..S C A T T E R E D W I N D S..
Summary: (Post Graduation) Four years of running is enough to make anyone a little crazy. (Michael/Liz) A/N: I have nothing against Max. In fact, I love him. I just wanted to see things from another perspective.
Gilroy, California
*L I Z*
"He's crazy, you know. He's going to kill you one of these days." Michael stares at me, bluntly telling me what I've known for years.
We're sitting on the roof of our latest apartment complex-a rundown stack of bricks with rats the size of cats and bad electricity. Michael and I discovered the roof about a week after moving in, using it to escape the hell of our lives.
"I can take care of myself. You know that." But can I? If I really could, why am I here, after four years of hell?
He gives me a look that shows me just how much he doesn't believe me. When Michael looks at me like that, I feel like he looks straight into my soul. Unable to bear his gaze any longer, I look away, thinking about what has become of my life.
The first year of running was good.I was with Max-we were finally married, what I had always wanted-but more than that, we were truly happy. That, I think, was not an illusion, as it now is. Yeah, we skipped about a lot, from Roswell we went to Phoenix for a few weeks, then we lived in little towns in Northern Utah, even lived in Salt Lake for a while, before we went back south to LA. Michael and Maria were together, and although they rarely showed it, it was obvious that they were deeply in love. Isabel and Kyle spent every minute together-not as lovers but as friends, really true friends who talked about everything. Yes, the first year was good, and for a while, I thought that's just how things would always be.
I was a foolish idealist.
Between the end of the first year and the present--four years after we left Roswell-things have gotten progressively worse. Max was under a lot of stress-the whole fearless leader role finally taking it's toll-Maria was constantly complaining, and Isabel had heard from Jesse, who, as he so eloquently put it, had "moved on". Things had started to fall apart, but that was just the beginning.
"Liz, I see what he does to you, and, well.you don't deserve that. He's being an asshole and it's not safe for you to be around him." Michael's words drag me back to the present, to the roof where I find safety.
During the last few years, Max had developed a temper, and had.well.started to take it out on me. At first with just words, than a light slap.and now.it's a rare day when my face or body aren't covered in bruises. I just really can't imagine how such a gentle, loving, caring man turned into the monster that wake up with every morning.most of the time, I hate what my life's become.
Sometimes I just want to grab Michael and kiss him, but I know that would only lead to hurt, and pain. And for now, at least, I've got all the hurt and pain that I can handle.
We sit up on the roof in silence, enjoying the few and far between moments of safety.
***
*M I C H A E L*
I look at her, and I wonder who it is I'm really looking at, this broken girl who I love so much. Purple bruises scar her once flawless pearl skin. Around her left eye is a dark black ring, compliments of Max. I hate him for doing this to her.
I want to grab her and shake her-tell her to look at herself in the mirror long and hard, and think about what she's become. But I never would, would never hurt her-I promised myself that a long time ago.
For a few moments, up here on the roof, I can erase all the pain of the reality of the last three years. Maria left me long ago.she finally gave up on me. And I don't blame her.
The fact of the matter is that life's been hell. We haven't stayed in one place long enough to figure out the good radio stations, or find shortcuts to the grocery store, or get to know anyone. We've been completely closed off to the world that we've been traveling. Ironic, isn't it-We go and go, but we never really get anywhere.
Isabelle's been a complete wreck lately. Jesse left her for another; a 'normal' woman. The only person she's said more than two words to is Kyle, which is really hard on Max. But whatever, that bastard deserves whatever he gets.
The sun's almost down, and I know soon Max will be back from his day job at the local Nike store. We alternate job times-Izzy, Max, and Kyle word days, and Liz and I work nights. Liz used to work day jobs and Kyle used to take the night shifts, but I made him switch timeslots with her-she and Max would both come home at the same time, and then he'd just pound into her, taking out all his day's frustrations on her. This way, at least, I can keep more of an eye on her.
It's actually kind of ironic that Maxwell is the abusive one out of the two of us. I mean scientists do all sorts of fancy studies about how kids who are abused are twice as likely to become abusers, but-to my knowledge, at least-I'm the only one who was abused as a kid. Max was always the one with the fairy-tale family-parents who took he and Iz to Disneyland, read to them before bed-time, and always attended their parent teacher conferences. Hank just kept me around for the check-not to mention a punching bag.
