I'm hoping that posting chapter 16 will make 15 show up...don't knows what's going on.

Thanks to Tessa.

Translations will be at the end. They're numbered.


Sara glanced down the dawn lit streets by her house. She wasn't sure what she was thinking coming down here. She cursed herself for leaving so abruptly, without her keys, cell phone or shoes. Her bare feet were cold and throbbing from running. She was also cursing herself for leaving Grissom in such an emotional state especially after his confession.

She was still mad at him. She couldn't believe that he would be so selfish. God, Rick might be, probably is bleeding to death. She feared he might already be dead.

She feared her stalker wasn't going to show up. She glanced around again and this time there was some one walking towards her. He wasn't anyone she knew but she had a feeling that she'd seen him a million times before.

He looked like any stranger; nice clothes but rumpled with ware, sandy blonde hair, expensive skate shoes, approximately twenty-five to thirty years old.

"Eight, nine Nineteen, one, eighteen, one."(1) He spoke in numbers. He didn't look as though he was in complete control of his self. He looked sort of like a patient in an insane asylum talking about a theory that involved aliens.

"Hello." She greeted back. Her voice was hoarse from crying and running. "Where's Rick?"

He fidgeted slightly.

"If you want to make me happy, tell me where he is."

"Thirteen, twenty-five sixteen, twelve, one, three, five."(2)

"Where is that? Where do you live?" she could tell by his eyes that he was coming down from a high. She didn't want to trust him but she didn't feel she had a choice. "Take me to him." She said.

Sara kept up with him despite her chilled feet. She knew she wouldn't have far to go and she was extremely grateful.
They past the corner grocery store where she bought her milk, as they went down the road and the park where she would end up after a run. She remembered him then, the smile in the journal entry, took place in this park. She bent down to tie her shoe and he was sitting on the bench four feet from her. He smiled first and she returned it to be polite.

He started up the steps to a little white house and Sara wished she had her cell. Inside was impeccable like an old fashioned 50's era home. Nothing was out of place, even the afghan on the back of the couch was squared up. She followed him through the living room into the kitchen. She noted the rotary phone on the wall next to the door to the basement where they headed.

She listened to anything, any sign that Rick was still alive. Her heart was pounding as they descended down the steps. She saw the plastic on the floor before she saw Rick tied to a chair. He was unconscious .Both arms were bandaged. His blood was seeping through and dripping on the floor around him. His boyish face was ashen and she held back a sob thinking she was too late.

"We have to get him to a hospital." Her voice wavered.

"Fourteen, fifteen."(3)

Sara's bottom lip and chin began to quiver.

"You aren't making me very happy. How can I love you if you show no compassion for this guy? He didn't do anything to you."

"Eight, five twenty, fifteen, twenty-one, three, eight, five, four twenty-one."(4)

"Yes he did. He touched me, but I let him." She tried to reason.

"twenty-one four, nine, four, fourteen, twenty twelve, nine, eleven, five nine, twenty."(5)

"No, I didn't want him to but he doesn't deserve to die." She tried not to sound pleading. She needed to keep control but with each drip of blood on the plastic she knew she was losing it. A lump of panic hit her hard, almost choking her. She stole a glance from Rick to her stalker then up the stairs behind her. She made a split second decision and bolted for the stairs. She got half way up when he pulled her back down. She kicked him but he dodged her foot, pulled her up on her feet and struggled to hold her in his arms.

"Four, fifteen, fourteen, twenty…"(6) he began.

She struggled to get away; using any technique she could but he over powered her.

"Stop!" she yelled. Her voice frightened him and he pushed her away. Her ankle rolled, she fell sideways and hit her head on the cement wall.

Dizzy she tried to stand but her ankle wouldn't hold. Her head pounded and she reached up and gingerly touched her head where it made contact with the wall and felt the warm sticky wetness of blood. Her vision was blurred when she looked up at her now captor.

He was moving frantically about the room, mumbling incoherently. He shook his head; this wasn't how he planned it. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He stopped and glared down at her.

"Twenty-one twenty-three, five, eight, five nineteen, twenty-one, sixteen, sixteen, fifteen, nineteen, five, four twelve, fifteen, twenty-two, five thirteen, five!"(7)

Through her mottled mind she somehow made sense of his words.

"How could I love you? I could never love some one that could do that!" she flung her hand in the direction of Rick's lifeless body.

Her words enraged him; spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.

"Twenty-one twenty-three, nine, twelve, twelve!"(8)

"No!" she yelled.

TBC…

Up next, Catherine and Grissom talk...

1: Hi Sara

2: My place

3: No

4: He touched you

5: You didn't like it.

6: Don't

7: You were supposed to love me.

8: You will.

A/N: I recieved a note from a reader explaining to me that OCD is an anxiety disorder. I know, I'm OCD when it come to my socks. Though I don't need medication. I've done research on the subject and no, it doesn't get this bad (that I could find). My stalker is based on a character from a movie called CAMP; Vlad. he does take medicationbecause if he doesn't he goes all numbers. he then adds them up backwards then devides...it's pretty confussing so I simplified it, a lot.

All of the information about the medications is true as well as the illigal drugs. People can and do use heroine, morphine and methadone. I'm not making this up.

I hope that clears things up so I'm not offending anyone.