Post by sarryb on Dec 24, 2008 16:20:03 GMT -5
Title: Lost Soul
Author: Sarryb
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/OC
Rating: right this is kinda hard. This fic is VERY close to the mark.
Warnings: It contains some hard to come to terms with stuff and is sad. Some chapters may push the PG-13 rating. I will individually disclaimer these chapters. If there are any issues with anything do not hesitate to comment, PM me, or PM Mirium (you have to address it to 'admin'). I won't take offence. If it is considered too much IT WILL BE REMOVED
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, but I want Greg.
Summary: Greg has ended up in prison, how did he get there and what drove him to do what he did? Sad sad ending.
It's boring here. Every day is the same. People say routine is good. But when it's regimented, no, believe me, it's not good. I've been put in isolation because of who I am. Not because of what I've done. Others are in this section because they are paedophiles, or rapists of the elderly, me, because I'm a CSI. There are people in General Population that I may have helped put there. It's just not safe. For now I'm protected, but I'm sure they won't pay for me to stay in this section forever. It's the boredom that's encouraged me to write this diary. I was thinking about writing about my day to day life. Then after the first page I tore it out. No one wants to hear how I got up, went to the bathroom, ate, laid down, exercised, ate, slept, used the bathroom... So I thought maybe I should write about what I did, and why. Not to condone it, not even to myself. I know what I did was wrong. I deserve to be here, to pay. That guy is never coming back, his family will never see him again. This is my punishment; my penalty, I'm paying my dues. This is what happened, the truth. Though if anything exciting happens in here, I might just have to write it in. Because to be honest, this is a diary, and that's what they are for. It's not like I have anyone to talk to. Except maybe Bob. Bob's the guard of my section of isolation. He's a good guy. I like him. But back to my story. This is how and why it all happened.
About five years ago I met a wonderful girl. I never thought I'd find 'the one' but Brooke, she was it. I was sure of it. When I said it was forever, I meant it. After only three weeks I wanted her to move in with me. She was a little unsure, but I convinced her. I swear the day she'd moved her things in I was floating on air. The guys at work mocked me, sure, but it was all in good fun. I think they loved the fact that at last I was starting to settle down. Brooke fitted into my life perfectly, she was the final piece of the puzzle that I needed to complete my life. She was my crutch to lean on in hard times; my joy, laughter, smiles. She was also my conscience. Then one day she was just gone. This is hard for me to write about. But as I believe this is where this story starts, I will endeavour to tell my tale from the beginning.
A year ago, four years into our perfect relationship, my life was shattered. Ruined. Wrecked. To me, over. I got the call at work. Nick had found me processing some dna. Told me that there had been an accident and I needed to get to the hospital and fast. I cried all the way there, even though I didn't know quite what had happened or what I'd find. My heart was aching in fear, and I felt nauseous, my stomach churning. I'd pulled into a parking space, I didn't park straight. I don't even know if I remembered to lock the car. All I knew was I needed to get in there, to get to Brooke. I ran haphazardly through the halls until someone stopped me and asked who I was trying to find. They pointed me in the right direction. I walked quietly into the room. There, motionless on a hospital bed, with it's crisp white sheets was my soul mate. She was alive, just. Clinging to life by a thread. She was in a coma, not on any life support, but unconscious. Non responsive, but breathing. There was also brain activity. They just couldn't work out why she was in this state. They told me it was the shock. There were injuries, sure, but they could be fixed, mended. Just seeing her vulnerable body laying there brought me to tears again. I felt optimistic as the doctors seemed to be upbeat about her condition. I took a week off work, sat by her bed every day, leaving only to shower or to catch a bite to eat. Time passed slowly, I slept very little, but when I did, it was always with my head on her hand. That way if she moved, I'd know.
The lights out alarm just sounded. I have to go. The lights will be switched off in ten minutes. Not enough time for me to do this tale justice. I'll dry the tears that have escaped while I've been writing. Recalling these details is hard, and is causing me much pain. But to feel any sort of redemption I need to get it all out, write it down. This way in the future I won't have to explain to people, I can just give them this notebook and let them read for themselves. I will have to thank Bob again for getting it for me. To me, it's a godsend. So until tomorrow...
