Hi guys…sorry that this has taken so long to be update but I always get stuck on these bits and then when I finally wrote it, I got sunstroke… I also realised…I don't have writers block…I write something and end up erasing it, because it looks terrible. It's frustrating and annoying…meh…
Thank you to everyone who reads this. Double thank you to all who take the time to let me know what you think.
Big thank you dark-girl-faith-sidle, icklebitodd, pigeonofdoom, Dybdahl Silent as the Grave, The Magic Bringer for reviewing the last chapter, thank you so much...it's great to know what you think about it... and thank you to anyone who has read the story...thank you x
The Magic Bringer- Thank you for reviewing…this is the bit with processing…but its not very good because I don't know how the process thing properly works, so we'll see if it works…if not I'll just do better in the next one…x x
Icklebitodd- Yeah, I am reading it… its okay…thank you so much for the response about Pinocchio. Sorry you found it upsetting xx
Silent as the Grave- thank you hugs x x
dark-girl-faith-sidle I just love reading your reviews…they're fab…thank you…x x
Pigeonofdoom-thank you, thank you so much for reviewing…so sorry it wasn't up sooner… x x
Dybdahl- I can half say that things will get better...Thanks for reviewing x x
Have a great week x luvs n hugs x
The sun was rising and they were sat in the dining room of the house, waiting for a phone call from the Lab. They weren't processing because Sara and Grissom needed a break, even if it was for a few moments.
In the bathroom, they had discovered several drinking glasses with unidentifiable orange ooze floating in the bottom of them. Sara had found a slim white door. A picture was carved in to it. A male was hanging from a tree with his face was upturned to the branch that suspended him. An angel hovered behind the man. The door had a padlock which was sliver and shiny and snapped off.
When she opened the door slightly, and the smell of old pickle jars hit her.
She had gasped when she saw its content.
"Oh, my goodness."
They looked so alien, inhuman looking.
There were big glass bottles of foetuses, babies that had died before they were born. Not just human ones, but other animals such as cows and pigs.
Grissom didn't say anything. Even if he had something, he was incapable of speaking.
They were documented.
Sara pointed out the bloodstains and scratches on the inside the door. Sara had wanted to test something. She knelt down in the closet and asked Gil to close the door, locking her in. She noted someone of the height she was at, a child, made the scratches.
There was no door handle on the inside and she couldn't push it open.
She had called out to him.
She looked up to the ceiling, which was a smoke dark grey, rat coloured and it was as silent as death. It was like standing in Madison Avenue in New York, looking up at the slick buildings and glass-covered towers and the pollution that blew along the edge of the clouds in a big, black fat haze. Her knees began to ache on the glittering white torture tiles that felt uncomfortably solid.
When he didn't come back after about thirty seconds, she started knocking on the door, shouting his name. Her knocks had started as a gentle tapping and then a hasten rapping until her palm was being slammed in to the door. The sweat was collecting in circles on her faded lips and her black pupils became swollen. She knew the science part of what was happening to her; her arteries were constricting, core temperature rising, heart racing, the brain firing bursts of electrical impulses, her respiration was becoming rapid and sweat spat out of every gland. However she couldn't understand why she was so upset about being in a small cupboard.
Grissom opened the door, brimming with simplicity.
He cocked his head, not understanding why she was rocking herself backwards and forwards. Her face looked upwards, like the carving in the door and she stumbled to her feet.
He apologised.
"Was that some pathetic attempt of a sick joke?" She was almost in tears. Gil had wondered throughout the night whilst working with her if she had begun drinking again. He toyed with the idea like a baby playing with its hanging mobile suspended above its head. Her face was drained, the bloom gone from her face. She seemed dull and full of shattered visions.
As she stood there, he explained Sofia had called to him. He thought the door would be able to open from the inside.
He apologised again.
Sara stared at him before staggering around him. She walked down the stairs, gloves still on, and opened the front door. If Sofia had been there and tossed her a contemptuous sneer, it would have wounded her far too much.
Sara made her way down the serpentine sliver drive until she estimated she was five meters away from the perimeter of the crime scene and she vomited.
She thought she was losing her guts as her energy rolled out of her like thick waves. It faded and she was shivering. She felt her sickness rising up in her again and half-digested food came out in a small stream. She felt very limp and she heard Grissom's voice.
"I'll just be a minuet." She hoped he hadn't seen her vomit, it would just be another to low she would have to sink to in front of him. She could vision herself in an open grave, mud and tree roots and moisture surrounding her and him looking down, solemn, sombre and staring at her and as she would have to claw at the mud to get to the surface and when she reached the damp, wet grass, her right hand would crush the last flower in the world that poked up seductively from the earth and disappoint him once more.
They were sat in the dark, thick curtains drawn and there was no glimpse of natural light.
The centrepiece of the dining table was a vase crammed with dead flowers, falling petals of red, purple and gold.
Gil could tell that everything in this room was white or was white in the day. Right now it looked as though everything had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. The soft materials seemed withered and clinging to hard sharp surfaces. There was no brightness left in this once bright room.
Sara's elbow was resting on the table and her head leaning on that hand. She was as still was the glass ornaments displayed symmetrical on the shelves. For some reason, when Gil looked at her, he was reminded of a ghastly waxwork he had seen at a Fair when he was a child. He looked at her and saw her peach skin crumbling away, brown hair dissolving to dust, her clothes melting off her shoulders until all that was left, was sick jaundice yellow and unnaturally smooth and shiny surface that formed a skeleton. The skeleton's dark eyes moved and looked at him.
"When I was nine, I used to be more frightened of eggs than I was of blood."
He looked at her, as if she had found a spark of humanity.
"Eggs?"
She nodded.
"I though they were revolting."
She paused, softly smiling. She was telling Grissom about her past, but it was something simple and small and it still had the same level of intimacy, or at least that was what she felt.
"At first, it is just a white and sterile round thing," she drawled out softly, "but then it breaks open and it spills out yellow and clear goo."
She shrugged.
"I don't know, I just thought I was gross."
He nodded faintly and then angled his head, studied her face for a moment
"I used to dislike…"
The shrill of the cell phone interrupted him.
"Grissom."
There was a brief silence.
"Thank you."
Grissom stood up as he ended the call. Sara followed and they walked up the stairs together. It was wide enough to let them walk side by side.
"The substance we found in the glass contains chlorpromazine hydrochloride, also known as Largactil."
Sara stopped on the step, whilst Grissom carried on, her mouth half opened. He shot her a quick glance, but she didn't notice him looking.
"Largactil?"
"Yes. It's an anti-psychotic. The chlorpromazine works by blocking," Sara started moving again, "a variety of receptors in the brain, particularly dopamine receptors."
"Do you know anything about it?"
"No," she said softly
"Oh, just the way you reacted, I thought-."
"Thinking is over-rated," he muttered simply, without bitterness, yet he felt the weight of her words. He didn't say anything. He half turned and looked at her. Gil's eyes narrowed on his back as his confusion grew.
"Something wrong?"
"No."
He was confused by this sudden mood swing. He thought, perhaps it was payback for his mood at the start of shift. They were both caffeine and sleep deprived.
His confusion turned to anger.
"Then stop acting like a child."
"Only if you stop acting…" Gil couldn't hear the end of her sentence, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. A heavy silence fell between them as they stared at each other.
"Do you want me to finish the bathroom, you start on the main bedroom?"
"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."
They kept very still, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. She pirouetted away from him.
I hate this chapter so much...it feels...so crap...sorry x
