I am feeling angsty
I do not own CSI. I just like to take the characters out of their cages and play with them sometimes
She was suffocating.
She couldn't breathe
Absolutely completely drowning in the confines of a wide open warehouse
She fell to her knees, the dusty light beaming in from the high windows casting a hazy dusk around the building
She really, almost literally could feel herself suffocating
She wasn't exactly sure when it started. The sensation came upon her slowly, like the feel of slow quicksand that started at your feet and eventually worked its way up to your neck, your nose...your eyes. Cutting off all oxygen while you just stood there, completely still, hoping that if you did not move someone would eventually come and pull you out
No one did
Not even him.
But perhaps, she thought, it was because he was the quicksand that was slowly suffocating her
So, really, what reason did he have to pull her out?
And why, really, if he said he cared so much, didn't he even notice?
She supposed she knew the answer, but ignoring it was so much easier than understanding that if it kept up, there would be nothing left of her to drown
She wiped her face, pushing herself up from her knelt position and continued through the warehouse. There were castings here, somewhere, and she had conveniently volunteered to come in and find them; just so she could have a small amount of breathing room
It hadn't worked
She found herself getting angry; a lot
A bitter, coiled little snake that liked to live deep within her chest and come out, with a vengeance, to lash out at whomever, or whatever, was in her path.
She knew, of course, that it was because she thought...way too much...about everything that had happened. She had nightmares, almost every night; waking in a cold sweat to find that he just wasn't there.
He never was
She started drinking again; a little at first. Tiny little shots of his bourbon or scotch, something he wouldn't notice
But then again, he didn't really notice much of what she did anyway
She worked in rhythm, smiling at those she came across. She felt oddly robotic, putting herself in auto pilot as she just moved along with the flow.
She stopped talking so much. Choosing instead little nods or shrugs, or just ignoring the words being spoken to her. When pushed, she would give some canned response that was pre-programmed in her head, appeasing anyone in the room who never even realized it was no longer her speaking, but the snake deep inside.
Wow. These people really didn't know her at all
And then one day, as if out of nowhere, he noticed. In his office, reviewing a case with her, he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, staring at her "Sara, are you feeling alright?"
She laughed. A bitter, snarled laugh that made him furrow his eyebrows. Standing, she shook her head ever so slightly as she approached his desk and threw the file flat on top of it before walking out of the room.
Am I feeling alright? She thought angrily What the fuck do you think?
Ronnie
Poor girl
Everything she did seemed to irritate her. Everything
"Why are you being such a bitch all of a sudden?" Nick asked her flat out one day
She glared at him "I didn't realize it was all of a sudden"
He stared as she raised an eyebrow, giving him one of her famous upturned lip looks before turning away to wander through the tumbleweed. He glanced at Ronnie who had given up and made her way back to the truck Poor girl will never make it here He thought
And she didn't
"This is becoming a problem." Catherine said as she stood in front of Gil's desk, tossing a file at him
"What is?" He asked as he picked up the file
"That's Sara's case report" Catherine replied with a sigh "It isn't even finished. Hell, she barely even started it. You have to do something Gil"
Gil opened the file, scanning it. It was, by all accounts, incredibly sloppy work. He looked up at Catherine "What would you have me do?" He asked. "You are her supervisor, not I"
Catherine rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest "You are her lover, not I" she shot back "This is more of a personal issue than a work one and you know it"
He tossed the file down "I am not aware of any personal issue that would facilitate this" He replied "Perhaps she was in a rush"
"Perhaps" She snapped "Perhaps she is having a mental breakdown and you need to do something to stop it"
"My personal life is none of your concern, Catherine" He replied curtly "I am sure if you speak to Sara you will find a very valid reason for this"
She shook her head. "Fine" She yanked the file off of his desk "But when your personal life walks out on you I am not going to let you cry on my shoulder over it"
He watched her leave, hearing her heels hit the flooring as she went.
Sara was fine.
Everyone knew that
She started running. A lot
Sometimes she would take the dog; other times she would head out alone, her MP3 strapped to her waist, the soothing sounds of the music filling her head
She would be gone for hours, letting her feet take her to areas she had never been. It was a release, a comfort and an escape
When she found the old abandoned old house, she knew she had found a refuge. Returning time after time
It became her secret; her hideout. She holed up blankets and pillows there, loading up with candles and flashlights.
She began sleeping there
Once
Twice
The quiet sounds of night around her nearly drowning out the roaring sounds of the quicksand within her
Nearly
But even as she sat on the tattered roof of this new escape, she could feel the grip of the quicksand on her ankles and she knew she was almost out of time
Sara Sidle was losing her mind, and she had no idea how to stop it