, it started to rain.
***
Jim Brass grimaced as he stared at the unopened envelope sitting on his desk. It had just arrived and a sense of foreboding consumed him. Not another one, he thought, please not another one. He looked away from the letter, unwilling to open it. He got up from his desk, walked toward a large bulletin board and stared at the pictures of the victims. Four in total. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the letter on the desk, taunting him. Not another one.
Note: This is my first fanfic. Please R&R. I would appreciate all your comments and suggestions.
She was shrouded in darkness. The small glimpses of light were suddenly obscured; all she heard was a sharp thud above her. She coughed. The damp cold smell of dirt filled her nostrils. She was barely aware of her surroundings. Thud. More bits of dirt fell on her face. Suddenly, her aching body was suddenly gripped by panic; she fingers stretched and searched. Her heart racing, she was frantically banging with palms of her hands against the hard, immovable sides of whatever it was she was trapped it. Thud. She cried out. Her screams choked by the dirt.
***
He heard her screaming and grinned pleasurably. They always scream, he thought. He ignored the desperate pleas for help and continued with his work. He kept on shoveling - the simple pine box barely visible in the light of the car headlights. The frantic and hopeless screams were becoming more and more faint. He leaned on the shovel, exhausted. Silence. He became aware of his own heavy breathing and racing heart. He had taken too long, he thought, silently chastising himself as he gathered his tools and walked to his car, placing his things in the trunk. He then fumbled with his car keys and opened the door to the driver's sit. As he climbed in, it started to rain.
***
Jim Brass grimaced as he stared at the unopened envelope sitting on his desk. It had just arrived and a sense of foreboding consumed him. Not another one, he thought, please not another one. He looked away from the letter, unwilling to open it. He got up from his desk, walked toward a large bulletin board and stared at the pictures of the victims. Four in total. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the letter on the desk, taunting him. Not another one.