Its funny how time stops and starts. In some parts of my life, whole sections seem to be missing. I was three, then eight, all within the span of about four seconds. And then there are years that drag on, where I feel as if I have lived an entire lifetime. In some ways, I have. I have lived through experiences that much stronger people than I have not survived. To prevent myself from thinking too hard I usually blame dumb luck. I have been broken and mended, and then broken once again. It was too much death and destruction for a young girl to have to live through. But the terrible things balanced out with wonderful things. It's a very peculiar world I live in; very different from what I imagined it would be. The simplest acts are never taken for granted anymore, because we all knew how precious they are.

Chris had been my rock in the early days of the invasion. Before the aliens took our planet and changed the course of our lives, we had been family friends. Close enough that we never forgot each others names, but removed enough that things between us always held a healthy amount of awkward, at least in the beginning. As children, I remember playing soccer in his backyard with his brothers and my sisters, splashing through the little stream that meandered through the backyard of his summer home.

Nearly every summer we would spend a few weeks up in our vacation homes in Cape Cod, because that's what respectable families do for vacation in late summer, or at least, my parents thought respectable people did. Early June was spent in Europe, traveling through beautiful cities and old villages. After we tired of that, we migrated back to the City for the Fourth of July to show off our recent acquisitions (whether it be clothing or jewelry or a ridiculously fake accent that could not possibly be picked up in three weeks) to the neighbors. And of course, to throw our annual party just to remind everyone in my parents social circle just how much money we really had. I found the Fourth my least favorite part of the summer, mainly because it meant suffering being dragged to a marathon of barbeques and brunches. It was dull and repetitive, but my family seemed content amidst all of the pretentiousness. I was a little less than thrilled.

The best part of my summers were the ends of them. We spent the last three or four weeks up in our little cottage in the Cape. Frankly, there was nothing little or cottage-like about that house, it was the size of a regular home, but my mother found it endearing to call it a cottage. I found it ridiculous.

Our house was nestled right up against the white sand beach, where the ocean was about one hundred paces east. Our house was painted a pale blue that would have looked odd in any other setting, but it looked exactly perfect against the background of the ocean. Our little town was a few minutes drive from the house or a few more minutes walk, and I preferred the latter. I suppose my inner city girl came through in that aspect. Whenever we went up north, I refused to drive in a car for my entire stay there.

Chris' house was in the middle of the peninsula. The part of the town that my mother thought was wasted building on, because it did not have any ocean views. I liked it better than our neighborhood. His house backed up to the woods, which was always dark green and alive in the summers. The Carlson's house had a big yard and a pretty front porch that always had someone sitting in a rocking chair. Their house didn't have all of the fancy upgrades that my parents insisted on, but it had something better. When the Carlson's came up to our little beach town, they came to spend time together. I always felt my family came to Cape Cod so we could escape each other.

Every summer, I swore to myself that this would be the summer I would make it different. Instead of lying around on the beach with my head in a book or hiding out in the house, I would be the kind of girl that I always envied. I would be funnier and more outspoken and confident. I wouldn't be afraid to approach the boy I had a crush on since forever. We would go out into town and eat at the cafés and laugh at the precocious tourists. We'd spend our days inside his house or under the shade of the trees when the heat was unbearable. In the evenings we'd lie on the beach and make bonfires. I had it all planned out, the way we would fall in love. Through the scorching days and the cool nights, slowly, it might just have happened, if I had any luck at all. It would be just like a story from one of my books. I didn't mind that it was cliché, because I always liked that sort of thing.

I had been telling this to myself for the past two summers. But, I swore to myself that the summer I turned fifteen would be different. And in many ways, it was. Aliens invaded the planet. My family was taken away from me. I told myself that my master plan to make Chris fall in love with me would have to wait. I guess it was an acceptable reason to break my promise to myself, the third year in a row.

Life post-invasion was strange. If I had to picture it in my head, I would imagine mass chaos and buildings exploding and mass destruction falling from the sky. In the first few days, the extent of the war was what we saw was on the television. Once our power clicked off for good, desperation started to kick in. My two older sisters, Katie and Laurie, wanted to go back into the city. My mother wanted to stay put, while my father never gave his opinion. I honestly did not know what I wanted. In some ways the war almost seemed like it was all made up. Aliens. Really? How is that even possible? I had read my fair share of sci-fi novels, but I never believed in any of it. But the images of cities being destroyed on the TV were so jarring that it was hard to not believe it.

