ooc;; okay, so this is my first time that I am going to write a story about gsr, though I have role played it before. this story will be based off of that role play, so it might seem a little off to you. just relax when you read. (and if you happen to role play, send me a message.) one a related note, i happen to be only 13 years old, though i will be 14 in a few weeks. i'd like it if you told me if i have good writing/bad writing for my age. also, reviews! if i don't get those, i don't think that i'll want to write. xD

"Sara, come on."

Sara lifted her head up from the chair in the police station to see Brass standing, eyes full of worry. She didn't say anything but she stood up and walked over towards him, hugging him.

"Sara, I am going to take you home and then we will-"

She stopped him, words still slurred. "Don't caw, pwese. I don't want sim him."

Brass locked his jaw but he agreed. After all, he'd end up telling Grissom anyways; he always told him when it came to Sara. Grissom could be an ass and act as bad as he wanted to Sara, but he knew the man was head over heels with her. He cared abut everything she did.

Sara nodded and followed him out, his hand guiding her. Brass helped her, but he was going to call Grissom anyways. They were both miserable and she was taking to drinking because of him; he knew that it was because of him. They both needed to grow up, admit it, and then worry about the consequences when they came about, not worrying about them before they even had a chance of occurring.

When they arrived at the house, she sighed and shook her head. "No, Brass; I am a big girl, I swear I can handle myself," said Sara. Having fallen asleep in the car in the car, most of the alcohol had worn off. No, she wasn't sober, but she was able to make complete sentences and make her words understandable.

"If you say so, Sara; just take care of yourself, okay? And stay away from the beer in the fridge; I really don't want to make him come here, honey. Don't let him control your life." He waiting for an answer but he didn't get anything; she was just staring out into space, blinking every now and then. "Well, I am going to go now," he said, needing to get to Grissom. He knew her. The second that he left, she'd have another beer in her hand, trying to make all of her pain go away. "I love you, and don't you ever forget that. And Grissom does, too, you know? He is just too unstable to admit it to even himself."

Minutes after he left, Sara leaned up against the cabinet, drink in hand. Even after getting pulled over and brought home by Brass, she still had the urge to drink; that feeling wasn't going way. The feeling that he gave her. She knew he was going to be here soon, too—Brass had no idea when to keep his mouth shut.

Grabbing another beer, she staggered to the couch, falling onto it and slipping her drink everywhere. "Fuck!" she yelled. Now she had one more thing to add to her list of problems: she was now covered in beer. Managing to place her beer on the side table, she got up, once again, and made her way into the bathroom, turning the water on complete hot water—she needed to feel something real; something that was going to hurt and was supposed to. Love wasn't supposed to hurt!

After many falls and failed attempts, the hazel eyed brunette finally had her clothes off and made her way into the shower. Of course, that didn't last long when she fell on her ass again. "Dammit!" Yelling it as loud as she could, she was sure that everyone in the world could hear her.

And that was when she lost it.

Tears started falling from her eyes, mixing with the water and the shampoo that was running into her eyes. "I hate you!" She screamed it loud again. If Grissom was near she knew that he would have heard it but she didn't care anymore—this was all his fault anyway. It was his fault that she was always drunk, that she could never sleep, and that she never wanted to sleep.

Looking back, she couldn't see how it happened. They used to be happy. They would talk, smile, share secret brushes….but not anymore. Now he was distant and the only time that she got a reaction out of him was when she was with someone else and, even then, all he did then was punish her by putting her on paperwork. She just wanted everything back to normal!

No, she didn't want normal—she wanted him to love her like she loved him.

Tears were still falling, soap in her eyes, but she didn't care. The water was turning cold and she needed to get dressed but what was the point? Grissom didn't care. If she died because she drowned, he wouldn't care at all. She curled up in a ball in the corner, cold water coming onto her face--at least you couldn't tell that she was crying. "I hate you!" she screamed at him again, and this time, he heard it.

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