In a World They Forgot

Witness My First Breakdown

   “Are you alright?” Greg helped me upright again once I stopped being sick. He led me over to a small brick wall and sat me down on it, taking a blanket from a passing officer and draping it over my shaking shoulders.

“H-how could someone even do that?” I asked, my words barely audible as I tried to shake the images from my mind.

“Some people are just sick Miki.” Greg kneeled down in front of me, his concerned eyes looking over me, examining to see how I was really holding up.

“But they were just kids Greg. They were no older than seven.” I swallowed hard and looked at him with watery eyes. “How come someone…slice them like that and...” I couldn’t even bring myself to finish describing what had been in that room. The thought of it made me gag again and I had to stop before I vomited once more.

“I don’t know, but we’ll catch this guy Miki. I promise that we won’t let this go until the monster is behind bars for life.” Greg said softly, a hint of disgust and determination mingled with his words. “I’m sorry that was what you had to see on your first day here.” He added, softer still.

   Grissom came over, concern also visible in his wizened eyes. “Nick told me what happened? Are you okay Miki?”

“I’ll be fine. I just…I wasn’t expecting it. No one told me there were kids in that room.” I explained, taking deep breaths and talking slowly, so that I didn’t seem incapable of my job.

“It’s understandable. Do you feel alright to return to the lab?” I nodded slowly, swallowing hard and wincing at the stale taste lingering in my mouth.

“Greg, keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing Grissom.”

“Go and grab a coffee and take a break on your way back. When you get to the lab start running the tests on the evidence we’ve collected so far. The quicker we get started the quicker we can get this monster off the streets.” I looked up and spotted the mixture of emotions clouding the eyes of our supervisor.

Anger; for the killer.

Sadness; for the children who'll never get to grow old.

Hope; that the DNA wouldn't let us down.

Fear; for the thought of the monster who could do this.

   We parked up at a Starbucks not more than two minutes from the labs. Greg led me inside and sat me down at one of the tables before my legs gave out from beneath me. I was still shaking and I was still struggling to get the image from my mind.

“What do you want?” He asked me quietly, ignoring the eyes of the late night drinkers as they looked over at us.

“Mocha.” Was the only word that I was able to say. He nodded, moving to the counter as I pushed my hair from my eyes, raking the dark strands back from my face. I could feel the eyes of the patrons staring at me, hushed whispers coming from the surrounding table. Both of us were still in our CSI jackets; changing was hardly the first thing on our minds right now and it was apparently obvious to everyone in the coffee house that something major had gone down this evening; they’d just have to wait until the headlines were printed in the morning.

   Greg placed the heavy mug gently down in front of me and the strong aroma managed to subdue some of the horrifying thoughts that I was starting to think were trapped in my mind.

   “Are you sure you want to work the rest of your shift? I’m sure Grissom wouldn’t get mad if you asked to finish up.” Greg said, sipping his own drink before he spoke.

“No. I won’t be able to relax if I leave. I’d rather keep busy,” I raked my hand through my hair again, not caring anymore if it looked a mess. “Greg, they were just kids. I can’t get them out of my head.” My breath was shaky, which meant my words were cracked and distorted, almost like a radio station wasn’t correctly tuned in.

“I know it may not be much comfort, but, that was one of the rare ones. You shouldn’t have to see anything like that again, not for a long time, at least.”

   I nodded and placed my hands on the warm mug, drinking it in silence as I tried to think of anything but the crime scene.

   That night, we hit dead ends. The preliminary tests gave us nothing and the rest of the evidence wouldn’t be finished until the next shift came around. We had four bodies in the morgue, two of which were stuck in my head the whole time I was processing the blood stained objects that we’d bagged up earlier in the evening. The labs were silent and the technicians, who I still hadn’t been introduced to, were paler than the CSI’s and we’d lost our colour a long time ago, almost as soon as we stepped past the yellow tape.

   We were sitting silently in the break room, the manila folder containing only photographs of the scene; photographs that none of us wished to look at, not now and not ever. I’d never questioned my career choice before and, in fact, I almost welcomed each shift as they came around with enthusiasm and optimism, but one night in Vegas had stolen all of that from me. Hell, I didn’t know how I could even live a semi-normal life after what I’d seen this evening and I wasn’t exactly a rookie at this work: I’d been a CSI for three years now and dealt with my fair share of blood and murder.

   Grissom came in with a solemn expression on his face, looking just as weary as the rest of us did by that point. “Go home. We’ll pick this up tomorrow night.” He told us, his voice dry from perusing the evidence just like the rest of us had been doing for what had seemed like forever. There were no words as we parted; each one of us silently removing our things from our lockers and making our way out into the morning sunlight, wincing at its brightness.

   I fumbled in my bag for my car keys, fingers closing around the large, metal keychain of the moon. I heard someone calling my name and I turned around, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight that was already beating down on the city. Catherine was walking in my direction, picking up the pace a little as she got closer.

   “Hey Catherine.” I said weakly, tiredness evident in my voice by now.

“Hey, I just wanted to give you these.” She handed me a small box of pills and gave me a soft smile.

“Benzodiazepine? Sleeping pills?” I looked up at her with a confused expression.

“We all swear by them when a case hits us hard. You wouldn’t be the only one taking them after last night.” She told me softly, her voice filled with compassion.

“Thanks.”

“You should’ve been told what was on the other side of the door.” She looked down at the ground before continuing. “I’d closed it for a reason before you arrived.” She turned to walk away when another pressing thought flooded my mind.

“Catherine!” She turned back to face me. “How do you do it? How do you deal with something like that?” I asked, unsure of how else to cope, other than the medication I held in my hand.

“Personally, I spend time with my daughter. Nothing can make us forget what we see out there, but having something to do, far away from this profession, it’s really the only thing that keeps us going, keeps us human.”