I wake up, and I feel drowsy. At first, I don't even know where I am. Everything around me is covered in darkness. Then it comes to me. I've been kidnapped, and the last thing I remember is having a conversation with my abductor, and then being drugged. At this time, breathing seems to be a thing almost impossible for me to do. All I want now is to wake up in my bed at my house and say 'What a crazy dream this was…'. But it ain't this simple. I'm here, probably left to die, and it's now up to me to try to get myself outta here. I start thinking. So, I am lying on something soft and warm, and I'm wrapped in a blanket. My hands are free, and so are my feet. Both my arms are stiff, the left a little bit more than the right one. Judging by the fact that I woke up, the drug that's been injected into my system wasn't immediately fatal. But it might only be a question of time. Nevertheless, I decide that I should have a little walk around to check what the conditions of the place I was dumped at are like.
I start by pulling the blanket off me. As I do so, something touches my right thigh. It's lightweight, and it seems there are more pieces of it. I fumble with my hands in the area I suppose those objects are. It must be some kind of a stick, I wonder when my fingers finally get hold of something. A glow stick! So I now have light. I sit up and then rise to my feet. I can see one big nothing, though. I rifle through my pockets, and I find a lighter. This indicates that my kidnapper hasn't searched me at all. Or he didn't give a damn about what he found. Well, my watch and ring are missing, but that might've been some kind of a trophy for him. A little thing that will always remind him about what he'd done, and how brave he'd been… Anyway, I begin my stroll around the room. In the dim light, I cannot see much, but I bravely keep up. My first stop is at the door. It's locked, and maybe even secured with a latch or something at the other side. However, what I find next makes me instantly happier. There's a switch here. In like five seconds, I get some better light. The source of the light is a bulb in the middle of the room, bare, hanging on the wire from the ceiling. But it works. After a quick calculation, I jump to the conclusion that the room is roughly 260 square feet, and that it really must be a basement. Apart from the mattress I was lying on before, there's a desk in the right furthest corner. That's my next priority. In front of it there's a chair that's been through a lot, I'd say, judging by the cracks in the material. I pull the chair away so I have more space around the table. There's not a thing on top of the desk, so I continue with processing its drawers. I'm getting goosebumps at the thoughts that flash through my mind. I'm aware that this might be the last thing for me to process. I can clearly see any of my colleagues processing this desk after the coroner took my dead body to the morgue.
However, in the first drawer, I find a blank sheet of paper and a pen. In the second, there's a dictaphone. And last but not least, the third drawer shows me its contents. A gun is peacefully sitting in there. With shaky hands, I take it out and check the magazine. I guess I know where this is going. After hesitating a little, I decide to play the dictaphone tape. A taunting voice says:
"Hi, Nicky.
You know why you're here, don't you?
Because you thought you could get away with destroying my life. Because that's what you CSIs do. So breathe quick, breathe slow, put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're going to die here…okay?"
I find it really difficult not to throw up. I'm physically sick of this. It's been changed a bit from the original message I received in the coffin, but it was similar enough to send shivers down my spine. I start sweating, panting, and panicking. I want out so bad. I run for the door. I bang on it. I kick it. I scratch it. I scream. I cry. I swear. I pray. I cry more. I give up after minutes of the fruitless fight. My feet are numb after all the kicking. My knuckles bleed. I've got thousands of wood chips in my hands. I push my back against the door, and I let gravity do the trick. I slump to the ground like a pile of ashes. I curl up on the cold floor of the depression-causing room I'm locked in, and I weep. Men don't cry, they say. Huh, that's bullshit. I shed tears many times in my life, and I find it kinda relieving. I wanna stop sobbing now, but I just can't. My brain sends me memories of my friends, and knowing that I won't live to see them again makes it so hard for me to think about them. I can see Grissom doing some crazy experiment that will become a breakthrough in one of his cases. I see Warrick's blue eyes sparkling because he just won the bet we placed on our case before. I hear Sara's sarcastic comments on a current case, in which some important evidence is missing, and that drives her crazy. I know she takes her job seriously, and that she hates it when we're missing something. She's always been like a sister to me. Someone I know I can talk to, somebody I can share either the laugh or the problem with… I watch Catherine as she interrogates a junkie who's refused to work with the police. I remember Greg playing loud music in the lab and singing along to it back then when he still used to be a DNA specialist. It's like I was walking through the corridors, through the glass maze, but I'm a ghost. No one sees me, no one talks to me. I don't exist for them. I only see them, being together, telling jokes, laughing. I'm not one of them anymore. I don't deserve to share their happiness. I also think about my family, but I just don't want them to look at my dead body. If I die here, and that I will, I wanna stay buried down here forever. I can't imagine them having to look at my expressionless, motionless, featureless face. Outliving their child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent.
I draw the damaged chair to the desk. I don't fully trust that the old material won't give up under my weight, yet I sit down, regardless of that. I grasp the pen and put it on the paper, but I haven't got a single clue as to what I should write down. The words are not coming to me, I'm unable to concentrate… The last time in the coffin was enough. I'd never think I'd get to that situation again. I'm glad I have the paper today. I wouldn't be able to give a speech. After a moment of flashbacks of the coffin, I decide that I'll let my heart write the letter. Slowly, my hand shaking, I start writing down my last goodbyes. Once I get to the end, I take my hand off the paper to read through what I've pulled together. In some places, blood is smudged over the text as my hand still bleeds a little. At last, I sign the document in the right below corner. I put the pen down, and I turn to the gun that's lying on the desk, to my left hand. I ponder about it for a couple of minutes. Should I do it? Should I help myself out of this pain? It's not physical pain, but knowing I'm going to die here is torture. Suddenly, I remember what Sara told me some time ago upon investigating the mysterious disappearance of the McBride family. Four people were missing, and the only one we found alive was little Cassie. No one- not even Sara- believed we were gonna find her. Yet we did. Sara said back then that I was acting like I was gonna rescue a person, not recover a body, to which I replied that they've rescued me. She told me that my case was different. That it wasn't my day to die. And that when it's my day, it's my day. Now I'm here, thinking that this is my day. I can feel it in my bones.
In the end, I decide to leave the gun out of it. Besides, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep any minute now. The drug in my system probably started working again. I throw myself onto the mattress on the floor, and I curl up like a cat, hugging my knees. The last few tears stream down my cheeks softly, as if they were saying goodbye. Before I fall asleep, I whisper my last words…
Goodbye, cruel world.
A/N: thank you so much for reading, and as always, reviews are much appreciated. I'm so sorry it took me this long to finish this chapter, but I got a bunch of school projects I needed to finish, plus I wasn't entirely sure about what exactly I wanted to do with this chapter. Well, I'm still not sure xd. But I guess it'll work in the end. If you have any suggestions, please let me know- I always like to hear what other people think of my work :) have a nice day x