My father had been planning something for a few days before our town was attacked. He had been trying to discretely pack bags with supplies. He never was very good at hiding anything. My mother and sisters were on the beach, tanning, (because what else was there to do in the middle of the apocalypse?) when they saw the first ships. I had been reading and listening to the old radio on the porch. At first, we thought it was someone coming to help us. Or more accurately, the other women in my family thought someone was coming to save us. I was more skeptical.

I decided to go and tell the Carlsons. Even in the face of the alien invasion, I was still looking for excuses to go and talk to the cute boy across town. That was the last time I would ever see my family. The image of Katie, Laurie, and my mom lounging in the sand, elated that someone had finally come to restore order will be permanently etched into my mind. The sound of my daddy, clamboring around the house and preparing for whatever was inevitably coming our way. It will forever haunt me that I could not have simply asked them to come with me. Or at least tell them I loved them, one last time. I never said it often enough.

I always was a daddy's girl, as cliché as it was. As the youngest by five years, I never was very close with my sisters. They were the perfect models of what young women should be (to my mom), quiet and poised and perfectly preppy. I was a little too loud and I laughed a little too much and I was too much like my father for my mother's liking. Katie and Laurie were clearly her favorites, easily shown by the way she tended to their every need and bought them whatever became fashionable. But honestly, I was kind of okay with it. We were different. When I was little, it bugged me that my mom never showed as much enthusiasm in my soccer or field hockey games as the other moms. It still did bother me, just a little bit, but I told myself that it was just because all sports bored her.

When I arrived at Chris' house, his family was all gathered in the kitchen. I had become more familiar with his house this year, because the Carlson's were the only other family we knew staying in the Cape. We started coming over for dinners after the bugs started falling out of the sky, because everyone seems to grow closer in the face of the end of the world.

After telling them what I saw, the entire family seemed to tense. Clearly, they were a little more concerned about this recent development than my family was. Maybe it was because Chris' father, Patrick, had served in the air force and took the current situation a little more seriously. Or maybe it was because, contrary to my family, the Carlsons were just a regular family from Boston, while my family was used to being waited on hand and foot in the Upper East Side.

"Avery, thank you for telling us. I think the invasion might have finally found our little hide away." Mr. Carlson said, returning to a map on the table. He said it so casually, I had to run it through my head a few times before it made any sense.

"W-what do you mean?" I had a sinking sensation in my stomach as I responded to the patriarch of the family.

"I've been in contact with some of my friends in the force, and I'm fairly sure anyone coming from Boston isn't going to be friendly. Which means that we need to get out of here, quickly." He looked around to each of his four children, and then his parents and his wife. Finally, he looked at me, the wide eyed neighbor girl who used to play with his sons. He was a kind looking man, tall and blonde with freckles that splashed across his face that he passed down to all of his sons. The Carlsons slowly went into action, packing things in bags and loading their cars. I was stunned. Less than an hour ago I was with my family, lounging around, and now I was told that an alien species was coming to take over my town. I don't know what I expected to hear when I told them I saw a boat off the coast, but an inevitable occupation of Cape Cod was not one of them. Why would they want to take this town? It was full of tourists and washed up boaters. I couldn't comprehend what was going on. I was in shock.

It wasn't until the youngest Carlson, Andy, knocked into me with the huge box he was carrying. It almost knocked me over, and that slowly pulled me into reality. I needed to go find my family. I had to warn them.

I ran out of the bustling house and into the middle of the road. I couldn't think about anything but getting to my family. Luckily, the roads had been eerily quiet since the power shut off a few weeks ago. It was starting to drizzle. Just an hour ago, it had been completely clear. I sprinted through the puddles, not caring that I was getting my yellow sundress soaking wet. My lungs were burning from the run, but I could almost see the edge of our street. It was a forty five minute walk, and I had just run it in fifteen. I tried to jump over a hedge, but my tired foot got caught on the untrimmed branches. I tripped and fell, face first into the damp grass. I struggled to get back up, when I heard someone yelling my name. I turned around to look, and my heart leapt. It was Chris.

