Note: I realize that the way I write when it's from the killer's perspective is a little jagged, but I'm trying to write it from the way people think, and people seldom think in nice, orderly ways. I am so sorry for the delay, college is a pain! Now that my academic stuff is over for the summer, I have less than a week to work my butt off on this story! (That's because it's got to mostly be done before "Living Doll" airs or it'll not seem quite right.) If there are any story related errors I'm sorry, but I've only seen all the eps once, and I didn't get to see "Lab Rats" because I was doing some paper or another, and that ep would have been useful :(
Reason- Chapter 2
April 2007- two months before the end…
I watch them as we work, wondering what they think. What they think about me, about work, about our jobs, about life. I feel alone with them. I feel like they judge me all the time. I try not to think about what I've done, I can't, I don't know what would happen if I did.
I'm so tired anymore, the stress of lying is wearing on me. I can see that I'm not the only one who is exhausted, even Grissom took a month off to get away. Yet if he wouldn't have left, the last target on the list wouldn't have died. I can't blame him, I knew just as well as everyone else that he was going to leave.
Upon returning home after a long day at work, I often have a lot of time to think, too much time to think. I tend to think about all the regrets I have. I regret many things I did in childhood and many things that I've done since then, as well as things I've done now as an adult. I had a daughter. I was young so we gave her up. She's dead now. She was murdered. The case was ruled an accident, but I knew better.
You see, it's my fault that she's dead. If I had been there for her when she grew up she wouldn't have died the way she did. She had so many drugs in her system that when she fell against her table and gashed her head open she didn't have the sense to get up and call 911.
I tracked down my former foster father, because he was the only one who knew about her. We looked into who she had known and found four people who were connected to her death: Izzy Dalance, Penny Garden, Raymundo Suarez, and Barbara Tallman. Izzy and Raymundo introduced her to the world of controlled substances, supplied by Penny. Barbara, the crackpot psychiatrist, never gave her guidance that worked. The four of them bore the blame for my daughter's death, so Ernie and I killed them.
When the four of them were dead I could have stopped, yet part of me couldn't. There's a line that, when crossed, is impossible to step back from. For me that line was killing Izzy. I had always told myself that I would never kill, and then I had to, and I did. I realized that I could avenge all of the pains that I felt by causing the deaths of the ones who caused my pain.
The goal of the puzzle, the miniatures, was to not only connect the murders, but to prove that I was better than the rest of them. No one in the lab understands me, actually no one understands me. I tried to get Grissom's attention, and while he sometimes pays attention, I wonder if he cares.
I've observed Grissom and the others handling the miniatures. They try to touch my mind, understand my methods. I never realized the thrill, the pleasure that can come through vengeance, through murder. It scared me at first, but eventually I embraced the feeling, if I hadn't I would have gone insane. So I work beside these people I still call friends, doing my job while trying to ignore how much of a hypocrite I am.
Something that occurs to me, that seems strange to think about, is that I have a lover, someone I spend many nights lying beside and speaking to. Yet that person doesn't know me and doesn't know what I do. I keep telling myself not to think about what I've done, because if I do I'd lose my mind.
I decided to start a new model today. The basic construction was easy enough, just a square. It's not as elegant as the miniatures Ernie made, but it's good enough. I'll be able to finish it within the month. I decided, through much debate, that the next target would be someone who hurt me. Gil Grissom hurt me many times over the years, probably not intentionally, but he hurt me just the same. When I'm finished, I'll deliver it to his home, and shortly after that it'll all be over. This game I've been playing has to end, even though it'll hurt everyone.
The lab was busy with various people rushing from one task to the next. The criminalists were bringing in the evidence; the lab techs were processing various substances, and the detectives were impatiently awaiting information to run down. Sara, Hodges, and Sofia each preformed their individual tasks in the system of law enforcement, but each was growing weary of their job. However, only one of the three was weary because he or she was the miniature killer.
TBC... (soon!)
Thank you so much to my reviewers!