The roof's comforting, a 'safe haven' as I once read in Ulysses, but more comforting is the person I share it with. Liz and I have been doing this for so long, that-as much as I want her to run away from Max and us and this life and be safe-I can't imagine life without her.
*LIZ*
Gilroy, California. Garlic capitol of the world. Who would have ever thought we'd end up here? I like it, it's nestled in a pretty valley, and it's a really nice town, once you get used to the constant smell of garlic. I wonder how long it will last.they never last longer than six months. I figure that in approximately two and half months, Max will get restless, throw me and hustle everyone else into the van, and lead us off to whatever our destiny may bring us.
'Destiny'. So cliché. And to think I once bought into that shit. The fucked up thing is that as much as Max hits me and kicks me and slaps me, a part of me will always love him-will always think of him as my destiny. My knight in faded blue jeans. And another part of me-or maybe even the same part-hates me for loving him.for allowing myself to be led like a dog on a leash.
It's getting colder, which means it's getting darker, which means he'll be here soon. I try not to think of him as Max, the man I fell in love with, the man I married. If he's not that man, he can't hurt me. But what am I saying, who am I trying to fool? He will hurt me; it's only a matter of time.
I can see Michael getting worried. He starts shifting around and keeps looking from me to the road. He hates Max, but more than that, I think he's afraid of Max. Afraid that whatever turned his kind and caring friend into a demon might somehow catch up to him. And sometimes, when he looks at me, I think he hates me too-for loving Max regardless. And I can't take that-couldn't take Michael's hate. It would tear me apart worse than Max's hands ever could.
"We better get going." I nod, and he grabs my hand, as he always does when we descend from the roof-as though he's afraid I'll trip and fall like a little girl. Maybe I've already fallen-maybe it's too late for him to catch me.
TBC
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, please review-I'm welcome to any suggestions, especially seeing as this is my first polar fic. But I'll even take conventional couple suggestions. Thanks, --Terin:-)
Summary: (Post Graduation) Four years of running is enough to make anyone a little crazy. (Michael/Liz) A/N: I have nothing against Max. In fact, I love him. I just wanted to see things from another perspective.
Gilroy, California
*L I Z*
"He's crazy, you know. He's going to kill you one of these days." Michael stares at me, bluntly telling me what I've known for years.
We're sitting on the roof of our latest apartment complex-a rundown stack of bricks with rats the size of cats and bad electricity. Michael and I discovered the roof about a week after moving in, using it to escape the hell of our lives.
"I can take care of myself. You know that." But can I? If I really could, why am I here, after four years of hell?
He gives me a look that shows me just how much he doesn't believe me. When Michael looks at me like that, I feel like he looks straight into my soul. Unable to bear his gaze any longer, I look away, thinking about what has become of my life.
The first year of running was good.I was with Max-we were finally married, what I had always wanted-but more than that, we were truly happy. That, I think, was not an illusion, as it now is. Yeah, we skipped about a lot, from Roswell we went to Phoenix for a few weeks, then we lived in little towns in Northern Utah, even lived in Salt Lake for a while, before we went back south to LA. Michael and Maria were together, and although they rarely showed it, it was obvious that they were deeply in love. Isabel and Kyle spent every minute together-not as lovers but as friends, really true friends who talked about everything. Yes, the first year was good, and for a while, I thought that's just how things would always be.
I was a foolish idealist.
Between the end of the first year and the present--four years after we left Roswell-things have gotten progressively worse. Max was under a lot of stress-the whole fearless leader role finally taking it's toll-Maria was constantly complaining, and Isabel had heard from Jesse, who, as he so eloquently put it, had "moved on". Things had started to fall apart, but that was just the beginning.
"Liz, I see what he does to you, and, well.you don't deserve that. He's being an asshole and it's not safe for you to be around him." Michael's words drag me back to the present, to the roof where I find safety.