"Avery! What are you doing, we need to go! They could have already docked!" Had he been following me the entire time? No, his motor bike was about ten paces behind him. He ran towards me. I was stuck. I could either run towards him, the boy I had been crushing on for as long as I could remember, or go and see what happened to my somewhat-estranged-but-still-blood family. I'm ashamed to say that Chris made me hesitate. After a moments pause, I said,

"I gotta find my family Chris. I need to find them," The sky around us was darkening with rain. Chris looked at me with desperation. I could tell he was about to leave me. His blond hair that usually curled at his neck was plastered there with rain, and he squinted through the downpour. His stance and his expression clearly expressed how much he did not want to be in this situation. But then he did something that surprised me.

"Okay, but we got to hurry. Those things could be here already." He strode past me and we crossed through the last street, until my house came into view. Nothing looked unordinary, and my heart leapt. But as we approached my house, things started to look wrong. The houses on my street looked like they had been broken into. The windows were bashed in. The door was broken off of its hinges, and there were terrifyingly long claw marks on the stucco. I ran inside and blindly searched through all of the rooms, screaming my family member's names. It did not occur to me that whatever otherworldly beast that was here might have not left yet. I heard a noise my behind me, and I spun around and blindly threw a punch. Bad idea.

"What the hell! You think you can take out an alien with one poorly aimed punch?" Chris rubbed his chest were I hit him. He looked at me, annoyed at my naïveté, while I continued to search.

"They aren't here Chris. Where did they go? They must have taken the car… somewhere. They must be driving to wherever dad was planning on going," I was rambling, shocked at my family's disappearance and the state of chaos my house was in.

"…I know he was packing bags for us, because I saw them in the hall closet when I was looking for another candle. They must have taken the car…"

"Avery, hey, listen to me. We need to go now. Okay? I know you want to find your parents, but we really need to get out of here." Chris was pulling me towards the door when an incredibly bright searchlight flashed through the windows. It held a bluish tint to it, and my first reaction was to move towards it, to find its source. Chris smartly pulled me into the powder room, which had no windows. He left the door open an inch so we could see the beam of the searchlight as it passed. A low, mechanical moaning sound was coming from somewhere outside. I was terrified out of my mind. Chris was disturbingly quiet and calm. When the light did not pass by us for a few minutes, I went to open the door, but Chris pulled me back.

"Not just yet, we need to wait a little longer," His piercing green eyes stared straight through me, and I shuddered just a little bit. This was the closest I had ever been to him, our faces nearly inches apart. I had never imagined it to be like this. I had to use all of my will power to stop myself from shaking from fear, anxiety, or despair. My mind was running through a million scenarios for where my family was. I stared at Chris' chest, because that was at my eye level, and willed myself to hold it together.

"Hey, are you okay? Aves?" Too late, I must have let some rebel tears fall. It must have been because he called me by my childhood nickname. I nodded my head tightly, still staring at his chest, because I knew if I looked him in the eye I wouldn't be able to stop myself from completely falling apart. He put his hand on my shoulder and then pulled me into an awkward hug, which I gratefully accepted. I stood in his arms long after I felt his arms loosen, because I didn't really want to leave the safety of the bathroom to find whatever god forsaken creatures were lurking outside.

"We should get back to my family. You're going to come with us, okay?" That's the way Chris was, he made decisions and you didn't have any say in them. In this instance, I was very grateful, he took me back to his family and they accepted me there. I stayed with them in the following months when we were travelling back down into Boston.

Life with the Carlsons was very different from what I expected it to be. They were warm and kind and so unlike my biological family. I do not remember much from the beginning, perhaps a psychologist would call it memory loss because of trauma followed by depression. I hardly remember those cold months, the first winter we had without power, and everything I do remember is very blurry. Another instance where pieces of my life are missing. I was traveling through life on auto pilot, mourning the loss of my family. Although we were very different, I still loved them very much.

I don't know what specific event eventually pulled me out of my depression. Maybe it wasn't even an event, just a stage of life I had to endure before I was allowed happiness again. I do remember slowly returning to my normal self. I laughed more at Andy's antics, and started to notice whenever Chris talked to me again (which was quite often, seeing as we were living together). His family noticed too I think. They began to include me more in the decision making of where we were going, and included me in the conversation more. I was very grateful for their effort, and I fell into a routine.

