A/N: I found this while cleaning out some of my files on the computer. I originally wrote it for an entry in a L.A. contest, and it screamed Sara to me when I re-read it. I suppose this could be placed a few months before Sara's Dad dies, and there aren't really any spoilers. You could say that there are spoilers for any episode that refers back to or hints at Sara's past. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, Greg Sanders would fall in love with a mysterious purple-haired temptress. ::Daydreams::


They ask me my name as if it's some sort of Holy title, as if knowing my name will miraculously clear up all of my troubles. My name doesn't matter; it's not as if anyone ever uses it. My teachers have given up trying to include me in class, and the other students have given up trying to talk to me. Knowing my name doesn't stop Mom from crying. Knowing my name doesn't stop the endless trips to the hospital. I am nameless.

I look in the cracked mirror and try to understand why the other girls in my class are obsessed with makeup. Why should I try to look nice, it doesn't stop Dad from drinking. I shouldn't even bother looking at myself, nobody else looks at me. To the doctors I am just another patient, although I'm a frequent one. To the people on the street I'm just a stranger, and nobody pays attention to strangers. I am faceless.

Why do I bother to continue to live? My presence doesn't stop Dad from hitting Mom; it just makes him hit me. My presence isn't significant to anybody. Maybe if I die, someone will take Mom away from Dad, and he can find another punching bag. There is no point in hoping for something to save us while I'm alive. I am hopeless.

My name, my face, my life, means nothing. I have nothing to live for, nothing to own. I have stopped having emotions; they just get in the way. I hear nothing, see nothing, and know nothing. I mean nothing, I am nothing.


A/N: Damn, now I feel bad… Review please! (It'll make me feel better.)