CSI: Miami - Desire - Chapter Three
The premise of Desire was a fan-fic that I always wanted to write. The idea that someone they knew was behind a new string of attacks, with another motive of their own of course, was an idea that just didn't want to leave my head. Unfortunately, I never did get around to finishing it. I don't know why.
It probably had something to do with the fact that I hated the second chapter. I was getting emails and messages for it, so I rushed it along, against my better judgment, but also because the story just had to be written. The second chapter was silly, and not at all like the first, and the tone of the story and the characters changed for me. I think I'm gonna go back and re-write it, but I'd like to finish Chapter Three first, to see whether or not it'll be worth it. Along the way, I became a Calleigh/Speedle 'shipper, which bothered me for a few reasons. Mainly that I had never 'shipped before, and the fact that it was just so DAMNED popular. And then Speedle got killed. Le sigh. I'm almost tired of trying to find ways to keep him alive.
As it is, this is what I had from before, and what I found in a very deeply hidden file.
Desire
Chapter Three
If there's a chance, I would take it
This desire I can't kill
Take me heart, please don't break it
I will crawl to your foothill
I'm frightened but I'm coming
Please, baby, please lay still
Oh no, oh no
I'm not coming for the kill
----------
Murder is almost erotic.
You think that I would have learned this, after working with so many twisted criminals for so long, but no, this was the first time that I realized it. Murder can be incredibly erotic. Especially when you're the one that's committing it.
The sounds of their lovemaking still leaves a sour taste in my mouth, a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to listen to them, I meant to leave, but for some reason, I couldn't. It's like a car wreck. You want to look away when you see it on the side of the road, but even after you drive past, you're intent with checking your mirrors to see if it's still there, to see what's happening. And now I have images in my head, images of them. Their limbs twisted together. Him inside of her. Her head thrown back as she gasps. God, I don't want to think of this. I want it go away. I want them apart, far apart from each other.
Will I have to take one of them out of the picture permanently?
Well, if it does come to that, I'm sure that I could. It would be easy.
The woman on the floor gets my attention. She's still alive, though how I don't know. She has some sort of will to live, some sort of fight left in her. I went further this time, I was more sadistic than I had planned, but it felt so damned good. I think I may be losing myself in the power of this. I'm afraid that it's going to become something that I can't control, when it was just supposed to be a distraction for the couple. Or my way of working out my frustration. Maybe it's supposed to be that.
But regardless, the young girl is still alive. God, how old is she, sixteen at the most? She never thought that she would die so young. Now she realizes that she will die. I see the look in her eyes as she looks back at me, almost begging me for help. And I'm the one that did this to her. I'm the one that caused the shallow knife cuts that are still seeping blood. I want them to think that they're hesitation marks, like I had tied her up and then didn't know what to do. She's gagged, because I knew that the light slashes I made in her skin would make her scream in pain and fear. She tried to yell for help, but she almost choked on the gag. I don't know what's going to kill her first. Me or the gag.
She already tried once to remove her hands from the rope I had wound around them, but I tied it tightly, with a knot that she wouldn't be able to get rid of. Yes, I did my research, and I can feel the cold smile that comes to my face when I think of that. The smile scares her even more, and she pushes herself against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Tears of pain or tears of fear? I don't really know, and I don't think I care. That's scary. I should care.
Then again, I shouldn't be committing murder, but I am.
What did this little girl think her day was going to be like? I had followed her, just like I had my second victim. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand. I had to know it. I made a mistake with my first victim. He wasn't important enough for anyone to care, but this little girl...well, I picked her for a special reason. The press would practically wet themselves over this one. There would be so much attention on the lab working the case that no one would be getting much sleep. I know them well. He'll be pissed over the presence of the media, but he leaves work at work. She, on the other hand, doesn't, and it might be what pulls them apart. I can only hope.
But this little girl was stupid. She was working alone, closing the small store all by herself, and on a school night, no less. I saw that she did her homework in the store when it was quiet, and her books were still all lined up on the back counter, waiting for her to put them in her backpack and go home. She wouldn't be packing her books tonight, and she certainly wouldn't be going home. The next place she would be going would be to the autopsy theater, and I might be the one that stands over her body when Alexx does the post. Huh. That's always an interesting thought.
