Author's Note: This is an idea that I had been playing around with lately. I'm not sure if this is going to turn into something with relationships. Please let me know what you think.
I was pissed. Lately, everything about work caused me to go home pissed. I hated the whispers that started the second I left the room. I hated the looks of curiosity. I hated how people treated me like I was the loose cannon Catherine wanted me to be. I hated being the scapegoat . . . the weakest part of the team.
My only solace came from working with Greg. He was a calming influence. I enjoyed teaching him the trade. I felt proud every time Greg perfected a new skill. It helped to distract me from how much I had come to hate my job and the shift change.
The sun was already high in the sky. Greg and I had been forced to work with Catherine and Warrick on a case this morning. Catherine had dragged Warrick to a press conference, while she told Greg and me to stay in the lab and finish processing the evidence. Catherine would do anything to make herself look good, even if it was at the expense of another. Her goal seemed to be to make Greg and me feel like the ugly stepchildren. I wasn't sure if Warrick and Nick were willing or unwilling parties to Catherine's conquest for power.
I was tired. My eyelids drooped as I walked out my SUV. I dug through my pockets and satchel looking for my keys. I sighed when I realized that they were probably still in my locker.
"Are you Catherine Willows?" a man asked as he approached me. He walked towards me quickly. I snapped around to face the man that was rapidly approaching me. His footsteps were heavy, but quick. It was the middle of summer, but he wore a sweatshirt and tattered jeans. I immediately noticed the blood on the cuff of his faded jeans. He wore a baseball hat that obscured his face.
"I asked if you are Catherine Willows," the man yelled as he continued to approach me. My heart began to pound as I struggled to come up with a response to him. I must have been too slow because he pushed me up against my SUV. I began to struggle with him. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I didn't think that anyone would hear me. I was parked in the corner of the parking lot. The walls in the crime lab were all sound proofed. No one would hear me.
I asked him to stop. I began to beg him to stop as he wrapped his fingers around my neck. I tried to kick, but he had my body pinned tightly against the hot metal of my vehicle. He kept squeezing. I tried to claw him or anything to get his DNA under my nail, but I couldn't remember if I was successful.
"You sent me to jail. Ten years ago, you sent me to jail for a crime I didn't commit," the man growled, "You ruined my life. You made my wife divorce me. My children won't talk to me anymore. I'm going to ruin your life."
I coughed as I tried to draw air into my lungs. My chest throbbed. I wondered why he thought I was Catherine. I was taller . . . a brunette. I thought that ten years would be enough to imprint the image of Catherine in his mind.
I heard a car drive into the parking lot. My peripheral vision was starting to gray. I felt him let me fall to the ground. The blacktop was searing against my skin. I heard the man's footsteps quickly disappear; I heard a door slam. I could barely breathe. I was too scared to pull myself off the ground.
"Sara, Sara," I heard Brass yell as he ran to where I was crumpled on the asphalt. I heard him call for an ambulance. He kept asking me to talk to him, but I couldn't. I could barely gasp for breath. I remember hearing voices and the click of cameras before everything faded to black.