Shaking by bloodredcherry
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, including the characters and the lyrics. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no infringement intended.
Rating: R
Summary: Everyone has an outlet.
AN: This is really my first attempt at angst and this isn't going to be a very happy story, the rating is for content. Also this story isn't meant to fit into any particular season, though it does touch down on a few episodes.
Maybe some of you might think this a little extreme, but everyone has a breaking point, and this is fanfiction.
Anyway…read on and let me know what you think.
I look to everybody but me to answer my prayers
'Til I saw an angel in a bathroom
Who said she saw no one worth saving anywhere
Jewel Down So Long
even the simplest solutions
still won't heal my mind
Beth Hart Mama
The first time it was an accident. She'd been shaving hastily before work – her toast was burning and if she didn't leave in five minutes she'd be late. She nicked herself, just under her ankle bone.
"Shit!" She yelled, tossing the razor across the room. She peered down at the cut. It was deep and blood was already beading against the slice. She pressed a white washcloth against the flow of blood until it ebbed.
She fumbled with the medicine cabinet and pulled out her box of Band-Aids. She strapped a bandage across the bleeding cut and yanked down her pant leg.
She'd forgotten all about it until her break – which was sometime around four AM. She'd accidentally dumped a jar of finger printing powder into her lap and she wanted to change her pants before heading back out into the field.
She grabbed her clean pair of jeans and made her way into a stall. She pulled off her black cords and hung them on the door. She bent down and then she saw the stain on her sock. She sat down on the toilette and pulled off her blue ankle sock. Her blood had seeped through the Band-Aid.
She gently pulled it off, and prodded the wound gently with her finger.
Someone knocked on the door to her stall.
"Sara?" Catherine Willows knocked again, "are you ready?"
Sara shook herself. "Yeah," she replied, "yeah, I'll be right out."
The second time was right after the Pamela Alder case. She hadn't planned it, when she got a glass of water that morning at her apartment her hands were shaking so badly, the glass dropped and shattered on the floor.
It was a strange sort of pain, a sick sort of pain.
It felt too good.
She tossed the glass into the garbage can and cried herself to sleep. The next morning she couldn't look herself in the eye when she looked into the mirror.
This isn't normal.
You're fucked up.
She told herself she wouldn't do it again. She told herself she was okay. She almost believed it.
She didn't even think about it the third time, she was standing in her bathroom, stark naked. Pressing, pulling, a sharp gasp then red, a clenching in her chest that might have been fear but was probably just adrenaline.
She didn't stop. Stark red lines against smooth pale flesh, fresh cuts crossing over partially healed ones.
She couldn't stop. She felt dirty. She needed to tell someone.
Her first thought was Grissom but she knew she wouldn't be able to bear his disappointment. She wasn't ready to be analyzed. Sometimes there were no answers. Sometimes things couldn't be explained away.
So?
What are you going to do?
She stood at his door, the rain pouring down her face. She'd hadn't meant to come here.
Just drive.
She rang the bell once.
She needed someone to tell her that she was okay – she'd been saying it to herself for too long and she didn't believe it.
The door opened.
Surprise crossed his face first, confusion then concern. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering.
He shook his head once, "come in," he said and she stepped over the threshold.
She smiled. There was still time to back out. Maybe she'd just take off her jacket and let him figure it out for himself.
"Coffee?"
"Thanks." This was it. She pulled off her jacket. One sleeve then the other.
She paused.
No.
She pulled her jacket back on. One sleeve then the other.
"I need to go."
"Go?"
"Yeah." She opened the door and ran down the steps, fishing her keys out of her pocket. He called her name but she ignored him, climbing into her SUV.
She gasped in a deep breath and sagged against the seat.
You're not normal.
You're fucked up.
Everyone needs an outlet.
Endnote: In the end I couldn't actually decide who she ended up going to see, so I'll let you the readers decide for yourselves. Anyway, review and let me know what you think but no flames please.