She saw them today. After three long and tiring years of concealing and hiding, she saw them. I had a moment of weakness. I let my guard down. I forgot the importance of keeping them hidden and now I’m to pay the price.

She’s sending me away. Heh, I don’t care though. I hate this place and every one in it. Her, my school, my so-called friends, this god forsaken hick town. I’ll be glad to get away.

I don’t know where I’m going. No matter what I say she won’t tell me. The cabs coming in a few minutes to take me to the bus station. I’ve packed all my things into one single suitcase. All my messily belongings fit neatly into one teeny suitcase.

I look one last time at my room. The peeling discolored wallpaper that had been here as far back as I can remember looked even more dank and dirty somehow. This room wasn’t my room. I may have slept in it but in some ones room when you look around your supposed to see things that remind you of that person. Tokens from their experiences. Not in mine.

Though I have lived here for 9 years it’s still the same as it was back then. Same orange ugly carpet that smelt of cat urine. Same dilapidated dresser with the broken mirror that if u stood in the right place u could maybe actually see yourself in it. There are no holes from the staples I would have used on posters of my favorite bands. She forbid that. She forbid me from a lot of things but for the most part she forbid me to live.

I can’t help but smile. A true smile, something I haven’t done in years. It felt good to smile. I’m getting out of here and I’m never coming back.

She’s coming down the hall. I can always tell it's her. The way she drags her long fake shiny red nails along the wall gives her away every time. She opens the door and I have to hold my breath to keep from gagging at the smell of whisky and cigars that wafts from her. She leans on the doorframe and smirks at me, showing her yellow, crooked teeth.

“Ya finished packin?” She asks her words cold and harsh.

All I can do is nod my head, afraid to speak. I stand up and grab my suitcase. I turn to her and wait for her to move from the door. Either she didn’t take the hint or she wasn’t letting me by intentionally. She stares at me, her expression blank and unreadable. I can’t help the swell of fear that creeps up my spine. She stares at where they are hidden. Even though my baggy jeans cover them I can't help but self-consciously move my suitcase to cover them. She scoffs at me.

“Your disgusting dear.” She says lovingly and steps towards me. I instinctively want to step back but from experience I know not to. It would only make matters worse. “I’ll be glad when you’re gone. Get you and your filth out of my home.” I want to yell back at her that her ‘home’ was already filthy but I can’t muster up the courage. “I pity the people who are taking you in.” She reaches her hand out and caresses the side of my face. I flinch and hope she doesn’t notice. She does and before I have time to even blink I’m thrown to the floor, the side of my face stinging. Silent tears break free from my strong facade.

I watch frightened as she bends down beside me. She grabs my face roughly in her hand. “You could have been so beautiful.” She says snidely. “Like me… but instead you had to be this worthless ugly thing. Sometimes,” She kneels down still grasping my face, “I wonder if you’re really mine. I ponder how I could ever give birth to such an abomination.” Her words don’t hurt me anymore. I’ve heard them many times. So many that they’ve lost there meaning. All I can concentrate on is the bruises I feel forming under her fingertips. My hatred for this woman intensifies and all I want to do is kill her. Kill her for all the things she’s done to me over the years. She opens her mouth to say something but the sound of a horn outside stops her. She stands up and looks out the window. All I can do is lay there and stare at the ceiling. I feel dead.

“Cabs here.” She says then walks out of the room. I slowly sit up and whimper sadly. I cover my mouth trying to muffle it. I push myself up and brush myself off. I swallow the lump in my throat and walk out of ‘my’ room and close the door. I walk down the cave like hallway and down the stairs. At the bottom I look around for her. She sits in the living room ignoring me. I sigh and walk out the front door. As I walk down the sidewalk a sense of freedom comes over me. I don’t even bother to take in the street I’ve grown up on. I reach the cab and get in not knowing my destinations and not caring. I’m free and that’s all that matters. As the cab slowly gets swallowed into the bustling traffic I pull out my Discman and put on the headphones. I bob my head to the music and for the first time, in such a long time, I’m giggling.

Sighing, I stand in the center of the huge bus station unsure as to what to do. The drive over was quick and painless. The fare prepaid and the driver curt and silent. I listened to my burnt CD loudly in a vain attempt to keep my thoughts on fair ground. I can’t think about what happened or was happening. I can’t, cause if I did… I can’t even bring myself to say it so I quickly change my thoughts. It’s now that the uncertainties of my situation hit me. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing. Where do I go from here? What bus am I to take?

The best thing I can think to do is to go to information. I reach into my bag and pull out my winter hat. I pull it on over my headphones keeping them firmly in place. Slowly but surely I trudge up to information and get in line behind a small young family. I keep my head down and shove my hands in my pockets.

The line slowly moves forward. People move about hurriedly but all I can hear is the gorgeous deep voice of Nickel Back’s lead singer pounding in my ears. I feel a pair of eyes staring at me and look up. The tiny 2 or 3 years old girl from the young family stands behind her mother’s leg staring at me with interest. I look at her crudely, more then likely frightening her cause she buries her face in her mothers coat hiding from me. She pokes her head out. I make a face and she giggles. Her mother looks down curtly and shushes the child cautioning her that they were in a public place. I glare at the mother angrily. How dare she stop a child from having a little fun. Is that not what childhood is for? To laugh and have fun? To be carefree and to enjoy the wondrous things around you?

The child looks down sadly and apologizes to her mother. I shake my head and stab knives into the mother with my eyes. I look to the child again, smile sweetly and mouth the words I'm sorry. She grins at me. Out of nowhere the primal need to cry envelops me and I have to gasp for breath. I don’t understand it nor do I want to. I face my back to the little girl and turn up my music effectively blocking out the world for the time being.

Before I know it, it’s my turn. I look up and am greeted by a huge smiling face. If it weren’t for my instincts I would have jumped back in fright. Happy people scare me. No one can be as happy as this blonde looks. I force a smile. Her lips move but nothing comes out. I pull my headphones out from underneath my hat and down around my neck, Runaway by Linkin Park blaring.

“Hi.” The lady says cheerfully. “Welcome to Greyhound, how may I assist you today.” She asks me her voice overly perky. I swear to god if she smiles anymore her face is gonna crack. This thought makes me giggle. Her smile falters a little but she regains it.

“I need help finding a bus.” My voice is raspy and deep. She smiles even bigger.

“Okay then. Where is this bus to?” She asks turning to her computer.

I let out a nervous laugh. “Here’s the thing. I have no idea where I'm going or what bus I’m supposed to take, just that there is one. Does that make sense?”

Her eyebrows furrow and her lips purse. Even then she looks annoyingly in high spirits. She makes a sound that says she’s thinking.

“Ok dear. Give me your full name and I’ll look you up in the computer, see if we have any reservations in your name.” She turns to the computer and waits patiently for me to tell her my name.

I rest my arms on the high counter and lean on them. “Maria.” I watch as she types my name. She looks at me expectantly. “Deluca. D…E…L…U…C…A.” I spell it out for her not caring if she needs me to or not. She finishes typing and then turns to me.

“Maria Alejandra Deluca?” I acknowledge that that’s my name with a curt nod of the head. “Id please?” She asks joyfully. I reach down and grab my wallet chain. I pull my wallet up and dig out my Id card. She takes it and compares the information with what’s on the computer.

“Okay Miss Deluca.” She says turning around and grabbing some pieces of paper. “This is your first bus ticket…”

“Wait first?” I ask confused. “As in more then one bus?”

“Yes, the instructions say that you are to take the 6:30 bus to Baltimore. Once there you are to go to information and pick up another ticket that will take you to Cleveland. From there you are to take another bus to Memphis. Then you are to go to Dallas and from there you will take a final bus to your final destination Roswell, New Mexico.” She informs me cheerfully.

“Roswell? Alien’s-R-Us Roswell?” I asks astonished. Of course mother would send me somewhere preposterous, she was insane.

“That’s what it says. See for yourself.” The lady offers, turning the computer to me.

“No, no its alright. I believe you.” I sigh in frustration. What the heck could there be in Roswell for me? She hands me my ticket. I take it and shove it in my jean pocket. “6:30 right?”

“Yes, gate 12. Which is right there.” She points to the large sign with the number 12 on it.

“Wow, who would have guessed.” I snap, sarcastically. I don’t bother to apologies nor do I thank her instead I storm off in the direction of the door. I plop down in a plastic chair and pull my legs up. In a need for both warmth and some sense of comfort I wrap my arms around them and hug myself. No one else would. My Marvin The Martian watch tells me that it’s only 3. I have three and a half hours to spare and nothing to do. Bored of the burnt CD I have been listening to for the last thirty minutes, I flip through my collection for a new one.

“I may be useless but I have great CD’s.” I joke to myself sadly. I choose my David Usher CD, a CD that greatly reflects my current mood. I pull my head phones back up, I pull my hat over top and rest my head on my knees. My thoughts wonder to my apparent destination. Roswell. What could be in Roswell for me? Even better question who? My mother never spoke of family. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles. No distant cousins. Nothing. I sigh and relax, leaning on my knees completely. My stomach grumbles reminding me that I haven’t eaten a thing in over a day.

“Vending machine here I come.” I mumble as I stand up. Looking around I find one and walked towards it. I stand there and stare at all the salty and sugary foods trying to decide which one will fill me up the most. I have to conserve what little money I have. Choosing a nameless brand of junk food that’d last me at least half a day and drag my feet all the way back to my chair. I curl up again and eat a tiny portion of the fatty food. My stomach graves for more, grumbling at me angrily for depriving it. “You shush.” I speak softly. The three and a half hours passed by slowly. When the time came I got on the bus and sat all the way in the back and curled up. I watch the sun set as we drive out of town.

The worlds a funny place I think. We’re all so desensitized to things such as violence and sex, to the point that the boundaries between fantasy and reality are blurred. Sometimes we forget what it is to be human. Its as if our sole purpose is to go around hurting each other till we either kill ourselves, kill them, die in an accident or, if we’re lucky, from natural causes.

The ways in which we hurt each other is sickening. On this bus I can see some of them. Beside me an old lady with her grandson are both sound asleep but from the moment we left home the old bag berated the boy. No matter what he did she would beat him down with harsh words. I feel for the child and I understand what its like. Mother is… Was like that.

It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago. I rest my forehead on the cool glass of the window. The stars are missing, the sky covered in dark, angry clouds. It’s gonna rain. I can feel it. Fitting I think. I can feel a storm building inside of me. I'm feeling so many emotions that they’re melding together. If anyone were to ask me what I was feeling I could honestly say I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t like it, it doesn’t feel good. I feel like sobbing long and hard but I can’t. If I were to start now I don’t think I could stop. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I sigh and curl up tightly in my chair. That’s a lie. I do remember. I remember every day. I’ll never forget. Never.

The best course of action is to sleep. I'm not sleepy. I could stay up for days but if I do my mind will wander dangerous places. Places I don’t wanna go. I close my eyes and pray for a good night. A peaceful night.

Someone shaking my shoulder awakes me. My eyes flutter open and I quickly close them the sun blinding me.

“Morning dear.” The voice of the old woman says cheerfully. I grumble and push myself up into a sitting position. Somehow during the night I had spread out over the two chairs, my one leg draping over the back. The sun shines far up in the sky and I look to my watch.

“It’s only 6am! What kinda freak wakes a person up at such a freakish hour!” I grumble. The old lady glares at me like I had offended her. I shake my head and ignore her. “Stupid bitch.” I mumble. My stomach growls. “Breakfast time.” My voice, the closest thing I’ll ever get to a singsong voice. I grab my bag from under the chair and fish out the junk food from the other day. There’s more then half left. I grab a hand full and unceremoniously stuff it into my mouth. The old lady scoffs at my lack of manors and I cant help but turn to her and stick my tongue out at her, giving her a full view of my half chewed food. Her grandson giggles and the old bag turns her head in disgust and horror. I snort, some of the food flies out and hits the old lady on the face. Both the grandson and myself burst out laughing. The old lady looks at us both with distaste, stands up and moves to the bathroom huffing like a bird the hole way.

Shaking my head and laughing I turn back to look out the window. The grandson sits down beside me. I look to him wirily. He smiles up at me.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft and sweet, suiting his childish face and age.

“What for?”

“You know.” He smiles an all-knowing smile and returns to his seat before the hag returns. My face brakes out in a lopsided grin. The old hag returns and sits down proudly. She never once speaks a word just sends me glares every now and then. The rest of the way to Baltimore I sit and listen to Cd after Cd. I’ll have to buy more batteries soon. When we finally reach the city it’s noon. When we get to the bus station it’s 1pm. I watch the old hag and her grandson whose name I never found out, grab their things. The hag moves to get off the bus. The boy lags behind looking at me. He stands in front of me.

“I’ll never forget this day.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.” The little boy whispers in my ear. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He says pulling back. I look down in concentration. What I'm looking for?? What does he mean by that? I look up and he’s gone. I look around for him but he’s no where in sight. Sighing I grab my own things and head off the bus. This bus station is smaller then the one back home. I find the information desk easily. This time I'm saved the torture of having to deal with an overly happy clerk and I quickly find myself on my way to Cleveland a new set o batteries in hand.

Two days, 3 bus changes, 4 bags of junk food, and at least 30 Cd changes later I am finally on my last bus to Roswell. I haven’t really slept much, the boy’s words still ringing in my ears. What did he mean buy what he said? I groan, I'm not getting anywhere with this train of thought. I’ve spent the last two days on that subject without result. I give up and look out the window. The New Mexico desert surrounds us. Even with the AC on I can feel the heat from the sun. That uncomfortable sweaty feeling engulfs me. I’m leaving one hell for another. My dreams and fantasy of freedom vanish with every bead of sweat that trickles down forehead. I know that I'm overreacting. I’ll get used to the heat and maybe come to like it but at the moment I detest it. I detest this whole situation.

I remove my headphone and get ready to change Cd’s. I hear a muffled whisper from a young man sitting in front of me that we were on the outskirts of town. My stomach comes alive with butterflies. What if I don’t like it? What if I don’t like the family I'm placed with? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not even placed with a family but some kinda safe house? What if the kids at school don’t like me? So many what ifs rise and fall, my mind on overdrive. I grab my P.O.D Cd and shove it in yearning for some kind of distraction. I turn it up loudly and fumble nervously with the sleeves of my shirt.

We pass by The “Welcome To Roswell” sign and I have to laugh at the little green alien on it. I completely forgot that this was alien country. “Wonder if I’ll meet one?” I mumble to myself. I snicker and my body relaxes a little.

I step off the bus, my suitcase in hand, and look around. This bus station is small, fitting for the size of Roswell. The person behind me tells me to move rudely. I turn and give him the finger then stalk off into the bus station. I look around the tiny little bus station for the information desk. I see it and step in line. Soon it’s my turn. I ask a nice old man if there are any messages for me? He checks then shakes his head.

“What? Are you sure?” He double checks then nods. “But…what…” my mouth opens and closes my mind trying to grasp what was going on.

“I’m sorry miss. Is there anyone I can call to come and get you?” I shake my head, still in shock. “Can I call you a cab?” I turn away from him and walk away blindly, my shoulders slumped. He calls after me but I ignore him. What am I supposed to do now? Realization dawns on me.

“Mother.” I seethe. My body shakes with anger. Tears build up. “I should have expected this.” I mumble, my voice drenched in pain. “She sends me half way across the country to nothing.”

“It might not be New York but it’s not nothing.” A gentle voice resounds from behind me.

“Look asshole, my mood is, if possible, less then shitty. So back the hell off!” I curse not bothering to turn around. I know I'm being unreasonable. Before I can turn and apologize to the stranger he speaks up.

“When she said you were from New York I figured you’d have a slight attitude problem but this,” he trails off and my anger flares up again. I snap around. The look on my face lethal.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” My build up emotion pours out of me. He takes a step back, his hands shoot up. I step closer, getting in his face. “Who do you think you are goin round butting into other peoples business? You don’t even know me.”

“You are Maria right?” He asks his voice slightly high pitched. My eyes widen and I step back.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I'm Alex. Amy, your aunt, sent me to pick you up.”

I look at him cryptically. He’s a scrawny teenager, probably 16 or 17 years old. His hair is dark and spiky. He has on a button up shirt in a funky bright orange and a baggy pair of jeans with a wallet chain much like my own. He didn’t look dangerous or threatening.

“I'm sorry.” I don’t bother excusing my behavior, I don’t know him and I don’t need to justify myself to him.

He smiles a genuine smile, “It’s okay. Surprisingly enough this isn’t the first time I’ve been jumped by a beautiful woman.” His smile is infectious and I soon find myself smiling with him. “So… we should get going.” He turns around and heads for the parking lot. I hesitate. He turns to me. “You coming?”

“Mother never said anything about an aunt.”

“Amy never said anything about a niece, till today that is,” He looks around. “ Look I know that you don’t know me and have no reason to trust me but trust this... I am far more afraid of you then you are of me.” I let out a tiny snort of laughter. “It’s gonna rain, so unless you wanna get a cold we should go.” I look up and sure enough dark clouds are slowly creeping over the small city.

“How do I know you’re really who you say you are and not some psycho, homicidal maniac who’s gonna kidnap me, rape me then leave me out in the desert for the wolves to feed on?” I ask completely serious. He seems to think I'm joking and starts to chuckle. I glare at him. He looks up and sobers.

“You’re serious?” I nod my head. “Ummm…” He thinks for a second. “Oh here!” He passes me the piece of paper from his pocket. I take it suspiciously and turn it over. It’s a picture of me when I was 12. There’s a sparkle in my eyes that throws me off. I haven’t had a sparkle in a long time. “Where’d u get this?” I look up at him.

“Amy gave it to me so I’d recognize you.”

“Where’d…” My voice cracks and I blush with embarrassment. “Where’d she get it?”

“I dunno, look I know that’s not much but we really should go before its rains.” I watch him pull his collar up trying to keep warm. It’s now that I notice how cold it is and I shiver. Alex notices and offers his coat. I consider accepting it but wave him off. He frowns.

“Where’s your truck?” He grins and tells me to follow him. We walk around the small bus station to the parking lot. I follow him to his truck, a tiny orange thing, the color matching his top. He unlocks the passenger door and surprisingly opens the door for me.

“What? Never had your door opened for you before?” he asks noticing my look of disbelief.

“Not really.” I say climbing in.

“Well there’s a first for everything.” He grins and closes the door. I buckle up while he rounds the front of the truck. He gets in and starts it. We pull out of the parking lot. After a few minutes of silence I speak up.

“I'm not from New York.”

“What?”

“Well not the city anyway though I did go to school there. I lived in a small 5000 population town just outside of New York.” I explain for no other reason but to fill the silence.

“Oh… Amy said New York so I figured the city.” His eyes never leave the road in front of him.

“Are you her son?” I ask my voice filled with hope.

He chuckles “No, no. Amy doesn’t have kid and before you ask she isn’t married.”

I nod my head and lean up against the window. “Why’d she send you instead of coming herself?”

“You’re just full of questions aren’t you? She runs a popular local restaurant called the Crashdown. Work tied her up and I happened to be there at the time so she sent me.” I nod my head. I watch the first raindrops hit the window. “So… Why are you here?” I stiffen and like many times before subconsciously cover them with the suitcase.

“Amy didn’t tell you?” I don’t look at him, continuing to look out the window.

“Nope, like I said before, we didn’t even know you were coming till she asked me today to pick you up.”

“We?” I ask hoping to dodge the former question.

“My friends and I. Some of us work at the Crashdown so we all just sorta hang around a lot. Amy’s kinda like our second mom.” He muses and even though I can’t see him I can tell he’s grinning.

“She sounds like a nice lady.”

“She is.” Were silent the rest of the way. He drives for almost 10 more minutes before calling to me. “There it is.” I look up and laugh at the sight of a half space ship sticking out of the front of a two-story brick building. In large blue florescent lights, the name of the place shines. It looks oddly quaint and warm. A place worth coming back to time and time again. Alex pulls into the alley beside the building and drives to the back. He pulls up behind the building and parks. He shuts off the truck and turns to me. “Lets go.”

I get out and we both rush to the building trying not to get too wet. I follow him in through the back way. We enter a tiny room that is distinctly the break room. On the back wall is a large couch for lounging in, before and after shifts. To the left it is a staircase that leads upstairs. Beside them is a sink and the door to the kitchen. Adjacent to that is another door, with a tiny diamond window on it. Through the window I can see the restaurant bustling with customers. To the left of that is a series of small lockers probably for the waitresses and the cook. The walls were brick, insulators not really needed with the climate being so warm in Roswell.

Alex turns to me. “Your room’s this way.” He says then takes the stairs two steps at a time. I follow slowly.

“She lives above the restaurant?” I call up to him.

“Yep and now so do you. You’ll love it. The room you’re getting has this great balcony and a bathroom all to your self.”

“Sweet.” My voice remains monotone. He turns a corner and I lose sight of him. When I reach the tops he’s no were to be seen. I frown. He pokes his head of an open door down a hall.

“This way.” He says still grinning. I trudge after him. I stop in my tracks at the doorway of my new room. In front of me is a huge king size bed with red silk linens.

“Silk?” I whisper in shock. I step towards the bed and run my hand along the fabric. I close my eyes enjoying the sensation. To my right is a brick wall with a tiny window that leads out onto the balcony Alex had raved about. The wall in front of me is brick too and up against the brick wall is this magnificent mahogany vanity. “I’ve never had a vanity before.” I tell Alex sadly. Alex just smiles and watches me take in the room. In the corner on the same wall as the bed is the bathroom. “Please don’t tell me there’s a bath tub in there.”

“Yep, one of those deep porcelain tubs.”

I shake my head, “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” I turn to Alex who looks at me confused. “The silk, the tub…its too much for me, I don’t deserve all this.”

“Of course you do…” Both Alex and myself look to the door in surprise. I gasp at the woman standing there. She looks almost just like mother. Her hair color, her height, build, everything but her face. Hers was friendlier, gentler.

“I can’t take this room.” My mouth finds the words to speak before my head.

“Yes you can and you will. Ah,” She stops me from protesting. “You will.” She says sternly, “if only to make an aging woman happy.”

Alex scoffs. “Amy, you are not old, you’re barely 40.”

“I'm also not young.” She counters.

“But you’re not old.”

“Alex?”

“Yes Amy?”

“Go downstairs and help out in the kitchen.”

“Yes Amy.” He smiles at me, “It was nice meeting you.” For some reason I don’t want him to go. Even though I don’t know him I’d feel better with him here. For the first time in a long time I wanted to cling to somebody. As if it were visible in my eyes he gives me a tender reassuring smile. “She doesn’t bite…much, OUCH!” he cries out as Amy hits his shoulder lightly. I stiffen, images of mother hitting, flash before my eyes. I really don’t want Alex to leave now. I know that Amy is not Mother. Somewhere I know this but her resemblance to Mother frightens me. I have to be strong though. I can’t let it get to me. I watch painfully as Alex leaves complaining quietly. Amy turns to me and I want to step back. I want to run and hide. She doesn’t notice and sits down on the bed.

“So… how was your trip?” She asks looking at me gently.

“It was…long.” I state emotionlessly. I look everywhere but at her. I see her frown out of the corner of my eye. She sighs.

“Make yourself at home, you can come down for dinner whenever you feel like it. I'm pretty sure the others are dying to meet you.” I just nod me head. She opens her mouth to say something but decided against it letting out a breath of air. She turns to leave but turns back around. “I don’t expect you to warm up to me too quickly or to this town. I just ask that you try. ” She says softly then leaves. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and walk over to the bed. I fall into it and let out a groan of pleasure. The mattress is soft and fluffy. So much for hell. I think to myself and giggle. I curl up and close my eyes. I fall asleep with the thought that maybe things were looking up for once. That maybe I could live a normal life.

I push open the front door violently. I storm upstairs cursing, not caring if the door closes or not. I slam the door to my room and shut it with a grunt of frustration. I want to cry but I cant. I want to curl up and die but I can’t. I can’t let those stupid pricks at school push me over the edge. God I need to cry, I need to stop feeling. I need to numb my anger. Numb my pain. I chant inside my head. I stand in the center of my room my face blank but my eyes screaming my hidden pain. I look at the top drawer of my broken down dresser knowingly. I don’t want to but I have to. I have to stop feeling. I move one foot at a time, taking a shaky breath with each step. My breathing is labored by the time I reach my destination. My knees buckle underneath me and I fall to the floor. My clothed knees press into the disgusting, urine stains carpet. The smell seeping into my clothes staining them. With a shaky hand I reach up and pull open the drawer. My hand dips inside and I grab what I'm searching for. I drop my arm numbly my hand gripping my treasure. My whole body is shaking now and I can’t help it.

I turn my hand around. My fingers are white from gripping my treasure so tightly. I watch entranced as a tiny pool of crimson seeps from underneath my finger. I release my grip gently and unfold my fingers. There lying in my hand, in a pool of blood, is a tiny pocket knife. My salvation. I lick my lips and fall back onto my butt. With shaky hands I pull my sleeve up. I ignore the vicious scars that mar my pale flesh. I slide the fabric up past my elbow and bring the tiny blade down to my skin.

“Don’t wanna feel no more…” I whisper to myself my voice filled with angst. I take a deep breath as I push the blade into my skin. I flinch as the metal pierces my skin. The tears that wouldn’t come before do now as I drag the blade along my tender skin. I drag it slowly and painfully towards my elbow, slowly I replace the emotional pain with the physical. My body shakes even more violently. I start to sob pushing harder, digging deeper thriving for the numbness that would come next. The pain becomes too much and I angrily toss the pocketknife across the room. I slide backwards on my floor and bump it to my bed. I watch the crimson liquid trickle down my arm mirroring the tears that were now streaming down my face. I grab an old dirty towel that’s lying near me and instead of compressing the wound I place the towel under my arm so the blood won’t drip onto my clothes.

I stare at the peeling wallpaper blankly swaying back and forth. My salvation consumes me and for the next hour I sit here numb and unfeeling.

//End Flash//

I take a gasp for air waking from the dream. I sit up and let out a shaky breath at the memory that had come flooding back to me. I squeeze my eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears. My shoulders start to shake with my sobs. I pull my knees up and hold myself rocking back and forth. I let out a heart wrenching sob and quickly cover my mouth. I pray that no one herd me. My hands fumble with anything and everything. I subconsciously hum a song to myself. I don’t know the song but humming it brings me slight comfort. I'm sure if someone were to walk in right now they would think I was insane. In some respects I think I might be.

The urge to cut hits me like a fire truck on high speed. So much so that I physically lurch forward. I shake my head violently. I can’t do it. I can’t. I just want the pain to stop. I want it all to stop. In fast jerky motions I grab my bag off the floor from the side of the bed. I put it in front of me and dig around for something, anything, to numb me. My fingers come in contact with the small pocketknife. I pull it out quickly and shove my bag of the bed. With every tear I let out a tiny whimper. This time I pull up the left sleeve of my favorite longed sleeve baseball t-shirt. There aren’t as many scars as my other arm. I grip the pocketknife tightly trying to stop my hand from shaking. Slowly and unsteadily I bring the blade closer. Before the blade comes into contact with my skin there’s a loud knock at my door. I stiffen and another memory hits me.

//Flash//

I toss and turn in bed, whimpering.

“No…” I mumble. I jerk to the side. “Please no…” my voice cracks. I jerk to the side again this time more violently. “Oh god please no. Stop! Please! Noooooo!” I shoot out of bed. My clothes stick to my sweat covered body. The nightmare had been so real. My shoulders shake with silent sobs. “Mommy…” I whisper in a tiny frightened voice knowing mother would not come. She never came. At the thought I cry even harder. My vision blurs with unshed tears. I gasp for air between every sob. It’s too much for me. I can’t handle the tears. I can’t handle the pain. I look around my room for my precious bag. I spot it leaning up again the wall beside my vanity. I slip out of bed and onto the dirty floor. I crawl over to my vanity. Sobbing, I grab my bag and empty its contents. My movements are hurried and almost violent. I want it to stop so badly. I find the object I am looking for and collapse onto the wall. I stare at the green lighter in my hand and grin through my tears. It takes me three tries to light it. Fire erupts from the tiny thing. I stare at the flame. The tears in my eyes cause the image to distort. I wait for the metal to heat. With my free hand I manage to pull down my pajama pants a little bit to expose enough flesh. I let go and slowly bring the extremely hot metal to my skin. I press it down hard and I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming. I subconsciously try to take my leg away from the heat but I wont let me. My skin burns and I can feel the metal start to cool. It’s now that my infamous mother, who on so many occasions chose to ignore my cries, opens my door to check on me. I let out a cry and try to cover my leg in time but I could tell it was too late.

I stand up quickly and turn to look at her. She stand there in her slutly, ripped lingerie with a disgusted look on her face.

“What the hell are you doing!” She shrieks. I try to say something but the words won’t come. Instead I pull my pants up trying to hide what I had done. Her eyes flare and she storms towards me. Against all that I’ve learned from living with her the pasts 9 years, I step back in fear. She grabs my arm in pulls me back. “What have you been up to?!” With her free hand she grips the hem of my pants. Her nails scratch my tender skin and I cry out in pain. She rips my pants exposing the pink swelling welt I had just created along with four others just like it but healed. She stares at them. Her face softens and for a brief second I think she might feel pity for me. Those thoughts are shoved from my mind as she shoves me against the wall.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself! You freak! What the hells the matter with you!” She cries shoving me harder into the wall. I don’t even try to speak. I take the abuse in stride. “I asked you a fuking question!” She screams and by the arm tosses me to the ground. “Look what you’ve done to yourself!” She says standing over me. “I always knew marring you off would be hard but now,” She pauses reaching down and pulling me back up. “How can anyone love you now?” I stare up at her trying desperately not to cry. “No man will ever you love you Maria. You’re a sick, nasty, broken little bytch. I can’t even stand to look at you.” She tosses me to my bed twisting my arm a little. “I will not have a freak like you living under my roof.”

“What? What do you mean?” I finally find the courage to speak. My voice is small and weak.

“I never should have taken you in when your father died. I should have just left you with social services or better yet sold you to a brothel in Pakistan. I would now but no one would pay two cents for you. Not even the most desperate, ugly pig of a man. Pack your things.” She says turning to leave. “I'm getting ride of you once and for all”

She closes the door and everything she said slowly starts to sink in. I let out a whimper and bury my face in my pillow.

//End Flash//

“Maria? You awake?” Alex’s gentle voice breaks me out of my reverie. I wipe away the newly shed tears quickly. “Maria?” He calls a little louder. I look to the door. Then back at the pocketknife. With shaky hands I shove it under my pillow and get up out of bed. It wasn’t worth it.

“Ya I'm up but don’t come in I'm changing!” I call back to him. I here his muffled ok and grab my suitcase. I open it up and choose from my limited collection of long sleeved shirt. I grab a black sleeved baseball t-shirt, tear off the blue one quickly and pull on the other just as fast. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and grab my bag in desperate need of a smoke.

“You done yet?” Alex asks and I look around. My attention drifts to the silk blanket lying on the floor beside the bed. It hadn’t felt right using them so I had tossed them aside and slept without. I grab my pack of smokes then ram them into my back pocket. I pick up the silk blanket and make the bed. I then proceed to mess it up. Satisfied with my work I grab the smokes out of my pocket. I place one in my mouth my hands annoyingly are still shaking. I go to light it but think twice. I look to the balcony. I walk over and pull up the window. I climb through headfirst. I stand and gasp. Alex was right, this was an amazing balcony. It had to be 3 maybe 4 meters by 3 maybe 4 meters. It had two lounge chairs, a few plants here and there and a nice view of the street. I walk over to the stone ledge and sit on top. I turn around and hang my legs over the side. I here Alex call to me again.

“You can come in now.” I call back finally lighting the smoke. I take a long deep drag and as I let it out I groan of pleasure.

“Where are you?”

“Out here.” I call back to him taking another drag. I hear Alex climb out the window.

“Watcha doin out here?” He asks coming to stand next to me. I pull the smoke out of my mouth and show it to him. “Oh.”

“Figured Amy wouldn’t appreciate me smoking in her house.”

“You figured right. She’s an avid non smoker.” Alex informs me. I can feel his eyes on me. Watching my hands shake as I take long drag after long drag. With each drag my head gets light and I slowly feel myself relaxing. “Did u have a nice nap?” He asks turning to lean on the ledge.

I don’t bother answering taking another drag. “Time?”

“Ummm,” Alex looks at his watch, “9:30 well 9:32 but what’s a few minutes?” he chuckles.

“A life time.” I answer softly.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Lets go back inside.” I suggest taking one last drag and tossing it down into the alley.

“Ok.” He looks at me skeptically. “The others are dying to meet you.” I nod my head and get off the ledge. I turn to him and smile. He frowns and looks at me with concern. “Have you been crying?”