During the last few years, Max had developed a temper, and had.well.started to take it out on me. At first with just words, than a light slap.and now.it's a rare day when my face or body aren't covered in bruises. I just really can't imagine how such a gentle, loving, caring man turned into the monster that wake up with every morning.most of the time, I hate what my life's become.
Sometimes I just want to grab Michael and kiss him, but I know that would only lead to hurt, and pain. And for now, at least, I've got all the hurt and pain that I can handle.
We sit up on the roof in silence, enjoying the few and far between moments of safety.
***
*M I C H A E L*
I look at her, and I wonder who it is I'm really looking at, this broken girl who I love so much. Purple bruises scar her once flawless pearl skin. Around her left eye is a dark black ring, compliments of Max. I hate him for doing this to her.
I want to grab her and shake her-tell her to look at herself in the mirror long and hard, and think about what she's become. But I never would, would never hurt her-I promised myself that a long time ago.
For a few moments, up here on the roof, I can erase all the pain of the reality of the last three years. Maria left me long ago.she finally gave up on me. And I don't blame her.
The fact of the matter is that life's been hell. We haven't stayed in one place long enough to figure out the good radio stations, or find shortcuts to the grocery store, or get to know anyone. We've been completely closed off to the world that we've been traveling. Ironic, isn't it-We go and go, but we never really get anywhere.
Isabelle's been a complete wreck lately. Jesse left her for another; a 'normal' woman. The only person she's said more than two words to is Kyle, which is really hard on Max. But whatever, that bastard deserves whatever he gets.
The sun's almost down, and I know soon Max will be back from his day job at the local Nike store. We alternate job times-Izzy, Max, and Kyle word days, and Liz and I work nights. Liz used to work day jobs and Kyle used to take the night shifts, but I made him switch timeslots with her-she and Max would both come home at the same time, and then he'd just pound into her, taking out all his day's frustrations on her. This way, at least, I can keep more of an eye on her.
It's actually kind of ironic that Maxwell is the abusive one out of the two of us. I mean scientists do all sorts of fancy studies about how kids who are abused are twice as likely to become abusers, but-to my knowledge, at least-I'm the only one who was abused as a kid. Max was always the one with the fairy-tale family-parents who took he and Iz to Disneyland, read to them before bed-time, and always attended their parent teacher conferences. Hank just kept me around for the check-not to mention a punching bag.
The roof's comforting, a 'safe haven' as I once read in Ulysses, but more comforting is the person I share it with. Liz and I have been doing this for so long, that-as much as I want her to run away from Max and us and this life and be safe-I can't imagine life without her.
*LIZ*
Gilroy, California. Garlic capitol of the world. Who would have ever thought we'd end up here? I like it, it's nestled in a pretty valley, and it's a really nice town, once you get used to the constant smell of garlic. I wonder how long it will last.they never last longer than six months. I figure that in approximately two and half months, Max will get restless, throw me and hustle everyone else into the van, and lead us off to whatever our destiny may bring us.
'Destiny'. So cliché. And to think I once bought into that shit. The fucked up thing is that as much as Max hits me and kicks me and slaps me, a part of me will always love him-will always think of him as my destiny. My knight in faded blue jeans. And another part of me-or maybe even the same part-hates me for loving him.for allowing myself to be led like a dog on a leash.
It's getting colder, which means it's getting darker, which means he'll be here soon. I try not to think of him as Max, the man I fell in love with, the man I married. If he's not that man, he can't hurt me. But what am I saying, who am I trying to fool? He will hurt me; it's only a matter of time.
I can see Michael getting worried. He starts shifting around and keeps looking from me to the road. He hates Max, but more than that, I think he's afraid of Max. Afraid that whatever turned his kind and caring friend into a demon might somehow catch up to him. And sometimes, when he looks at me, I think he hates me too-for loving Max regardless. And I can't take that-couldn't take Michael's hate. It would tear me apart worse than Max's hands ever could.
"We better get going." I nod, and he grabs my hand, as he always does when we descend from the roof-as though he's afraid I'll trip and fall like a little girl. Maybe I've already fallen-maybe it's too late for him to catch me.
TBC
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, please review-I'm welcome to any suggestions, especially seeing as this is my first polar fic. But I'll even take conventional couple suggestions. Thanks, --Terin:-)