I also began to slowly grow closer with Chris. It wasn't even something I noticed at first. But one day I realized the way he would offer to carry my bag when it got heavy (we had used up all of our fuel by now) or the way he'd smile at me and the skin around his eyes would crinkle. We were finally falling in love like I had hoped we would for so long (if under different circumstances). I missed my old life and its repetitive dullness, but my new life was full of adventure.

Although life was hard, life was good. We were constantly moving, hiding from the insect-like aliens, but I didn't mind it. I was very much caught up in Chris' web. He was the first boy who showed any interest in me, so of course I was head over heels.

After the accident, when we got separated from Chris' family, our relationship changed. Instead of being somewhat careless and reckless, we were always cautious and hesitant about our every move. We no longer walked through the woods or stayed out under the stars until dawn. Once we were completely alone, it put a strain on our relationship. He stopped teasing me about my awkward adolescent phase, and more often lectured me about how I should be more careful. The terrifying truth of our lives had finally become understood, that our world was now a very dangerous place to be. I wasn't sure if I was very happy to be living in a world like that. Where a planet could be invaded by an alien race, that's the kind of story that ended up being a low budget sci-fi movie. It seemed like some type of cosmic joke. Life became hard again. It was very odd to be living alone in the woods or an abandoned town with my boyfriend. We were living like that for almost a month before I experienced, for a third time, having people I love be taken away from me. The first time, I had Chris and his loving family to help me cope. The second, I had my boyfriend to lean on to use as a shoulder to cry on. We were still grieving when he left me. This time, I did not have anyone to help me. Everyone I cared about in the world had slowly left me. I could not find the will to go on anymore, because the world no longer held anything of interest. I slipped into a dangerous pattern, living only as a robot. Without thinking, I would travel during the days and sleep through the nights, traveling towards an unknown destination. I began to think that the universe only gave me happiness to take it away from me. At least in my dull lonely existence, I wouldn't have to suffer any more heartbreak.

It was during my third month of living on autopilot that my life was once again irrevocably changed.


I am dreaming. I must be, because I am back in my apartment in New York City, looking out my bay window, onto the traffic below. I can hear my mother talking on the phone and my sister's music blasting from across hall. I know it is a dream, but I can't find it in myself to end it. It's not pleasant dream, but it isn't entirely unpleasant either. I allow myself to continue looking out the window. I fade back into unconsciousness, when a twig snap makes my body instantly freeze. I keep my body still, and hesitantly open my eyes. The clearing I slept in is empty, but the trees across the clearing in front of me are moving. I can hear voices as two people emerge from behind the grove. I don't wait to see just how friendly these people are before I scurry up the tree. My fingers are clumsy because I just woke up, but I force my arms to drag my body upwards.

"Hey, wait! Come back, we aren't going to hurt you!" It's a deep man's voice that I hear coming from below. I don't stop climbing. By the sound of the footsteps, it sounds like its more than one person. I don't stop climbing until the branches are too thin to hold me, and then I go farther. I look down below, and I feel weak. I must be thirty feet in the air. I peer downwards, and I can see its two men that have followed me to the base of the tree. Actually, one looks more like a boy than a man, and the other looks a few years older than me. I hug the tree tightly, nearly as afraid of falling as I am of the mysterious men below me, but not enough to make me climb down. I close my eyes to make myself calm down. Both of them are too heavy for the tree to hold them this high up. I clear my throat, which is raspy from not being used enough.

"You can take whatever food I have left, but just leave me alone okay?" I pray that they will take my remaining food and be on their way. There's an old bag of chips I found in a vending machine a few weeks ago that's been expired for three months, but I was planning on eating it anyway. I can't afford to be picky.

"We're not going to take your food. It's okay, you can come down." The older one yells upwards at me. My eyes focus on the guns they have strapped to their legs and hanging over their backs. I decide to stay exactly where I am.

"Nope, totally comfy up here. Great views," I say, surprised at my ability to joke. I think the guys below laugh, but it might have just been the wind. I cough because the air is chilly, and hug myself closer to the tree because the wind is not blocked by anything up here.

"Listen, we were just walking through here to get back to camp. We're called the Second Massachusetts. You can come with us if you want," The smaller one says, and the one with darker hair shoves him.