“No.” I state simply and crawl back into the house. He follows suit and leads the way downstairs.

I watch the back of Alex’s head as it bounces up and down with each step he takes. I clench my fists in a vain attempt to stop them from shaking. My upper body quivers with every breath I take. I hate this. I hate not being able to control my feelings. I know Alex suspects something when he turns to look at me after I sniff for the hundredth time. He looks up at me with such concern. I can’t look him in the eyes. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from crying. I stare up at the high ceiling and let out a tiny whimper. I feel Alex take my shaky hand in his and surprise myself when I don’t pull away. He squeezes my hand warmly but I still can’t look at him. He probably thinks I'm nuts. That I'm a suicidal head case. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him turn around and descend the stairs pulling me with him. Instead of pulling me toward the door with the little diamond window that leads to the restaurant he pulls me to the back door. My eyebrows furrow with confusion. What’s he doing?

He opens the door and drags me outside. The rain’s stopped but that intoxicating smell that comes before and after a rain fall is still present. I close my eyes and breath it in, letting out a small moan of contentment. Alex stops and turns to me. I open my eyes and stare at him. The look on his face is one I haven’t had directed at me in a long time. The look of friendship. I feel like crying and running at the same time.

He speaks gently, soothingly. “What’s wrong?” My voice catches in my throat. I don’t know how to respond to his question. He notes my lack of response and sighs. “You don’t have to tell me,” my shoulders slump with relief, “yet.” He adds coyly. I look him in the eyes and I know, that I will tell him someday, but not now and probably not for a very long time. I nod my head in gratitude still not finding my voice. He starts to pull me towards his truck but I stop him.

“Where we going?” My voice is stronger then I expected.

He looks at me, then at the Crashdown. “My place.” He replies.

“Your place? Why?” I ask with a little more distrust in my voice then I intend.

He smiles reassuringly “Don’t worry, I'm not gonna rob you, rape you and then leave you in the desert for the… wolves, was it?” he smirks bringing up my reactions to him at the bus station. I roll my eyes and look at him with a smirk. He smiles back and pulls me to his car. I open the passenger door before he can. He shakes his head then gets in the drivers seat.

Alex slowly drives up the driveway of a small suburban home. The grass is green and well taken care of. In front of the house is a small flowers garden filled with flowers of all kinds. He defiantly didn’t live alone. I think to myself grinning. I get out and follow him inside. I watch as he places his keys on a key rack and takes off his shoes.

“Michael?” he calls startling me. Who’s Michael? His dog? His brother maybe? His roommate? “Michael you home!” he calls again.

“I'm right here doofus!” I jump at the sound of a deep male voice coming from close by. Alex leads us into what looks like the living room. I note that the house is more feminine then I expected. The slight touch of a woman lingering. The first thing I see of this Michael character are his huge bare feet propped up on a coffee table. My eyes trail up his bare and rather hairy legs. For a moment I think he might be sitting there naked but his mid section comes into view as does his blue plaid boxer short and his black worn Metalica shirt. His shoulders are broad and underneath his raggy t-shirt I can just make out the toned definition of his muscular chest. My eyes land on his face and again I am not disappointed. Like the rest of his body, his face is gorgeous and defined. His hair is spiky and looks like he may have just gotten out of bed. The only word that passes through my brain is, yummy.

“Hey.” Alex directs towards Michael. Michael just nods his head in our direction. Alex looks at me then back at Michael. “Maria this is my brother Michael. Michael this is Maria, Amy’s niece.” Again Michael just nods in our direction.

“Rude much?” I mumble under my breath. Michael’s head snaps up ready to defend himself but when his eyes land on me he stops. His mouth closes and he stares at me with such intense eyes. I feel uncomfortable under his stare and shift nervously from foot to foot. Yet I stare back at him not willing to back down from a challenge. His eyes are such a luscious deep brown that if I had the courage, I could lose myself in them. I shake myself out of daydream mode and look away. His eyes remain transfixed on me.

“Hi.” He says sincerely. Mimicking his actions I just nod my head stiffly. Alex coughs.

“Don’t mean to interrupt you psychic conversation here but Maria, you want anything to eat or drink?” we both look to him. I blush in embarrassment and out of the corner of my eye I note that Michael glares at his brother.

“Ummm yeah sure I’ll have anything you’ve got. I'm not picky.” I answer softly. The truth is I just don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be here. To have to have a civilized conversation with people I don’t even know. I shudder and let out a breath.

“Okay, I’ll be right back, why don’t you have a seat, make yourself at home.” He smiles and walks down a hallway, disappearing from sight. I begrudgingly take off my combat boots signifying that sadly I am here to stay. I walk deeper into the living room my feet sinking into the soft carpet. I imagine what it’d feel like with bare feet. The soft fibers slipping between my toes, tickling me. I feel the brother’s eye on me and look up. He quickly turns away going back to staring at the TV. I sit down on the same couch as him but as far away from him as possible. I sigh inside and my mind travels back to earlier. I think about the need for that all encompassing numbness. It was so primal and frightening. That need for the pain to stop. Alex has no idea that he interrupted something. No clue that he saved me from myself. I feel tears build at the back of my eyes. I sniff again and Michael looks at me. I almost think he might ask if I'm alright but he turns back to the hockey game on TV.

I wait patiently for Alex to return and save me. The silence between me and his brother is almost too much to handle. He keeps glancing at me. It’s annoying as hell and makes me very uncomfortable. He probably just thinks I might be an easy fuk. Just like every other man I’ve ever come in contact with. All they ever want from me is my body.

//Flash//

“How can anyone love you now?” I stare up at her trying desperately not to cry. “No man will ever you love you Maria. You’re a sick, nasty, broken little bytch… I should have just left you with social services or better yet sold you to a brothel in Pakistan. I would now but no one would pay two cents for you. Not even the most desperate, ugly pig of a man…”

//Flash//

Mother’s word replay in my mind. All any man has ever wanted from me is my body but when they get it, usually by force, they’re disgusted by what they see. Mother had no idea how true her words were when she said them.

Alex seems to be different though. He treats me nice with no expectations. Even though I feel like I can trust him my paranoia sets in. He’s never once looked at me as if he wanted to jump my bones. Not once given me an odd look. But I can’t help but wonder if on the inside he’s just like everyone else. If in the end he’s going to use me up and toss me aside like the trash that I am.

Before I can consume myself in self pity Alex returns with two apples in his hands. I look up at him my face one of sorrow but not for the reason he thinks. “Sorry.” He apologizes, “it’s all we have.” He gives me a sheepish grin.

I shrug, “S’aight I like fruit.” I take the apple and bite into it hungrily. Alex smiles and moves to sits between me and his brother. As he sits down his leg gently touches mine and I flinch away from him. I'm not sure if he noticed but I hope to god he didn’t. I stare off to the side and keep to myself. I here Alex take a deep breath and I know he’s gearing up to say something.

“I called Amy and let her know you were here.” I nod my head and glance at the TV. “She wants you back by eleven or so.” I nod my head again. I know he’s trying to get a vocal response out of me but I'm just not in to the mood to socialize. He pauses and takes a bite from his apple. “So Maria…” I cringe as his next attempt at small talk commences, “tell me about your self.” I look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t even know your age.” He elaborates.

“I’m 16.” I don’t go on and I know that disappoints him. It’s all I'm good at. Disappointing.

“Me too. Michael’s my twin brother so guess what age he is.” He jokes and I grant him a small smile. “So tell us about you.”

“Could you please take this to another room?” Michael speaks saving me from having to respond to Alex’s up question. “I'm trying to watch the game.”

“It’s a fuking tape Michael.” Alex argues. The swear that leaves him mouth is almost off place. Like such a cruel word shouldn’t come from his lip. Alex grabs the remote and turns the tape and the TV off.

“Hey!” Michael whines. He goes for the remote but Alex tosses it away. Michael glares at Alex. “Your gonna pay for that.”

“Come on man, we have a guest besides I called Tess and she’s bringing the others over to hang out.” Alex responds. Michael stands up getting ready to fetch the remote. More people? Oh god. I can’t handle more people. They’ll try to make me talk and have fun and smile. And they’ll all have this common knowledge thing were they only have to say one word and they all know what it means and then they start to laugh and then I get to feel left out… Oh god not more people.

“What’s your fukin point?” Michael snaps, his voice is crude. “The guys will wanna watch the game with me.”

“Are you nuts?! You’ve already forced them to watch that stupid thing 10 times. Max doesn’t even like sports and he knows all the whole thing play by play. He could probably recite it in his sleep. I heard he does in his nightmares!” Alex stands up his voice rising. Fear rises in me along wit his voice and I try to calm myself. I don’t like it when people argue. Arguing can lead to bad things. I ignore Michael’s reply and the rest of the argument. I push myself up and walk to the door mumbling that I’d show myself out. I slip my feet into my combies but I don’t bother tying them. The two arguing brothers don’t even notice as I slip out the front door and walk down the unfamiliar streets of Roswell. Alone. The way it has been and always will be.

I shiver, the nights cold air nipping at my skin through my clothes. This was hell, I groan. Unbearably hot during the day and freezing cold at night. There’s just no winning. I wrap my arms around my waist and rub my arms for warmth. I'm beginning to think walking out was a bad idea. I take in the unfamiliar streets. I don’t know where I going or what I'm doing. The darkness of the night surrounds me and I can barely see two feet ahead of me. I wander aimlessly. No that’s not true, I admit to myself. I'm lost.

“Great.” I mumble aloud. “Just fuking great.” I sigh in frustration and look around. To my left showcased in lights is a small children’s park. Accepting my fate I walk across the street and slowly into the park, dragging my feet. I collapse into a swing and gently push myself with my feet. I sigh again and reach for my pack of smokes. Two left then I'm going to have to buy a new pack. I smoke too much. I know but I can’t help it. When ever I get emotional whether it be upset or angry my reflex is to grab a smoke. It helps. That lightheaded feeling after taking a long deep drag then the relaxing after affects. It’s better then cutting, I think to myself trying to justify it. And it helps. For a while I am able to withhold the delusion that smoking will keep me from committing the unthinkable but in the end I know I will succumb to the need. With that thought I quickly light the smoke and breath it in.

I lean on one of the chains relaxing, enjoying the nicotine. Each drag I take gets longer and deeper. As I reach the end I take a long drag and breath it in. I hold it there and just stop breathing. I hear footsteps come up behind me. I stiffen and let out the breath I was holding. I toss the smoke bud on the ground in front of me then step on it. The intruder takes the swing next to me. I look over and relax a little.

“Alex is driving around looking for you.” He states simply and pushes off the ground. I nod my head and watch the dark jeaned, leather glad boy swing back and forth. “He’s even got the gang out driving around looking for you.” I look at him incredulously. “Yeah I know I thought the exact same thing… So…why’d you leave?” he asks gently. I don’t answer instead swaying back and forth. “Was it cause of the fight?”

“I don’t know Michael. I guess it had something to do with that but… what do you care anyway?” I mumble reaching for my last smoke.

“It’s called common courtesy. You know that big human flaw where we care for people we don’t even know.” Michael snaps at me. I stare at him with an odd look on my face.

“There’s no such thing.” I snap back looking ahead. “Common courtesy is just a nice way of deluding people into trusting others just so they can use you for what ever reason then toss you aside like yesterdays leftovers.”

“You really believe that?” Michael asks astonished.

I turn to him and glare, “What do you think?”

“That’s sad and way off base… ”

“Whatever!” I stand up not wanting to listen to his speech on the kindness of stranger that I know is about to come. I turn to him, “Look you believe what you want and I believe what I want and you going off into a little condescending speech is not going to change my point of view.”

“Meow, retract the claws, princess.” he barks. My eyes widen.

“Princess? Princess!?” I scoff. I open my mouth to retort to it. “No, you know what? Your not worth a comeback.” I turn to walk away but stop when Michael snorts.

“You probably don’t even have one.”

I turn back to him. “Oh I have hundreds I'm just not going to waist them on you.”

“Uh huh. The best comeback you’ve probably got Princess is, ‘I know you are but what am I.’” He says in a girly voice. I step in front of him so close that his face is practically between my breasts. My smoke long forgotten, slips from my finger tips landing softly on a small hill of sand.

“Look jackass. I didn’t ask to be sent here. I don’t want to be here and I sure as hell don’t want to nor do I have to deal with arrogant comments from spiky haired, pin dicked, punk ass wannabes.” I let it out all in one breath leaving myself breathless. I stare down at him daring him to respond but the look in his eyes shock me. Instead of uncontrollable anger staring up at me his eyes are filled with unadulterated lust. I gasp sharply. I did not expect this. He slowly stands up, my head tilting upwards keeping eye contact. My head tilts till he’s fully standing and I can feel a crick in my neck. His body presses into mine and my breath becomes even more laboured then before. Panic slowly starts to build inside. My eyes widen then close softly when he starts to lean in. my body start to shake and I ignore it. His lips touch mine gently and a spark courses through my body causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. The kiss is soft and gentle. His warm hand grips my elbow gently pulling me closer. He pulls his head back and looks me in the eyes trying to read me.

“Your shaking.” He whispers.

“I know.” My voice is softer then his, barely audible. I take in a shaky breath and step back. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry.” I take another step and turn to walk away. I hear him catch up with me. He steps in front of me.

“If I stepped out of bounds I'm sorry. Its just…you look so beautiful when you get angry that I just can’t help myself.” When the word beautiful roll off his lips, tears spring to my eyes. No ones ever really called me that with out a nasty tone to there voice. “The way your nose flares and wrinkles. And your eyebrows furrow and your lip does this little twitching thing.” I open my mouth to respond but I'm stopped but the sound of a truck pulling up and Alex calling out.

“Maria! Michael! Come on!” I turn my head to were Alex is parked then look back at Michael. Sighing I take off to the truck and hop in the front. Michael soon follows getting in next to me.

“Hey Maria. You ok?” Alex asks putting the car into drive.

“Yeah.” my voice is soft.

“You had me a little worried.”

“Sorry.” I mumble. I can sense Michael staring at me but try profusely to ignore it.

“No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let the argument get outta hand like that.” Alex apologises.

I think about telling him the real reason as to why I left. That I didn’t want to deal with his friends but I decide against it. “Your forgiven.” I smile to reinforce my statement. We drive the rest of the way to the Crashdown. I watch as Michael slides out of the car and holds the door for me. I keep my head down as I slide out and come to stand next to him. He leans in his lips almost touching my ears. I shiver in excitement. His husky voice whispers a sultry goodbye. I walk past him quickly and get to the backdoor of the Crashdown. Alex calls out a happy goodbye and I wave to him. I open the door and close it behind me. I turn to walk upstairs and standing there waiting for me encased in the shadows is Mother.

My eyes widen and my back stiffens. Fear consumes me. Mother steps towards me and I want so badly to step back, away from her. I know I can’t and stand still waiting for what ever punishment was to come for being late. She steps out of the shadows and my brow furrows. Her face is different. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Amy asks. I laugh at my self and nod my head.

“You just scared me is all.”

“Sorry.”

I look at her and nod my head. “S’ok.” Silence falls and I look to the stairs.

“The kitchens closed but there is sum leftovers if you wanna help yourself.” I think about it for a second but decide against it. My stomach protests and I ignore it.

“No I think I'm just going to head up to bed.” I feel bad when a look of disappointment crosses her face.

“Oh…okay well sweet dreams then,” I start towards the stairs desperately wanting to get away from her. “Umm tomorrow we have to go to the school to register you so do you want me to wake you up?” I'm half way up the stairs now. I turn to her and shake my head.

“No that’s okay I'm an early riser.”

“Ok…” She smiles and I turn to walk back up but she calls to me. “Maria,” I sigh, rolling my eyes in exasperation. “If there’s ever anything you need, be it night or day, don’t be afraid to come to me.” I nod my head knowing full well that I wouldn’t be going to her for anything.

Groaning I roll over in bed trying desperately to fall back asleep. It’d taken me forever to fall asleep. My mind wouldn’t stop thinking and all I could do for over an hour was stare at the ceiling and hope it would fall down on me putting me out of my misery. When I finally did fall asleep it was somewhere around two a.m.. And here I am, awake and though I haven’t looked at the time yet I know it’s early. The sun hasn’t even started to rise and its still rather dark in my new room. I snuggle deeper into my pillow and lay here for five minutes with my eyes closed till finally I can’t do it anymore. I groan in frustration and roll back over. My eyes pop open and land on the alarm clock beside me bed. The numbers four, three and two flash before me, taunting me.

Sighing, I kick the thin sheet I substituted for the silk, off of me and push myself into a sitting position. Yawning, I stand up and stumble towards the bathroom. I stop before the threshold and stare at the magnificent tub. Alex was right, again. The deep porcelain tub with its bronze clawed legs, sits up against the far wall, invitingly. I picture soaking in it with warm water, bubbles and a little rubber ducky. Smiling at the thought I come to stand in front of the mirror and for the first time in the last couple of days I see my reflection. I grimace at what I see. My hair needs brushing, little strands sticking out here and there. The bags under my eyes are deep and angry. I look horrid, I can’t even stand to look at myself anymore. I sit on the toilet seat and bury my face in my hands.

Why? I ask myself. Why did he kiss me? I can barely to look at myself in mirror yet he stared me in the eyes and dared to kiss me. The only possible explanation is he’s a horny teenage boy who thought he might get some. Well he’s not going to. I can contest to that. That doesn’t explain what he said though. I moan in frustration and lay my head back on the wall. I convince myself he’s just a player. That he was using me but deep inside I know he wasn’t. A little voice tells me he’s not like that but I top it off to wishful thinking. Cause if it were true… I don’t deserve a guy like that.

I stand up and remove my clothes. I don’t dare look in the mirror knowing exactly what I’d see. Same old, disgusting, ugly me. I step into the upright shower next to the tub. Making sure the water is right I wash my body and my hair quickly. In less then 10 minutes I'm out and toweling myself off. I haven’t truly enjoyed a shower in a long time. I used to but now its just a waist of time. Get in, get out and hope no one walks in on me. That’s the way it is now. That’s the way it has to be. I walk into my room in only my underwear and pull on my baggy jeans that lay on the ground. I pull my small suitcase onto the bed and search again through my limited collection of long sleeved shirts. This was going to be a major problem. All I have is long sleeved shirts and with an unrelenting climate like Roswell’s, it’s not going to be pretty. I decide that after getting registered at the High School, I’d dump Amy and head to the mall in search of thin long sleeved shirts. And if all else fails I guess I'm just going to have to deal with the heat.

I pull out a black shirt with personally cut holes on the shoulders and on the ends of the sleeves for my thumbs to go into. I look in the vanity mirror making sure nothing is poking out and could be seen. Happy that for the moment I am safe from skepticism I seek out my pack of smokes. I find the empty pack wedged under the bed.

“I could have sworn…” I trail off remembering the night before. “Fuk!” I curse angrily. “A perfectly good smoke wasted on that pig!” I grumble to myself. I shake my head in frustration at my stupidity. I let that jerk get to me and now I'm out a smoke. I sigh, getting angry wasn’t going to bring it back. I grab some socks and walk out into the hall. Its quite, Amy probably still sleeping. I find the kitchen easily and search for my second love, coffee. I search desperately for the coffee pot but come up empty handed.

“What the…” My eyes widen. No coffee maker. No coffee. My shoulders slump. Today is not going to be my day. Then again when is it my day. Mumbling I head back to my room and find my wallet. After making sure my last twenty was still in there I attach my wallet to my pants and head out the window muttering to myself. “I need a job.” I climb down the fire escape ladder.

I walk out of the convenience store trying to light a newly bought smoke with a small coffee in hand. Not an easy task I can tell you that. Inhaling deeply I walk back to the restaurant. I pause outside and stare through the glass door. The lights are on. Maybe Amy was up? She might be a little pissed that I'm not there. I think for a moment. Do I care? Not really. I could just continue to walk. At least then I could have a smoke and relax a little bit before having to deal with her. If I did she might get even more pissed. I stand in front of the front door thinking it over. I'm knocked out of my thoughts when a girl my age with kind of short black hair streaked with dark purple walks up to the door. An odd sense of familiarity hits me. Her eyes are distrustful, her clothes dark and the attitude that surrounds her is one of uncaring. She reminds me of me and immediately I feel close to her.

She unlocks and opens the door. She looks me up and down. Her eyes land on the smoke and a look of hunger crosses her face. She wants one. I smirks and offer her my smoke. She takes it acceptingly and sucks the burning smoke into her lungs. She takes two more then passes it back to me, I brush her off. I pull out my pack and take out another one. She smiles her thanks and takes another drag. I light the new one and look at her. I stretch out my hand.

“Maria.” She sticks her hand out and takes mine.

“I know.” She smiles and walks over to one of the many outdoor tables. She perches on top and looks at me expectantly. I sit on top of the table next to her. She leans back and takes another drag. “Liz” She states much like I did. I nod my head in a hello of sorts.

“How’d you know who I was?” she smiles and sits up straighter.

“Alex made us memorize your pic last night so we’d recognize you if we saw you.” I laugh and shake my head. “Alex likes you.” My eyes widen and she laughs. “Not likes, likes you.” I sigh in relief. “He’s not much for trusting people but he’s taken to you.” I smile softy. Its kind of nice to know.

“He’s a sweety.” I muse.

“That he is.” She finishes the smoke and puts it out on the table. Tossing it on the road she stands up and moves to walk back in. I get up to follow. She turns to me and points to my smoke. “Might wanna put that out.” I sigh and finished the smoke off tossing it on the road. She smiles and walks in. I step inside and I have to laugh at the décor. Orange walls, 50’s malt shop styled counter with stools that actually had backs on them. A cartoon mural on the side wall with a little gray alien standing beside it’s space ship finishes the alien motif. Its hilarious. The stereotypes, the themed food on the special’s menu. Liz turns to me.

“Don’t laugh you might end up working here.”

“Like hell.” I laugh.

“You never know.” She shrugs and moves to the back room. I follow and take a comfy seat on the couch. I watch and she pulls out a bag from a small locker.

“Oh I know. This place is just a little too freaky even for me.” She laughs and moves to the bathroom.

“Its not that bad. The tourist love this place so there’s never a shortage of customers. Plus the tips are kick a-ss.” Her stifled voice comes from behind the door. She opens the door and I snort.

“Oh my god.” My voice is full of laughter. “If it means having to wear that…” I point to her uniform, a knee length, sea foam green, button up dress with a silver apron in the shape of an aliens head. The huge black eyes probably used for pockets and to top it off a headband with two antennas sticking out the top. “Then no way in hell am I going to work here.”

“Oh shut up.” She mumbles laughter in her voice. She puts her street clothes away and turns to me. “Come on I’ve gotta take all the chairs down and prep the tables and since you laughed at me your gonna help.”

I open my mouth to protest but decide against it. “Yes Ma’me.” I mumble and follow her back out to the restaurant.

“So is this why you’re here so early?” I ask putting my coffee on the counter and starting to take down the chairs.

“Yep.” She answers gathering all the sugar containers off the tables. “What bout you? What are you doing up so early and outside for that matter.”

“Early riser and I was outta smokes plus for some crazy reason Amy doesn’t have a coffee pot and I have to have my morning coffee or else I'm very bytchy. Well more so then usual.” She laughs.

“Ya Amy doesn’t believe in caffeine. Says is bad for you or some mojo crap.”

“She’s nuts.” I exclaim playfully. Liz laughs and refills the sugar containers. The next hour we spend getting the restaurant ready. Tired I plop in one of the swirly chairs at the counter. Liz does the same. I grab my coffee and take a sip. I quickly spit it out.

“Fuk!”

“Cold?” Liz asks smiling. I turn to her and nod my head sadly. “No worries, I just started a pot of coffee. As much as Amy hates to admit it people like their coffee.” She smirks, takes my cup and walks over to coffee pot. “So what’s Amy got planned for you today?” she asks handing my cup filled with steaming coffee to me.

“She’s gonna register me into one of your high schools.”

“There is only one.” She laughs.

“Oh.” I laugh with her.

“Not use to the small town living huh?”

“Actually as I told Alex I'm from a small town.”

“Really?” She looks at me her brows furrowed.

“Sadly yes. We didn’t even have a high school. Tried it once but not enough students attended. Since the town was so close to New York, most parents sent their teens to high school in New York.” I explain sipping my coffee. I explain to her that the kinder garden and elementary schools thrived because most parents weren’t willing to send their young impressionable children to the busy city. Mother sent me though. I don’t tell her that Mother never really cared what happened to me. That she sent me to the busy city alone at the age of six. A tiny grade one student on a huge bus full of strangers and no clue as to were I was going. Got lost the first few times but the beatings from Mother and the lectures about being punctual compelled me to figure it out quickly. “Don’t you go to school?” I ask changing the subject.

“Ya but I have spares till after lunch today so I get to work. Amy’s very flexible when it comes to my hours. Sometimes I think she’s a little too flexible though. We’ve had some waitresses that took advantage of her kindness.” Her face turns sour at a memory.

“People tend to do that.”

“Sad but true.” She smiles sadly and sighs. “Amy should be up soon, you should figure out what classes your gonna take.”

“Ya.” I run my hands threw my hair. “I'm gonna go out for another smoke, you want?” I ask standing up.

“Ya sure but lets go out back. Amy would kill me if I let the customers see me smoking.” She says in a comical voice. “Like ninety percent of the population smokes but she still gets pissed.” I laugh. We enter the backroom just as Amy descends the stairs.

“Morning girls.” She says cheerfully. Liz responds in kind and I just nod my head not making eye contact. “I see you’ve met Lizzy. I hope you two are getting along nicely.”

“Nah, we’ve been at each others throats all morning.” Liz jokes. Amy laughs and I look up. Her happy face makes me smile. She smiles back and it turn away and head for the back door. Amy frowns and looks to Liz. “Where you two going?”

“We’re gonna pick up some hotties and go out into the desert, have wild meaningless sex, then leave them there with their pants around their angles.” Liz says seriously. I stare at Liz in shock and turn to Amy to find her laughing.

“Nice try but I told you, you can’t shock me anymore.” She comes to stand in front of Liz.

“Damn, your no fun.” Liz fake pouts.

“Well I try.” Amy jokes. The two banter back and forth for a few minutes. I cant stand watching them and walk out the back door. I step in a puddle and curse. Shaking my foot dry I sit on a wooden crate. When Liz finally joins me I’m half way through my smoke. She sits next to me and smiles when I hand her my pack with my lighter inside. She lights one and hands the stuff back to me.

“So what was that?” she asks smoke flowing from her mouth.

“What was what?” I fain innocence hoping she buys it.

“Come on Maria don’t play me.” She leans forward taking a puff.

I scoff, “I'm not playing you and even if I was what’s it to you?”

“Oh so that’s how its gonna be played, huh?”

“What?” I look at her confused. She stands up, puts out the smoke with more then half left. She turns to glare at me.

“You know exactly what I'm talking bout.” She tosses the smoke on the ground and stalks towards the backdoor. I sigh and my mouth works before my mind.

“Wait…” She stops and turns to me. I sigh, I can’t believe I'm gonna do this. “It’s kinda of hard to be around Amy.” I look down not willing to see the expression on Liz’s face. She steps towards me.

“Why? Amy’s the nicest person on earth.”

“I…” I sigh, “I don’t doubt that. It’s just,” I take a deep drag from my smoke. “Have you ever seen a picture of Moth…my mom??” Liz steps closer.

“No.”

I swallow hard and open my mouth to speak again, “Well her and Amy, they look a lot alike and… Every time I look at Amy, I see her.”

“So.” I look at her my eyes filled with pain. Realization slowly dawns on her. “Your mom, not the nicest person in the world?” I nod my head and look away from her. What the hell am I doing?! I scream at myself. I don’t know this girl and I'm telling her something that I swore I wouldn’t never tell. She steps towards me and I know if I look up I’ll find pity in her eyes. I can’t handle it and I don’t want it. I stand up and move to walk back inside. She stops me with her hand. I accidentally look into her eyes. I go to turn away but stop. Instead of pity in her eyes I see empathy and understanding. Tears spring to me eyes but don’t fall. I nibble my bottom lip. She smiles reassuringly and I smile back. “Come on.” She says softly leading me back into the restaurant.

Why is it that people feel the need to butt into my business. I don’t understand how some people actually believe that they can help me. That if they ask me what’s wrong and I tell them that I’ll be magically cured of this decease called sadness. The thing I need to be cured from is life. This horrid existence that I lead. I don’t need a pat on the back or fuking hug. What I need is for people, like Amy, to leave me alone. I'm a lost cause. No amount of words or this thing they call love, can save me from myself. I'm doomed to be miserable for the rest of my life. The thing is I don’t really plan on living that long. If my previous years are any indication as to what’s to follow I don’t think I want to be here. I’ve barely even begun to live yet it feels like I’ve lived centuries. Centuries of pain and sorrow. If there is such thing as a god then I damn him. I curse him for the life that he gave me.

Sometimes I wonder what the point to going on is. I can’t help but think that maybe I’d be better off dead. I think the only reason I haven’t made that final cut is because I'm scared. I'm not afraid of dying, that would be a welcomed end to it all. I’m just afraid of what’s to come when I die. Is their a heaven? Will I go there? Or will I end up in hell and hypocritically wish I was alive? Maybe there is no heaven or it’s opposite. Maybe my consciousness will just vanish into thin air and no one will remember me. I could dwell on this for hours and never figure out the answers to my questions. For the moment all I can do is go about my day and hope that it won’t be too bad. That I won’t give in to the need.

“You ready to go?” Amy asks gently. I nod and stand up making sure not to make eye contact. Amy leads the way out back to her tiny red jetta. “Have you put any thought into what classes you wanna take?” Amy asks as she pulls out onto the road.

“No.” I mumble and lean on window.

“Well I guess that won’t really matter. Considering that it’s a little late in the year most of the option classes will probably be full.” I don’t answer her, instead I grab my bag and pull out my disc man. I pull my headphones on and prevent any possibility of conversation between the two of us. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her frown. I ignore the wave of guilt that over throws me pushing it aside and concentrating on the beat. It’s not long before Amy pulls into the parking lot of Roswell Community High School. She leads the way inside. I fall behind her, my hands shoved into my pocket, my head down and my music pounding. I make sure that I can still see her along with my view of the floor. We pass by a bunch of students and I feel their eye’s trained on me. Subconsciously I pull a hand out and grip the strap of my bag. Amy stops and I'm forced to look up. She smiles and holds open the door to the office for me. We walk in and she goes directly for the desk. I sigh and slump onto a chair in the waiting area. I pull my bag onto my lap and hold it possessively. I watch as Amy has a small conversation with one of the secretaries. She laughs taking a small booklet of papers from the secretary. I watch as she skims through it filling in certain thing. She finishes and then comes to sit next to me. She looks at me her lips moving but all I hear is my music. Rolling my eyes I turn the music off and pull my head phones down. Amy smiles.

“There are a few things I need your help with.” Amy says opening the book. I nod my head. “That’s how you spell you name right.” I look it over and nod. “Ok. Ummm… Any Allergies?” I shake my head. “Lucky, I’m allergic to peanut butter and raisins.” She laughs and continues looking. “Anything medical they need to know about?” I shake my head. “Ok courses…” For the next 20 or so minutes we go over all the courses available and I choose my itinerary. Once done Amy brings the registration back to the secretary. I listen as the secretary tells Amy that they will have to process my papers and create a timetable before I can start. The two talk a bit again and I pull my headphones back on. I stand up and mumble to Amy that I was going back to the car. She hands me the keys and I leave quickly.

The moment I step outside I light up. Walking to the car, I hop up and take a long drag. I lean back and close my eyes. I drift off into a light sleep. My eyes pop open when the side of the car shifts. I watch as Liz slides back and lays down next to me. I offer her a smoke and she takes it gratefully. We lay back in silence each busied with our own thought. Liz pokes me in the side and motions to my headphones. I turn off my music and pull them down.

“Hey.” She says laying back down.

“Hey.”

“Get registered?” She asks taking a puff.

“Yep.”

“Amy?”

“Inside.”

“Oh.” She sits up and leans on her knees. “Your gonna havta talk with her you know that right?” I sit up with her.

“Ya. Don’t wanna.”

“I know but right now she thinks you hate her.” Liz turns her head to look at me.

“I don’t.”

“I know that but she doesn’t.” I look at her with an expression of fear. She sighs and gives me a small smile.

“What am I supposed to say? I can barely look at you cause you look like my abusive mother? I can’t do that.”

“And why not? You told me.”

“Ya well your not gonna send me to a shrink to have my head examined to make sure I'm ‘OK’.” I use my fingers as I say the word ok. “I don’t want to tell some stranger sh!t bout sh!t ok?”

“I'm a stranger.”

