"Isabel," I heard my mom say softly as she knocked on my bedroom door. I was barely awake and too tired to face the day just now. "Isabel!" she said, opening the door and coming into my room. "Honey," she told me, "you're going to be late for school."

"Mom," I told her, "I had a dream about Alex last night." I began to cry.

"Listen," she told me, trying to comfort me, "I know you miss your friend, but you have got to try to start healing. It's been four months."

Mom, she tried hard to comfort me, normally she could, and maybe in this instance she could too. But I couldn't tell Mom everything. Alex should have been happy, would have been happy, if it were not for Tess. He didn't kill himself, she killed him, and then she just took off to go home. Home, I don't even no where this "home" of mine is. And then there's Tess, gone after killing Alex, who I so deeply cared about. I'm here supposed to be mourning the loss of my boyfriend, which I do, but also the loss Tess Harding, my friend. Tess was not dead, but she was gone, and it was expected that her friends would be sad, but how could I be saddened by her loss. The feelings I have towards her scare me. I don't think I've ever felt so much hate in my entire life, and it's all directed towards one person. I couldn't tell Mom the truth though, Max wouldn't have it, and since she didn't know everything, her words were of little comfort to me.

"I know," I said weeping away, "it's just so hard sometimes. Mom, I can't go to school today."

"You've already missed five days this year," Mom said worried, "and you've only been in school a month."

"This is the last time," I said assuring her, "I promise."

"Okay," she said to me reluctantly. Mom was always so understanding. I often forget that she isn't my real Mom, that I have someone else out there somewhere. "Look," she continued, "I need to get going to the doctor's, but if you're going to stay home again, you might as well do something to help your mother. Could you go get the groceries? I'll leave the list on the kitchen table."

"Sure, Mom," I told her.

I was walking down the streets of Roswell on my way to the grocery store, when I saw a very familiar face up ahead. At first, I couldn't believe it, but I kept looking at him, and I was positive, it was Alex. Then, I wondered if I was having another daydream. I closed my mind, trying to clear away everything that might not be real. I looked up, and he was still there. I ran toward him – not letting myself think of how eerie this situation really was.

"Alex!" I called, but he didn't seem to hear me. I started to panic, why wasn't he answering me? Regaining some of my composure, I calmly told myself that maybe he was just too far up the street to hear me. I ran closer, "Alex!" but he still didn't respond. I finally ran up to him. I grabbed his shoulder and he turned around to face me. "Alex, it's really you!" I said, in awe of the sight before me. There was no mistaking it; I was looking into Alex's eyes. He just stared at me, though, expressionless. It's like he was just a shell, with no feelings, no memories, and no thoughts. After several minutes he stepped around me and walked off, leaving me traumatized there in the street. I walked over to the curb, sat down, and let all my emotions and feelings for Alex pour out with my tears. It would be several hours before I could bring myself to wipe my eyes, and get up. I did, eventually, and got Mom's groceries.

I sat at home and waited. For a while, my mind was unable to figure out why, but as it turned out, I was waiting for Max. He came home from school at the usual time, and I went up to him. I wondered if I should really tell him, if he could believe me. I had to tell someone though, and I knew that this wasn't a dream, it was real, I was sure of it.

Max was not so impressed; I could see it in his eyes. He told me that, "Alex is dead, Isabel. You could not have seen him. Are you sure you didn't just imagine this?"

"Max," I pleaded with him, begging for him to believe me, "I know this was real. A dream, a vision, they don't feel this way! I saw him."

"We'll talk about this more later," Max said calmly, "once you've had a chance to think more about what you're saying."

That night I didn't get much sleep. I just thought about the encounter over and over. I decided that it was real, and that, although, whoever, or whatever I saw looked like Alex, it couldn't have been him. Alex would have recognized me, talked to me. It wouldn't be until later that I discovered what my meeting with Alex really meant.

When I finally got myself to go off to sleep I had told myself that I needed to get Alex out of my head. I couldn't deal with the pain of losing him, and that wasn't going to be getting better. I had to just block him out, and get on with my life. A part of Alex wanted to linger with me – in my heart. For some people that would be just fine, but I couldn't live a sane life with Alex there. At that point, I tried to forget about my feelings for him, forget about that run in on the street. Even now, I try to just let him go and drive forward with my life. The truth is, I just can't handle the sadness, and loneliness Alex's death brings upon me. I can't face it, so I must ignore it. So far, it has worked, and I'm finally starting to live again. Some ghosts stay buried forever, and their graves can't be dug up unless we let them – I hope…

To Be Continued