"Ben you sound like an idiot," he says to the boy, presumably Ben, and continues speaking in my direction, "What he means to say is that, if you want, you can come and get some food, because it looks like you're traveling pretty lightly," he nods towards my single ratty backpack that looks empty. "It's getting cold here too, our camp isn't far from here. We are staying in an old school, there's about two hundred of us" he continues. If they haven't taken my food by now, then they must not be lying again. Then again, it may not be food they are looking for. The 2nd Massachusetts sounded very familiar. Maybe Mr. Carlson had mentioned it sometime. I weigh my options and decide to climb down. My blatant disregard for my own safety must stem from my genuine uninterest in my own life. It is a very dismal thought. I slowly climb down the oak, my body stiff from grasping so tightly to the thin branches. As I near the bottom, there is a gap where no branches are growing. I must have climbed up the other side of the tree, because there aren't any branches within my reach. I let go with one of my hands in hope to use that extra few inches to find a foot hold. I can't seem to find any, and my other hand slips from the branch. I fall a few feet before I catch onto another branch, both arms hanging over the side of it while my chest and stomach are half on top of it. I try to hold myself there, but I can feel myself slipping.

"Hold on! I'll try to climb up!" The older boy, I think, yelled up at me. I struggle to keep my grip, but my fingers were throbbing, and my ribcage feels like it is being crushed. I look down, and the dark haired man is struggling to find a foot hold. I am about ten feet in the air, and he is only halfway there.

"I can't climb it, you're going to have to jump," he calls, "I'll catch you, Ben move these sticks out of the way." Lovely, he is moving any sharp objects out of the way so if he doesn't catch me, well at least I won't be stabbed as well as breaking all my bones. Very comforting. I did not have much of a choice though, because I could not hold on any longer. I try to count to three, but my fingers slip when I reach two, and I slide off of the branch I was partially resting on. My neck stings, but I can't focus on that because I am falling. I pull my arms to my chest so that they don't hit any branches. Amazingly, I don't crash to the ground and break every bone in my body. It was not the most graceful fall, in fact I'm sure I screamed, but the unnamed boy caught me and we both tumbled to the ground. Luckily, he took most of the impact, and I fell with my back to the ground, nearly on top of him. I quickly scramble to my feet, still uneasy of these men.

"Ow!" I yell as I stand up, realizing that I must have hurt my ankle somewhere in the process of falling and then jumping out of a tree. The younger boy rushes to my side as I almost fall over. The other boy has gotten up and asks,

"Are you okay, is your leg okay?" he looks down at my feet and then up at me. This is the first time I have gotten a clear look at his face. It is young and unmarred, save for a cut on his left cheek. His hair is dark black, and his eyes are a golden brown mixed with green. I was always jealous of people with hazel eyes, or any color other than my dull brown. There is an uncanny familiarity about his face. It was hardened by over a year of occupation, but there is some sincerity in his eyes. I realize that he was waiting for me to reply a bit too late.

"Yeah I'm fine, I must have bumped it," I say, putting my weight on it. It hurts, but I will be okay to walk. As for the rest of me, my hands are bleeding and there is a sharp pain whenever I breath in. I will myself to keep it together, but it's hard when I have not had a substantial meal in weeks.

"You sure? Ben, grab her bag so we can get moving. My name is Hal, by the way," he says with a small smile and holds out his fingerless glove to shake. It's an old fashioned notion, not many kids my age ever bother to shake hands, but I appreciate the sentiment.

"I'm Avery," I cringe as he shakes my hand, because of the cuts on them. He must have noticed because he turns it over and then goes to look at my other hand.

"Sorry, I should've known you'd be scraped up. Dr. Glass can fix you up," he says sheepishly. I offer a small smile and turn towards the other boy who is gathering my things.

"That's Ben, my brother. You have everything?" he asks him.

"Oh, wait, I have more things. They're just past this clearing," I say, walking past both of them. I duck under some trees and whistle loudly. The brothers come up behind me and look at me like I am crazy. A few moments later, my two horses come trotting toward me. One had been mine, and the other Chris'. I usually rode one and ponyed the other alongside me, holding my things.

"How did you find two horses?" Ben asks incredulously. He approaches one of them, and pats him on the neck.

"They were a friend's," I say, and stop myself from divulging any more information. I haven't talked to any humans since Chris died, and I did not trust myself to keep it together.