I groan and turn to her. “Liz. I may not know everything there is to know you but… ” I sigh. “Ok this is gonna sound corny but from the moment I met you I knew that I could trust you.” I look away not wanting to see the look on her face. “I knew that you had gone through some of what I’ve been through. To me your not a stranger… ” I trail off and keep my head down. I know that if I look up she’ll look at me as if I'm some circus freak. She mumbles something and I look up. “What?”

She bites her bottom lip and then forces out. “Ditto.” I look at her as if she’s gone insane. She looks back and smile. A small smile creeps across my face. Be both look forward and I hand her another smoke. We lay back in a comfortable silence. A few minutes later Amy comes out and tells Liz to get to class. She does saying good bye to me. I look at Amy and wonder if I should tell her now. I decided against it, toss her the keys and get off the car. She catches them easily then looks at my smokes frowning.

“That’s bad for you.” I roll my eyes and stand next to the car. “How’d you get them?”

“I bought em.”

“How, your 16, not legal.” I sigh.

“I got someone to buy em for me. I may not be legal enough to buy em but I’m legal enough to smoke em so get off my back.” I say more hotly then I wanted.

“You will not smoke near me or in my home do you hear me?”

“Ya Alex explained that already.”

“Ok then,” She smiles and gets in. I do the same and turn to her.

“Can you take me to the mall?” I ask gently.

“Do you have money?” I lean back groaning.

“Fuk! No, I wasted it all on smokes and food.” I grumble and lean on the door. Amy pulls out and drives back to the Crashdown, silently. She pulls into the back and stops the car.

“Need a job?” She asks as we get out and walk into the restaurant. I get a look of horror and sit down.

“Do I have to wear those stupid uniforms?” Amy nods her head smiling. I sigh. “I can’t believe I'm gonna say this…” I mumble standing up. “You’ve got yourself a new waitress.”

“Alright when Liz gets back from school she can show you the ropes.” She smiles and walks out front.

“Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil?” I mumble to myself and trudge upstairs to my room.

Liz laughs hysterically on my bed. I glare at her and toss a pillow at her head.

“OWWW!” she cries still laughing. “I'm… sorry…” She says between laughs.

“Shut up!” I grumble and walk towards the window going for a smoke. She follows calming down.

“Oh come on can you blame me?” She asks taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs.

“Do you want one or not?.” I ask holding my pack up in her face. The color drains from her face and she stops laughing. “That’s what I thought.” I toss her my pack and hop up on the ledge. My mind travels to the uniforms and my eyes widen and my face pales. How am I going to pull that off with out revealing my scars. A wave of disgust towards myself hits me. I can just wear non-sheer leggings but what about my arms? I ask myself. My brow furrow as I concentrate on a solution. Liz laughs.

“You look like your trying to pass a stone or something.”

“Ha, ha.” I say sarcastically, finishing my smoke and tossing in over the edge. “You finish that. I'm gonna go find Amy and get a…” I shudder, “uniform.” I hop down and crawl out the window. Liz calls out faintly, ok, completely into the cigarette. I laugh and walk out.

When I return with the stupid uniform Liz is still outside basking in the sun. I smile and walk to the bathroom. I place the uniform on the sink and grab my suitcase off the floor. I close the door behind me and strip down to my underwear. I stop and look at myself in the mirror. I cringe at the site and quickly turn away. I grab my leggings and pull them on. I inspect them, painstakingly checking for any visual scars. Finding none I smile happily. I search through my suitcase looking for a thin long sleeved shirt. I grumble when I realized that even though I have thin long sleeved shirts they won’t be thin enough. I’ll boil to death before my first paycheck.

I turn my back to the door and pull out a second pair of leggings. Grabbing my switch blade I cut the legs off the leggings. Gingerly I cut 4 holes were the toes go. I pull one up my arm all the way to my elbow. I push my fingers through the holes and stretch them. Making sure that the circulation to my fingers won’t get cut off. I then cut a hole for my thumb. I do the same with the other one then pull the dress like uniform on. I turn and inspect my creation. I smile, it may look stupid but it works.

I pull the leggings off my arms and start to unbutton the uniform. I feel a wind on my back and turn quickly to the door to find it wide open with Liz standing there. I gasp.

“Here’s your pack back…oh my god.” She whispers harshly.

I gasp pathetically and stand, dumb stuck. It was happening all over again. I let my guard down again. I should have locked the door. I yell at myself. My bottom lip quivers, tears brimming in my eyes. I watch as her eyes roam my exposed flesh. Disgust builds in my stomach and I feel bile form at the back of my throat. I wrap my arms around my shaking body. She makes eye contact with me, her eyes knowing. Oh god she knows. I whimper and move to grab my shirt off the floor. She grabs my arm and stops me. I try to flinch from her but she holds me still. With her other hand she runs her fingers gently over one of my worst scars. I swallow loudly and wait for her harsh words of disgust and hatred. She looks up again this time, tears brimming in her eyes. I stare at her confused. Why is she crying?

“You did these?” She asks her voice soft. I try to pull away again. I don’t want to answer her questions. I don’t want to deal with this. “Maria,” she whispers sternly. I let out a small sob and yank away from her. I look around desperately, my eyes blurry with tears. I don’t know what I'm looking for just that I have to find it. “Maria.” Her voice is full of concern. My shoulders shake with silent sobs that I hold captive not willing to let them go.

“Where is it?” I whisper and turn halfway around.

“Where’s what?” she asks grasping my elbow. I shake her off violently.

“Where is it!” I scream at her and run my hand through my hair. “Where is it?” My voice cracks and I let my hand drop, slowly griping onto my hair and pulling. She stares at me shocked. “Where’s my shirt?” I look at her, my eyes numb and unfeeling. She looks around. Her eyes lock onto something to my left but I don’t care. I stare straight ahead unseeing.

“It’s in your hand, sweetie.” I tilt my head to the side and look down. My eyes widen and tears flow freely down my cheeks. I whimper and look back at her. I slowly break down, falling to my knees. She follows me and pulls me to her and I sob. Liz soothingly caresses my back whispering gentle words in my ear. Slowly I come back to reality. I realize that I lay there with barely anything on. My dark secrets exposed. My emotional and physical weakness sprawled out on the cool bathroom floor. I pull back from Liz and she lets me go. I sit shivering and look up at her. Her concern for me pours from her warm brown eyes. I swallow hard and whisper.

“Leave.” My eyes plead with her.

“No. I won’t leave you alone.”

“Please.” I beg her.

"No.” she persists and an uncontrollable anger courses through me.

“Get out,” I say harshly trying to control my voice. She opens her mouth to say something but I stand up and tell her to leave again. She stands up holding her ground. “Get the fuk out now!” I scream and push her out slamming the bathroom door. I quickly get dressed and step out. She stands in the center of my room.

“What the hell were those, Maria?!” She looks at me with pity and I’m over come with the need to vomit.

“Get out!” I move towards her and she steps back.

“Did you do those!” she cries in frustration. Her eyes stare at my arms as if she is trying to see them through my shirt.

“Leave now!” I cry out forcefully and turn back to the bathroom. I grab the uniform and toss it at her angrily. “And take your damn uniform!”

“NO!” She cries back just as loud as me if not louder.

“Fine if you won't then leave I will!” I turn and try to run back to the bathroom. She grabs my arm.

“You can’t go Maria. You need help.” I try to jerk away and glare at her.

“Let me go.” I growl through clenched teeth.

“Or you’ll what hit me?”

“If I have to.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“Like hell I don’t! Your gonna run downstairs and tell Amy, ranting about what a freak I am! Then she’s gonna send me to see a fuking shrink and I sure as hell am not gonna let her. So either you let me go or I kick your a-ss!” I seethe, my eyes wild with furry. She doesn’t back down. She stares me in the eyes and I realize that she wasn’t going to back down no matter what I said. I close my eyes and bow my head in defeat. “Fine.” I growl.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks gently. I look at her and wonder. Could I tell her? Should I tell her? I sigh and fall into my bed. “Could you just…go for a bit? I have to think.” She opens her mouth to protest and I give her my best pouty, puppy dog face. Begging her to leave me alone.

She sighs and her shoulders slump. “Ok, but I'll be right down stairs if you need me.” She turns to leave and I scramble up and catch her. She turns and looks at me smiling softly.

“Don’t…don’t tell Amy. Please.”

“Maria…”

“Please.”

“I won’t,” I sigh in relief, “but you have to promise me you will tell her as soon as you feel up to it. This isn’t something you should have go through alone.” I look her in the eyes and nod my head. She smiles and leaves closing the door behind me. As soon as I'm sure she’s gone I grab my suitcase and start to stuff my things in it. I have to get out of here. She’s going to tell Amy, I know it. I repeat over and over to myself.

“Go tell Amy what you saw you punk ass wannabe.” I mutter under my breath. “Make yourself feel better and think that you’ve somehow saved me from myself.” I hurry out of the bathroom and grab all my other things. Making sure I have everything I take off out the window. I grab onto the ladder and pull myself over. When I hit the pavement I take off running. Tear stream steadily down my face and I can barely make out the road in front of me. I run faster then I’ve ever run before. Running from the demeaning looks, the pity and the fake understanding. My legs burn and my years of smoking slows me down. I run into an alley way between two office buildings and bump into a wall. I gasp for air not only because of the distance I ran but to stop the sobs that rack my body. I slide down the wall and pull my knees to my body hugging myself. I softly sob as I realize that my dreams of a new life were shattered. That I can’t go back to that place. That I can never look Alex, Amy, Michael or Liz in the face again.

I don’t know how long I sit here for but when I finally calm down enough to take in my surroundings it’s dark. I groan but stay where I am, too emotionally drained to move. I hear footsteps coming down the street and stiffen. As they get closer I subconsciously hold my breath not wanting to be found but left alone to wallow in my self-loathing state of mind. I swallow harshly when the person reaches the opening of the alley. I don’t look over, keeping my eyes to the ground. The person stops and I turn my head the other way. I hold myself tightly and try to disappear into the brick wall behind me.

“Maria?” A familiar husky voice whispers down the alley way. My body shivers at the sound of his voice. I ignore the reaction he has on me and turn to my side curling up. He gently walks forward and kneels in front of me. He reaches out and brushes my hair from my face. “Maria.” He whispers softly wiping away my tears. I flinch away from his touch. More tears brim behind my eyes. He grips my shoulders and pulls me to his warm body. I try to pull away but he won’t let me. I give up and lean into him enjoying his warmth and his smell. His experienced hands caress my back. Whatever strength I have left evaporates with each small circle he draws with his hand. He picks me up and holds my frail body close to him. I snuggle up close to him and whisper.

“Don’t take me back.” My voice cracks and I blush. He smiles gently and kisses the crown of my head. I smile back and my eyes drift shut. The rocking from each step he takes brings me closer to my usually less then peaceful sleep. As I drift off completely I mumble. “Michael.”

Sighing I snuggle deeper into the warm blankets that surround me. I smile a soft smile at the feeling of complete relaxation that washes over me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. I relish it, not wanting it to end. The bed dips and I stiffen. Someone leans in close and I feel their warm breath on my neck.

“Hey sleeping beauty.” Michael whispers sending shivers though my body. I roll over and stare up at him my eyes hazed from sleep. I glare at him and he smirks. “What no thank you Michael?” he asks feigning shock

“I didn’t need your help.” My voice is raspy and I blush with embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to notice and breaks into a slightly righteous rant.

“Funny from were I stood you were curled up in an alley way barely able to keep your eyes open let alone stand. Sides I wasn’t about to let you to sleep in the alley.” He reasons leaning back against his headboard.

I roll my eyes and mumble, “Wouldn’t be a first.” I curl up, wrapping my arms around my knees, pulling them close to my chest.

“What?” he looks down at me.

“Nothing.” I try and ignore the look on his face. He heard me but for some reason chooses to ignore it. “Look I didn’t need your help. I'm a capable girl and I can take care of myself.” I stare up at him daring him to respond. He does. Quickly he reaches down and rips my arm out from underneath the warm blankets. He pulls my sleeve down revealing my scars. I gasp and try to tear my arm away.

“Like you’ve been doing?” He asks me poignantly. I glare up at him my eyes brimming.

“Fuk you!” I manage to tear my arm away and I scramble to get off the bed. I pull my sleeve down and grip it tightly. I turn to glare at him and he stares back his face expressionless. “Liz told you didn’t she.” I seethe trying to ignore the quiver in my voice and in my body. He doesn’t respond. “That bytch!” I mumble and head for the door. I open it for a split second before Michael’s large hand comes barreling down, slamming it shut. An animalistic and almost primal hiss escapes my mouth.

“Get off.” I mumble through clenched teeth trying desperately to calm myself down.

“No.” He stares me down. Looming over me trying to intimidate me.

“Get off!” My voice is a little more forceful.

“Where you gonna go huh? You don’t know Roswell. You’d get lost.” He reasons and I roll my eyes.

“Then I guess I get lost. What’s it to you anyway?” subconsciously my head lightly bobs to each word and I know I probably look like a wannabe Jerry Springer guest.

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt Maria and I wanna help you.” His voice softens.

“You wanna help me then let me go.” I whisper softly in a desperate attempt at getting him to let me go. To forget me and move on.

“I can’t do that.” He whispers back.

“Why the hell not!” I cry harshly and get up in his face, completely forgetting my strategy as anger rises in me.

“Because I care about you!” He cries back and I stare at him in disbelief.

“You don’t even know me.” I snarl not believing for a second that this boy I had only met once could ever care about me.

“I want to.” He whispers softly. I shake my head at him.

“You don’t wanna know me Michael. You just wanna fuk me.” He flinches visibly at my harsh words. He opens his mouth to protest but I won’t let him. “That’s the only reason I'm here isn’t it. The only reason you kissed me in the park. You just wanna jump my fuking bones.” I step closer and press my body against his. He groans and looks away from me. “You wanna know what its like to be inside of me? Then take me Michael.” I touch his chest and his breath becomes labored. I smirk and run my hand slowly down his chest. “Toss me on your bed and have your way with me.” My voice drops becoming husky. I bring my hand down and cup him through his pants. He gasps and for a moment lets himself feel me toughing him. I lean up and whisper in his ear. “You know you want to.” At my words he grabs my hand and brings it up.

“Stop it Maria.” He looks me in the eyes.

“Why? It’s what you want isn’t it.” I snap. He opens his mouth to protest. “Oh come on!” I cry. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. What it’d be like to toss me on your bed and fuk my brains out.” He sighs and closes his eyes.

“I have but…” I interrupt him.

“Do it, then let me go please.” I plead with him bringing my lips to his in a passionate almost violent kiss. He groans again and grips my wrist tightly pulling me to him. I brush my tongue against his lips asking for entrance. He pauses for a moment then releases me keeping his grip on my wrist. I stare at him confused.

“Not like this.” He whispers warmly.

“What you don’t want me? Am I not good nough for you?” Tears brim my eyes and I stare at him blankly.

“Stop it Maria!” he cries out in angry pulling me close again. “I do want you,” he caresses the side of my face. “But not like this. I wanna getta know you. I want you to get to know me. I don’t wanna fuk you. I wanna make love to you.”

I scoff, “There’s no such thing as love, Michael. Love is just another petty excuse for people to go around hurting each other.” A lone tear slides down my cheek. “If you don’t fuking want me, then let me go.” I beg.

“I can’t and I won’t Maria. Your staying here, if I have to tie you to a chair then I will but I will not let you go.”

Anger rises in me and I wrench my wrist from his hand. “You asshole! This is fuking kidnapping. The moment you let me go I'm going to the cops!” He groans in frustration and moves towards me. I step back. “Don’t. Get the fuk away from me.” Tears brim my eyes again. I feel myself being slowly drained. I let out a sob and fall to the floor my legs no longer willing to hold my sorry ass. I let out another sob as I rock back and forth. Michael’s blurred figure comes into view as he kneels down in front of me. He reaches out to touch me and I flinch back. “Don’t touch me.” My voice is racked with sobs. My arms encircle myself, my hands gripping at my shirt as my mind tries to grip at reality. I feel my sanity spill out with every tear that I shed. Michael reaches out to me and flinch back again screaming for him not to touch me. I mumble incoherently. My words only making sense to myself. “Too much…too soon…not supposed ta…not supposed ta be this way…wasn’t supposed ta be like this…” Michael reaches for me again and I try to jump back but a wall stops me. “No…” I mumble as Michael pulls me to him. “No…Nonono!” I sob over and over again. I fight him as best I can, swatting his chest weakly.

“Shh…it’s ok.” He whispers, my last ounce of strength vanishes as he grips me tightly pinning my arms between our bodies. All I can do is sob, my tears soaking his shirt. He whispers comforting words as he absently caresses my back. His soothing ministrations combined with his charismatic voice lulls me. My eyes remain open and dull, silent tears trickling down my face. Michael pulls back and looks at me with concern. He brushes my hair away from my face. “Maria, look at me.” He tries to coax softly. I stay trained on the wall in front of me. “Maria, baby, look at me.” He whispers caressing my face. I can’t look at him. Not after braking down like that. What would I see in his eyes? Fear at my obvious insanity? Disgust? I feel him lean in close to my ear and I shiver involuntarily at the sensation of his warm breath. “Please.” He begs softly. I gulps and turn my head even further away from him. He sighs and rests his forehead on my shoulder.

“Sorry.” I mumble and close my eyes tightly as another round of tears hit me. Michael’s head snaps up.

“What? Why?” I bit my bottom lip and shake my head. He sighs in frustration again. He reaches out and gently turns my head towards him. I don’t fight him but I also don’t look at him. He tilts my head up and forces me to look at him. I gasp at the look of concern in his eyes. I look away quickly before I start to cry again.

“For this. Yelling at you, crying like a baby, acting like a psychotic maniac.” He pulls me to him hugging me and I find myself relax into him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Maria. You can yell at me anytime you want and cry in my arms whenever you want, sides your such a cute psychotic maniac.” He teases his lips brushing against my cheek. I can’t help but giggle but I sober the moment his lips touch my cheek. It’s now that I notice how close we really are. His legs are crossed Indian style and I sit in the center, my legs drape over the side of his left leg. His arms wrap around my waist holding me close to him at a slight angle so that I'm practically facing him. I look back at him and gulp at how close our faces are. Our breaths mingle together and an ache builds in my lower stomach. An ache and need for something. Something I’ve never truly wanted in my life. Sure I’ve desired pleasure but never once had I desired it to be given to me by someone else. I’ve always been too afraid to ever let anyone close enough but as I stare into these deep chocolate brown eyes I find myself leaning in to capture his lips with my own. I moan at the feel of his soft velvet lips that press against mine. I don’t move just hold my lips there. He stiffens at first then relaxes. As if sensing I wasn’t truly ready for more then this he doesn’t move either.

I pull back and lick my lips. He caresses my lower back a silent message for me to take my time. I smile gratefully and breath deeply. I swallow hard and lean in again. This time I move my lips gently against his. He mirrors me, never going further, letting me lead, giving me control. I pull back again and rest my forehead on his. I can feel his shaky breath on my face and I know that mine is the same.

“Your shaking.” He whispers softly. I smirk.

“So are you.” He chuckles and holds me close, kissing the base of my neck. I shiver and marvel at the feeling of being in his arms. “This is so unreal.” I whisper, too lazy to talk normally.

“Why’s that?” he whispers back against my shoulder.

“It sounds stupid but…I’ve never done this before.” I hide my face in his should, blushing.

“Done what?” He holds me tighter.

“This,” I turn my head and rest on my cheek. “The kissing, the holding, the hole breaking down in front of someone.” I pull back and look him in the eyes. “I’ve always had to be strong. Least in front of people. Mother used to say that to show emotion is to show your weaknesses. People pray on your weaknesses.” He sits and listens quietly, gently rubbing my back encouraging me to open up to him. I close my eyes as memories of Mother ‘praying’ on me when I showed my weaknesses. I open my mouth to continue but close it quickly as my bottom lip starts to quiver. He pulls me close again.

“Your aloud to cry, Ria. It’s your right and you should never be ashamed of doin it.” I smile at the nickname, then snicker. “What?” he looks at me confused.

“Doin it.” I giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“Well aren’t you the closet gutter girl.” He remarks smiling. I pause and look at him.

“I blame it on you.”

“Me?”

“Yup.”

“Why?” I smile at the confused look that crosses his face. I lean in slowly and brush my lips against his lightly then pull back.

“That’s why.” I say seriously. He chuckles and pulls me back to him kissing me gently. I open my mouth in an open invitation. He accepts it, darting his tongue out to brush against mine. I groan. Never had something felt so wonderful. I grip his shirt in both hands pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. We both groan and his arms pull me close. I run my right hand up and into his hair the other wrapping around his waist. I moan again and again as our tongues battle for domination. The need for something more drives me to get up on my knees and turn to straddle him. He groans letting go of my mouth and kissing a trail down my neck and to my ear sucking on the lobe.

“Oh god.” I breathe, closing my eyes and grinding my pelvis into his. His teeth dig gently into my lobe. I gasp and grip his shoulders. He lets go of my ear and his hands grip my hips preventing me from doing it again. I open my eyes and look at him my brows furrow as my chest rises and falls rapidly. He pushes me up a little as he gets on his own knees. He stands and I'm forced to stand up. I look at him in puzzlement.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping.” He whispers holding me at arms length.

“You…You don’t have to.”

He smiles sadly and caresses my cheek. “Yes I do. Your not ready,” I open my mouth to argue but he silences me. “You shaking like a leaf and I can see the spark of fear in your eyes Maria. No matter how hard you try and hide it.” I sigh in defeat and drop my head.

“I'm…” I start but she stops me buy covering my mouth with his hand.

“Don’t.” He orders me warmly. I nod my head still feeling like I had let him down. “Lets get some coffee.” He offers grabbing my hand and starting to pulls me out of his room.

“Not that I don’t mind coffee, I love coffee but I thought I wasn’t aloud to leave?” He turns to me and smirks.

“Smart ass.”

“Well I try.” He laughs.

“Promise not to run?”

“Cross my heart hope to die.” I say seriously slightly emphasizing the word die. He doesn’t seem to notice and pulls me out of his room.

Life is so confusing. One moment it feels like the whole world is falling out from underneath me. Collapsing under the weight of my heavy burdens. And just when I think there is no end to my spiraling downfall. A ledge appears out of nowhere catching me. Saving me for the moment from the inevitable. And it is inevitable. This, whatever it is that’s going on between me and this spiky headed boy, wasn’t going to last. Good things never last. I know that soon this ledge underneath me will crumble and once again I will free fall into the black abyss below.

I sigh inwardly not wanting to alarm the gorgeous boy sitting across from me chatting away eagerly. I pretend to listen, hearing his voice but not paying attention to the words.

“Maria?” My name rolling off his tongue, breaks me out of my stupor.

“Yeah?”

“Have you even been listening?” I open my mouth, ready to lie but close it shaking my head with guilt.

“I'm sorry.” He leans over reaching for my hand. I pull back before he can touch me. A look of confusion and hurt crosses his face but disappears quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he stares at me, his dark eyes trying desperately to read me. I swallow hard.

“Nothing, I’m just…thinking.” I look away from him and down at my black coffee.

“About?” I shrug indifferently. I want to tell him but the words won’t form. What would I tell him? What could I tell him? I sigh out loud and stand up.

“Where ya goin?” he stands up as well.

“Bathroom.” I mumble heading towards the washrooms, not waiting for a reply. Walking down a long thin corridor the red exit sigh catches my attention. I glace back towards the restaurant and without second thought I push open the door and step out back. I grab a smoke quickly and try and light it. I stare at the flame flickering violently. I close my eyes trying desperately to ignore the fact that my hand is shaking. The need for something stronger then nicotine rises in me, forming a knot in my stomach.

“No.” I mumble through clenched teeth. Willing my hand still, I light the smoke quickly. I fill my lunges urgently, sucking in the toxic smoke to the point that my lunges scream for air. I relent long enough to breathe before I take another long deep drag. A content smile crosses my lips as my fingers start to tingle and I'm over come with dizziness and vertigo. I moan in pleasure and lean back against the wall. I lose myself in the feeling, allowing it to consume me. If only it could. If only I could disappear into oblivion and never have to deal. I don’t want to be here when things go downhill. I don’t want to be here period. I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. My instincts take over. I grab the hand that touched me squeezing it almost to its breaking point. I here a grunt as I twist the arm around and ram the person against the wall.

“Jesus Maria!” Michael’s raspy voice resonates in my ears.

“Oh my god…” I gasp shoving off him and stumbling back into the opposite wall. I stare at him in shock as he turns around in obvious pain. I glare at him. “What the fuk was that?!” I cry out angrily.

“I believe that’s my line.” He says massaging his hand. His voice considerably quieter than my own.

I roll my eyes, “I'm sorry but you shouldn’t have snuck up on me like that.”

“I don’t think calling your name three times is considered sneaking.” He retorts cracking his neck.

“I didn’t hear you call my name, Michael.” I say snobbishly.

“Course not, you were too busy mackin’ with your cigarette.” He grins pushing off his wall and coming to stand in front of me.

“Did it make you jealous?” I lean in seductively and take a deep puff blowing it in his face. He grimaces and blows the smoke away. Before I can react he takes the smoke from me, bringing it to his luscious lips holding it like you would a doobie. He too takes a puff and blows it out sideways. Bracing himself on the wall behind me, he leans in closer and whispers in my ears.

“Insanely.” His voice sends shivers down my spine. I hate that he can do that to me. That he has that control over me. I shake my head and duck under his arm. I walk away then turn to look at him. He leans his back against the wall and takes another drag before handing it back to me. I take it, glaring. “We gotta talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“Well we gotta. You’re gonna have to go back, Maria.”

“Back? No! Why the hell should I?”

“Because she’s your guardian.” He reasons.

“Fuk that. She’s only my guardian cause Mother dearest didn’t want me anymore. I had no say in it. I was carted off to the fuking middle of nowhere. Well this time its my decision and I'm deciding that I’m not going!” I glare at him.

“Amy doesn’t know...” he trails off allowing me to draw my own conclusion.

“You…didn’t tell her?” He shakes his head and I sigh in relief. “That doesn’t change my mind Michael. Just because she doesn’t know doesn’t mean I'm just gonna go running back.”

“Maria…” he sighs, “What are you gonna do? Live on the streets? Eat out of dumpsters?” he asks pushing off the wall.

I shift nervously “I was kinda…hoping…I don’t know that I could… stay with you?” I manage to get out. I look away quickly afraid of the rejection that might be written all over his face. I hear him step towards me. I want to step back. Get away from him and his touch. A touch that makes me feel, when I all I want is to be numb again. He takes my hand and I let him. The strength to pull away, fleeting.

“Maria,” His voice is soft and gentle and I know that he’s getting ready to turn me down. I yank myself away from him.

“Forget it. I'm sorry I asked.” I mumble heading back inside. He grips my elbow, pulling me back.

“It’s not that I don’t want you there.” He confesses.

“Then what is it?” I ask feigning indifference.

“My dad, our dad would never agree with it. Sides you have to go back to Amy.” His hand covers my mouth before I can protest. “She’s your family and she loves you. She’d be devastated if you didn’t. I know that you don’t want to but can you please think about her instead of yourself. Just give her a chance. She might surprise you and I think she can help you too.”

I gently push his hand away. “Maybe I don’t wanna be helped? Maybe I like it the way it is?”

“I don’t believe you do. Why would you hide them unless you were ashamed? I think you’ve been hurt, are hurting and you’ve gotten so used to it you don’t know anything else. You eat, breath, and sleep with it.” I curse myself as more tears course down my face. I close my eyes at the soft caress of his calloused hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. “I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, cause I honestly don’t. And I can’t fathom why you do what you do but I'm willing to listen and I'm willing to help you stop.” My eyes pop open and once again my cynacism takes over.

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.”

“There has to be. No one does anything with out a reason. I don’t get it. I don’t get you or Liz or Alex.” I step away from him leaning against the wall. He stands there in shock and confusion. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it quickly. “What do you people want from me?”

“Your friendship’s all I want.” He whispers stepping closer, “and maybe later on something,” he takes my face in his hands, tracing my lips with his thumb. I shiver involuntarily, “more.” He breathes leaning, capturing my lips with his. I forget my hatred over the control he has with me, eagerly wanting to lose myself in him. Wanting to forget about the world around me as I try to devour him. My hands run through his oddly soft hair as I open my mouth granting him access. His strong arms encircle my waist pulling me to him. We both groan at the pleasure of full body contact. Him warm body pushes me against the wall gently. I feel him pressed against my thigh and gasp. A familiar emotion builds in me. One of fear, disgust, hatred and pain. Such horrible pain. Tears start to course down my face as I numbly allow Michael to ravage my neck. Bile rises to my throat but I swallow it. I feel myself start to shake and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You’re shaking.” He whispers detaching himself from my neck and pulling back slightly. The moment he does I fly away from the wall into the middle of the alley. I hold myself as the tears cascade down my face. “Maria?” his voice is full of concern and confusion.

“I'm sorry.” I mumble turning to walk away. He grabs me and pulls my back to him. His arms mimic my own. I don’t struggle just wanting to be held as silent sobs rack through my body.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers in my ear.

“I'm so sorry.” I mumble again.

“Don’t be. Just tell me what happened. Please.” I shake my head. “Did I do something wrong? I mean did I hurt you?”

“No! it’s not you Michael, its me. I'm fuked up. ” I laugh bitterly. I step away from him wiping away my tears.

“What?”

“All I seem to do is cry when I'm around you.” I laugh again. “You must think I'm such a baby.”

“No.” He steps closer but the look in my eyes causes him to stop. Realizing I need my space he offers it to me. “I don’t think that at all. I just think you’ve been bottled up for too long.” I don’t respond, my hands playing nervously with the sleeves of my shirt. “Maybe I should take you back to Amy’s.” I look up about ready to protest but give up my shoulders slumping. I nod my head as I following him to his car.

Staring at the brick wall that makes up the back of the Crashdown my mind travels back to the alley. I haven’t been able to look at him, ashamed of how I reacted. It was so just so inane and stupid of me. He thinks I'm a freak I know it. I am a freak. A pathetic freak who can’t even handle a kiss. God that kiss. It was so…Just thinking about it causes me to groan inwardly. The passion behind his movements. The intent in his hands as they roamed my back, causing goosebumps in his wake. I shudder and turn to look out the window.

Michael sits behind the wheel, waiting patiently for me to dredge up the courage to walk in the backdoor. I'm such a wuss. I haven’t even undone my seatbelt yet. I just sit here like a moron waiting for the car to magically back up and get as far away from here as possible. He probably thinks I'm crazy too. Why wouldn’t he? He has every reason to. I subconsciously pull my sleeves down tightly, nibbling my bottom lips.

Michael’s hand inches across and gently grips mine. I jerk away from him. Anger builds in me. My nose flares and I rip my seat belt out. I shoot out of the car, slamming the door shut in anger. Anger at myself for all the stupid things I’ve been doing to myself and others. Anger at him for being so nice to me when all I’ve done is bytch. I hear him get out, griping about his precious car door. I ignore his rant and barge into the backroom, beelining for the stairs. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Liz spot me from the other side of the kitchen window. I groan as she rushes to catch me. I get four steps in before she does.

“Maria! Wait!” I roll my eyes and stop not turning to look at her.

“What?” I snarl. She ignores my obvious anger taking my hand and pulling me down the steps. I shake her off and glare at her. She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I'm sorry ok but I had to tell him. I had no choice and I'm sorry.” She says with earnest.

“You done?” my voice is coarse and harsh. I can’t believe she’s trying to apologize. I want so badly to just hit her. Wipe that deceiving mushy caring look off her face.

“Maria, please.” Her eyes convey her desperation through her layers of black eyeliner and dark eye shadow. I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the emotions there and shake my head at her.

“Go to hell.” I state calmly and turn to go back up the stairs. I hear Michael enter through the back door. As I turn the corner I catch a glimpse of Michael comforting Liz. His arm wrapped around her feminine shoulders. My stomach clenches. My reaction only adding to my disgust with myself. I stalk towards my room and shut the door behind me not bothering to make sure it closes. I don’t waist time with walking around the bed, instead walking over it and into the bathroom. My knees give way and my vision becomes clouded with white porcelain and the sight of my own bile slowly turning the clear water dirty. I don’t feel the contents of my stomach rising up my throat. I don’t feel the tears streaming down my face nor the cold penetrating my jean-clad knees.

When it finally stops I blindly reach for the handle barely able to push it down. I fall back, all energy I once possessed swirling away with what little food I’ve eaten in the last few days. I stare numbly at the bowl entranced by two crimson streaks on both sides of the bowl. A stinging sensation in my hands causes me to look down and notice for the first time the array of half moons imprinted into my skin. Blood slowly trickles from the open wounds. My stomach jerks and I lurch forward gripping the bowl again. I let out a strangled cry as something acidic scorches my throat. Bright orange liquid swirls with the water and my tears flow freely.