Author: Sarryb
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/OC
Rating: right this is kinda hard. This fic is VERY close to the mark.
Warnings: It contains some hard to come to terms with stuff and is sad. Some chapters may push the PG-13 rating. I will individually disclaimer these chapters. If there are any issues with anything do not hesitate to comment, PM me, or PM Mirium (you have to address it to 'admin'). I won't take offence. If it is considered too much IT WILL BE REMOVED
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, but I want Greg.
Summary: Greg has ended up in prison, how did he get there and what drove him to do what he did? Sad sad ending.
Lost Soul
It's boring here. Every day is the same. People say routine is good. But when it's regimented, no, believe me, it's not good. I've been put in isolation because of who I am. Not because of what I've done. Others are in this section because they are paedophiles, or rapists of the elderly, me, because I'm a CSI. There are people in General Population that I may have helped put there. It's just not safe. For now I'm protected, but I'm sure they won't pay for me to stay in this section forever. It's the boredom that's encouraged me to write this diary. I was thinking about writing about my day to day life. Then after the first page I tore it out. No one wants to hear how I got up, went to the bathroom, ate, laid down, exercised, ate, slept, used the bathroom... So I thought maybe I should write about what I did, and why. Not to condone it, not even to myself. I know what I did was wrong. I deserve to be here, to pay. That guy is never coming back, his family will never see him again. This is my punishment; my penalty, I'm paying my dues. This is what happened, the truth. Though if anything exciting happens in here, I might just have to write it in. Because to be honest, this is a diary, and that's what they are for. It's not like I have anyone to talk to. Except maybe Bob. Bob's the guard of my section of isolation. He's a good guy. I like him. But back to my story. This is how and why it all happened.
-oOo-
About five years ago I met a wonderful girl. I never thought I'd find 'the one' but Brooke, she was it. I was sure of it. When I said it was forever, I meant it. After only three weeks I wanted her to move in with me. She was a little unsure, but I convinced her. I swear the day she'd moved her things in I was floating on air. The guys at work mocked me, sure, but it was all in good fun. I think they loved the fact that at last I was starting to settle down. Brooke fitted into my life perfectly, she was the final piece of the puzzle that I needed to complete my life. She was my crutch to lean on in hard times; my joy, laughter, smiles. She was also my conscience. Then one day she was just gone. This is hard for me to write about. But as I believe this is where this story starts, I will endeavour to tell my tale from the beginning.
-oOo-
A year ago, four years into our perfect relationship, my life was shattered. Ruined. Wrecked. To me, over. I got the call at work. Nick had found me processing some dna. Told me that there had been an accident and I needed to get to the hospital and fast. I cried all the way there, even though I didn't know quite what had happened or what I'd find. My heart was aching in fear, and I felt nauseous, my stomach churning. I'd pulled into a parking space, I didn't park straight. I don't even know if I remembered to lock the car. All I knew was I needed to get in there, to get to Brooke. I ran haphazardly through the halls until someone stopped me and asked who I was trying to find. They pointed me in the right direction. I walked quietly into the room. There, motionless on a hospital bed, with it's crisp white sheets was my soul mate. She was alive, just. Clinging to life by a thread. She was in a coma, not on any life support, but unconscious. Non responsive, but breathing. There was also brain activity. They just couldn't work out why she was in this state. They told me it was the shock. There were injuries, sure, but they could be fixed, mended. Just seeing her vulnerable body laying there brought me to tears again. I felt optimistic as the doctors seemed to be upbeat about her condition. I took a week off work, sat by her bed every day, leaving only to shower or to catch a bite to eat. Time passed slowly, I slept very little, but when I did, it was always with my head on her hand. That way if she moved, I'd know.
-oOo-
The lights out alarm just sounded. I have to go. The lights will be switched off in ten minutes. Not enough time for me to do this tale justice. I'll dry the tears that have escaped while I've been writing. Recalling these details is hard, and is causing me much pain. But to feel any sort of redemption I need to get it all out, write it down. This way in the future I won't have to explain to people, I can just give them this notebook and let them read for themselves. I will have to thank Bob again for getting it for me. To me, it's a godsend. So until tomorrow...