"Listen, I have a lot of bags, and you guys are probably tired of carrying yours, so we can put our things on Rico and Cinder, and we can all walk," I say, even though I'm silently wishing I could ride.

"I thought you only had one bag…" Hal asks, looking around. I walk over to a tree were I had concealed a saddle and bags. I start to strap them onto the larger of the horses, Rico, and Hal and Ben help me.

"Jeez, what is in these?" Ben asks as he unzips one, "What are you doing man, don't look at her stuff" Hal says to Ben, shoving his shoulder.

"It's fine, they are just all of my…" Ben holds up a book with an incredulous look, "Books. I couldn't really part with them." I say, shrugging. Even Hal looks at me a little funny.

"And these are all full of your books?" Hal asks.

"Well yeah, I guess. Food is pretty hard to come by, but books are almost everywhere. It gets pretty lonely out here," I say, finishing strapping the last bag on. I catch them both looking at me, but I brush it off. I move to ask for their bags to put on the other horse when Hal says,

"No way, you ride. It's you horse, and you look pretty weak on your feet." I couldn't argue with him, and I don't really have the energy to anyway, so I swing up onto Cinder. The sudden movement leaves me breathless, and I am sure that I did something to my ribcage when I fell onto the branch. We walk back to their camp in near silence, with Ben making remarks to Hal once and a while. I notice belatedly that they try asking me questions, but I am so weary that I reply with short answers. My previous apprehensions about these boys are nearly gone, and I find myself almost dozing a few times. We arrive at their camp as the sun was setting. The 2nd Massachusetts had occupied a school, and by the looks of it, they are rather well fortified. As we approach, people call out to us.

"It's Ben and I! Tell my dad we're here! We found a girl who needs to see Dr. Glass," Hal calls to the person behind the barracks.

We walk behind the fortifications, and I jump off the horse. Bad idea, because I slammed back down onto my hurt ankle. I nearly fall for a second time, but this time it's Hal that steadies me.

"Thanks," I murmur, and he just nods. A tall man strides toward us, looking intently at the brothers. I assume it is their dad.

"Hal, Ben, thank god. I was worried," he tells his sons. Then he looks at me, and then looks back at his boys.

"Dad, this is Avery, We found her in the woods. In a tree actually," Ben says, almost laughing. Hal gives him a look, and Ben shrugs back at him.

"Hello Avery, I'm Tom Mason. Welcome to the 2nd Mass, Hal, could I have a word?" I nod back as Hal and Mr. Mason walk a few paces off. I can barely hear Hal's dad lecturing him for being out so long. It's funny how if this had been two years earlier, I'm sure any kid would have complained. But Hal just nods his head and takes it, because he knows that there are real consequences to being out to long.

"Hey, how about we take you to see the doctor, you look a little unsteady on your feet," Ben remarks, gently pulling my arm in his direction.

"But what about my horses? I should take care of them, take my stuff off of them at least…" I argue, but Ben insists on taking me to the infirmary.

"It's okay, someone else will get them, when was the last time you ate?" Ben asks, looking at me worried.

"I'm fine, I'll be okay." I pause, "So how old are you Ben?" I ask, diverting his attention. I don't really want to answer his question because any sane person would probably freak out at my eating habits of late. He looks at me with a look that says he knows that I am changing the subject, but replies with "I'm fifteen you?"

"Fifteen, well, sixteen now I guess. Do you know the date? I lose track of time," I answer. We are passing so many people in the hallway. I hadn't seen this many people since before the invasion.

"Its November 3rd," He replies as he steers me into what I assume to be the infirmary. There are beds lining the walls and it looks mostly empty. I go to sit down on one of the beds, and it marvel at how soft it is. Ben asks if I need anything and I reply with a no. A kind looking woman walks over to me.

"I'm Dr. Glass, you must be the girl the Mason boys brought back, we're glad you are here," she smiles warmly as she takes my temperature and asks me to take off my jacket so she can take my blood pressure. She looks a little alarmed and I assume it is from the state of my clothing, I'm sure they are torn and dirty. She takes my blood pressure and walks over to her station. She comes back with an IV stand and bag. A young girl, maybe early twenties, accompanies her.

"I'm Lourdes, Dr. Glass' assistant," she also smiles gently towards me, "I'm going to give you an IV, is that okay? You are very dehydrated," I wince at her words. I have never been very good with needles.