Something warm encircles my waist. A gentle hand pulls back the small strands of hair that had freed itself from my ponytail. I don’t have time to dwell on the stranger, my stomach continuing to contort until even my stomach acid is depleted and I’m left dry heaving. Nothing comes from my mouth but a harsh hacking sound. The strange arm pulls me back, away from the retched bowl and against their chest. I close my eyes trying to calm myself. I barely feel soft lips press against my head in a caring jester. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my heart beating erratically. I don’t bother to wipe my watery face. I don’t care that someone is holding me, caressing my hair back and I don’t care that I sit here vulnerable. I don’t want to care but my mind slowly starts to betray me. Bringing back memories of what felt like a lifetime ago but in reality happened only yesterday. Memories of Liz holding me on the floor wile I cried.

I try to lift myself up and away from the comforting embrace but my limbs won’t obey. I sigh in anger and frustration. Nothing is under my control anymore. The arm around me tightens and I'm slowly helped up and led to my bed. As soon as I hit the soft haven I curl up, lapsing into a state of numbness. Blessed numbness. The bed dips and warm arms pull me onto a lap. I go willingly closing my eyes as the gentle hand caresses my hair back. A soft feminine hum registers in my ears. Curiosity makes my look up. I shoot up and away from the stranger. I let out a yelp at the falling sensation that hits me. I grunt as carpet meets back.

I gasp trying to catch my breath. My chest constricts struggling to breathe. I crawl back as Amy advances on me. “Stay… away.” I let out coarsely. She stops, obeying me. Even still I can’t help but back up until I run out of carpet. I lean against the wall heavily still gasping. I can’t look at Amy. Instead I stare at the floor. Slowly, breath by breath, I calm down.

“You okay?” Amy’s gentle probing voice breaks through the silence. I swallow a lump in my throat and nod my head, unable and unwilling to speak. “Are you sick?” I shake my head yet I wish I were. Amy sighs and sits on the floor making sure to keep her distance. “Are you high?”

"What?!" I snap my head up and look at her with shock..

“Sorry but I have to ask.”

“I can’t believe you would ask me that.” My throat still sore, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I have every right to Maria. It’s my parental right.” Amy reasons.

“You're not my mother.” I spit out.

“No I’m not but I am responsible for you.” I stare at her seething with anger.

“Go to hell.” I mumble. “I am nothing like Mother,” the word rolls off my tongue harshly, “I’ve watched her and many others ruin their lives with that sh!t. There’s no way in hell I would ever touch it let alone use it.” I use the wall to hoist myself up. I ignore her and storm out of my room as fast as I can on my unstable and uncooperative legs. Before I can reach the stairs she grabs my arm. I turn and glare, ready to fight her off if the need be. The warmth in her eyes stomps on those thoughts, breaking them.

“Living room.” She orders softly. I sigh and drag my feet to the large over stuffed couch. I flop down hard in anger but also in exhaustion. She takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. Neither one of us speak, letting the silence take over. Fidgeting with my sleeves again I take in the living room for the first time. Earthy is the only descriptive word that comes to mind. Every color, every object looks like they’d been taken right out of a forest and merged into this tiny apartment.

“I'm sorry that I hurt you Maria but I had to ask.” I open my mouth to protest but she stops me. “What was I supposed to think? You said you aren’t sick. I had every right to ask but now that I know I'm sorry.” She was right. As much as I hate to admit it if I found my teenage niece puking in the bathroom and she wasn’t sick I probably would have asked the same question. I sigh and nod my head. “Wanna tell me why you were in the bathroom puking?” I shake my head. Amy sighs again and I decide in this moment that I hate the sound. It’s a sound of disappointment. Disappointment with me. A sound that means I’ve upset her. I have no right to upset her. “Fine.” She trails off and silence takes over again. A silence broken only by the sounds of people downstairs enjoying their lunch in the café. “The next time you go and sleep over at a friends house you tell me first.”

I stare at her in shock and I nod my head. She knows? But how? A thousand unanswered questions mull around in my head.

“I don’t have many rules but the ones that I do have I take very seriously. I’m giving you a get outta jail free card this time but it’s your only one. Understand?” I nod my head. “Good. Did you have fun at Liz’s?” My look of shock grows. I mouth Liz’s name in confusion. Realization slowly dawns on me and my anger with the dark haired girl lessens.

“Yeah, I did.”

“I'm glad you two have hit it off.”

“Yeah.” I force a smile thinking of how well we really were hitting it off. That is until the other day. Amy leans across to take my hands in hers. I pull back.

“I just wanna see your hands sweetie.” I relent letting her examine my wounds. She cringes at the sight. “Do they hurt?” I shake my head. It’s the truth. I barely feel it. I didn’t feel it when it happened either. I’ve become so accustom to pain, forced to at a young age. “Well your lucky I don’t think they’re too deep. Don’t move.” She orders, smiling. She gets up disappearing down the hall. I close my eyes and lean back on the couch. When she returns she takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me and quickly cleans them. My eyes widen in surprise and she places gentle kisses on each palm. I smile my thanks, tears brimming at the kindliness in her actions. She smiles back and folds her hands neatly in her lap.

“Can I ask you a question?” I close my eyes. I hate questions.

“You just did.” I say sarcastically hoping she’d take the hint. She chuckles softly then takes a deep breath.

“Why do you hate me?” I stare at her worried features unsure how to respond. I close my eyes and open them again, looking away from her probing eyes.

“I don’t hate you.”

“It kind of feels like it.”

“Well I don’t.” I mumble.

“Then why can’t you look at me?” I pause, nibbling my bottom lip. I turn and look at her poignantly.

“It’s just…” I take in a shaky breath. “You have to understand that…It’s just that, well, you have no idea how much you look like Mother.” Her brows furrow then slowly smoothes out. Her confusion turns to understanding.

“I’m sorry. I never even stopped to think… I'm sorry I made you miss her.” I snort in bitter amusement. She stares at me in shock.

“Miss Mother? Like hell.” I cross my arms. “The only thing I miss about Mother is the easy access to her money and her alcohol.” Amy’s mouth drops and confusion takes over. “Remember the other night when I came in through the back, saw you and freaked?” She nods her head still very confused. I swallow the lump in my throat and force out the explanation that would only cause more questions. “I thought you were Mother…” I trail off sadly. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug myself waiting for her reaction. I watch her stand up and start to pace.

“I should have known.” She mumbles coming to a stop. “I’m so sorry Maria.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”

“No but I let her go knowing what she’s like.” She sits in the chair sadly.

I let out a sigh of frustration. “Amy, I don’t do this often, well ever. It’s not really my thing but you could never have known that Mother would be the way she is. You had no control and you shouldn’t feel guilty. The only guilty party was my Father.” I mumble the last sentence somehow hoping the woman mere feet away wouldn’t hear me.

“I’m sorry about you father.”

“What’s there to be sorry about?”

“Your father was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.” I scoff at her and tighten my hold on myself.

“Father was anything but a good man.”

“That’s not true. I knew your father.” She tries to reason with me and I glare at her.

“We are talking about the same man right? Andrew Moris?” Amy nods her head and I can’t help but let out another curt chuckle. “Andrew, my father, was a alcoholic, drug addicted hustler. He dealt drugs, stole cars, stereo equipment, you name it he dealt it. And now his maggot infested corpse is six feet under where it belongs.” I whisper harshly resting my forehead on my knees.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then you’re just a little too naïve for your age.” I mumble into my knees, not caring if she heard or not.

“Do you even remember your father?” She asks still not believing. I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I remember plenty. I remember all the times I’d find him lying on the couch passed from whatever sh!t he’d digested. It was worse when I was little cause I didn’t understand, I used to think that he was hurt or worse yet, dead. But I grew accustom to it. I remember having to lie not only to angry customers but also to the cops, when they’d come around looking for him and I remember having a gun pointed at my head cause my father tried to play an insane mobster!” With each passing word my voice gets louder and harsher to the point that I'm practically screaming at her. I stand up, my heart on overdrive. I stare down at my aunt. She stares back in shock, her face pale. I walk away from her to a window. I lean my forehead on the cool glass. “Don’t get me wrong, he was an almost decent father. He treated me good, when he was there, which was rare.” I whisper sadly, one silent tear breaking free.

“Oh Maria.” She whispers and moves to take me in her arms. I shrug her off taking a step towards my room. “Maria?” she calls after me. When I get to my door I turn my head to look at her. I give her a half smile before stepping inside and closing it.

With gentle hands I tie my wavy hair in a loose knot letting it fall against the nape of my neck. Small strands slip free falling carelessly, framing my face. Meticulously I draw dark circles around my eyes covering them in a black haze. I stare at my now extremely pale face caused by the deep contrast to my dark eyes. I pull my baggy jeans down until they’re barely holding onto my slender hips. A black knitted sweater filled with tiny holes baring more pale flesh to the naked eye but not enough to be considered revealing, follows. I add chains to neck, wrists and pants creating my own look. Unique to only myself.

I stare at the finished project and smile at its perfection. I take comfort in the achievement. My appearance, the only thing controllable in my life. The one thing left that I and I alone can manipulate. The need for some control in my life is almost defining. I once had that control but with every passing day more and more of it’s taken from me. I never wanted to be here yet here I am. I never wanted to divulge my secret, my shame yet now three people know. I can’t even control myself, my actions, my body. It’s frightening. I want it back. I want to take control back. This is my life and I want to live it how I want.

Taking a deep breath I grab my bag and head downstairs. Amy waits for me there, smiling. I stop for a moment almost smiling back.

“Coffee?” Emotionless. Good. That’s good. Keep detached. She points to the large coffee maker. I get there in record time pouring my black friend into a small mug. I take a sip and hiss as it scorches my lips.

“So you ready for your first day?” Amy asks as I take a seat at the counter. I nod my head and take another sip allowing the hot liquid to burn my tender lips. Inwardly my eyes roll as Amy takes a hesitant breath. “I like your outfit.”

“Liar.” I smirk and sip again, the stinging sensation fading.

“Well,” she chuckles, “It’s just different. But a good different.” She gives me reassurance that I don’t need.

“That’s the idea.” I mumble.

“So, need a ride?”

“Nah, I’m gonna walk.” I look up in time to see slight disappointment flash across her features. “You can drive me, if you want.” The words come spilling out of my mouth before I can even think. Amy’s face brightens.

“Okay.” She giggles a little and grabs her keys from under the counter. She heads for the back calling for me to follow.

“So much for taking control.” I mumble getting up reluctantly and downing the last of my coffee. I pull my head phones on before getting in the car. Time always seems to pass quicker with my music blaring. I close my eyes letting the melodic sound off Korn drown out reality. I open my eyes for a split second when the car hits a bump.

“What the…Where are we going?” I ask, sitting up and turning off my music.

“Picking up Liz.” She informs me. At the mention of Liz’s name I curse under my breath and turn to look out the window. I can handle this. I just have to stay in control. Somehow.

In a matter of minutes Amy pulls in front of a large apartment complex and honks her horn. Five minutes later the back doors open and the three girls pile in. I don’t even bother to look up at them pretending to be intent on something in front of me.

“Tess, Isabel.” Amy exclaimed happily. “What a nice surprise! Maria,” I close my eyes in regret and look at her cautiously. “I’d like you to meet Tess and Isabel, girls this is my niece, Maria.” I glance back and am greeted by three smiling faces. I ignore Liz’s smile and concentrate on the two blondes. I nod in their direction. My eyes drift to the smaller of the two and the obvious bulge on her stomach. She smiles at me and reaches her hand out to me.

“I'm Tess, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet. I stare at her hand not taking it. She frowns and pulls it back placing it protectively over her stomach. I look to the other one and am met by an angry glare. I glare back instinctively. What the fuks her problem? I ask myself and turn back to face the front. Amy, clueless to the interaction pulls back onto the road.

I hate people. The whole process of meeting new people. Having to play nice. Forced to smile, shake hands and share useless information about your stupid lives. Having to pretend to listen as they tell you about their boring day. It can be fun too I guess. Make them feel uncomfortable trying to strike up a conversation with an unresponsive me. I giggle a little and turn up my music. Giggling feels good. It qualms my nerves. First days are always so stressful. Worrying about stupid crap like how do I look? Will they like me? Will I get homework on my first day? I don’t care too much about the first two. My only aspiration is to stay low and go unnoticed from the heard of beasts we call cliques. Keep to myself. That’s the rule. Less chance of having to deal with the dreaded small talk with a bunch of pimply faced geeks, blond bimbo’s or stupid jocks wanting to see if they can jump the new girl’s bones. Stupid High School infrastructure hierarchy. I let out a breath of frustration. So much for calming down. All I’ve succeeded in doing is hyping myself up even more.

After ten more minutes of driving we finally reach the school. I get out as quickly as possible trying to get as far away from the imminent confrontation with Liz. I close the door and walk briskly towards the building. Out of nowhere Liz appears in front of me. I glare and push her out of my way. Her sweaty calloused hand grips my arm roughly. I cringe slightly, her grip pushing on an older not quite healed wound. With her free hand she pulls my head phones down.

“What the fuk’s your problem!” I scream at her in reflex to the pain she accidentally inflicts, getting in her face. She doesn’t back down and smirks sadly. “Amy’s calling thought I’d let you know.” Her voice is harsh and almost spiteful. Through the strong façade she broadcasts tears well up.

“Thank you.” I respond just as harshly, ignoring my own brimming tears. I brush past her, my shoulder knocking purposely against hers. I hear her snort in disbelief and can’t help but frown. I'm being a child but I can’t forgive her. Not yet and maybe not ever. The sinking feeling, that by the time I do decide to forgive her it’ll be too late, hits me. I ignore it and walk over to the passenger door of the Jetta, its window down all the way. I lean on the door with a defiant and rebellious look on my face. Amy looks at me with question but doesn’t voice it instead asks me gently if I needed money for lunch. I shake my head mumbling something about not being hungry.

“You need to eat Maria. I haven’t seen you do it once since you got here.” I sigh in resignation at the concern in her voice. I hold out my hand and take the offered money. She smiles and orders me gently to use it to get something healthy. I nod my head knowing I have no intention of getting anything let alone something healthy.

“Have fun.” She says cheerfully.

“Yeah I’ll do that the day Britney Spears is found face first in the Mississippi.” I mumble and walk towards the school with a slight smirk on my face. The moment I open the doors I'm surrounded by at least a hundred other teens loitering around waiting for class to start. I walk hesitantly toward the office. I notice a small group staring at me and immediately bow my head and train my eyes intently on the floor in front of me. I feel a warm hard body ram into me. Both myself and the other person go flying back in opposite directions.

“Fuk!” I hear a female voice shriek. My own voice lost, I fall helplessly, my eyes squeezed shut waiting for the all too familiar feeling of hitting concrete. Instead the warm sensation of familiar arms encircling my waist barely registers in my mind. I open my eyes in time to watch the other girl get caught in the arms of a dark haired jock in a varsity sweater. The arms around my waist pull me up and hold me close to a warm male body. I look up into a pair of warm unforgettable chocolate brown eyes and blush slightly.

“Hi.” Michael whispers softly into my ear. I keep my reaction hidden from him, covering my excitement with anger. I shrug out of his arms and straighten my sweater. I glare at the blonde who’d hit me while she flirts heavily with the jock who caught her. I shake my head in disgust and pass her by. As I do I mumble viciously, “Watch where your going next time bytch.”

“Excuse me?!” she shouts back grabbing my arm. I snarl and shove her arms off mine.

“Don’t fuking touch me! I don’t wanna risk catching your disease.” I shout back and laugh at the confused look that crosses her face. “You know, ‘Bimbo-itous’.” The girl’s shock turns swiftly to anger and she steps towards me trying in vain to frighten me. I stare her down daring her to do something, anything. Every fiber in my being wanting nothing more to kick some ass.

“Ha, ha. You think you’re smart don’t you?” She seethes. In the background I vaguely hear the bell ring. The crowd disperses until just a small handful is left.

“Smarter than you.” I retort ignoring it.

“What the fuks up with your outfit? You forget to let mommy dress you or did she do it in the dark?” My anger rises at the mention of Mother. My fists clench getting ready to punch the stupid smirk off her bytchy face. Out of nowhere Alex appears at my side and grips my arm.

“Girls, bell rang, gotta get to class.” The jock tries to calm the other girl.

“Courtney, lets just go to class.” Courtney glares at him then back at me.

“No, someone’s gotta teach this hoe some respect.”

I snort in response. “How can someone who doesn’t even respect themselves enough to keep her pants on, teach respect?” I watch with amusement as her nose flares in anger. Alex chuckles which causes me to smirk even more.

“Fuk you!”

“Sorry I don’t fuk outside my species.” My words trigger a flying leap from the blonde. Her hand shoots out to slap me but the dark haired jock pulls her back. She shrieks and a demeaning laugh escapes my lips. Alex grips my wrist gently getting ready to pull me to safety if the need be.

“Max let me go, the bytch is gonna pay.”

The jock’s eyes lock onto something behind me and I glace back. Liz stares back at him, jealousy visible on her face. I look back at Max and he sighs.

“It’s not worth it, She’s not worth it, Court, ” He whispers in her ear and glances at me shame written in his eyes. I glare back angrily. “Come on let’s go.”

“You’re right.” She shrugs him off and takes a step backwards. “She’s not worth the time of day.” With that she turns and walks off. My chest rises and falls as the adrenaline pumps through my veins. I don’t feel the rush anymore. All I feel is pain as the reality of their words actually sinks in.

“You gotta talk to your boy Liz.” Tess’ soft voice rings out somewhere behind me. “He’s gone rank.”

“He was just trying to get Courtney to back off. It didn’t mean fuk all.” Liz says defensively. “Aight?”

“Okay, no need to give me the glare of death.”

“Aight you too, cut it out.” An unfamiliar female voice rings out. I glance back at Izzy. “That was pretty cool.” She mumbles in my direction. I nod my head and a silence falls over all six of us.

“We should get to class.” Liz mumbles and takes off slowly in the other direction than lover boy. The girls follow leaving me and the two boys.

“Can we talk?” Michael asks trying to ignore the fact that his brother is still holding my wrist.

“I gotta get my schedule.” I mumble and head towards the office. I turn to Alex as he walks along side me. He smiles.

“Long time no see huh.”

“Yeah… Why you coming with?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Your gonna need someone to show you to class won’t you?” I’d missed him. Could never tell him that but I had. Being with him somehow makes things better. At least for the moment anyway. His goofy grin is a comfort for me. When we reach the office I receive my schedule and my locker number. Both Alex and I are excused from our first class so Alex can show me around. For the next forty-five minutes we walk in a relative silence only broken so he can explain to me which class is which. The whole time he doesn’t once show signs on knowing or having been told by Liz or Michael.

“So what’s up with you and my brother?”

“What?”

He chuckles softly. “Come on I saw that little interaction, sides I saw you guys leave our place way early this morning.” My cheeks flush and I have to duck my head in embarrassment.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing happened and nothing’s going to happen.” I whisper dejectedly.

“Hey.” He whispers softly and pulls me to him. I surprise myself when I relax into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “You ok?” I take a deep breath and shrug my shoulders.

“I don’t know. I guess I'm still getting used to this place.” I mumble.

“That’s understandable.” His hand caresses my hair soothingly. “I'm kinda confused though.”

“Bout what.”

“You.”

“There’s not much too it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I stare up at him. What’s he talking about? “You’re so quite, which is normal but I sense this amazing girl just waiting to be let out. I’d heard you were getting along with Liz but now… And then there’s my brother. I know there’s something there. I think that’s the part that confuses me. I think that’s just cause he’s my brother though.” I let out a soft giggle. “Then there was the other day on the balcony. Deny it all you want but I saw the unshed tears. I saw the same ones at the bus stop when I first met you, I saw them when you first met Amy, when you got in my truck the other night, I saw them when Max called you unworthy and I see them now.” I take a shaky breath and open my mouth to speak. He covers my mouth with his finger. “It’s ok Maria. You can keep your secrets. I don’t expect you to open up like that. I have only known you for a little over a week. I just want you to know that it’s ok. You can let them fall sometimes.” I shake my head.

“You sound just like Mi…your brother. He said almost the exact same thing,” I swallow roughly, “but I can’t. It’s always a bad idea.”

“Why because it’s a show of weakness?” His voice is full of astonishment.

“Yes and because it causes weakness.” I mumble and bury my face in his shoulder.

“I don’t understand.” I cringe. What do I tell him? The truth? No! I can’t. The bell rings saving me from having to deal witH the question. As the students start to pour into the hall I push off his shoulder.

“I should go to class.” I don’t look him in the eyes. I know that if I do I’d spill about everything.

“Maria.” He chastises me gently.

“I'm gonna go.” I smile sadly pointing in the general direction of my next class. He opens his mouth to protest but I walk away briskly getting lost in the sea of people.

A sharp pain vibrates in my shoulder as the strap of my bag digs in. I shift it, trying vainly and subconsciously to hinder the pain. I walk swiftly out the front doors. The moment fresh air hits me I grab my bag and rummage for my smokes. I bounce up and down in a slightly giddy gesture when my cold fingers wrap around the square box. Fingering around I pull out one long stick. Reaching for my lighter in my back pocket I place the smoke in my mouth. Before I can strike the lighter a familiar voice rings in my ears.

“You might not want to light that here.” I turn around the smoke still in my mouth.

“And why’s that?”

"Not aloud to smoke on school property.” Alex informs me. I groan, my shoulders slumping. He smiles at me. “Don’t worry there’s a smoke pit round back of the school. Or you could just go across the street.” Glancing behind me at the houses across the street. I roll my eyes cursing school regulations under my breath.

“Take me to your smoke pit.” I smirk at him and take the smoke from my mouth stretching my arms out, pretending to wait to be handcuffed. Alex chuckles softly and grabs my arm pulling me towards the front entrance again. He drags me straight through to the back doors. Through the two sets of doors I can see small groups of teens from all different stereotypes standing around. Some had their own and others handed theirs off - drag passing. Alex pushes open the first set of doors for me. I shake my head. I'll never get used to his chivalrous antics. With a smirk on my face I push open the second and last set of doors for him. The moment I open the door a heavenly cloud of smoke comes wafting in. I smile contently.

“Now this is what I’m talking about!” I call to Alex walking over to a corner already in the mist of lighting my smoke.

“You get amused by the weirdest things, Maria.” Alex muses, leaning against the wall next to me. He coughs and I smirk.

“Not a smoker, huh?” I tease taking a long awaited puff. My eyes close as the sensation of fulfillment courses through me.

“Nah, life is short enough.”

“Fuking right.” The words flow from my mouth accented by small spirals of smoke, “Just don’t go preaching the bad effects smoking can have or I’ll be forced to kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah but when you’re dying from some kind of cancer don’t come crying to me.”

“Trust me I won’t.” I mumble taking another drag. We stand silently as I take a few drags.

“So…” Alex mumbles.

“So…” I mimic.

“How was your first few classes in the middle of nowhere?” he says.

I grunt in response.

“That bad?”

“Yeah. Stupid fuking teachers made me ‘introduce’ myself.”

“Shitty deal.”

“No Sh!t. I wouldn’t stand though. Almost got myself kicked outta class for that one.”

“Really?” Alex laughs, “Which teacher??”

“Some ass named Franklin.”

“Oh man, that reeks. How’d you manage not to get booted? The man’s a discipline addict.”

“I dunno, I just sat there and glared at him and he just backed off.”

“I can believe that. Your glare is evil.” He laughs out loud believing he’d made a joke. I let out a fake chuckles and smile for his sake. The truth of the matter is I’m not proud of my glare. I tend to scare people. Most of the time it’s to ward off any unwanted attention but sometimes I find myself doing it even when I don’t mean to. I hate it and I don’t know why I do it? Force of habit I guess.

I wrap my free arm around my waist and take another drag letting my elbow rest on my arm. I happen to glace around just in time to see Liz come stalking towards us. Cursing under my breath I take a few more power drags and snuff my smoke out. I push off the wall and head around the school quickly. I ignore Alex’s calls and curse that Liz’s are closer. I pick up the pace but not soon enough. Liz steps in front of me with a look of determination on her face, matching if not surpassing my own. I try to step around but she steps in front of me again.

“What the hell is your problem!” I scream at her agitated.

“I’m not going to let you do this, Maria.” She shouts back just as forcefully.

“Do what? Distance myself from a lying bitch that doesn’t know how to keep her fuking mouth closed!” her mouth drops in shock. She quickly gathers herself and shouts back at me.

“No, Maria! From ruining our friendship.”

“Wasn’t much of a friendship, now was it?” I seethe.

“You don’t mean that, Maria.”

“I’m pretty damn sure I do.” I push past her storming away.

“Know what I think.” I don’t even bother to turn to look at her as she tries to keep in step with me.

“I don’t give a fuk what you think.”

“Yeah well your gonna anyway.” I gasp when her small hand clasps my arm and jerks me around to face her. Tears spring to my eyes, her index finger tearing the protective shell of a cigarette burn from its secure home. “Here’s what I think. You’re scared.” I shake her off angrily wincing when her nail scratches the exposed flesh wound.

“Fuk you! You don’t know me and you sure as hell don’t know how I’m feeling!”

“You’re afraid Maria! I know you are. You’re afraid of what I saw, of what it means. You’re afraid of what I might think of you because of it. But most of all you’re afraid of letting me in. You’re right, I don’t know you, but that’s not for a lack of wanting or a willingness to try. You won’t let me get to know you. You can’t… and it’s my fault.” Her voice cracks and she takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I reacted the way I did but I… I didn’t know what to do. How does someone react to something like that?” Her gentle words slowly break through my anger. My shoulders slump as I listen to every word, knowing in my heart that she’s right. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper and shaky with emotion. I don’t know what to say. I just watch her as she stands there, her eyes pleading with me. I take a shaky breath of my own.

“So am I.” I whisper back and turn around walking slowly away from her.

“Wait! No! You can’t just say that and turn away from me! This is not a movie, Maria. You can’t just say something and not explain yourself.” I stop and turn back.

“I’m sorry too ok. Happy? Can I go now?”

“Sorry for what?” she asks and I sigh in slight frustration.

“I’m sorry for getting you involved with this. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation and I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way,” She opens her mouth to protest. “You were right before when you said that sh!t 'bout my not letting you get to know me and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m nothing but trouble, Liz. I’m fuked up and I’m definitely not a very good friend. So please don’t waist your time tracking me down and trying to make amends. I don’t want that. I just want things to be normal again. I wanna be left alone and I don’t want to havta deal with any of this.”

“So you’re just gonna go back to ignoring the fact that you have a problem?” She asks incredulously.

“That’s what I want. I know I have a problem but you know what? I don’t care and I’m not going to change. What you saw? It’s part of who I am.”

“I can’t just let you go like that Maria. As much as you may hate to admit it, I care about you. I’m not gonna let you go with out a fight.”

"You're gonna have to." I mutter and walk away. This time I ignore her and don’t stop - getting away as fast as I can without actually running.

My last few classes pass in a numbed haze. My motions and words robotic, my body on autopilot. Blindly I walk to my locker after the last bell. I barely notice my shoulders colliding with other student or the harsh words from Courtney and her clones. I welcome the pain in my shoulders and my heart, I relish in it. Allowing it to consume me. I don’t see Michael leaning against my locker with a devilish smile on his face. When his arms encircle my waist I’m awoken from my sullen state.

“Hey.” He whispers in my ear pulling me to him. I stiffen and push his groping hands from my waist. Ignoring him I open my locker and make quick work of my books. “What’s up with you?” his hand slips in mine and I snap my hand away as if it’d been burned by his touch.

“Nothin’.” I drone out and stuff the books I need in my bag. I close the locker and lock it in one smooth motion. I turn abruptly stalking out of the school. I glance around for the rusty red jetta but come up short. Not wanting to risk another meeting with Michael I start to walk in the direction I figure ‘The Crashdown’ is. I walk briskly. The moment I feel it’s safe I stop and let out a deep sigh. My bag slips off my slumped shoulders coming to rest on the ground. I stare at it envisioning the small zippered compartment, my lighter laying underneath my pack of smokes. My fingers twitch at the thought.

I look around. ‘Could I?’ I sigh, ‘No, not here. Gotta get to Amy’s. Gotta get to my room.’ I take off in a run towards the shelter of my locked room away from prying eyes.

Even though Roswell is a small town it still comes with a few mazes of streets and buildings. I’d ran as fast as I could for as long as I could until I realized I was lost, again. By the time the Crashdown came into view it was almost 5pm. Amy was not going to be happy with me and for some reason that thought actually made me feel bad. Guilty even.

I slip silently through the back door, years of experience with sneaking in and out of Mother’s home coming in handy. I tip toe to the stairs, desperate to get to my room before someone sees me. I grip my bag tightly to my chest as I take them two at a time. My heart beats faster with each mounting step. My door comes into view and my only thought is of the sweet release that’s to come. My eyes swell with unshed tears as tiny shards break off my already broken heart. The reality of what I’m about to do is comforting but at the same time unsettling. Part of me doesn’t want to do this but the part that does is bigger, stronger. My control over the situation is once again ripped from me with the slamming of my door.

I ignore my trembling hands as I unzip my bag and reach into the small compartment on the side. Slipping past my smokes I grasp my lighter, pulling it out. I drop my bag, not seeing where it lands or caring. Without thought the lighter comes to life at the stroke of my thumb. I can’t look at the dancing flame. Instead I keep my eyes firmly implanted on the ceiling. I gasp for breath, my internal struggle taking my breath away. The battle between wanting it and not rages within. I squeeze my eyes shut in a futile attempt at keeping the tears inside, bottled up.

Blindly I pull my sleeve up. I don’t understand why I can’t watch. So many times before I took comfort in watching but this time…I can’t bring myself to open my eyes as my shaky hand approaches my arm. I let the flame go. I feel the heat vibrate off the metal as it hangs over my bare skin dangerously.

“Maria?” My eyes fly open and the lighter slips from my grasp falling to the floor.

“Amy?” my soft broken voice escapes my mouth without warning.

“Are you in there?” Amy’s frustrated and authoritative voice resonates from outside my door. I take a deep breath, trying to control my fast beating heart. Turning around I walk to the door wiping the evidence of tears from my face.

“Yeah,” I let out, stronger than before. I stand in front of the door, hoping beyond all hope that I didn’t look like I’d been crying. After another deep breath I unlock the door and open it.

“Where have you been? I went to pick you and the girls up. The girls were there, you weren’t. We waited for half an hour. You can’t just walk off and do what ever you want. I thought we talked about this. You’re supposed to tell me where you go.”

I stand there, letting her rant before opening my mouth to explain. “I didn’t see you, ok? So I walked home, well tried to anyway. I didn’t quite succeed. Got myself lost…again.” I bow my head in embarrassment. My eyes come to rest on my hands and I notice they’re still shaking. I shove them quickly into my pockets.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know I should have waited but I just wanted to get back here.” I omit the reason why, knowing she'd only ask questions that I’m not willing to answer.

“Bad day at school?” Her voice is calmer now, the hint of concern quite obvious. I smile at her reassuringly.

“Just had a run in with the local bitch. Plus the homework load, I mean damn! On my first day no less.” I ramble walking to my bed. I flop down next to my bag.

“Sounds horrible. End of the world material even.” She smirks.

“Ha, ha. So it’s not as bad as I make it seem but still.” I whine. Amy laughs and steps closer. She stops and I watch in fright as she bends down and picks up my discarded lighter. I open my mouth to let out some lame excuse but she hands it to me smiling.

“Dropped this.”

“Thanks.” My face turns red as I realize that my fears were unwarranted.

“No problem. Come downstairs with me.” I raise my eyebrow.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” She states nonchalantly and walks out of my room. She waits for me patiently at the door. I glance down at the lighter in my hand. For the second time since coming to Roswell I’ve been interrupted. This time, even though a part of me didn’t want this, a pit in my stomach grows with need for it, for the numbness. I sigh and stuff the lighter in my pocket. I follow Amy downstairs and into the backroom. She turns to me and smiles.

“You hungry?” She asks gently.

“Umm not really.” I lie and my stomach protests.

“Come on you have to eat something. For all the days you’ve been here all I’ve seen you consume is coffee and cigarettes. You need to eat.”

“I eat…sometimes.”

“How ‘bout a Will Smith Burger, fries and a coke? It’s on the house.” She offers smiling.

“Minus the burger, downsize the fries, make that a Cherry Coke and you have yourself a deal.” Amy breaks out in a small laugh.

“Half a burger?”