It probably had something to do with the fact that I hated the second chapter. I was getting emails and messages for it, so I rushed it along, against my better judgment, but also because the story just had to be written. The second chapter was silly, and not at all like the first, and the tone of the story and the characters changed for me. I think I'm gonna go back and re-write it, but I'd like to finish Chapter Three first, to see whether or not it'll be worth it. Along the way, I became a Calleigh/Speedle 'shipper, which bothered me for a few reasons. Mainly that I had never 'shipped before, and the fact that it was just so DAMNED popular. And then Speedle got killed. Le sigh. I'm almost tired of trying to find ways to keep him alive.
As it is, this is what I had from before, and what I found in a very deeply hidden file.
Desire
Chapter Three
If there's a chance, I would take it
This desire I can't kill
Take me heart, please don't break it
I will crawl to your foothill
I'm frightened but I'm coming
Please, baby, please lay still
Oh no, oh no
I'm not coming for the kill
----------
Murder is almost erotic.
You think that I would have learned this, after working with so many twisted criminals for so long, but no, this was the first time that I realized it. Murder can be incredibly erotic. Especially when you're the one that's committing it.
The sounds of their lovemaking still leaves a sour taste in my mouth, a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to listen to them, I meant to leave, but for some reason, I couldn't. It's like a car wreck. You want to look away when you see it on the side of the road, but even after you drive past, you're intent with checking your mirrors to see if it's still there, to see what's happening. And now I have images in my head, images of them. Their limbs twisted together. Him inside of her. Her head thrown back as she gasps. God, I don't want to think of this. I want it go away. I want them apart, far apart from each other.
Will I have to take one of them out of the picture permanently?
Well, if it does come to that, I'm sure that I could. It would be easy.
The woman on the floor gets my attention. She's still alive, though how I don't know. She has some sort of will to live, some sort of fight left in her. I went further this time, I was more sadistic than I had planned, but it felt so damned good. I think I may be losing myself in the power of this. I'm afraid that it's going to become something that I can't control, when it was just supposed to be a distraction for the couple. Or my way of working out my frustration. Maybe it's supposed to be that.
But regardless, the young girl is still alive. God, how old is she, sixteen at the most? She never thought that she would die so young. Now she realizes that she will die. I see the look in her eyes as she looks back at me, almost begging me for help. And I'm the one that did this to her. I'm the one that caused the shallow knife cuts that are still seeping blood. I want them to think that they're hesitation marks, like I had tied her up and then didn't know what to do. She's gagged, because I knew that the light slashes I made in her skin would make her scream in pain and fear. She tried to yell for help, but she almost choked on the gag. I don't know what's going to kill her first. Me or the gag.
She already tried once to remove her hands from the rope I had wound around them, but I tied it tightly, with a knot that she wouldn't be able to get rid of. Yes, I did my research, and I can feel the cold smile that comes to my face when I think of that. The smile scares her even more, and she pushes herself against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Tears of pain or tears of fear? I don't really know, and I don't think I care. That's scary. I should care.
Then again, I shouldn't be committing murder, but I am.
What did this little girl think her day was going to be like? I had followed her, just like I had my second victim. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand. I had to know it. I made a mistake with my first victim. He wasn't important enough for anyone to care, but this little girl...well, I picked her for a special reason. The press would practically wet themselves over this one. There would be so much attention on the lab working the case that no one would be getting much sleep. I know them well. He'll be pissed over the presence of the media, but he leaves work at work. She, on the other hand, doesn't, and it might be what pulls them apart. I can only hope.
But this little girl was stupid. She was working alone, closing the small store all by herself, and on a school night, no less. I saw that she did her homework in the store when it was quiet, and her books were still all lined up on the back counter, waiting for her to put them in her backpack and go home. She wouldn't be packing her books tonight, and she certainly wouldn't be going home. The next place she would be going would be to the autopsy theater, and I might be the one that stands over her body when Alexx does the post. Huh. That's always an interesting thought.