Sara was running away from someone. It was dark. She didn't necessarily know whom it was she was running from, but her gut told her they were up to no good. She kept running until finally, she tripped. She saw something to her right- it was a long sharp-bladed object. She had seen it before- it was the same knife that took the life of her father all those years ago.

Her hand gripped the handle of the knife. It was cold and covered in blood. Sara let go of the knife to only find that the blood was now all over the palm of her hand and she stared at it in horror. She shook her head as she turned back to the person who was following her. They were coming closer. She grabbed the knife without a second thought and lashed out at whatever it was in front of her.

The figure fell to the ground. It was someone she knew.

"Oh my god, Nick!" she knelt down by his side. "Oh no…Nick, please! Say something!"

It was no use. His once lively and happy expression on his face had changed to a cold and distant lifeless stare. She heard footsteps behind her and acted on instinct. She felt the knife in her hand dig into someone's flesh and they too fell over.

Greggo.

"God! Greggo, can you hear me? Greg, say something!"

It was too late.

Sara was tossing in turning in her bed as the rest of the dream went just like this. When she finally woke up, she felt beads of sweat dripping down her face and she felt nauseous. She ran to her bathroom, and after emptying her stomach, she washed her face with cold water.

The water was refreshing against her skin and she wiped the water away from her face before staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had remembered doing this when she was little. When she was little, at this moment she had hated herself. What did she think of herself now? She couldn't think anything of herself anymore- she just felt hollow. She had nothing.

She walked back into her room and sat on her bed. She sighed as she rubbed her right temple. She looked around the room- it was neat and tidy, everything was in order and where it was supposed to be. She laughed a little as a tear ran down her face.

She felt pathetic- worthless. She was a workaholic- probably since the day she was born. She had nothing more in her life than her work. Her brother was still in rehab; she feared he'd end up an OD victim before he reached the age of 40. Her mother was in jail, and she wanted nothing to do with her. Her father was dead, and even though he had hit her one time, she still loved him dearly.

Her aunt and uncle were now dead- they drunk themselves to death. After that, her cousins moved away- far away. Sara felt that they had made a good decision.

She looked at the clock on the corner of her nightstand. It was 3:30 am. Sara sighed. She really needed someone to talk to but she didn't want to call Catherine so early, especially because shift started soon. Sara decided she'd just try and go back to sleep and wait until shift had started to talk to anyone.

Sara ran into the lab, throwing away a large paper coffee cup on the way to the break room. She panted as she reached the room.

"I'm so sorry! I—"

Everyone turned to see her. They were all huddled in a circle. The color from Sara's face drained as she realized whom it was they were huddled around.

"Mom…"

Her mother turned to see her and smiled.

"Sara! I came to see where you worked and your coworkers! I got escorted here by an officer, and I can go have lunch with you!"

She gulped. Her mother seemed so happy to see her, but she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her mother. Her mother had killed her father. She could never forgive her for that.

"Mom, can I talk to you?" Sara asked.

"Sure, honey," she said walking out of the break room, leaving Grissom and the rest still huddled around.

Sara sighed. "Mom, listen—"

"I want to start over, Sara."

"W-What?"

"I want to start over. Give me a second chance, I'll make it up to you."

Sara rubbed her head, growing slightly nervous, but now she was also a bit angry.

"You can't make it up to me, mom. You killed dad. No one will ever replace dad, and nothing you do will ever make me want to forgive you."

"Sara, honey please. I've gotten help, I've seen a psychiatrist."

Sara just laughed. She remembered seeing a psychiatrist- what good did it do her?

"Mom, listen to me. I don't want you as a part of my life anymore. I am never going to forgive you for what you did. I loved dad, and now I'm alone in the world. All I have is my work, and even that's causing me trouble."

Her mother sighed.

"There's nothing I can do to make you forgive me, is there?"

Sara shook her head. Her mother hung her head and walked over to her.

"I love you, sweetheart," she whispered in her ear. Sara hesitated, but returned the hug.

Her mother released from the hug.

"Mom, please leave."

"Sara, I want you to tell me what else is bothering you."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked raising a brow.

"What else is bothering you? You obviously seem to have a bigger grudge against me than you let on."

Sara sighed, getting ready to speak.

"When dad had stopped coming home those nights after you guys fought…I was all alone. You were always mad. You may not remember, but mom, I do. And that…"

She sighed, looking for words.

"Made me realize something."

Her mother moved her eyebrows up in curiosity.

"That I never wanted to be like you. I realized this even more after you killed dad. I swore to myself I would never be like you. I was going to live my own life and refuse to let myself become a whole other you. And last night, I had a terrible dream, that I hurt my best friends," she said. "And I'm not going to become a murderer."

She held back the tears in her eyes as her mother stood in silence.

"So please, get out of my life…and don't come back." She turned to walk away.

SMACK!