“No way. Not that I have anything against ‘em I’m sure they’re great. I’m just not that hungry.” I reason, overcompensating where there is no need for it. Her eyes narrow playfully,

“Supper size the fries and then we’ll forget about the burger.”

“Fine.” I grumble. She smiles and turns to the kitchen,

“Michael!” My eyes widen and Michael pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Get Maria a big plate of fries please.” She turns back to me, “I have to run out so you’re going to have to rely on Michael here. Let me know if you’re going to go anywhere. Michael has my cell number.” I don’t have time to speak a word before the flighty brunette pushes through the restaurant door. I glance at Michael for a split second before looking around. I can feel his eyes on me as I move to lean against the lockers to wait for my food. The thought crosses my mind to just go back upstairs and forget about it. I realize though that Amy would find out and get pissed at me. My stomach's incessant growling has nothing to do with it; nothing at all.

“You want spicy or normal fries?” Michael asks in his soft sexy voice. I groan inwardly, suppressing the need to attach my lips to his. I shrug my shoulders indifferently.

“Surprise me.” I mumble. He takes a step closer and I stiffen.

“What’s the matter with you today? Did I do something wrong?” I rest my head in one hand. My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose trying to lessen my already growing headache.

“Can we not do this, please?” I beg him, leaning even more heavily into the metal, letting the hinges dig into my back.

“Do what?” he steps closer, uncertain of himself and of me.

“This!” I let out an exasperated sigh. “This whole teen angst drama sh!t. It’s like I can’t go a fuking day without having to deal with some fuking melodrama from you people.” I look at him, the shock in his eyes not fazing me. “For once I’d like to have fun. I wanna ditch the serious sh!t and just…let lose a little.” My voice drops sadly and I lean back. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No, it’s not.” He whispers to me.

“It was rhetorical Michael.” I mumble with a sigh.

“Kyle’s having a party tonight. Wanna go?”

“Kyle?”

“He’s a friend of mine.” I sigh and look at him again.

“I’d rather not. I’ve already made bad impressions on at least half of your little group and Liz and I aren’t exactly getting along.” I try my best to keep my voice sincere and honest, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Yeah, Alex told me about that. He was a little confused on the details though.”

“Did you fill him in?” I snap at him.

“No.” he snaps back. “I wouldn’t do that. That’s up to you and only you.”

“Whatever.” I mumble and push off the wall. “I’m sure they need you in the kitchen now so just run along.”

“What the hell is your fuking problem?” he shouts out of nowhere, shocking me into silence. “One moment you're nice and even joking around and the next you turn into miss bitch.”

“Fuk you, Michael! You wanna know why I am the way I fuking am?” I scream at him, stepping closer.

“Yeah I do.”

“I am the product from years of living at the bottom of the proverbial barrel of life. I am the end result of circumstances beyond my control, forced upon me by the people who were supposed to love me. I’ve been battered, betrayed, taken advantage of, disowned, used up and tossed aside. So excuse me if I find it hard to let myself go when I’m around people! If I tend to guard myself from being hurt. I know rationally that not all people are like the people I’ve been ‘blessed’ to meet in my life but it’s still hard for me. Arg! NO! I don’t wanna do this! Just leave me alone for fuk's sake.” I turn around to head back upstairs. Damn him for making me get like this.

“Maria.” He whispers, exasperated. I turn to glare at him.

“What?” I snap. He steps closer and takes my hand in his. His piercing eyes stare down at me begging me to just hear him out.

“Why don’t you and I rent some movies and chill at my place? Alex will be at the party and my dads off somewhere working.” I stare at him with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t mean that. I’m just saying that you won’t have to deal with others. You can ignore me the whole time if you want and we'll rent the movies you want.” I sigh. His offer is rather temping. Even the part about being alone in his house with just him.

“Can I smoke in your house? I’m not going if I can’t.”

“I guess but only in the basement.”

“Why?”

“The basement's mine. I can do whatever the hell I want to.” He says with a devilish grin. His thumb runs over my hand softly. I let out a small chuckle.

“Booze?”

“I have some vodka.”

“Heh, I was joking ‘bout that one but hey if your offerin’ it’d be rude of me not to accept.”

Michael laughs and pulls me closer. I cringe, for the first time noticing all the grease and grime all over him.

“You're taking a shower first.” I wrinkle my nose and pull away. He laughs again and steps back.

“I get off around six. So I'll get you your fries and if you’re willing you could sit around out front and wait for me.”

I cringe again at the thought of sitting with a bunch of people eating and chatting away. Moving to sit on the couch I respond, “I think I’d rather sit back here.”

“Suit yourself. Now spicy or reg?” He asks on his way back to the kitchen.

“Huh?”

“Your fries doofus.”

“Oh, umm spicy I guess.”

“Coming right up.” He disappears into the kitchen. I lean back into the couch with a small smile of content. Spicy fries sound good, especially to my stomach who has now decided to speak up. “Michael! My cherry coke?” Michael’s smiling face pops out.

“Already taken care of.”

I smile back, “Thanks.”

“No prob.”

Nothing. I guess that’s the word that would describe me right now. Nothing. One word, two syllables, so many meanings. It floats around in my head. In big bold letters, it taunts me. I am nothing. A hollow shell. I feel nothing.

“Nothing…” the word rolls off my tongue softly. As if saying it could dispel it from my mind, I whisper it again and again. A tear of nothing slides down my cheek coming to rest on the tip of my mouth. I catch it on my finger tip, the beautiful spherical shape breaks, spilling over my skin. “Nothing but salt water,” I rasp and wipe it away.

“Whatcha doin’?” Michael appears in front of me. I glance up and take in the water droplets forming at the tips of his long hair.

“Spacing.” I mumble.

“What?” he brings a towel to his hair, dissolving the droplets. I glance away, the spell broken.

“Staring off into space as in ‘Earth to Maria, come in Maria, Houston we have a problem,” I deadpan, leaning on my arm. I feel the couch dip beside me.

“Why?” the cushions jostle as he towels off his hair more.

I shrug, “Don’t ask me.”

He chuckles softly, “Weirdo.”

“Yep.” I am a weirdo. Complete and total.

“Well you wanna watch a movie now that I’m clean and minty fresh?”

I grant him a hollow smile. The word nothing flashes through my mind. “I’m too busy doin nuttin.”

His chuckle vibrates in the air. “I see. I’ve been busy doing nothing all morning.”

“Doin nuttin takes time doesn’t it…Just steals it away. Not that it matters really.”

“Yes it does," he insists, "I had to work all afternoon. Time well spent if you ask me. Made money too.” He chuckled again.

I shudder at the sound and turn to him. He doesn’t understand. “Yet that’s something isn’t it?”

“I guess.” A look of complete confusion engulfs his face at my words.

I ignore it and look away. “Something’s better than nothing though.”

“What? I’m confused. What are we talking about?”

I sigh. “Never mind.” Shaking my head I stand. How could I expect him to understand. He’s just a guy.

He stands up with me, his hand gently pulling my face towards him. “You okay?” he asks.

I stare into his warm brown eyes. “Yeah, why?”

“You seem…I don’t know…distant somehow.” His thumb starts to gently caress my cheek.

I shrug him off. “Spacing, remember.”

“Okay,” his brow furrows but he lets it go. “What do you wanna do?”

I shrug. I don’t really know what I want to do. ‘Nothing’ comes to mind. I groan inwardly. Why won’t the word just leave me alone?

“Do you wanna go home?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. That’s the last thing I want. “Lets just watch a movie,” I finally say.

“All right. I’ll grab the Vodka, you pick a movie.”

I watch as he disappears into his room then grab a cigarette. Lighting it, I search through his movie collection. Guy movie. Guy movie. Guy movie. Ooh Brave Heart. Guy movie? Yes, but a damn good one. I place the smoke in my mouth and pull the first tape out of the case. Typical. I place the tape in and hit the rewind button. Men. I flop on the couch. The thought of watching one of my favorite movies brings a smile to my face.

Michael returns, bottle in hand, and takes the seat next to me. He offers it to me and I surprise even myself when I decline it. I’d set out tonight in the hopes of drowning my thoughts, numbing the sense off despair that has consumed me to no end. Yet now as I curl into Michael’s open arms and settle in to watch the intrepid tale of one man's quest to earn his freedom, I find myself almost content. A silent tear slides down my cheek again. A tear of sorrow. I snuggle in deeper. For I know that this…feeling, this moment won’t last.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I just feel so lost. Like I’m in the middle of a forest and all around me there’s just trees as far as the eye can see. And it doesn’t matter how far I walk I always end up in the same place. Stuck in this never-ending forest, alone. I keep trying though. I have to keep trying cause the moment I give in I know that the forest will grow. The vines that have wrapped themselves around the trees will untangle and come after me.

I don’t want to feel that again. I’m ashamed to admit it but I gave up once. I stopped trying to get away. Stopped hoping for the darkness to lift, the cold to warm up. I gave up longing for the wisps of fire to lap at my flesh, to fill the emptiness bellow my left breast. In a crumpled mess on the cool dirt ridden floor I allowed the vines to reach out and wrap their cold tendrils around my bare feet. I sobbed hard as they slowly consumed my depleted body.

Their tiny thorns pricked at my skin and dragged. I cried harder and tried to hide in myself. It was excruciating and it made me want nothing more then to let them take me. Drag me off into the abyss of purgatory where none of it could reach me. Where the pain I felt each day would become no more and reality would become but a myth.

I wished, begged and pleaded for it, the ultimate bliss, the extreme of all numbness. Yet, as if it were a ritual, it was viciously taken from me. The vines were ripped from my flesh and thrown back into the darkness. I had longed so badly to be consumed by something other than this pain. But the powers that be would not give me mercy. Instead I had to watch as they stole my true salvation.

It took courage to get to that point. To not stand up and fend off the vines that threatened my life. I realize now that it was the coward’s way out but it still took courage. Never again will I allow myself to get there, instead I suffer with my small salvations. To me they’re better then the vines. I’m ashamed of both but if it were up to anyone else which would they prefer? It can’t be none. It could never be none. It has to be one or the other. It has to…

But is it really salvation? Or a sentence? A sentence to live a long agonizing existence? It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Or at least it shouldn’t. Not to most people. But to me it is. I’m a bad person. I’ve ruined lives.

My father’s dead. And it’s entirely my fault. If he and Mother hadn’t conceived me it wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. My father would never have had to do the things he did to keep me. He would never have gotten involved with those people and he’d be alive right now. Maybe even living a happy life with another woman. A better woman than Mother ever was. And maybe he’d have kids. Good kids. Ones that would love him and play with him, get good grades and never get into trouble with teachers. Ones that wouldn't cry over the smallest, most insignificant things.

And Mother. God… she’s such a wreck. An alcoholic, anorexic, abusive mess. Maybe she was always that way? I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t. But then she had me. She was forced to elope with my father. Forced to leave her home, her family, all because of me. She never loved my father. My father never loved her. If it hadn’t been for me…

Now look at me. I’m such an infant. These stupid tears are proof of that. I have no right to cry! Not after what I’ve done, what I’m doing. I deserve this pain, this misery. I don’t want it but it’s my punishment and I have to live with it. I don’t deserve the vines or that radiant abyss.

I haven’t earned the right to have someone like Amy in my life. She’s too good for me. So gentle and loving. She’s one of those rare people that love unconditionally. That kind of love isn’t for a person like me. And I don’t know what cloud Michael fell out of but I don’t deserve him either. He can be an ass sometimes but I love that about him.

See, I’m lost. Torn between wanting, yet knowing I can’t have it. Alex is a great friend but if he found out... he’d turn away from me like Liz and so many others before her. They’re all so close knitted. Amy, Michael, Alex, Liz, Kyle, Max, Tess, Isabel. They’re like family. I don’t quite understand it. Then again how could I?

I watch them from my perch on top of Amy’s counter, all eight and a half of them, if I include Tess’ bulging stomach. Their laughter drifts to my ears and it stings. To be sitting up here watching but not belonging. I’m a voyeur, a stranger in the background. They haven’t noticed me yet and I want to keep it that way. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and draw the image in my mind. The image of a young girl curled up in the midst of a dark forest, the vines gripping at her feet.

Their laughter becomes more of a taunt to me with each step that I take. Why!? Why must I want what I cannot have? This need, this aspiration for something better does nothing but fuel the cold that nips at my skin, it merely adds to the weight on my shoulders. A girl can only take so much before she gives out. And I don’t want to. Not again! Never again! AH!

My lungs gasp for air, my salty tears threaten to fall, my hand throbs and the sound of rushed footsteps vaguely resonate in my mind. What have I done? My eyes won’t look away and the tears unmercifully slide down my rosy cheeks.

“Oh my god…” I flinch at the soft whispered words from behind. Bowing my head in shame I wait for Amy to yell at me. Scream absurdities at my ineptness.

“What happened?” I can feel her move closer and I bow my head even more.

“I’m sorry.” My whisper almost inaudible.

“Whoa! What’d the wall do to you Deluca?” I flinch at the words coming from behind me.

“Kyle.” Amy spoke sternly. I recoil at the tone in her voice. Worry consumes me. She’s mad. Of course she’s mad, I just put a hole in her wall.

“Out! All of you.” A brief moment of relief spread through me at her words. It passed quickly to be replaced by fear and embarrassment. Amy sighs and reaches out to my hand. I glance up and cringe at the sight of blood slowly trickling from the whole where my hand had vanished. I catch Amy looking at me and turn away. She gently pushes my hair from my face. The meaning behind it is almost too much. “Does it hurt?”

I choke back and sob and nod quietly.

“Can you move it?” My eyes widen and I turn to the other side. Familiar dark brown eyes stare down at me with concern. A knot forms in my throat and I can’t speak. I shake my head. Even if I could, I wasn’t about to try. I can feel the drywall digging in painfully.

“We’re going to have to pull you out, ok?” Amy asks, her voice almost soothing. Nodding, I brace myself as the two of them grip my upper arm. “On three.” Amy informs Michael. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the countdown. “One…Two!”

“Sh!t!” I let out a curdled cry and stumble back into Michael’s chest.

“Three.” Amy finishes with a smile. Taking me by the arm she pulls me to the couch. “Sit.”

I obey, clinging my arm to my chest. “Oww.” I whimper and blush. I can’t believe I did that. I look at the hole and shake my head.

“You could have hit a wire you know.” I glare at Michael’s chastising tone.

“Least I finally would have gotten a curl in my hair.” I mumble sarcastically. I feel bad for saying it but I don’t care. I can’t believe I marred Amy’s beautiful wall.

He scoffs lightheartedly and absentmindedly caressed my sore hand with his thumb “It’s not a laughing matter Babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” Even I cringe at the harsh tone of my own voice. “It’s degrading.” I add quickly, and much more softly.

“Well I like it so sue me.” He smirks and I can’t help but give him a half smile.

“Maybe I will, this is America ya know?” I retort.

“Only you.” He muses and I glance up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Only you would flirt after having your arm stuck in a wall.”

I chuckle softly then sober, “It takes my mind off the pain.”

“Then by all means continue.”

I smack him with my good arm, smiling, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Alright you two. Enough.” Amy scolds, feebly unable to hold the smile from crossing her face. Kneeling down, med kit in hand, she takes my hand. Tenderly she tries to clean the gaping holes.

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, really.” I recoil inwardly at the mousiness in my voice.

Amy smiles reassuringly, “Just let me clean them, then you can go.”

“Okay,” I smile thankfully and lean back against Michael trying to ignore the pain as she pours the alcohol over the cuts. I moan and look away. The feel of Michael’s hand rubbing my back is oddly comforting.

“I’m done, sweetie.” Amy finishes wrapping my hand. Gently she places my hand back on my lap but not before kissing it better.

I don’t deserve you, Amy. I’ll never deserve you. Smiling, I allow Michael to help me up. Amy’s brow rises as Michael’s arms wrap around me.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” She gives us an all-knowing smile then turns around. Stopping, she looks at the whole then back at me. I take a deep breath preparing myself. “You, can fix this later, after your hand heals.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” My tears that had miraculously stopped were back. Wimp!

“Don’t worry, Maria. I’ve made a few holes myself.” She vanished through the swinging door before I can reply.

Michael pulls me closer and I let myself be pulled. “You ok?”

I shudder when he whispers in my ear. Turning around in his arms I gaze into his eyes. Leaning up, I capture his soft lips in a gentle kiss. “I am now,” I whisper against his lip.

Smiling, Michael pulls me in for another and I go willingly. I want nothing more than to lose myself now, with him. The thoughts from before slowly drift to the back of my mind when his velvety tongue slips past my lips. Moaning, I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself closer to him. We both pull back together. He rests his forehead on mine, his breath warming my face. I smile and kiss his chin.

“Wanna go upstairs?” he asks me softy.

“Won’t they miss you?” I motion towards the front.

Shaking his head he drops his lips to my nose. “They won’t even know I’m gone.”

A smile breaks across my face. Turning around I pull him slowly up the stairs. When we reach the top Michael slides his arms around my waist. “Living room or your room?”

My eyes widen, looking at the living room then towards my room. I sigh when his hand starts to caress my stomach in slow smooth circles. My eyes slide shut involuntarily and I lean into him. I gasp when it slides lower. Butterflies form in my stomach, of excitement, fear and nervousness.

“Michael…”

“You want me to stop?” he asks his hand stopping just under my belly button.

I clamp my hand on his preventing him from removing it, “No…” My voice shakes, “Just um tell me, what do you want to, uh, happen here?” My chest rises and falls faster with each passing silent moment.

“I want you and I’ll take whatever you're willing to give.”

I can’t help but laugh. Turning in his arms I pull back, “Michael, you don’t always havta be so politically correct. It’s sweet but that’s not what I asked. What do you want?”

“The truth?” he asks. I can tell he’s confused and a little nervous.

“Yes, please.”

“I want you, I want to hold you, kiss you and…” He takes a deep breath. I know what’s coming. I don’t understand why he’s so reluctant to say it though. “I wanna make love to you.”

Oh my god! I wasn’t expecting that. I take a step back. “Don’t you mean sex?”

“No.” He chuckles nervously. “I mean make love.”

“Michael, you barely know me.” I try to reason with him. I have to. He can’t ‘love’ me can he? No, I won’t let him love me.

“You’ve been here for almost a month. We see each other at school every day and even after school. Whether you're at my place visiting Alex or me. Or you're hanging around the Crashdown while I’m working. Maybe I don’t know you completely, but I want to.” The honesty in his voice brings a tear to my eye. He steps back, “I’m sorry, you wanted the truth. I gave it to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I want to…make love, with you but I… I can’t. I’m sorry.” I wipe angrily at the single tear.

“Hey, no pressure here. Okay? I was just giving you an honest answer like you asked. And I didn’t mean like right this second. Whenever you’re ready. Come on.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and walks me over to the couch. Sitting, I look up at him questionably. “We’re gonna watch TV, nothing more, promise?”

Smirking suggestively at him I pull him down next to me. “I never said we couldn’t make out.” He starts to chuckle and I take the opportunity to capture his mouth. Pulling him down on top, I slide my arms around his waist.

****

It feels good to lay here in his arms just talking about nothing and everything. His voice is so rough, yet soothing. And his laughter, it’s almost comical. I let out a squeal when his finger pokes me in the side.

“What?” I glare.

“You were space bound again,” he informs me, poking my side again.

“Heh, sorry, just thinking,” I mumble.

“Bout?”

Propping myself up on my elbow I look him in the eyes. “Are you a virgin?”

His eyes bug out. “What?”

Giggling I respond, “You heard me.”

“No,” he says, hesitating, “You?”

I shake my head, “How old, with who and did you love her?”

Shifting a bit, he looks up at me astonished. “I was sixteen and yeah, I loved her but not in the normal sense of the word. She was a friend since kindergarten.” He hesitates again and I try to smile encouragingly. “It was Isabel.”

“Isabel?” My eyes widen, “As in gorgeous, gothic, blonde Isabel who’s downstairs?”

“Yeah.” He gulps but I don’t notice.

Slapping him lightly in the arm, I smile, “You dog.”

A smile breaks out on his face and he chuckles a little too. “It wasn’t like that either.”

“How’d it happen?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Yeah, so spill.”

He shakes his head in amusement, “Well, uh her parents had gotten into another verbal war. I’m pretty sure her dad had hit her mom but she wouldn't confirm or deny it. We’d known each other forever and were great friends. She wasn’t on talking terms with Liz at the moment so she had nowhere else to go. She came to my place via my bedroom window.” He sighs and I snuggle closer. “It was the night after my mom… died.”

My throat constricts and tears form in my eyes at how sad his voice is. I don’t interrupt though, getting the feeling he wants to talk about it. So I let him.

“We were both upset and crying. It was solace really. We needed the comfort and it just happened.”

I look up at his soft sniffles. Leaning in, I kiss away a tear. He smiles at me and whispers a soft thank you.

“It wasn’t a quick death by any means.” He started again, pain etched in his voice.

I silence him with my finger, “You don’t have to.”

Kissing my finger he pulls my hand to his chest. “I want to…She had breast cancer. Battled with it for years. But no matter what the doctors did, it just kept coming back to the point that it had spread to her lungs and kidneys. We knew she was going to die. It didn’t hurt any less though.”

“She must have been a great woman to have raised a son like you,” I whisper, resting my forehead on his cheek.

“She was.” He burries his face in the crook of my neck. I hold him close, rubbing his arm softly.

“Sorry for unloading this onto you,” he mumbles into my hair.

“Hey no, it’s ok. I don’t mind.” Pulling back, I kiss him softly. “Really.”

He pauses, staring into my eyes. “What about you?”

“What?” I heard him and he knows I did but I don’t want to answer. Sighing, he pulls me close.

“Ok so you got to ask me a question. Does that mean I get to ask you?” He smirks and I tense up.

“I guess.”

“Have you ever been suspended?” he asks softly.

I sigh and smile, “I few times… a month.” His jaw drops and I giggle.

“You serious?”

“Well yeah, the day wasn’t complete unless suspension was threatened.” I snuggle into his chest. “What about you?”

“Once, got into a fight with Max actually. We both got suspended.” His hand starts to rub my back softly. “Ever been expelled?”

“Hey, I thought this was my turn to ask a question?” I protest.

“Nope.”

“Fine.” I mumble, “Once, but I was taking back quickly.” I trace his shirt with my finger idly.

“How’d all that happen?”

“Some of the school’s stereo equipment went missing and they blamed me. I was an obvious choice really so I didn’t blame them.” I grin when Michael cursed under his breath. “It was okay, a week later some science nerd turned himself in.”

“Good.” he mutters.

“Mother never once found out.”

“How could she not know?”

I shrug, “They sent a letter home with me which I quickly burned and they only called during the day when she was either passed out or out at some bar getting there. Plus every morning I’d leave the house at my normal time and take the bus into town. I’d hang around Manhattan than take the 9:30 bus back. She never had a clue. Not that she’d care much anyway.”

“Where was your Dad through all that?” he asks, adjusting himself to pull me more on top of him.

“Dead.” I mumble it so softly that it’s barely audible. Laughing sarcastically, I look up at him. “Now we have something else in common.”

He frowns at me. “How’d he die, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Shrugging I lay back down. “He was murdered.”

“Damn…” he curses under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, I was only six, I don’t even remember.” I lie.

“Did they ever catch the guy who did it?” His voice is softer, more comforting.

“With my testimony, yeah.” I close my eyes. Scenes from the courtroom flash before my eyes.

“Testimony?” He sits up, taking me with him. Taking my chin he forces me to look at him.

“I was there,” I mumble and I can feel the tears prick at the back of my eyes. “I don’t remember much now though.” I lie again, trying to ease the sad look in his eyes. “Just bits and pieces. Even those are blurry.”

Caressing my cheek, he looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I give him a weak smile. “Me too.” I lose myself in his eyes. He pulls me forward and leans down. Our lips brush softly. The sound of someone coming upstairs stops us from going further. I smile when Alex pokes his head through the door.

“Hey funny face, Michael.” He grins.

“Hey Alex.” I smile back. Michael just glares. Brotherly love. I giggle.

“Sorry to intrude, but Dad wanted us home by midnight, so…” he trails off.

Michael grumbles and stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

Nodding I stand up and kiss him fully on the mouth. Alex groans loudly and mumbles something about meeting him in the truck. The kiss lasts a few more seconds. I wish it could go on forever. “See ya later, babe,” I add on smugly.

“Funny.” He wrinkles his nose then kisses mine. I watch him leave. “Don’t check out my a$$!” he calls before disappearing through the door to the stairs.

“Make me!” I yell back. Smiling, I flop onto the couch and turn on the TV. The day having started out so horribly, suddenly not seeming so bad.

Have you ever had a moment in your life were everything seems to slow down? Like a slow motion scene from a movie. I don’t mean one of those cheesy romantic things where two star-crossed lovers are finally reunited after a hiatus and they run towards each other. But more like watching a car accident unfold or a bullet pass through your best friend’s chest and having to watch them fall motionlessly to the ground. It’s like the world has fallen out from underneath your feet and then rushed back like a powerful wave. And now you have to deal with the reality of what just happened. Have you ever had one of those? I’m having one right now…

The day had started out really good, for once. It’s Saturday, which in other words means sleep in day. Course I’ve never been one to sleep in. To me the less time spent asleep the better. So I woke up around my usual time; 6:00am. Amy was already downstairs getting the place ready for eight o’clock. I walked downstairs and headed straight to the pot of coffee. It was sweet really. Amy doesn’t like coffee but she knows I live for it so every morning she makes a special pot of extremely strong coffee for me. For a woman who can’t stand the stuff she can make a mean cup.

We spent most of the morning talking. It surprises me how much I have in common with the older woman. She has suspicions but she doesn’t voice them, for which I’m extremely grateful. To have to handle one more person knowing, especially a woman who considers me to be like the daughter she never had, it’d just be too much.

Liz arrived around 7:30 and I quickly made an exit. She’s tried a few times to talk to me, to apologize. But I can’t forgive her. I trusted her, felt as if we were kindred. I even believed for a short while that she had a few scars of her own. I guess it had been wishful thinking on my part.

Before I could make it upstairs, Amy had muscled me into doing cashier duty. I didn’t mind really, I was just glad I didn’t have to look like a dork in those uniforms. The rest of the morning flew by kind of quickly. There was one guy who tried to pick me up, course it worked considering it was Michael. It was cute, he pretended to be a customer and he hit on me using some of the most dorkiest and cheesy lines I’d ever heard.

Courtney and her cronies showed up and were their usual bitchy selves. It turns out Miss bottle-blonde-slut has a crush on Michael. I found it hilarious and couldn’t help but play Her Bitchiness. I flirted with him as much as I could, making sure she had a full view of each and every touch and caress. And the clincher was right before she left, I kissed him fully and thoroughly, right in front of her face. If looks could kill I’d be hanging from a pole by her Gucci leather belt right now. She got all huffy and left. That had to be the pinnacle of my day, well aside from getting to kiss Michael.

It was around six or seven when the place was starting to wind down that it happened. I’d gone to the back to use the rest room. On my way back I’d stopped to give Michael another kiss in the kitchen…

Leaning against the door I wait for Michael to notice me. My eyes travel to his cute little butt framed nicely in his blue jeans. I groan huskily. Damn he was fine! And he’s mine. I giggle at the thought of writing the words “Property of Maria Deluca” on his ass. Michael looks up at the sound and quickly smiles.

“Hey beautiful,” he whispers softly and steps away from the grill.

“Hi.” I lower my voice, trying to sound sexy. Apparently it worked. Michael’s smiled widens and he steps closer. His arm wraps around my waist pulling me close. I cringe and push him away. “No holding.”

His bottom lip juts out in the cutest pout I’ve ever seen. “Why?”

“You’re all greasy.” I can feel my resolve dwindle.

“So?” he whispers, leaning down and capturing my lips in a soft kiss. Before I can get into it though he pulls away. I groan at the loss and quickly pull his lips back to mine. I pry open his lips with my tongue and he chuckles.

“Shut up.” I mumble into his mouth and pull him to me. He responds in kind, caressing my tongue with his. My knees get weak and I let out a muffled groan. My hands find their way into his hair. His arms tighten around me, practically lifting me off the ground in an attempt at getting me closer to him. The need for air becomes too much and I’m forced to pull away. Michael quickly leans in for more but I pull away.

With a devilish smile I step back and mouth the words later. He smirks and I can feel his eyes watching me as I walk back out front. The moment I step through the swinging door I stop in my tracks. I watch as a familiar figure wanders to the front door of the restaurant. Their hand rises and they slowly push open then door. The tell tale chime that signifies a new customer registers loudly in my mind.

I try to move but my legs won’t budge from their firm spot on the tiled floor. In slow motion the person looks around, searching for something or someone. Their eyes land on me and a smile slowly spreads across their face. The person advances on me and I want nothing more than to run away, but, as if I am under a spell, all I can do is stand and watch. As soon as the person comes to a stop in front of me and opens their mouth to say something, I burst into action. In fast jerky motions I turn around, my hair whipping at my face. I burst through the swinging door and race to the back door.

I can hear the person pursuing me and quicken my pace. My heart pounds in my chest as fear courses through me. Out of nowhere Michael appears in front of me his arms shooting out to grab me. No! I can’t let him stop me. I try to push past him but he’s too strong.

“Maria! Stop! What’s wrong?” Michael tries to yell over my screaming. I turn around quickly and push back against Michael’s chest. Tears spill down my cheeks and blood rushes to my ears. I feel Michael grip me tightly, holding me too him.

The person steps through the back door and I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate. “No, no, no, no…” I whisper harshly, staring at the person before me.

Michael tenses behind me, “Who the hell are you!”

The person stares Michael in the eyes with malice, “I’m Maria’s boyfriend, who the hell are you!”

//“I’m Maria’s boyfriend, who the hell are you!”\\

When the words came out of his mouth my world spiraled. Like water down the drain, I watch as it circles round and round slipping away. I could almost hear Michael’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach. I vaguely remember what happens next. I remember the loss of warmth as Michael pulled away. A feeling of absolute cold shoots through me when the man’s eyes meet mine. His look, so searing, goes right through me. His mouth moves but all I can hear is the thumbing of my own heart and the harshness of my raspy breath. He steps forward and I immediately take two back. The next thing I know Michael is in front off me. I see them arguing, I watch Michael’s shoulders stiffen, his stance going regal.

I can’t breathe. Oh god I can’t breathe. My eyes burn and my chest, it feels so tight. Who… Who turned up the heat? It’s so hot. I grip at my shirt and pull it away. It’s too hot. I can’t breathe. I feel myself fall back. I don’t know where I land and I don’t care. It’s so loud. Everything’s so loud! I cover my ears trying to block out the noise but it won’t stop. Why won’t it stop!

“Stop it.” I mutter, curling into myself. They won’t listen. “Stop it!” I cry out louder but it still won’t stop. “Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!” I shriek, surpassing the noise. I hold it for as long as I can. I don’t want to hear the noise again. My voice slowly lessens, as if someone were turning down my volume and I had no control. I want to scream louder but I can’t. My lungs won’t fill up with air fast enough. I can’t see! Why can’t I see? I rub at my eyes furiously. No matter how hard I rub my vision won’t clear.

I hear a scoff of disbelief. Someone walks towards me and yanks me up by my arm. I cry out, pain shooting through my arm.

“You are such a fucking drama queen. Stop your crying.” That voice, I know that voice. As if on cue my vision clears. My skin scrawls and I cower into myself. “Oh give it up.”

“Let her go.”

Michael? Michael! I try to get to him but the grip on my arm tightens.

“Back off.”

I shudder. God, I hate that voice. I wrench myself away, shoving the man back. He stumbles but quickly stables himself.

“Stay away from me!” I yell but it comes out in a hoarse whisper. I scramble over to Michael. He pulls me behind him. A slight sense of safety passes through me at the gesture.

“Maria, baby?” The man’s voice drops to a husky and smooth tone. I cringe. I know that tone all too well.

“She asked you to leave her alone.” Michael ever the protector.

“Who are you? Her bodyguard?” The other guy snaps.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

I peer over Michael’s shoulder. The man glowers at me, “You always were quite the whore. How long till you and Hick Boy here fucked? Huh? A day maybe too?”

I whimper at the loss of Michael’s warmth. He gets in the guy’s face and leers down at the shorter man. “Get out.” I step back at the pure and unadulterated hate in his voice.

“No, I’m not done here. I came all this way to fucking talk to my girlfriend so I’m gonna talk to her.” He stares back at Michael not even flinching.

“She’s not your girlfriend and she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Michael’s voice drops to a dangerous level.

“Maybe you should let her decide.” The man follows suit.

I have to do something. I have to stop this before it gets physical. I step forward. “Jess.” I call to him. They both turn around and look at me. I swallow hard, “Leave…please.”

Michael turns back to Jess smugly.

Jess shakes his head in disgust. “What the hell’s going Maria? One minute you’re there and the next your fucked up mother is spewing shit bout taking out the trash. I finally finagle where the fuck you are out of her. I drive all the fucking way here and you’re telling me you don’t even wanna talk to me. And why, because Mr. Simpleton here says so?” Jess motioned to Michael angrily.

I don’t know what to say to him. Michael looks at me uncertainly. I open and close my mouth trying to find the words. “Just go, Jess.” I order him meekly.

“Fine, I’ll be back though. You and me,” He looks at me poignantly, “aren’t done yet.”

“Yeah, you are.” Michael’s warns him through clenched teeth.

Jess glares at Michael before reluctantly stepping around him. I fold my arms around my waist and look down when he walks by me. I can feel his menacing gaze and shudder,

squeezing my eyes shut. My whole body is tense, even after he leaves. I swallow hard and force myself to look up at Michael.

With his back to me he looks over his shoulder, “You okay?”

Am I? I can feel my whole body shaking it’s so stiff and the prick of unshed tears. I open my mouth to answer him but I’m at a loss for words. “I uh…um…I don’t, I don’t know.” Slowly I feel myself go into shock, the gravity of what just happened hitting me. So many emotions course through me, shame, embarrassment, fear, uncertainty and so many other nameless ones.

“Who was that guy?” Michael turns to me. His eyes convey fear. Fear of what I don’t know.

I take in a shaky breath. “That was Jess…my um,” I try and stifle the sob clouding my throat. “My ex.”

“Maria.” He steps closer to me. Concern is evident on his face. I can feel myself starting to crumble under his gaze.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” I mumble quickly. Taking one last fleeting glance at Michael’s back I shoot upstairs.

I push past Amy as she descends the stairs. She calls after me to stop. I can’t control it, I stop and turn to her. My eyes plead to her, for comfort or solitude? I don’t know.

“What’s wrong?” She slowly walks up the stairs.

A single silent tear trickles down my face. She immediately pulls me into an embrace. Her warms arms fold softly around me. I lean into her, burying my face in her shoulder. My hands grip her shirt. I cling to her hard. My need for comfort out weighs my need to be alone, to deal on my own. Her left hand gently caresses my back and I feel myself relax.

“Maria, what happened?” She asks me gently.

I hid my face further into her shoulder.

“Does it have something to do with that argument?” her hand pushed my hair back.

“You heard?” I whisper timidly into her shoulder.

“Not the words, just the voices. Wanna tell me about it?” She gently pushes me back, looking into my eyes.

I stare up at her, hesitation in my eyes. I let out a shaky breath and pull away. I walk slowly to the couch and sit down. I fall into the cushions softly and pull my knees up to my chest. I listen as she takes a seat next to me on the couch. Pulling her feet under her she sits side ways. She gazes at me and her hand caresses my hair back. I lean into the motherly touch.

“Tell me.” She orders me soothingly.

I sniff back my tears and glance at her. “A guy I used to date back in New York…He showed up just now.” She listens intently so I continue.

“And it didn’t go very well?” Amy offers.

I almost laugh at the understatement in that sentence. “Him and Michael kinda had a mini testosterone war.”

“Guys tend to do that when their territory is threatened.”

“I’m no one’s territory.” I state matter-of-factly.

“I know that. Guys, they’re just very territorial.” She explains to me.

“I know…” I sigh, “It’s been a month you know? I guess I just figured he’d forget about me.”

Amy lets out a soft laugh, “Love doesn’t quite work that way, sweetie.”

“Love?” I sneer, “There was no love involved, ever.”

“Oh…” she trails off a hint of something in her voice. Was it disappointment or just confusion?

“What we had…it was a love, hate thing. Though minus the love and multiply the hate.”

Her breath catches and her hand stops in mid stroke, “Did he…I mean has he…” She can’t get the words out but I know.

“The truth?” I ask solemnly. She nods slowly. “We we’re both pretty mean to each other, so yeah he has but so have I.” Her confusion grows. I know she doesn’t understand. Neither do I really. “It’s hard to understand, I know, even for me. We were never faithful to each other, we never did any conventional couple things. We used each other to take out our frustrations, physical and sexual.”

She frowns sadly and inches closer. I fall into her leaning my head on her shoulder and allowing her to rub my back again.

“I guess I kinda freaked when I saw him and that in turn freaked Michael out and the whole thing kinda went downhill from there.” I pause in thought, “I’ve changed a bit since I came here. I only just realized it now. Before I would have smacked Jess upside the head for the way he acted down there but now. I cowered away from him like a weakling.” Another silent tear escapes and I ignore it, letting it fall softly onto Amy’s shirt.

“He’s gone now, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.” She tries to assure me but I know different.

“He’ll come back He doesn’t like to leave loose ends. When he does though…I don’t know how I’ll handle it. It’s confusing not to know yourself like you used to. I just hope I’ll be ready for him.”

“What will you do?” I smile at the concern and even fear for my safety that she conveys.

“I’ll talk to him, alone.”

She pulls back from me in shock, “That can’t be safe?”

I smile, “I can take care of myself sides he’s needs closure, that’s all.”

She nods cautiously. “What about Michael?”

I shrug and lean back into her, “I’ll explain things…after I talk to Jess again. Michael’d just try and protect me and that would only make Jess angrier.”

“May I suggest something?”

“Shoot.”

“Tell Michael,” She silences my protests. “He likes you, a lot. I can tell and I think it’s only right that he knows now instead of later.”

I sigh, “Maybe you’re right.” We sit in content silence, Her hand continuously making circles on my back.

“Thank you.” Amy’s whisper breaks the silence and surprises me.

“What for?”

It felt good to talk to her like this. A knot of guilt forms in my stomach. I look up at her silently. She’s so motherly to me, more so then Mother ever was. From the moment I got here she gave me nothing but respect and dare I say it, love. It makes not telling her even harder. Maybe I should tell her? The thought’s fleeting though and soon I let myself relax again.

After Amy and I talked she went back down to the restaurant, leaving me here to wallow in my thoughts. Wallow's not quite the word to describe it. I flounder from thought to thought, each one consuming me for a brief second before making way for the next. I wade in the harsh waters of my mind, a storm slowly brewing within me. Each wave crashes over me with greater intensity, forcing the precious air from my lungs. I’m filled with an eerie sense of drowning. The strength to swim back to shore, back to sanity, eludes me.

A swell of trepidation mingles with the storm, growing larger, expanding. I can feel it coming and squeeze my eyes shut. I wait silently for it to hit me hard and fast but no amount of preparation can spare me from its wrath. It forces me deep into the depths of despair. The darkness of the unforgiving sea surrounds me, enfolds me in its clutches. It squeezes the breath from my parted lips, taking with it the whimper of desperation that lies there.

The undercurrent thrashes me against a coral reef, its jagged edges piercing my pale flesh. My lungs, my entire body, burn with a primal need. Blood taints the water around me, cocooning me in a soft bubble. It floats to the top, bringing me with it and my need is fulfilled as I break through the surface barrier.

I gasp deeply, taking in as much sweet, beautiful oxygen as I can. I open my eyes and sigh in relief, the storm is over… for now. I take in my surroundings and confusion overwhelms me. When had I come to my room? I don’t remember leaving the security of the living room. I reach up to run my hand through my hair and that’s when I notice them – three long, ragged, red lines mocking me from their position on my arm.

“Oh God…” I let out a breathy prayer. I shove my arm out of my sight and stare blankly at my wall. Tears of shame slide unmercifully down my cheeks and a gargled cry pushes its way past my lips. Whimpers soon follow. Why? Why did I have to do it? I struggle to breathe, to think clearly, as the more important question pushes its way to the surface of swirling thoughts clouding my mind – how? Without any conscious awareness, I have once again submitted to the violent instincts within my tortured body and allowed them to rule my crumbling willpower.

I shoot off the bed and stumble into my bathroom. I have to hide it. No one can know. No one. In one fluid motion, I slam open my medicine cabinet and search desperately for something, anything to staunch the blood now steadily dripping from my fingertips. My whole body shakes violently when my hand lands on a small package of gauze. I fall to my knees and tear the box into pieces. All thought becomes jumbled as I fumble with the small roll. It slips from my hand and I grab it again quickly, pulling on the loose end.

It unrolls into one long and linear line. Scissors, I need scissors. I grab my Swiss Army Knife from my pocket. As I snap the blade from its hiding place within the red plastic, my eyes widen and my mouth drops. Tears course down my cheeks like rapid waterfalls. I ignore the fresh bloodstain on the blade and cut the gauze blindly. Panting, I guide the protective material around my wounds, wrapping it tightly around my arm almost to the point that it cuts off circulation. It’s a welcomed relief and I relish it selfishly. I tie it off with a knot. The deed done, I fall back against the side of the tub and wait patiently for my chest to stop heaving.

“You still doing that shit?” A rough voice crackles against the silence.

I don’t bother looking up, already knowing exactly who it is. I wipe at my tears and turn my back to him.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” he growls and I feel him move closer, sitting down beside me. I stiffen when his hand grips my shoulder. He turns me around harshly. I stare into his gray eyes.

“What are you d-doing here?” My voice trembles and I blush.

“I wanted to see you, so I took a chance and climbed the fire escape,” he explains softly.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I mumble roughly.

“No, I should have done it sooner, at least then I might have been able to stop you,” he lashes back at me.

I scoff, “You would have been prolonging the inevitable, Jess.”

“Was that because of me?” he demands angrily, pointing at the white protection on my arm, an angry red stain already seeping through.

“A little,” I state simply. I hear him sigh.

“Why the fuck you gotta do that? Huh?” He pushes himself up angrily and hovers over me.

I roll my eyes and push myself up. “Why the fuck are you here?” I toss back.

“I wanted to see you Maria… I needed to see you… I missed you.” His voice lowers to soft whisper.

“No you didn’t, you missed my body, not me.” I choke out angrily before pushing myself past him.

“That’s not true!” he calls after me.

I turn on my heel at stare at him in disbelief. “Yes it is.”

He steps closer and reaches out to touch my hair. I jerk away from him. “I did miss you Maria. Can’t we just…”

“Just what? Have one last romp? You want me to slap you around then drop you hard one last time?” I glare at him as his lips curve into a smirk.

He steps closer and grips my hips hard pulling me to him. “You know me so well baby.”

My stomach churns in disgust and I try to pull away from his more then obvious erection. “I’m not doing this with you Jess.” I push him away, emphasizing my words.

He stumbles back and the smirk vanishes. He glares at me and my skin crawls. “Why? Cause of that hick downstairs?” His arm shoots out and before I can stop him he grabs my arm.

A strangled cry escapes my lips as his fingers pinch the fresh wounds sharply. I try to wrench myself free from his grip but he is far too strong, he was always too strong for me. I raise my eyes to him pathetically, the look on my face pleading with him to relent, just let me go.

When I see that he has no intention of doing so I lower my head in mock defeat, a hopeful attempt at playing into his desire to control me. “Yes, it's because of him, now let go,” I plead quietly.

My ploy has absolutely no effect on his adrenaline charged body and he ignores me, gripping my other arm as he pulls me closer. “You fucking think that idiot could ever pleasure you like I can?”

I jump back into the game he forces me to play, laughing in his face bitterly. “I know Michael could. 'Sides you aren’t as good as you think you are. Half the time I faked it just to get you off of me.” I spit those words in his face. He grips me tighter in anger and I stifle a cry. I won’t give him the pleasure, not again.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he seethes through clenched teeth. His warm and vile breath whips at my face and I look away in disgust.

I jerk my arms in a desperate attempt to loosen his grip. He pulls both of my wrists into one of his hands. I whimper when he grabs at the back of my head, pulling on my hair. His coarse lips descend upon mine. I kick out my legs blindly, thrashing in his arms. His tongue tries to force its way in my mouth. My foot connects with his shin hard. He breaks his hold on my wrists. I try to turn around but his hand in my hair tightens and jerks me back to him.

In one powerful yank I’m on my knees at his feet, my head tilted up in an endeavor to ease the pain from his hold on my hair. Both our chests rise and fall rapidly. He leans down in my face and spits on me.

“Bitch,” he snarls. His free hand reaches down and tears at my shirt, ripping it half way down the center. Tears form in my eyes. I can’t let this happen. “Look at you, you’re fucking pathetic,” he mocks me and a single tear slides down my cheek. He shakes his head in disgust. “What has this fucking hellhole done to make you so weak?”

I swallow hard and glare up at him. The tears in my eyes vanish, replaced by pure hatred as I feel my resolve return, the strength born of years of playing this game with him, years of being pushed down only to have to rise up again or disappear completely. I choose not to disappear. “The only weak one here is you…” I mutter. Gripping the hand in my hair with both of my hands, I twist it hard and fast. He cries out, letting go of my hair as I stand up swiftly and punch him squarely in the nose.

“Bitch!” he screams, backing off as he cradles his nose. My brief elation clouds my vision and I don't see his hand coming until I feel the sting on my cheek and stabbing in my side as I hit the floor. My vision blurs, shadows peaking at the sides. Through the translucent shadows I watch powerlessly as his dirty boot rushes at me. My breath eludes me, the sheer force of the impact forcing it from my grasp. Without thought I try to curl up for protection. His foot connecting with my hip stops me. An unsolicited whimper resonates off the brick walls.

He bends down by my side and grabs my chin. Forcing me to look at him he snaps, “You’re barely even worth it.” His palms push heavily on my shoulders, his body pinning me to the ground.

“Get off of me!” I gargle out. My cry lands on deaf ears. With adept skill my shirt is torn in half. The cool air from the open window assaults my bare skin and I shiver. He smirks, believing the shiver was pleasure. I spit in his face in distain, the smirk falling from him with the saliva.

The familiar burn spreads through my cheek, the sound of skin hitting skin filling my ears. Blood fills my mouth, the warm liquid spilling down my cold cheek. His calloused hands invade my senses, my skin crawling everywhere they fall. I thrash beneath him, memories of violation burning me like fire. They overwhelm me, forcing me to watch as the scars they left resurface.

“No…” I sob, fighting the memories and the body above me as they both invade my senses. A pressure builds within in me, bringing me to a boiling point, a point of no return. A sudden jolt of cool adrenaline pushes back the fire. I jerk my leg up, connecting with Jess’s groin. He cries out and losses his hold on me. Hesitation never sets in as I roll him off of me and lash out again and again. Each kick elicits another gargle cry of pain.

I slide back on my carpet and try to stand on my shaky legs. I watch, hyperventilating, as Jess stands, cradling his groin.

“Get out, now!” I shriek. He glares as he advances on me again.

“You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” He seethes, lunging at me. His powerful arms grip mine, pushing me back into the wall. Strength, derived from years of oppression, threads it’s way through me. I shove him back, twisting my arms free. My balled up fist collides with his jaw and he stumbles back.

“GET OUT! Before I fucking call the cops!”

He stares up at me from his hunched over position. The hint of tears in his eyes brings a light smile to my face. He straightens, still staring at me. He takes a step towards me, trying to stare me down. I stiffen but stay firmly in my spot.

“Get the fuck out,” I ground out through clenched teeth. His mouth opens to reply when someone barges into through the door. My head snaps to the door and my eyes widen. “Michael…” I let out in a whisper of shock.

His chest rises and falls, like he’d been running. He stares at me, taking in the angry bruises and blood staining my skin. His eyes land on my open shirt and I cringe grabbing the sides and wrapping it around my battered body.

I watch blankly as Jess bolts for the open window, Michael following. “Michael no!” I scream as Jess squeezes out of sight, into the shadowy hiding places the forgiving night provides. Michael starts to follow and I let out a bloodcurdling scream, sure that the boy I love is about to kill the boy I hate, not sure if I want it to happen or not.

Michael lunges for the window and I scream. He stops, turning around to stare at me, the wild look in his eyes fading as he takes in the full extent of the destruction Jess has left behind him.

“Let him go. He's not… he's not worth it,” I beg softly.

He glances down at me, his angered features softening into pure fear at the sight of my pale, sallow face. Reaching up with tentative hands, he caresses a loose strand of hair away from my face. “Are you okay?”

Tears spring to my eyes at the question. The reality of what just happened blasting across me like a violent wind. I let out a jittery breath and glare up at the disheveled boy.

“Do I look okay to you?” the harsh words roll off my tongue. He cringes and I curse myself for letting my mouth run.

“Maria?” his voice quivers with concern as he steps closer towards me.

I rub at my eyes furiously and move away from him. Sighing, I cling tighter to the torn pieces of my shirt that threaten to fall away. I quiver at the warmth his arms provide as they slink around my waist and pull my back to his chest. A tormented tear slides down my cheek.

He sighs into the hair at the nape of my neck. What’s left of my vision blurs with unshed tears.

“What did he do to you? Did he…” His eyes fall to my tattered shirt in a wordless question.

“Tried,” I answer him unconsciously gripping the torn ends even tighter around me. The thread holding the seams together starting to tear from the strenuous hold.

His warm breath licks at my ears, his fingers folding around my exposed arm, the cuts… I try to pull my arm away but he holds it firmly. His nimble fingers work expertly at the white protective wall. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to dredge up the courage to watch. I flinch inwardly at the short gasp of breath on my neck. “That fucking bastard… Maria,” he calls to me, a catch in his throat. I bow my head further, my eyes screwed shut. He gently caresses around the angry cuts with his thumb. My heart jumps to my throat and I choke on the gargled breath. I flinch and he pulls back, “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I am so sorry.”

I pull away from him, keeping my back to his face as guilt and shame control my every movement. “Don’t be, it wasn't him,” my voice quivers.

"What?" he asks, so sure that Jess had caused every injury on my ravaged body, the idea that someone else shared in the responsibility not entering his mind. He moves to take me into his arms again. I resist, turning around and staring deeply into his soulful brown eyes. I swallow hard as my meticulously structured walls start to crumble under his powerful gaze.

"It wasn't him, okay?" I snap quickly, pushing myself away from his grasp. "Jess didn't do this," I say, pulling the blood soaked gauze uselessly down to hide the wounds again. "He did this," I add quietly, pointing to my face, the obvious bruising on my cheek appearing innocent next to the blood seeping from my mouth. "And this," I continue, flinching as I move my one relatively uninjured right arm to rest on my ribs. "This too…" my voice trails off as I slide my hand across my swollen abdomen to linger on my crying hip. "But not these," I finish softly, holding my arm out to him as tears once again cloud my vision. "I did these."

I watch the emotions rolling off of the boy before me as he tries to grasp the situation. His mouth opens then closes again, repeating the motions as he tries to voice the questions floating around in his head.

“It’s okay Michael,” I mutter, trying to ease him yet at the same time trying to convince myself. The truth ringing in my head will not bow down to the lie. It isn’t okay. It isn’t. “It is.” I force the words out in a vain attempt to prove that the voice is wrong.

“Why didn’t you call for help? Why didn’t you tell me that prick was capable of this? I could have protected you, Maria.” Shock surges through me at his words, half at his implication and half at his denial of what I have just confessed to.

“You wouldn’t understand.” I mumble, whipping around to grab a black oversized shirt off the floor. I pull it over my head, taking the now useless shirt off underneath, keeping my body hidden from his prying eyes.

“I won’t until you explain it to me,” he tries to reason with me, watching with sad eyes as I grab my bag off the floor and pull out my cigarettes.

Putting a long stick in my mouth I ignore his words. With one strike from my lighter, the smoke is lit. I listen to him sigh in frustration and scoff inwardly.

“You know you shouldn’t do that inside, Maria.” He warns me gently.

I roll my eyes and stare at him poignantly. He stares back, the meaning behind my stare slowly registering in his mind.

“You don’t care,” he states in disbelief.

I smirk and take a large puff, inhaling deeply. I choke on the acidic smoke as pain shots through my body. Gripping my side I bring myself slowly down onto my bed. Michael’s by my side instantly, a stupid, concerned look stuck to his face.

“Are you okay, maybe I should take you to see a doctor?” He speaks quickly and anxiously.

I shake my head, taking another puff. “No doctors, no nurses, no hospital.” I grind out as a blinding fire surges through my stomach.

“You could be seriously hurt, Maria,” he persists and I have to admire that.

“Not really making with the caring right now,” I mutter through another puff. It’s mechanical now, each puff almost identical to the previous, the pauses between them non-existent.

Michael’s disbelief grows at my words and he stares at me wide eyed. “So you’re telling me you could be bleeding to death internally right now and you couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah, does that shock you?”

“Amazingly enough, it doesn’t.”

“What?” my anger intensifies. “Fuck you!” I yell, shooting up from my sitting position only to fall back down. Stabbing pain in my side stops me.

“Hey, I’m just answering your question. You wanted an answer so I gave you one,” He says, this time not even flinching as I grimace through another wave of pain, shrugging me off. “Besides why the hell does it bother you so much, you just admitted it?”

“Because! I’d hope that you’d think I was better than that. Serves me right…” I trail off, concentrating fully on the smoke in my hand. I block out the feel of him sitting so close to me. I stare at my shaking hand, the already burned tobacco threatening to fall off with each jerky movement. I reach over angrily and put out the smoke in one of my many candles before it can.

“You are,” he whispers softly, taking my hand in his and I know at once that he's a terrible liar, concern rushing back into his face as if it had never left. Pushing the sleeve of my shirt up, he once again exposes the cuts. I don’t even bother pulling away from him. My energy, my strength, wasted on waging the battle against the subjugation Jess threatened only minutes ago. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, gently cradling it close to him. Leaning forward, he does something I never once in my life thought anyone would do. He does something with such gentleness and love that tears spring to my eyes and fall instantly down my cheeks. Bending down he hovers over the wounds, pressing his lips to them, giving each one the same amount of affection.

When he lifts his head, his eyes meet mine, staring deeply into them, seeking permission to exist in the walls I have so delicately constructed. Fear grips me, masking all hints of physical pain. I don’t refuse his comfort, only question its existence. How could someone be so gentle, so wonderful in the face of my evils? Pent up tears cascade down my cheeks. I know I must be a pathetic sight, all bruised and teary eyed. I go willingly when he reaches out and pulls me to his chest, my wounded arm still held gently in his hand.

“How do you do it?” he whispers into my hair.

I stiffen in his arms immediately. “What?” I ask, unsure of myself and of him.

He hesitates before continuing. “I mean, how can you live with all the pain?”

I push away from him quickly and stare into his eyes. The lie shines clearly back at me. “No,” I snap slowly and point to my arm, “You mean, how can I do this?”

His eyes widen and I know then that I’m right. “No,” he stammers and I frown deeply. “I… I just… I don’t understand how you can hurt yourself? Put yourself through that pain.”

“Pain doesn’t hurt,” I snap, snatching my arm away from him angrily. Standing up I regret it almost immediately, the pain in my side kicking itself into a higher gear. I ignore it, pushing it to the back of my mind. “Fuck this shit.” I mutter, crossing the room, getting as far away from him as I can. He sits there and watches as I grab my coat and pull it on. I cringe when the fabric brushes against the wounds. Breathing deeply, I try and push the pain down along with the rest of it. I walk purposely to the bedroom door. Pulling it open, a scene from a month or so ago replays itself. Michael’s large burly hand slams down on the door, preventing me from leaving yet another intense situation.

“Maria, wait,” he pants in my ear.

“Get out of my way,” I growl through gritted teeth. I’m tired of men telling me what to do, of trying to control me.

“Not until you talk to me.”

“Talking is highly overrated and does fuck all.” I snap. Whirling away from him I head for the balcony window. I’m not going to stand for this, especially not from him. His instincts kick in quickly, his arm shooting out to grab my shoulder. It misses, a strangled cry escaping my lips as his hand falls firmly on my forearm, causing the jean material of my coat to tear again at the freshly formed scabs. Tears spring to my eyes and the pain shoots through me once again.

“Fuck!” I cry, wiping angrily at my tears.

“Oh Jesus,” I hear him mumble and feel him quickly move to my side. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Anger courses through me. “Why don’t you watch what the fuck you’re doing?” I throw at him.

“I though you said it didn’t hurt,” he throws back quickly.

“Christ Michael,” I cry, standing up to glare at him again. “Of course it fucking hurts, what do you think I am, a robot?”

“Sometimes,” he spits back, increasing his volume to match my own.

My eyes widen. “Great. Just fucking great, he thinks I’m a robot,” I mutter sarcastically. “Perfect.”

“Well what do you expect me to think?” he shouts. “You won’t talk about anything that bothers you, even though it’s obvious to everyone that you’re miserable most of the time. You’d rather carve intricate designs in your arm than talk to someone. I can’t figure you out.”

His every word is like a slap in the face. “I never asked you to figure me out!” I yell back.

“I don’t care if you fucking asked me too! I’m going to anyway!” His voice rises with each word instilling an innocent fear in me. I take step back. He notices the movement and stops suddenly. Taking a breath, he begs softly. “Explain it to me. Please.”

My heart stops and my face pales. “I can’t,” I murmur, my strength fading.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing okay?” I plead with him to drop it, my voice cracking as fresh tears tease my eyes. My shoulders sag, defeat and exhaustion reigning. I stare blankly at my shoes and allow him to numbly guide me back to my bed, his arm wrapped around my waist.

He surprises me again with how gentle he can be as he brushes a stray tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I love you.”

My heart sinks at those three deadly and painful words. “Don’t say that,” I beg him.

“Why? It’s true,” he persists.

I shake his hand away from my face. “You think so but it’s not.” Shaking my head dully I whisper softly, “I don’t deserve your love.”

“Too bad cause it’s yours.” His voice has a tone of amusement in an attempt to ease the intense fog that now enfolds us in its grasp. He fails, only succeeding in making all of it harder.

“No,” I insist. “I’m broken Michael; damaged goods. I’m cold inside, there’s no love for me to give.”

“Maria, look at me,” he says softly. I refuse. I can’t let him see me fall apart like this. It’s not fair to him. He reaches out to tilt my head towards him. A lump forms in my throat at the unconditional love that reflects in his eyes. I can’t do this. “I love you for what you have inside, not for what you have to create for me. I love every scar on your body, mental and physical. And I know you think that’s wacked, but I never claimed to be totally sane.”

He smiles at me, a smile full of hope. My protective mask stays in place. A mask that has guarded me so many times from potential damage now protects me from what his words could inflict.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble under my breath. He opens his mouth to reply but I look at him sternly. He closes his mouth and lets me continue. “I can’t let you love me. You deserve so much better then me, Michael. I’m filled with so much shame and embarrassment. I’ve done so many things. Horrible things. This,” I point to the angry red lines on my arm, “is nothing compared to some of the stupid shit I’ve done.”

Swallowing back my hesitation and fear, I pull off the two ever present black leather bracelets from my wrists, each equally revealing a failed attempt at the most cowardly action I have ever attempted. I hide myself from his eyes as I allow him to see the epitome of my shame.

“Oh Maria,” he breathes softly, taking my wrists in his hands. His thumb gently caresses the two long scars, each a mirror image of the other.

I choke back a sob and allow him to examine them. “I didn’t call for help with Jess because it was something I had to do on my own. I had to show him and myself that I have the strength to be in control. And I can’t talk to you cause, it’s just so hard. The words… I can never form them in my head.” I pull away from him and look him in the eyes.

“Try, not for me but for you, just try.”

“Why? Words, talking, it doesn’t help. It just makes things worse. Dredges up things I’d rather not remember.”

“The other day when you talked about your father… You can’t tell me it didn’t feel good. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.” I bow my head from his scorching gaze. “Just try.”

Running my hand through my unruly locks of hair I let out a tormented sigh. I search desperately for the words. “I have a wall Michael, one that I built from scratch to protect myself. Yet no matter how many times I build it up, something comes along and tears it down. Rips it away from me and I’m left feeling naked and exposed. I don’t like that feeling.”

“You’re safe with me, you don’t need that wall. I’ll protect you.”

He speaks so softly and with such conviction that I truly believe him. Breathing deeply, I ring my hands together, trying to pull strength from myself to do this. “I… everyday is a constant struggle with this utter sense of loneliness. Every waking moment I feel lost and scared and alone.”

His large hands cup my face, his eyes staring deep into my soul. “You’re not alone Maria. I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his warm touch. “I know that, somewhere in me I do. But… I don’t feel it. I don’t live my life, I exist in it. I’m a third person in my own little world. Forced to sit by and watch as the days begin and end, melding together. It’s like… nothing matters, nothing affects me. Even the happy moments I have with you… afterwards, when I’m alone, it’s like they never happened. Every silent moment I get to myself, even if it’s just for a second, I’m bombarded with this empty feeling. Like I’m not whole. Like a piece of me is missing. It hurts so much, so much more than any cut or burn."

"And the only time I ever feel real, alive, is when I hurt myself. I don’t expect you to understand it but I’m tired. I’m tired of being alone and I’m tired of feeling lost. Sometimes I just wish I would just die…”

“No,” Michael whispers loudly, tears pricking his own eyes.

“I don’t want to die Michael but at least then…I’d be free from this torment. It would stop and I’d have peace.” With every word a tear slides down my cheek and my shoulders start to quake with pent up sobs. “I wanna be happy, I wanna be free… fuck I just wanna be.”

Michael pulls me to his chest and I go willingly, sobbing hard. His warm hand massages my back in soothing circles. I sob even harder, letting it all go. I sob for every physical scar on my body, every mental scar left by the many bastards in my life, but most of all I sob for the unrequited love this boy feels for me.

Michael’s soft and comforting words fall on my deaf ears. My sobs subside and I lean heavily on him. The energy to move is gone. He pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m here for you Maria, I always will be.” Leaning down, he looks me in the eyes, gauging my response. He frowns at my freshly renewed mask. The light of something flickers in his eyes and he moves me gently from his lap. “Stay here?”

I nod numbly and listen to him move into the bathroom. I hear him rummage around looking for something. I glance to the door on my right and contemplate leaving now and never coming back. Dropping the idea I shrug out of my coat, wincing when the fabric once again scratches at the cuts. I stare down at them, transfixed as fresh bouts of blood leak from the thin lines.

“It’s bleeding?” he asks, returning from the bathroom and taking a seat next to me. “Good.”

What the? My head snaps up and I glare at him a mountain of swear words on the tip of my tongue. His hand shoots up and I’m forced to swallow them. I stare nervously at the object he now holds in his hand.

“What’s that for?” I ask quickly.

“You said ‘pain doesn’t hurt’, right?”

I nod, staring at him oddly. Where is he going with this?

“Well I know where that comes from, and it’s not a Maria original. Patrick Swayze, right?”

I smile softly and confirm, “Roadhouse.”

“Good movie,” he says, smiling back at me. “I happen to think he’s right. Pain doesn’t hurt, but heartache does. Real, honest heartache hurts worse than any physical pain ever could.” He pauses for a moment, staring at me. I hold my breath waiting for him to continue, to explain himself. “What you were trying to say before, about why you do it, I think I understand.” I stare at him in disbelief. “The emotional pain is so bad you try you replace it with the physical, which doesn’t hurt as much. Am I close?”

I bow my head at the truth in his words. He’s right, or at least half way.

“I thought so,” he says softly, “Look at me?” he asks gently.

I raise my head slightly but I stop when my eyes hit his hand. I stare at the item he had retrieved. “Wha…” I ask shakily.

Holding out the palm of his hand he places the Swiss Army Knife again his skin.

“No,” I moan, slowly realizing what he is going to do.

“Yes,” he says smiling. “We’ll make a pact. You’re going to try and stop, as much as you can, and I’m going to understand, as much as I can. If neither of us can do it fully, no problem, but I’m going to be here for you, and you can push as hard as you want but I’m not leaving.” I try to object but he doesn’t let me. “And we’ll seal it - with blood.”

I gasp hard as he pulls the blade across his hand, the red line of blood appearing in stark contrast to his milky skin. He reaches out towards my arm, blood already running across his wrist, and places his hand directly on my cuts.

I flinch at the sudden contact, then relax as I feel skin upon skin, blood mixing with blood. I turn to look up at him. He stares down at me in turn. My heart swells.

“You… you did that for… for me?” I mumble through my tears.

“I’d do it again, and more.”

My head falls into my hand as sobs ripple through my body. He tosses the knife aside, not caring where it lands. Falling to his knees in front of me, he pulls me to him. “I love you Maria,” he whispers against my ear. “Whenever you feel alone or lost, no matter where I am or what time it is, you can always count on me. You just have to let me in, please.” His voice drops as he pleads with me.

I hesitate, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “I’ll try.”

He sighs in relief, giving me a squeeze. “That’s all I ask.”

I smile lightly. How on Earth did I end up with this guy? I honestly don’t deserve him. Glancing down at his hand gently laying on my arm, I sigh. Disbelief still courses through me. He loves me. Michael Guerin loves me, Maria Deluca.

“If I could take your pain away I would,” he whispers out of nowhere.

“I know,” I reply and I do. I know he would. I guess all I have to do is let him. The thought frightens me to the bone. It’s not an easy task, letting people in. This whole night has been a roller coaster of ups and downs. Yet throughout the whole ride I know he was strapped in next to me, committed for the long haul. Maybe, if I just try… I decide here and now to at least try. He’s done so much for me, I own him at least that.

Sniffing back another onslaught of tears I lean in and brush my lips against his. He reciprocates softly. Urgency builds within me, a need to feel his skin on mine. I urge him on, prodding his lips apart with my tongue. He pulls back and an unsettling feeling washes over me.

Resting his forehead on mine, he lets out his own shaky breath, “Maria…”

I halt him with a gentle kiss. Running my hand through his long soft hair I grip the back of his head. “Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper in a child like manner.

His chuckle vibrates through me. “Sure.”

Swallowing hard I brace myself for the repercussions what I’m about to say may have on the moment. Loosing myself in his deep chocolate eyes, I murmur against his lips, “I love you too…” Tears spring to my eyes and I wait apprehensively for his reaction.

A broad smile spreads across his face. “You don’t have to say that you know. Just because I did…” He trails off and I frown.

Seeing the glint in his eyes, I slap him lightly, pushing him onto his back as I crawl on top of him. He stares up at me, unsure but intrigued at the same time. “Down boy,” I joke, gripping his blood soaked hand gently in mine. Reaching over the side of the bed I grab my torn shirt off the floor. My body, aching and stiff, protests the movements but I ignore it. He looks at me with question as I tear the shirt into pieces.

“You’re bleeding you nimrod,” I smirk and begin the studious task of wiping the blood from his palm. Tears threaten me again when the full extent of the wound become apparent to me. “God you are such an idiot.”

“Yeah but you love me anyway,” he quirks, his eyes never leaving my face as I wrap his hand with my shirt temporarily.

Pausing, I look into his eyes poignantly. “I do, love you. I don’t know how the hell it happened.” I sniff back a tear and giggle a little. “God this day has gone from good to bad to worse to mushy cheesefest.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “Mushy cheesefest?”

“Yeah, mushy cheesefest… but oddly enough I’m not minding so much…” I caress his brow gently. His eyes close and he moans softly. Pushing him away I sit up and tie off the cloth on his palm. “That’s going to hurt for a long while, believe me.”

He shrugs, “It’s worth it.”

I smile as I lower myself to the bed beside him, unable to stop the murmur leaving my lips as my certainly cracked ribs scream once more in agony.

His eyes search out mine, traveling over the mask of pain covering my face. “Is it bad?”

“Kinda," I mumble, shifting uncomfortably on the pillow.

"We should get some ice on it,” he suggest, his hand gripping mine, fingers intertwining with my own.

I shake my head and pull his body down next to me. "Maybe later," I say softly, right now unable to imagine another place in the universe that I would rather be than cuddled into his protective body. Curling into his side, I let myself relax. My eyes drift shut, exhaustion taking over. The day’s ordeals fall away and there’s nothing left but this one moment. I nuzzle into his warm body, letting his warmth, his love consume me. He holds me close, his hand moving absently over my sore and tender back. The touch sooths me, pulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Pain! Unbearable, scorching pain surges through me. A fog washes over my skin seeping deep into my flesh causing waves of painful tickles to vibrate down to the bone. It enfolds me, wrapping me in its dreadful grasp. It’s overwhelming, overpowering, pushing me down on bended knee, forcing the breath from my lungs, the blood from my veins. A whispering wind breaks past the barrier the fog has created around me, bringing with it promises of comfort and offerings of strength.

Hesitation clouds my mind, paralyzing me, preventing me from taking the hand of charity. The pain becomes overbearing and a decision rings clear in the staleness of my enclosed prison. I latch onto the wind, allowing it to pull me free from the darkness into the light. The vision that surrounds me is familiar yet odd all at once. The cold expanse of my precious balcony reflects in my deep green eyes. Dancing flames from lit candles provide a thin blanket of warmth. The promised feel of comfort and strength floods over me, a deep, settling calm washing away the pain, making it but a whisper of what it once was.

I can still feel it pricking at the sensitive parts of my flesh but am able to push past it and revel in my surroundings. I’m safe for now, hidden in my sanctuary. Glancing out into the distance, I frown at the nothingness. A hallow reminder that the pain now looms over my head, waiting to engulf me when the time comes.

Is this real or just a dream, created with the sole purpose of protecting me? I search my memory for the answers. A chiseled face, basked in warmth and love flashes before my eyes.

“Michael,” I breathe a sigh of content. The face transforms along with my disposition. Anger barrels through me as the chiseled cheeks become sallow, the eyes darker, grayer and the warmth cold. I remember now, what happened. “Jess,” I utter his name as if even the mere mention of it has the ability to burn holes in my flesh.

This is a dream. I should be lying in the refuge of Michael’s broad arms, not staring off into a dark abyss of shadows. I move to pinch myself in a desperate attempt to awake from this slumber. I gasp harshly. The bandage, once protecting my oozing wounds is missing, the wounds gone. I reach a tentative hand to my side, feeling for the tender flesh that was once there. Nothing. No pain, where is the pain? Pulling up my shirt up I stare with wide eyes at the perfectly colored skin. Where are the bruises?

I snap up from my inspection when a muffled voice calls out. Stiffening I listen silently for more. It comes again, this time with more force. I can’t make out the words but that voice… I know that voice.

“Amy?” I whisper in shock. Shooting up from my kneeling position on the cement balcony floor, I search wildly for the older woman but the black void that engulfs my sanctum prevents me. A voice rings out again, this time deeper, quieter. “Michael?” The two voices rise in volume, each one getting louder then the other. Clarity never ascends upon me, instead only confusion. It surrounds me, barring down on me everywhere yet nowhere all at once. Squeezing my eyes shut I concentrate solely on the voices, struggling to make sense of their muffled language. Foreign, unintelligent words fly past me in quick succession. All but one word goes misunderstood.

“Hospital…” A fearful whisper slips past my hanging mouth. Dread builds within me. I can’t go to a hospital. “No, no, no…” I repetitively mutter, a mantra made to ease the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm. The voices stop, going unnoticed by me.

Moving quickly back and front across the short expanse of my prison, my mind runs wild. Anxiety supercedes the calm, driving it into remission. They can’t do this to me… can they? Running my hands over my face, I struggle to remove the webbing that now fills my mind. My chest starts to rise and fall, quickening the pace of my breaths. Short hyperventilating gasps try to force themselves past my swiftly closing throat. Panicked waves crash through me.

I try to run, turn to fight my way back inside my bedroom but my legs will not respond. Stumbling to a stop, I stare down at the concrete floor. I won’t let them do this to me. I have to wake up, stop them. Closing my eyes I clear my mind, focusing fully on my new task.

“Wake up.” I breathe, pausing in rapt patience. A soft breeze swirls past me, my skin tingling under its caress.

“Wake up,” I snap more forcefully the breeze echoing me, growing stronger. Opening my eyes, realization dawns on me, this is a dream and I can escape it if I can only force myself awake.

Stepping closer to the edge of the balcony, I belt out, “Wake up!” A gargled cry slips out of my mouth and I stager, the breeze surrounding me becoming a wind. Standing fully, struggling against the angry force, I shriek at the top of my lungs. The words become lost in the whipping winds. Darkness follows as my eyes close. The wind is relentless, pushing my body backwards towards the edge precipice of my safety. My feet lose their stable hold on the ground and another cry gets caught up in my throat as I feel my body being thrown. My side collides with the edge of the balcony, a sickening crack sounding in my ears. Sharp stinging penetrates throughout my abdomen as the wind slices deep into my flesh, replacing the wounds the dream had taken from me. Without warning the ground falls out from under me, crumbling beneath the pressure. My mind, my senses and my body are all sent into an unending free fall. I try to scream, to release my fears with sound but nothing escapes my open mouth. As quickly as it had started, abruptly it stops, my prone body hitting stable merciless pavement.

Stilling, I remain prone, waiting with uncertainty for the end to proclaim itself. The cold hard surface beneath me starts to morph into something soft and warm. My eyes remain closed as the sound of a steady beat filters its way into my consciousness. Am I still captured in the realm of the dream? Is this as fake as the last? The answers to my questions lie behind the lids of my eyes. Trying to open them, I find I can’t. Some unknown power forces them to stay closed and no matter how hard I try I can’t bypass it. I listen instead to the sounds around me, ignoring the beat, pushing it to the back of my mind. The soft sound of breathing resounds clearly amongst the confusion. Focusing, I soon realize it is my own breath, rising and falling steadily. Frustrated, I push past the sound, adding it to the beat. The next sound is one I never expected and it throws me off guard.

A woman’s temperate sobs pierce my eardrums and for the first time I feel the warmth of a feminine hand that holds mine. Is she crying for me? She can't be crying for me. What if she is crying for me? Why? Am I hurt badly? Are the injuries inflicted by Jess worse than I thought? Maybe it's bad. Maybe I’m dying.

“Sometimes I just wish I would just die…”

My own words haunt me. Is it irony that toys with me? No, I won’t let this be the end. With renewed vigor I command my eyes to open. Fluttering, light from the outside world trickles into the sides of my vision. Gradually, the weight on my eyelids lifts allowing me to open them. I immediately rethink the action when blinding light assaults my senses. Slamming my eyes shut again a whimper flees the confines of my throat. The whimper is quickly followed by a short gasp and a loss of warmth.

“Maria…” comes a quivering question.

My voice hides deep within me, unwilling to pronounce its presence so instead I moan.

“Hi,” the voice purrs in a soothing tone. Forcing my eyes open hesitantly, giving them time to adjust to the light, I see Amy’s concerned eyes connect with mine.

“Hey,” the sound of my own voice, hoarse and weak, is alarming. “Wha…”

Covering my mouth with her finger she silences me, “Don’t try to talk, they just removed the tube from your throat.”

“Tube?” I ask, ignoring her warning.

Rolling her eyes she pulls her chair closer to my bed. My eyes push past her figure and land on the cool white walls. Panic starts to build within me as I allow my eyes to travel over the rest of the room before landing on a machine standing next to me. The source of the beat being my own heart, the monitor confirming that I am indeed alive.

Turing back to Amy, tears shining in my eyes, I’m able to mutter, “Where am I?” Deep down I already know the answer to my question but I don’t want to believe it, even as the word hospital rolls off Amy’s tongue, I choose not to believe it. Michael wouldn’t let this happen. I told him no. No matter how much I try to deny the truth, it keeps slapping me in the face and when my eyes land on the small IV protruding from the back of my hand I can no longer hide.

I struggle to keep the sobs at bay as they start to wreak havoc with my frail body. I feel Amy reach for me but brush her off just as a sob breaks past my walls. Please let this be a dream. Please. Begging only seems to make the sobs grow stronger. The vibrations wracking my body cause even more painful ones to throb throughout my abdomen.

“Oh God,” Amy lets out a breath of prayer, reaching for the emergency call button lying on the table next to the bed. My arm shoots out, grabbing her hand in a tight hold.

“No,” I squeak pathetically. “Please,” I croak, willing my sobs to subside. Looking me deep in the eyes she relents and leans in closer.

“Hurting bad?” she asks, her fingers drawing imaginary circles on my arm.

“Only when I breathe,” unintentional sarcasm drips off every word. “What happened?”

She gives me a reassuring smile. “You were attacked.”

Scoffing, I mutter, “I remember that. How the hell did I end up here in this fucking hospital?” I rephrase the question, shuddering at the word hospital. The sterile smell of disinfectant wafts towards me and I vow to kill my boyfriend if I ever get out of here.

“You were attacked,” she states more sternly and I am taken aback by her forceful voice. Shaking her head she leans back in her chair. “You almost died, Maria. Do you realize that? I almost lost you and all because you couldn’t bring yourself down off your high hoarse long enough to realize that maybe you did need help. Not just after you pretty much allowed Jess to beat you to death but even before that. I thought we had agreed that you would tell Michael. But you didn’t.”

Stunned, I stare at her as emotions come and go from my eyes. Surprise turns to shock. Shock to disbelief. Disbelief to anger. My head starts to shake as I try to hold my rage in. “Figures,” I mutter. Laughing despondently, I turn away from her and stare at the wall across from me.

“Oh don’t give me that. You scared me, I love you as if you were my own and when I walked into your room to find you barely breathing, all bruised and bloody… You have no idea how scared I was.” Her voice cracks under the volumes of emotion rolling through her.

The storm thrashing within her spreads to me and I try to blink back the tears as they form, “Barely breathing?” I utter the words under my breath, staring down at my bare arms. I am so consumed with my sorrow that I don’t even think twice about covering the scars. What’s the use anyway? She can see them, even through her tears.

“Yeah,” she breathes through her sniffs. “I had to call an ambulance, they took you from me and I never thought I’d see you again. When we got here you were already in surgery. Your spleen was ruptured. They had to remove it.” She answers the question dancing in my eyes before I can even voice it.

I shudder at the implication of her words. Surgery. Some doctor that I have never met has not only examined the full extent of the scars on my body, he has added another, a precise straight line drawn with a scalpel, perfection that I have never been able to achieve with my own tools. Glancing back down at my arms, I am filled with a mix of shame and embarrassment and subconsciously try to cover them with my hands.

“It’s okay, I know,” I snap up at her whisper. Of course she knows. I wait for a speech or an order to see some physiatrist who’ll try and decipher the fucked up mind that I happen to occupy. “I always knew.”

I am stunned into complete silence, sobs threaten me more forcefully and my mind struggles to digest her words. “What?” my whisper is almost a whine, shrill to even my own ears.

“I’ve always known,” she tries to explain but instead she only causes more confusion for me. “Ever since your mother called me and told me you were coming.”

“Why… why…” I mumble, my mouth opening and closing in rapid succession.

“Why didn’t I tell you before?” she asks for me. I nod stoically. “Simple, I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me yourself.” Glancing around she lets out a soft laugh, “Guess it’s kind of too late for that now, huh?”

“Yeah…” I continue to struggle with this new information. Questions plague me and I want to voice them but am too fearful to do it.

“If you want I can get you a sweater of some sort to cover your arms.” She offers as if sensing my discomfort. I nod, unable to talk. “I’ll send Alex.”

My gaze snaps to her, “He’s here?”

She nods smiling, “Him, Michael and Liz are all sitting in the waiting room right now.”

I process the information slowly turning back to stare down at my bare arms. They are all here, they have all seen the full display of my savageness by now. Covering them is futile but I let Amy continue on her quest for a sweater, desperate to get her out of my room.

She watches me staring at my arms and stands up from her chair. Leaning over, she kisses my hairline. “Get some rest, I’ll be back with something warm and fluffy soon enough.” She smiles at the image of me wearing anything warm and fluffy and I wryly snarl back at her.

She laughs and I grant her a tiny grin before leaning heavily on my pillow and closing my eyes. Feigning sleep, I listen to her leave, closing the door behind her. As soon as the latch clicks my eyes snap open. Struggling to sit up, I almost pass out from the stabbing pain in my side. I grip the gauze covering my newest wound tightly with my hand, forcing my fingers into the sensitive flesh as I push through the agony. I tug forcefully on the IV sticking out of my hand. The tape tears away from my delicate flesh but I am free of the vital fluids surging into my body, help I do not desire. Pulling the blanket away, I allow my legs to swing over the edge of the bed. Getting off the high bed proves more difficult than sitting was. Placing all my weight on wobbly legs, I am surprisingly able to stay standing.

Searching around, I spot my clothes hanging over the side of a chair. Keeping one hand on the bed for stability I lean over, my arm outstretched. My fingers wrap themselves around the material and I pull them towards me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Out of nowhere a voice snaps at me. I freeze, hovering over the bed. A thousand curses articulate themselves in my mind and my eyes squeeze shut in defeat.

“Nowhere?” I offer feebly and am rewarded with an icy, bitter chuckle.

“Funny, looks to me like you’re skipping out.”

Whipping my head around I snap back, “Like you really give a shit what I do.”

Stepping closer, brown eyes darken with an immense anger, “I do when it concerns Amy. And this most definitely concerns her.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the task at hand; somehow getting out of this stupid gown and into my real clothes. “I’m not skipping town if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t dream about doing that to Amy. Besides she's just outside, where am I going to go?"

"Actually, she went with Alex to get you some clothes, and if she comes back to find you not here she'll freak… again."

"Look, I just need to get out of here, okay?”

“Anything I can say to stop you?”

“No,” I answer, struggling to pull my shirt over my head without hurting myself, the bulky gown swirling around me as I refuse to show her more skin than necessary. It is a futile task; no matter how I try to maneuver myself I just can’t do it. I whimper in pain as I push my limits on my last try. Cursing, I slam the fabric onto the bed.

“Here,” Liz whispers, coming to stand next to me. Taking the shirt in her hands she straightens it out. I watch suspiciously as she pulls it over my head and down my body. Helping me slip my arms into the right holes, she makes sure it's as painless as possible.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask, suspicion at her true motives rushing through my body. She remains silent and I follow her lead as she grabs my jeans and bends down so I can step into them.

“If I can’t stop you I may as well help you," she finally replies. "Least this way your chances of getting hurt further decrease.” The whole time she’s explaining herself she continues to pull my jeans on for me. Catching site of dark pink slits protruding from my skin I turn my head away, flushing with mortification. How can she do this without cringing in disgust? Slipping the button securely into place she stands up fully and smiles at me proudly.

“Thanks,” I whisper sincerely.

She just shrugs and takes my hand in hers. Reaching up my sleeve, I notice that she is extra careful not to touch the bandaged cuts on my arm. Gentle would never have been a word used to describe the pierced, make-up laden girl standing before me, but she holds my arm with such a delicate touch that I am stirred into awestruck silence that maybe I actually owe Michael an apology. He was right about Liz, she does care what happens to me. Of course first I should probably apologize to her, and then I have to kill Michael before I ever intend on apologizing to him.

I watch Liz as she tugs firmly on the gown beneath my clothes. Expertly, she removes it from underneath my shirt, pulling it fully out the other sleeve.

“Ta da!” She grins brightly, holding the material in her hands. A giggle slips past my lips, the sound wavering slightly at my building nervousness over the apology forming in my brain. “Max’s Jeep is out front, he’s letting me use it. You ready to move?”

Groaning, I lean against the side of the bed, “I’m not so sure about this.”

She shrugs indifferently, “Then don’t go.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is, you go or you stay. It’s not really very dimensional.” The way she states it I almost start to believe her. “I mean, why does it have to be so complicated?” she continues, helping me sit down in the chair Amy once occupied. “The way I see it you have two choices. Stay and get the complimentary super drugs, while getting better of course, or go back home and settle for two lowly Tylenols every four hours… while getting better with agonizing slowness.”

Staring at her in disbelief, I am hit with the realization that I’ve missed her. Not just for her dry humor but for her friendship. She stares back at me with a cute smirk on her face. Catching the tears in my eyes she rolls her own. Wrapping her arm around my shoulder she pulls me close.

“I'm really sorry,” I mumble softly, going willingly into the embrace.

"About what?"

I lower my head to avoid her questioning gaze. "I'm sorry I got mad at you. I know you were just trying to help me but I never asked for it." I pause to find her eyes again. "I just don't handle charity very well."

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" she asks.

My mouth creases into a thin line as I watch her refuse the best words I can muster. "Well excuse me if it's not good enough for her highness," I snarl.

"See now, there's the Maria I know and love," she replies, grinning as she knows she has taunted me into a rage once again.

"I missed you," I grin back, smiling at her beaming face.

“Don’t go getting emotional on me Deluca,” she teases but I can hear the emotions in her own voice.

“Sorry… complimentary drugs make me prone to mushiness,” I joke.

“See with normal people, they just get groggy.” She jokes back, all seriousness lost as the words flow into the air.

“No such thing as normal.” I muse. I forget where I am for a moment and shift in the chair. The pain ringing sharply through my side reminds me rudely that I should not have forsaken the wondrously numbing abilities of the intravenous drugs. Moaning I cling tighter to Liz, leaning heavily on her for fear of falling out of my chair.

Grunting under my weight she pulls me closer. “Alright, decision time.”

Through the pain seizing the vacant hole where my spleen once lay, I recognize the kindness of Liz's words. I can barely blink my eyes for the needles piercing my skin yet she still allows me to make my own decision, even if the right answer should be obvious.

Obvious? Yes. Easy? No. Hesitating, I glance back at the cold sterile looking bed and weigh the pros and cons. Being caught up in this sterile unfeeling hellhole or going home to my warm bed? The gray underlining to staying being no more pain. Go home and I’d have to deal with it.

I suck in a shallow breath, nodding to signal her to help me to the bed. She does, laying me gently on my back as she pulls the blanket over my shivering body.

"I'd like to see you explain the clothes to Amy when she gets back," she teases lightly, smoothing the surface of the blanket over my arms.

"I was… I was cold," I mumble, the lie already set in my brain for the doubtless questions that will arise.

"It's bad?" Liz questions softly, placing a cool hand against my sweating forehead.

I manage to nod, my teeth chattering as my skin boils and a cold wave surges through my body. She grabs after the emergency call button, presses it repeatedly as she watched me with growing concern. I am barely keeping my grip on this reality as I see a nurse stroll casually into the room. I want to scream at her to hurry but I smile as Liz takes care of it for me.

"You get paid if they suffer more?" she growls sarcastically.

The nurse gives her nothing more than a cursory glance, walking around the bed to grab the IV needle swinging from its stand.

"Decided you want it again, did you?" she questions me and I vow that she will never look at a patient the same way again once I can find enough strength to claw her eyes out.

She busies herself inserting a new needle into my hand, taping it firmly to the reddened skin. I feel the instant chill of the drugs seeping into my veins and relax a little as I dream of the comfort they will soon provide. Liz smiles down at me, her features blurring as I feel sleep reach out to clutch me tight within its grasp.

"Rest, okay?" she whispers, smoothing my hair softly.

I nod, watching through slatted eyes as she leaves the room. She is barely outside when the door opens immediately and I focus briefly on the figure entering.

"Michael," I murmur before the power of exhaustion takes over and I drift into unconsciousness, him the last thought on my mind.

The soft tendrils of the beautiful dream that had only moments ago consumed my unconscious slips from my grasp, making way for the harsh unbending walls of reality. As the haze lifts from my clouded mind I am assaulted by images of the past few days, reminders of where I am and why. Blinking away the sleep, my naked eyes peer deep into the dark recesses of my small hospital room. Sliding around the surfaces, they land on a stoic, lean figure leaning heavily against the sole window. Unseeing eyes bear down on the world outside—on the quiet homes of slumbering people. Swallowing hard, I let out a breathy ‘hey’, earning myself a sideways glance, a soft smile and an echoed ‘hey’.

Soft feet glide towards me, and he gently lowers onto the hard, sterile hospital bed. Shifting, I allow him room to get comfortable and he graces me with a grateful smile. Reaching out, his long warm fingers pull my small cold ones into a gentle hold.

“Pain?” he whispers warmly, his heated breath caressing my bare cheeks.

Pausing, I search deeply for the answer. Coming up with just the tiniest uncomfortable stinging in my side, I shake my head muttering, “Complimentary drugs are working their magic.”

His chuckle vibrates through my cool fingers and up my arm, spreading warmth as it goes. “Good,” he says, pausing as his thumb lovingly drawing circles on my palm. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles suddenly, producing a surprising apology from thin air as he casts his gaze away from mine.

My brow furrows at the words. “Why?”

Hesitating, he looks me in the eye, his surprise evident in his deep pools. “You didn’t wanna be here. You told me explicitly but I…”

Giving his hand a squeeze I silence him. “Michael,” I soothe. “It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“It wasn’t at first, I wanted to kill you at first.” I allow myself to chuckle softly and he joins in, a knowing look crossing his face. Sobering quickly, I continue in a need for him to understand, “But… as much as I don’t wanna be here, I’d be dead if I wasn’t, and contrary to popular belief… I’m opposed to that.”

The light in his eyes dims, his grin giving way for a knowing frown. Shifting, he pulls my hand closer to his chest, leaning down and pressing his lips to the soft contours of my knuckles. Blushing at the tender affection, I try to push myself up into a sitting position. Realizing what I’m trying to do he springs into action. Dropping my hand momentarily, he reaches down and maneuvers the controls on the bed. It jolts beneath me before the back section slowly lifts itself into an angled position.

Staring up at me from his hunched position he asks, “How’s that?”

“It’s good, thanks,” I reply, shifting my lower body, giving my tender torso room to stretch out. I catch site of my covered arms and smile—even though I could no longer feel my jeans, I’m grateful to find they left my shirt on.

An unsettling calm descends upon us, a tension filling the already dense air. I can feel his eyes on me and fidget under them in examination. Sighing, I turn to him with an air of seriousness surrounding me.

“You do understand why I didn’t want to be here don’t you?” A hint of uncertainty tints the edges of my words and my stomach drops at the confused look that crosses his face. Rolling my eyes, I tear my gaze away from him, letting it settle on my covered arms. Of course he didn't know. After last night I thought he’d understand, the thought a testament to my stupidity I guess.

“I know,” he whispers, reaching out and running a gentle hand over my head, bringing it to a stop at the base of my neck. With a gentle tug he pulls me forward enough to press his lips to my temple. “I know.”

Tears spring to my eyes but never fall as I try fruitlessly to push away from him. “No you don’t,” I whimper, pressing harder.

“Your scars… it’s because of your scars, I know,” he insists, whispering into my hairline, his hold never relenting.

I stiffen, tilting my head up towards him. Staring at him hotly, sarcasm drips heavily off my words, “Yeah… but you have no idea how I feel. To know that complete strangers have…” I can’t finish the sentence, too much anger rolling through me. Shaking my head relentlessly, I resist his broad arms again. “You have no idea…”

Heaving a sigh of defeat, he loosens his hold and I quickly seize the opportunity to pull away and lean back against the bed. The fast movement is a mistake as I am reminded of why I am lying in this bed at all. Hissing, my hand grips my shirt while the precision cut marring my side protests my actions. Breathing deeply, I try and calm my heart. I see his warm hand reach for my arm and pull away before he can touch me.

“When can I go home?” I ask indifferently, my tone cold, sterile, echoing the walls that imprison me.

“Soon, Dr. Romano just needs to do a check up.”

His answer is just as cold as my question, if not more so, and I hide my surprise that he can give it as good as I can as I turn away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let out a shaky breath, mumbling a final word to our conversation, “Good.”

Age-ridden hands lift the pale white sheet, pulling with it the sheer gown. Calloused fingers pull at the protective gauze on my skin, combing over the bulging slit lying there, the bruises surrounding it screaming their dismay at the procedure that had revealed it. Wincing at the probing touch of this stranger, I peel my eyes away from the horror that is now and will continue to be. Closing my eyes, I picture the scar that will mark my body for years to come, a testament to the horror that was my most recent brush with the cold-hand of death. I imagine its dark pink edges melding into my pale flesh, its purple tint forming a hill of dead flesh.

A gentle pressure on my arm forces my eyes open once again, the room’s vile contours invading my vision once more. Shifting my gaze to the origin of the pressure, my lips curve into a tightly forced grin. Liz returns the smile, squeezing my arm again, her way of telling me that it was going to be over soon. Taking a deep breath, I turn back just as the doctor pulls my gown back down, restoring the fragmented remains of my dignity.

“Well…” A quivering voice from the far corner speaks up, the owner taking a tentative step forward. “Can she go home?”

I shudder inwardly when the man looks down at me with a reassuring smile. I loathe his smile, the need to smack it off his wrinkled face surging through me. This man, this doctor, had violated my body without remorse. He never bothered to wonder how his probing hands would affect me; he never asked if he could carve a new scar into my skin. It’s not his right, it’s my own. I get to decide when and where a new scar appears, not some stranger. As he replies to Amy, I have to forcibly push back the need to vomit, his voice tormenting to my ears.

“I don’t see why not, there’s no sign of infection or tearing,” he explains, smiling a disgusting smile. In a childish but more then needed gesture, I shoot out my tongue at the man’s back. Glaring mockingly at his back, I am rewarded with a muffled giggle from the girl next to me. The sound resounds in my ears forcing a true smile to form.

Amy turns to me, the look on her face telling me to behave as I see a twinkle forming in her own eyes, signaling complete understanding. Shrugging innocence, I concentrate once again on the shrill sound of Dr. Romano’s voice.

“You’ll have to bring her back in a week for a check-up. Also, I suggest you don’t let her sleep too much.”

A flash of fear crosses Amy’s face and I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s not like I sleep much anyway, choosing the balcony over my bed, staying up late into the night staring up at the stars, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in three hours.

Sensing Amy’s fear, the doctor explains, trying to ease the worry lines from her soft features. “Don’t worry Ms. Deluca, the concussion Maria has is by no means severe, it’s just precautionary.”

Nodding slowly, relief washing over her face, she accepts the doctor’s outreached hand. “Thank you so much for taking care of her.”

Blushing slightly he shrugs indifference, “It’s my job.” Turning towards me he smiles lightly, “Now I don’t wanna see you in here again.”

Smirking sarcastically, I mutter, “Don’t worry. Coming back? Not on the top of my ‘to do’ list.”

Startled by the menacing tone in my voice, he forces an unsure smile onto his face, “Right, uh… I have rounds so take care.” The second his form disappears from sight I visibly relax.

“Great, now I get to deal with your lazy ass at work again,” Liz teases.

Shooting a look of mock anger, I push myself up into a sitting position. I let out a frustrated groan as both Liz and Amy rush to help. “Guys!” I cry, pushing their hands away softly as I give them both stern looks. “If you’re gonna be like this for the next week, I think I’d rather stay.”

“Sorry sweetie, mothering instincts. They tend to take control on whims,” Amy explains, taking a step back to give me room to move.

“It’s o-kay…” I slowly trail off as Nurse-From-Hell enters the room back first, pulling with her a metallic wheelchair. Shaking my head adamantly I spout, “No, no way, I’m not…”

“Maria,” Amy interrupts the inevitable rambling before it can truly get started. “It’s just to the car.”

“No,” I state, leaving no room for argument. “You,” speaking directly to Nurse-From-Hell, “can take your chariot from hell back to Hades, where it and you belong.”

Huffing soundly she does as I say, quickly vacating the room but not before unloading a stream of curses in my direction.

****

The drive home was a silent one, my ignorant decision to “walk” turning out to be just that—ignorant. By the time I had reached the car, my breath was almost non-existent and the burning in my side had become a fire, devouring my senses, filling my eyes with painful tears.

Attempting to talk was futile and thankfully unnecessary; all I had to do was give Amy a look and she pulled the car over so I could vomit into the dark dusty streets, the hospital’s food relocating itself to the ground. When the car mercifully came to a stop outside the Crashdown I was half dead, my mind being consumed by the pain. I never saw who pulled me from the car into their warm arms but as the musky smell of Michael’s cologne hit me I knew.

I can smell it now, feel it swirling around me, assaulting me with such intensity. It is overwhelming, sending shivers of pleasure throughout my body. He’s always had this effect on me and I used to hate him for it; used to curse the day I ever met him for all the power he holds over me. All that’s changed now, I’ve changed. What Jess said was so true it was almost frightening and at the time I didn’t want to hear it. My time in the hospital changed that. I had almost two days of lying undisturbed by 'life' to mull over everything that had happened. I tortured myself with his taunts, replaying all the hateful words he’d spewed at me, accepting the truthful, if difficult, ones and dispersing the hateful, unjust ones.

My conclusion? That I have changed but not for the worse as he believed. Forcing my eyes open, I admire the reason behind my change, the source of my newfound strength which I have lacked throughout my life this far. As he lays here, before me in all his glory I’m assaulted with a deep-seeded need to be held by him.

Reaching out a tentative yet knowing hand, I run it over the prickling stubble of three days of sleepless night filled with worry. My gentle tickling rouses him from his light sleep. Staring at me through sleep-clouded eyes, he smiles groggily. Pouting my full lips at him, I entice him into the action I desire as he slips his arm under the blanket, across my stomach to wrap around the dip of my waist. Cautious of my wounds, he traces small circles through my hindering clothes, sending shivers throughout my middle body.

A faint whimper escapes me and he pulls back sharply. Gripping his arm, I pull it back into place, reassuring him with my eyes that I am fine. Grinning, he returns to his ministrations, slipping lower, massaging the peeking flesh at the top of my hip. Sliding my eyes shut, I revel in the sensual feel.

Stretching out his palm flat against me, he moves at an agonizingly slow pace up the side of my stomach, slipping under my shirt, forcing the air from my lungs as anticipation takes hold of me. I scowl at the chuckle that vibrates through him. Before I can snap open my eyes to glare at him his velvet lips land firmly on my own, his hand cupping the fullness of my bare breast. Waves of shock and pleasure riddle through me. Nipping at my lower lip, he waits patiently for me to reciprocate the tender kiss.

Groaning into his mouth, I attack him, molding my lips to his. Leaning up, I push my breast into his hand, demanding further attention. Obliging, he runs a calloused thumb over the tender nipple. Shuddering, I slip my tongue deep into the crevasse of his hot mouth, eliciting a moan from deep within him. Running my own hand up his arm, I grip the back of his neck, forcing him closer to me. Suddenly the movement is too much for me and I cry deeply into his mouth as I pull back, a sharp fire spreading through my side.

Gasping sharply, I shut my eyes tightly as I try to force the pain from my body.

“You okay?” his husky whisper voices in my ear as his hand pulls out from under my shirt to caress the side of my face, brushing away silent tears.

Nodding silently, the pain subsides slowly as I lean into his hand. “It’s gone.”

“We should stop,” he whispers hesitantly, his disappointment weighing heavily in his words.

“No,” I beg softly. Threading my fingers through his, I prevent him from pulling away. My eyes pleading with him as I stretch up again, hovering just below his lips, “Please.”

Groaning in frustration he rests his head on mine. “Maria,” he drawls. “You’re hurt, I don’t wanna be responsible for making it worse.”

Sighing softly, I finger the palm of his hand, moving in slow sensual circles. “Then we’ll take it easy.”

“Maria.”

Staring up at him annoyed, I lean in and brush my lips over his softly. Resisting at first, he slowly gives into his own needs, matching my intensity. “Just be gentle,” I whisper into his mouth before sliding my tongue past his lips. He responds in kind, joining gently in the dueling I mount. Guiding our entangled hands down, he frees mine from his, letting it rest softly between us. Moving in closer, he presses his body up against mine. Staring deep into his eyes, I shudder at the intense need and desire that lies there; a need for me. I barely feel the tears as they form.

Leaning forward he teasingly snags his lower lip against mine. Lifting my head off the pillow I try to deepen the kiss as he pulls back and a soft whimper emanates from me.

“Don’t tease,” I whimper softly, falling back into my pillow.

Chuckling softly, he leans forward again, the joyous sparkle in his eyes turning serious, his gaze deepening ever so slightly. “You remember that thing I said before that you didn't like me saying?”

Furrowing my brow at his cryptic question, I’m immediately assaulted with the memory for a few days ago. The day he’d proclaimed his wants and desires, his subtle declaration of 'I love you'. Smiling coyly, I nod.

“Well it’s true…” Bringing a hand up, he cups the side of my face in his palm. “I do.”

Fighting yet another bout of tears, I try to wrap my mind around his second, more meaningful, yet still utterly subtle declaration. Hesitating for only a moment, I whisper, “I do too.”

His face lights up, a deep red coloring his cheeks as his mouth flares into a large goofy smile. “Really?”

Breathing deeply, I nod my head uttering the word, “Really.”

As my own cryptic proclamation floats from my swollen lips, he descends upon them, probing them open with his desire to express his love physically as well as verbally. I lean back against the pillows, allowing his hands to explore my body as my mouth explores his, reveling in the new emotion coursing through my body—contentment. I don't think I have felt truly content for one day in my life, always at the ready for another battle to fight, always looking for another person to push away. Now… now I have happiness, a family, love… things I never dreamed I would ever get, or want, until they were placed before me for the taking. I grab onto them tightly now, vowing to never let go of their glorious comfort, taking solace in their protection as I let the small realization into my head that maybe I don't have to do it all alone, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to accept the help of another sometimes… maybe.

Deception, even when conjured out of the most honorable of intents, still hurts. No matter how many excuses you can produce, or how well you can sugar coat it, nothing can hinder the pain that comes with being lied to by those you love more dearly than the life that spreads through your veins every second of every day. The truth, like a malicious torturer leisurely digging the razor end of a jagged blade through your precious skin, is nothing compared to the deception that garners the truth.

Is it ever worth the pain? Keeping truths so vital? Was it ever worth the anguish, the anger, the hurt?

When I woke up that morning, the warm entrapment of my lover’s arms vacant, a tickle in the back of my mind knew. It just knew something was wrong. Ignoring the whimpering wound in my side, its painful waves washing over my body, I pushed myself out of the makeshift imprisonment I’d been restricted to. The enclosed walls posed as my only stability, keeping me from making contact with the unforgiving floor as I crept down the hall, the aged boards beneath my feet protesting my slow movement, its gentle cries ringing loudly in my tender ears.

Breaking past the invisible barrier at the end of the hall, I made my way into the living room, moving with excruciating purpose towards the staircase. In the silent moments before my destination, an anomalous object lying poised on the counter top caught my attention.

I never would have given it a second thought if it weren’t for the bold letters making up the vowels of my own name. The envelope, torn at the edges, creased with meaningful wrinkles called me to. Never had I received a letter. Not once in the time that I’d been here.

Taking in the large gap between myself and the counter, with nothing to hold onto to make the journey, I barely gave it second thought as I let go of the wall's protection and waded out into potential danger. Stumbling into the side of the counter I cringed, gasping sharply as the unrelenting pain returned.

Pushing past it, I stared down at the letter, its implications fully dawning on me. The return address in the top corner stood out amongst the tears tingling in my eyes—New York Coroner’s Office. With sweaty palms I reached for the letter. Ripping it from its confines, I quickly unfolded it, staring down at the black depraved words. Over and over I reread them, their true meaning unable to fully sink in.

I barely felt the tears seeping from my shocked eyes. The world around me closed in on itself, its contents blurring together, my vision clouding. With new resolve, new intent, I spun around and stalked to the stairs, the letter clutched tightly in my hand as I painfully made my way down.

When I reached the bottom nothing mattered to me besides the battle I prepared to mount. The pain in my side became inconsequential, the tears streaming down my face non-existent even as they formed and pooled at the precipice of my chin. Nothing mattered but the woman on the other side of the swinging door. Nothing mattered but the anger I felt, the blatant deception burning my skin like a freshly lit cigarette.

Barreling through the doors like a rampant animal, my darkened eyes landed firmly on the source of the mourning turmoil coursing through me like wildfire. Four sets of shocked eyes landed on me, their words of uncertainty soon following. I must have looked like death warmed over, my too pale skin framed by tousled hair that I hadn't given a second thought too. I watched Michael stand to step towards me, the meaningless conversation he was having with Alex fading from his lips as concern for my obvious pain grew evident. Putting up an invisible wall against his questions, I ignored his stare, turning to face Amy. I could feel my chest rise and fall soundly, my nose flaring with every intake.

The air around me crackled as I tossed the odious letter with as much force as I could muster. Its jagged edges slamming into her unexpected chest. The move was unexpected by them, Liz and Alex gasping quietly while Michael's outraged curse barely registered in my mind.

Never relenting my infuriated stance, I watched with displeasure as she picked up the letter and recognition reigned brightly within her deep pools. Shaking my head maliciously, I spat, “That’s right, I know.”

Her mouth dropped, unvoiced words trying desperately to reveal themselves.

“How could you? After everything, how the fuck could you!”

“Maria I…” the hoarse pathetic sound that flowed from her mouth did nothing to hinder the waves of hatred rolling through me.

“You what! Didn’t mean for me to find it!”

“Yes! I… I mean no, I, Maria,” she pleaded with me.

“Shut up!” The vulgar words left me before I could rethink them.

“Maria!” Michael’s boorish voice scolded me. From the corner of my eye I saw him step closer to me, his patience with my ever-changing attitude obviously fading. “What the hell's gotten into you?”

I spared him but a sideways glance. “Stay out of this Michael,” I muttered before returning my heated glare to Amy.

“No. I’m not gonna let you talk to her like this.” He moved in front of me, his anger evident in his brash movement.

Shooting him an infuriated glare, I snapped. “What are you? Deficient! I said back off. This has nothing to do with you.” Disappointment flashed across his features and his mouth dropped once again to shout at me. Quickly turning my back on the only man I ever loved, I prevented his spew by vibrating my own towards Amy. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her disheveled form struggled before me as she tried to bring voice to the answer. “WHY! She was my mother, Amy! She may have been a poor one but she was still my mother and I deserved to know. I put up with that bitch for years. I earned the right to be there.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to!” Gaining her composure, her stance stiffened and she locked her gaze with mine, daring me to respond.

“That choice wasn’t up to you Amy! I may not have wanted to but it was my choice! I should have been able to decide, not have that right taken away from me.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry but if you only understood…”

“Understood what? What more to it can there be. She’s dead and you didn’t…” My voice caught and the slick wetness on my chilled cheeks became even more apparent.

“Your Mom’s dead?” Alex’s whispered confusion filled the tense air, breaking his silence from his spot next to Liz to add his voice to the growing argument.

“Yeah, as in six-feet-under dead.” Swallowing the lump slowly forming in my throat, I took a step back towards the swinging door. Stealing as much emotion as possible from my pooling eyes, I uttered the most dreadful words I’d ever said to Amy. “I almost considered you to be like a mother. I… I was starting to picture you as my mother. I hate you…” Choking back a sob, I took another step back, the pain in my side slowly starting to return, forcing more solid tears to mark my pained face. “You are just as bad as her.”

Spinning around, I charged for the door, my own sobs blocking out the sounds of her cries, my name falling from her lips in a tortured whisper. Blood rushed to my head with each angered step, the physical and emotional pain flowing through me like a bolt of lightening; its damage reaching every molecule of my heart and soul. I could feel the patient stitches in my side stretching to accommodate the ill chosen pace I set out on. Neither stopped me. My need to run, to break free from the hell I myself had unleashed more prominent than the need to ease the pain clouding every fiber within me.

Stumbling over the final step, I forcefully pushed myself up, a fevered sweat breaking out across my forehead in wordless protest to the fall. Stumbling back down the hall, I quickened my already unstable pace at the sound of Amy’s footfall behind me. Yet again the anguished sound of my name on her lips flowed through the walled barrier separating us. Bursting into my room, I added yet another layer by slamming my door behind me.

Tearing at my pajamas, I pulled on my street clothes, yelping at the sight of my own blood as it crept through the gauze covering. I pressed my hand to the weeping wound, muffling my cry with my sweater as I limped to my bedside table. Fumbling for my lighter, I tossed it in my backpack, adding my cigarettes only as a second thought. I grabbed my wallet and jacket, shoving them in the bag as well, not knowing where I was going, only that I had to escape her home before she forced herself upon me again.

“Maria! Open this door right now!” The anger and worry in her voice was painfully clear even through the solid wood. Cringing, I ignored the jostling of the doorknob and her pathetic cries.

She was worse than my mother ever was, at least when mother mistreated me she was honest about it. No deception there, just pure, unrelenting hatred; you couldn't mistake it for love if you tried. With Amy, I had finally started to feel like I had a place that I could call a home; like a had a real start to a life with someone who loved me and, more, accepted me with all of my faults, with all of the scars, physical and emotional, that my tattered body bore.

Now, climbing slowly out of the window as my side screamed in protest, I cursed myself for ever allowing my heart to believe that it could know the love of another. She treated me like a child; like the incapable youngster that had to be protected at all costs, not the far-beyond-my-years adult that I had grown into with my years under Mother's watchful eye. After only two months away from her oppressing control, she was dead and I was alone again; the mother figure I had sought still escaping my desperate clutches.

I slowly slid down the ladder leading from my balcony, praying that the door would hold just a little longer against Alex's battering as I dropped to the ground and hurried away from the restaurant. I ran from the Crashdown, faster and farther than I thought possible. I had to get away from her grasp, her oppressing control so much like Mother's on this day, this day that Mother could no longer affect met. I never knew my destination until I reached it. The vessel of my arrival stood before me in all its small-town glory. No thought went into the purchasing of the tool needed to run from the present into the deep seeded past. Not an ounce of reflection coursed through my mind as I took that first step onto the means of escape.

Pushing the memory of today from my mind, I take a much-needed seat, my tears now flowing freely. I can feel the blood seeping through my fresh t-shirt, revealing my present weakness to the world. Now more than ever I want nothing but the sweet salvation of numbness. Closing my eyes and leaning back, I allow the pain to wash over me, using its presence like I would a self-inflicted wound. As bliss begins to take over my tortured mind, the bus engine starts up and I am reminded of the last time I rode this beast; my arrival in Roswell only a few short months ago. I close my mind to the memory, refusing to allow myself to recall the happiness once presented to me in this sleepy little town as I am suddenly assaulted with the sensual sent of musk—something all too familiar to me.

Peering up through hooded eyes, my glassy vision lands on the scruffy haired boy standing by my seat. He stares back at me, peering deep into my eyes as if they were a window to my soul. Knowledge and understanding reigns clear in his hazel eyes. Grinning softly he falls into the seat next to me and without a word pulls my trembling hand into his. As exhaustion takes over me, my last thought is solely of the destination before us. New York City.

Like the sound of a beating drum the throb in my head pounds, its beat becoming stronger, the tempo growing, bringing with it such excruciating pain. It hurts. Everything hurts. My lungs strain to take in the tortured breath it so desperately needs. My vision blurs with unshakable tears, tears unwilling to fall, too stubborn to proclaim their arrival, instead choosing to hide within. Choking back the tiny whimper ready to sound itself, I press my hands to my face. Pulling at my skin I try to force the tears from my eyes. I just want them to fall cause I know when they do this guilt looming over me will loosen its hold.

The reality of my words sinks into my skin slowly, the painful realization taking over the pain in my side. How could I have been so crude, so maniacal, spouting rootless feelings seeding deep inside of me? I never meant them yet as the moment consumed me, the emotions rolled over me, I couldn’t stop them. My mouth moved on its own, ruled by the storms within. I pride myself on being above moments like that, being able to control myself while in them, yet this one kicked my ass and in turn I verbally cut the strings holding me back in that small quiet town.

Well, maybe not all of them. Peering through blurry eyes at the sleeping form beside me a small light of hope creeps its way into my mind. He came for me, followed even after I so brutally crushed the woman he himself considered to be a mother. He put that behind him, became bigger then that moment, something I couldn’t do. His relative silence these past few hours pushes back that seed of hope, bringing me back to this hopeless feeling.

Shifting once again I can’t stifle the whimper and steal a glance towards him. Cursing myself for moving, I watch as his eyes flutter open, concerned lines curving around his angelic eyes. Reaching for me I lean into his warm hand on my clammy cheek.

“You’re warm,” he whispers, his concern causing him to sit up fully in his seat. Leaning over, he sadly releases my face, his hand falling to the unnaturally crimson colored spot clinging tightly to my stomach. Cursing lightly, he glances around the darkened bus, the sun's light having faded hours ago. Turning back to me he whispers, “The bathroom back there, it have running water?”

Nodding softly, I set my jaw and allow him to pull me up. Clamping down I try to hold back the cry surging through me. Slipping his arm around my waist he guides me slowly towards the back of the bus, all the while whispering soft comforts into my ear. Pulling open the door he allows me to go in first. I lower myself onto the closed toilet seat and watch as he squeezes himself into the tiny compartment. I want to laugh at the expression on his face but the pain prevents me from the release.

Securing the door behind him he drops to his knees before me. “I feel like we’re becoming members of the mile high club only without the plane,” he mutters, discomfort dripping off his words.

I can’t help the soft giggle that escapes my lips and am relieved when the painful wave I expect never comes.

Staring into my eyes, he leans forwards and presses a soft kiss on my lips. Smiling at the tender care, I watch in amazement as he slowly pulls my shirt up. He examines the wound as if he had 6 years of medical school behind him. My eyes never leave his as he tears wad after wad of toilet paper from the pristine roll, dips them in warm water and tenderly wipes away the blood marring my pale flesh. Every once and awhile he connects with my eyes again, reassuring me that he is taking good care of me. Never before had I felt as loved as I do now. Such a simple act of caring meaning more to me then the show he’d put on the night before I ended up in the hospital.

Wiping away the last red spot from my skin, he leans back and the biggest grin I’ve ever seen spreads across his angled face. Noting my confused look he murmurs, “It’s stopped bleeding.”

Sighing in relief, I lean back against the hard wall and close my eyes. I feel him move around and listen as he washes the blood from his hands, my blood. Swallowing back the vile lump in my throat, I reach out blindly for his dripping hand, wrapping mine around his. Pulling him gently towards me, he falls to his knees once again.

Running my free hand through his long curls, I murmur a soft, “Thank you. Not just for this,” I continue, motioning to my side. “But for coming with me.”

“Well you didn’t give me much of a choice, I couldn’t let you go like this.”

“Is that the only reason you came?” I ask tensely, afraid of what the answer might be.

“You know the answer to that babe,” he coos, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. Blushing sheepishly, I nod. “How long is it gonna take to get to New York, I assume that’s where we’re going.”

“It is… three days give or take a few hours.”

“Three days of sitting on my ass, damn,” he cringes.

“You’ve spent longer watching hockey,” I tease, falling back into a comfortable banter as the pain in my side subsides again.

“You know,” he huskily whispers back, leaning towards me slowly. “For someone who claims their spirit is older than herself you’re kind of bratty.” Grinning from ear to ear, he hovers just before my lips.

Slapping his arm softly, I swallow up the remaining space between us, devouring his lips in a heated kiss. Careful of my side, he slides closer, maneuvering himself between my knees and wrapping a lithe arm around my hips. Losing myself in his lips, I allow all demeaning thoughts to vacate my mind. Forgetting the circumstances that brought us here, I concentrating solely on the feel, smell and taste of him. His possessive kisses blur my thoughts and nothing else matters but us. Not our destination or our starting point.

****

The first two days passed faster than I remembered the initial journey taking, the time flying by as Michael and I shared conversations, meals and intimate moments alone and awake, cuddling deep into the night as those around us slept. At our first pit stop, Michael bought gauze, antiseptic and painkillers. The Tylenol, candy compared to the prescription drugs I'd left behind, helped just the same, easing my discomfort to the point that it was bearable. Michael’s comforting presence is what made the pain almost make-believe, a figment of my imagination, returning only when he left me to relieve himself or get food from a nearby store during the regulated rests.

On the third and final night we do as we have done every night. Curling in on myself atop his lap, my head resting again his shoulder, we talk. The subjects of our conversations range from superficial to deep and meaningful. I tell him about Mother, expressing even more of my deep secrets, exposing myself to him without qualm of any repercussions, my trust in him unbounded by self-consciousness.

The river extends both ways as he too speaks openly to me, divulging his hatred for his father, a man who spends more time at work then at home with him and Alex. Then turning completely around he tells me of his understanding. He knows that his father’s still hurting over the death of his wife. It never ceases to amaze me how accepting he is, how he can see things from all sides and accept other people’s feelings as valid yet still hold onto his own.

We talk for hours and as the rising sun washes over us, sleep begging to take over, our conversation converts into physical form. We once again losing ourselves in each other, completely missing the large green sign with its bold white letters spelling out the words, ‘New York 3 miles’. Trickling over the horizon, the faint outlines of downtown skyscrapers shine brightly in the early morning light but they too go unnoticed. When we finally pull apart, breaking away for air, we’ve reached city limits. The all too real city surrounding us sends shock waves through my body causing my stomach to tighten.

Chuckling to himself, Michael whispers something in my ear. I barely hear him, unable to make out his words or even try to. Staring blankly out the window as we pass through familiar roads, dread slowly builds in the pit of my stomach. He continues to talk, admiring his new and almost surreal surroundings, blind to the turmoil plaguing me. Shaking my head I pull out of his embrace and slide into the seat beside him. He turns to me, the bemused look falling fast.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head, I have to force the air into my lungs. “Nothing…” The word flows from my lips without thought, sounding hollow, empty to my ears. I catch the frown he casts upon me but as if sensing my unease doesn’t pursue his question.

A silence falls, separating us with it’s torment only to be broken by the voice of those around us waking to the sound of the busy streets outside the bus. Their voices swallow me whole and I lose myself the whispers, blanking out the world around me. Neither one of us moves when the bus pulls into the familiar terminal, Michael waiting silently for me to make the first move.

I stare mutely at the seat before me, my gaze never faltering even as the last passenger steps off the bus. I shift under Michael persistent stare as shudder when another pair of eyes land on me. Lifting my gaze from the chair before me I connect eyes with the driver. His pursed lips and stern glare tell the tale of an unhappy man.

Clearing his throat, he coarsely calls back to us, “Any time.”

Stealing a glance at Michael, I try to swallow the lump in my throat and push myself up with shaky arms. He follows slowly, becoming my immediate shadow. Emerging through the double doors out onto a platform I can’t help but take it all in. Every site a reminder of way back when.

“What now?” Michael finally speaks up from my side, his own eyes searching, taking in his new and unfamiliar surroundings.

I try to form words but fall short. The answer to his question has yet to dawn itself upon me and I stare here bewildered and completely unsure of it all. Breathing deeply I spot a pay phone lying neutral and abandoned against the wall beside the exit doors. Without thought or sounding my intensions to my companion, I set out for it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, keeping instep behind me.

“Searching,” I mutter cryptically, winding around the empty benches and halting before the machine.

“Oh,” is the sole reply he offers me before falling back into silence allowing me to play out my actions without question.

“What…” he starts to ask but as I tear a page from the yellowed pages he quickly stops. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“Probably not,” I my head tilt up, a smirk playing across my face. Laying the wrinkled page on the base of the plastic interior hold the phone within it’s wall, I pick up the receiver. Digging into my pockets I slide the allotted amount of change into the machine and swiftly dial a sequence of numbers.

Michael peers over my shoulder again, “New York Coroner’s Office…” he trails off, realization dawning on him. As I listen to the sound of ringing on the other end, he slides his hand up my back, reassuring me with his gently touch.

Relaxing slightly into his warm hand I quickly tense up again when a soft feminine voice answers the phone.

“New York Coroner’s Office, April speaking how may I help you?”

At the sound of her voice all the words I’d planned to say, the carefully constructed sentences I’d rehearsed inside my head suddenly vanish, leaving me mute and wide eyed.

“Hello?”

Taking in a sharp breath I shove the phone towards Michael and take and unsteady step back. What the hell’s wrong with me? I scream at myself as my chest constricts and Michael gives me a concerned glance before picking up the non-existent conversation I myself wanted to have.

“Hi, yes. I’m calling of behalf of Maria Deluca. She received a letter in the mail about the death of her mother from your office. We just arrived in town and…” He abruptly stop mid sentence and I watch with growing uncertainty and he nods his head, listening to the woman on the other line. “Okay… She has? … That’s alright, we would have called sooner but we never received the letter till the other day… Huh, the name again please…” Turning towards me he smiles as he pulls a pen from his back pocket and jots something onto the bare skin of his arm. “New York Marble Cemetery… Cooper Street and East 2nd Street? Okay, yeah thanks.”

My eyes widen even further at the word Cemetery and my heart falls another twenty feet. “She’s been buried?” The words flow forth intended for myself but Michael answers anyway.

“Yeah,” he replies almost sadly hanging up the phone and turning fully towards me. “They waited three days then the city picked up the tab for the burial and the cemetery slot. I’m sorry…” he offered comfort, pulling me to him.

Trying once again to swallow the lump in my throat I mutter a thank you into his chest before burying my face into the warmth he offers, barely audible sobs wracking through my entire body.

“Aw, baby, I am so sorry you never got to say goodbye.” He murmurs, resting his head atop my own.

His placated words only cause my sobs to grow. I couldn’t care less that I never got to say goodbye, the experience would have been dreadful not just on me but those around me, my anger and frustrations unintentionally would have lashed out. I can’t help the chuckle that mingles in with the sobs.

Pulling back he stares down at the smirk making its way onto my face and furrows his brow. “Wait are those sad tears or happy?”

“Sad, happy, both, neither…” Scoffing I wrap my arms around his waist. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

Nodding with uncertainty, pretending to understand he plants a kiss on my forehead. “What do you wanna do now?”

Shrugging I glance behind him at the payphone and ponder calling Amy. Pushing the thought aside I smile as his warm fingers slip between my own.

“I wanna go to her.”

Never in my life has a space in time seem so distorted. The three day bus trip is nothing compared to how painful this is. Every passing street on the tormenting journey here seemed to take longer to get through. Thinking back, I silently curse myself for not being able to be the one, be the one to talk to that woman, to learn of Mother's fate. Even now, almost an hour later, stepping clear of this smelly cab onto sacred ground, the ground that harvests her body, I can’t explain why. All I know is that in that moment a questionable fear overcame me, paralyzed me. And Michael, my rescuer, had to save me once again, stepping in and taking over in that loving way he does.

Tearing my gaze away from the retreating cab, I stare down at my shaking hands, always shaking. They rarely stop.

“You’re shaking.”

‘Thank you Mr. State-the-obvious.’ I mumble to myself, turning to him, a fake smile pasted stiffly to my pale cheeks.

“Nervous?”

“About what? A dead body 6 feet under, one I can’t even see?” my voice is curt and I’m rewarded with a frown, the same frown he gave me when I so heatedly beat him down with my words the other day, a frown of disappointment.

“Maria…”

Hold up my hand, a muted plea for truce, I mumble softly, “Don’t, okay? I’m sorry.”

The corners of his mouth peek just slightly and he wraps his hand around my own. “We don’t have to do this today. We could go get a hotel, have some good quality sleep.” The sheepish look on his face tells me that good quality sleep is not the only good quality something we’d have.

Mistimed as it is, I can’t help the smile on my face. I want nothing more then to lose myself in him, pushing past the task I desperately need to do, tucking it neatly in a small crevasse of my mind, but I can’t. “As much as I’d love to…sleep, I can’t. I need to do this, whatever this is.” My hands animate my words as my nerves slowly take over. I can feel my heart pumping faster, my blood racing through my veins.

“I know, just wanted to see these lips smile,” he whispers his explanation, rubbing a coarse thumb deftly over my bottom lip before dropping his hands once again to his side.

Blushing deeply, I advert my gaze and burn to memory the pine trees surrounding the silent cemetery. The serenity it exudes does nothing to calm the storms raging within me. The suns trickling rays protrude through the leaves, almost intentionally spotlighting the solemn stones before me. One of these is hers, a glistening shard of rubble representing that which once was a thriving spirit coursing with life, now corroded with death's impermeable hand. She’s here somewhere, cold, stiff, decaying, a mirror image of the life she led, the life she tried to force me into.

Clearing his throat, Michael releases my hand. “I’ll be right back,” he speaks softly, fully aware of my preoccupied mind.

“Where are you going?” Like a lost child, I peer up at him, fear lacing my eyes. I don’t want him to leave me.

Glancing back at the lone building, hidden within the foliage he responds, “Inside, find out where we have to go.” Casting me an apologetic look, he gives my arm a squeeze. Nodding my head I let him go, watching sorrowfully as he disappears within the double doors of the small building.

Sniffling back a wayward tear, I turn to stare once again at the rows of lost loved ones. Panning the vast land, a cold chill spreads through me, sending shivers along my spine. Furrowing my brow, I search for the wind that caused it. The trees stand still, evidence of the chilling breeze non-existent. Swallowing rigidly, I take a regal step forward, then another. Slowly I pave a way through the garden of stones, weaving around the plots, taking special care not to take a single step on their sacred ground.

I don’t know where I’m going, yet with each step I find purpose, a reason to turn here, to weave this way instead of the other. My feet carry my body deeper into the cemetery, until the small building into which my steady rock disappeared is no longer in sight yet completely in mind. The sound of my own breath is brash to my ears in the eerily silent world surrounding me.

Slowly I take in every last grave, skimming the names and the ground before them. Peering deep into the distance, a tall looming tree catches my eye. Its aged branches stretch out far beyond their means, protecting one sole cross from the offensive sun that dares to shine its clarity. Nestled carelessly between the overbearing roots of this majestic tree, pinned within the freshly upturned dirt, the off-white cross sticks out glaringly. It draws me forward, forcing me to travel the faint path in the grass.

My breath grows shorter with each step I take until I can barely breathe. My chest screams for release as I come to a stop beneath the protective foliage. I stare at the bark of the tree, memorizing its imperfections, burning them to memory, a last minute attempt at pretending this moment isn’t happening, that I’m not standing here in the middle of death's house, that the burial plot before isn’t Mother’s. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to make it go away, I beg some unseen force to wake me from this ongoing nightmare.

Seconds pass seamlessly but nothing happens. There’s no startled awakening in the comfort of my bed back home, not even a peaceful reintegration into the land of the conscious, just the same sweet smell of flowers and eerie chill crawling beneath my skin.

With a heavy sigh I open my eyes and finally, mercilessly, drop my gaze to the small cross. Reading the scripted name another tear bursts forth, trickling down my cheek.

Deluca, M 1969 ~ 2003

With each word, a hateful dagger plunges into my heart, piercing the broken organ with brutal force beyond everything I have ever felt. Nothing can compare to the pain making its way through my veins, tainting my soul with every inch. Vile rises in my throat forcing me to choke. The action springs forth a wave of tears, the salty liquid cascading off my face into oblivion.

Standing stiffly, I stare through blurry eyes at the final resting place of her. Numbed by the emotions rolling through me, I barely feel Michael walk up beside me. Stopping a few feet away, he waits patiently, unsure what to do with me, the blubbering idiot, mourning the cruel stranger I called Mother. It’s always been Mother, never mom or mommy, the terms far too personal.

Brushing back the silent statements of the pain tearing me apart, I take in a tempered breath, holding it beyond my means before slowly letting it go. Peering to the side, I glance sheepishly into his eyes. “This is so like her,” I whisper softly, turning once again to stare at the small cross. “All my life she was always there… hovering over my shoulder, waiting for me to fuck up.” Knots form in my stomach as I give voice to my inner thoughts. “And you know me, I don’t like to disappoint people… even her.”

Swallowing stiffly, I brush a non-existent hair behind my ear. “I wished she’d die so many times. I just wanted her gone… When I got to Roswell, I was almost able to forget her, push her out of my mind. I was so close to letting her go. Then she had to go and fucking ruin it all!”

“She always does this!” Shaking my head softly, I wrap my arms protectively around my stomach, idly fingering the bandage lying beneath my shirt. “Things were getting better for me, I was getting better. For once in my life things were looking up.”

“Why couldn’t you have just fucking died before?” I whisper a soft cry to the still body I know lies beneath the ground I stare. Wiping away the renewed flood of tears, I turn back to Michael. “She told me once that I was just like her… nobody, a child that life forgot about, someone who’d never amount to anything.”

My voice softens as it breaks, my tears streaming smoothly now. Sniffling gently, I pull my arms around myself tighter, waiting for Michael to protest Mother's words, to tell me they are untrue. He doesn’t, instead choosing to remain silent beside me. The distance between us so vast yet at the same time so tiny; I can feel his unspoken encouragement to continue and I do, breathing deeply once again.

“I believed her. For so long I believed every hateful word she ever spat at me. I knew in my heart that I deserved the beatings she’d give me… But not anymore Mother,” I spit out harshly to the pale cross with her scrawled name. “I’ve changed so much in these past few months. I’m not your little punching bag anymore.”

“You’d hate me for it, if you were alive. You’d try to beat this new hope out of me like you have so many other times. You always hated it when I was happier then you. Death was your last ditch effort to end it, wasn’t it Mother?”

“I'd hate to be the one…” pausing mid sentence, a warm smug feeling washes over me, drying the tears from my eyes, “Actually no, I’d love to be the one to burst your demented bubble. I don’t care if you can hear me or not Mother, but you failed. Just like every other thing you ever did in life, you failed and you failed miserably.”

“Your death may have stung at first but it’s nothing more then an itch now. I may not be blessed with true happiness but I will be. I’ll grow up to be something, someone and you will be nothing but compost, food to feed the maggots, a decomposing carcass.” A new feeling courses through me, a fulfillment I have never before felt in all my years. Adrenaline pumps through my blood making my heart beat faster. “Have a nice after life in hell Mother dearest.”

Smiling softly I take a step back, away from the life I once knew. Turning to Michael, I take a tentative step towards him. He shares my smile as he wraps a muscular arm around my shoulders. Kissing my forehead he whispers in my ear. “You okay?”

Nodding with a sigh, I wrap my own arms around his waist. Resting my head on his chest I pull him close, basking in the feel of his loving arms. “I will be.”

“Good,” he says as he drops his chin atop my head. “Can we go home now?”

“Home…” I repeat the word softly, marveling in the feel it brings me. My grin grows as I realize that I have a home now, a real home. My words come back to me slowly and I find myself truly believing them—life’s not perfect, never has been and never will be. Saying goodbye to Mother doesn’t mean I’m going to miraculously be okay. My future will be filled with ups and downs, maybe more downs than ups. If I can handle the hell my 17 years has brought me and come out with only a few scars and renewed hope then I guess I can handle anything. I’m gonna be okay.

Fin