"Um, I also think I bruised my ribs, if you guys could check that too. And I think I hit my ankle when I fell out of the tree," I say, trying to stall before I have to be prodded with needles.

"Of course, do you mind if I take a look at it?" Dr. Glass frowns as she pokes at my ribs. I'm sure she's trying to be gentle, but I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"You must be one tough girl, because I think you might have actually broken one of them. I can't be sure of course, without an x-ray, but I will wrap you up the same." She puts some type of salve on it and wraps a large bandage around my abdomen. Lourdes is checking my ankle, and looks up at me.

"I see some bruises, but I don't think it's sprained or anything. It will probably just be sore for a few days," Thank god. I couldn't deal with having to be on crutches.

"Before you guys hook me up, could I use the bathroom? Is there running water here?" I ask, still stalling the inevitable.

"It's not heated, but you can wash up, it's the door through there," Dr. Glass motions across the room. I walk stiffly, burdened by not only my ribs being wrapped up but my ankle also, and I make it into the room. Sure enough, water comes from the tap. I wash my hands and splash water on my face. I look up to see myself staring back in the mirror. Only, it isn't me. The girl I see is sickly and emaciated looking. My cheeks are drawn, and my cheekbones are protruding from my face. I have dark circles under my eyes, and my hair is a tangled mess. I frown in the mirror. No wonder people were worried when they look at me. I look like a weak twelve year old, not sixteen. I look down at myself. In the past three months since… he died I lost a drastic amount of weight. I never was model thin, and it was one of my biggest insecurities. When I told any of my friends about it, they'd tell me they thought I was perfectly fine, but I always secretly wished I could drop fifteen pounds. Looking at myself, I could have gained at least twenty pounds before I even reached what I thought my perfect weight would be. As it turns out, being dangerously underweight did nothing for my looks. I tied my hair back to somehow tame it, and stepped back outside. Hal had entered the room, and was animatedly telling Dr. Glass and Lourdes the story.

"And then when I caught her, we fell to the ground. She must have fallen fifteen feet. She felt like a doll when I caught her, she was so light. I wasn't-" he abruptly cut off when he heard me walk over. Just what I would like, to be compared to a doll. I slide onto the bed they are standing around.

"Alright, let's get this over with quickly," I say as I roll up my sleeve. I close my eyes tightly and cover my mouth with one hand and extend the other in the doctor's direction.

"Seriously?" Hal asks, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"What? I'm afraid of needles okay?" I say as I roll my eyes. This kid was starting to annoy me.

"It's just that, you were living alone in the woods during an alien invasion, and then fell out of a tree and broke your ribs and you walked away fine. Needles should be the least of your worries." He says, shrugging. I can't tell if that was a complement or not, but I soften my dirty look towards him.

"It's only one broken rib," I say quietly as I feel Dr. Glass position the needle. He shrugs slightly, as if to say that his claim still stands. I quickly intake a breath and turn my head away. Hal looks at me and awkwardly takes my hand, possibly trying to be reassuring. It has nearly the opposite effect, because now I have to try my hardest not to faint or look too green. I grimace towards him, silently thanking him. I'm probably squeezing his hand much too hard, but I am beyond the point of caring.

"Okay, I hope you don't mind, but I gave you a mild sedative as well, to help you relax. You can lie down if you want." Dr. Glass says. She gets up to walk away, and Lourdes follows. I look toward Hal and let go of his hand when I go to lie down on the bed. The line pulls on my right arm and I feel light headed. I really need to get a grip on myself, it's just a needle. Hal shifts so that he is sitting in the chair beside my bed. I lift my head up at him, puzzled that he would stay this long.

"Hey, you can go if you want. I'm sure you have things to do or whatever," I offer a closed mouth smile, and add "I can't be much entertainment for you," he shakes his head slowly, and replies,

"I don't have anywhere to be. I'd rather not be around my father in case he wants to give me another lecture," he says and gives a small laugh. He face looks very nice when he laughs like that. His lips turn up at one corner and his eyes crinkle. I shake off that thought, chalking it up to the drugs and exhaustion of the day.

"I'm sorry I got you and Ben in trouble, I didn't mean to," I say apologetically. I can feel myself relax into the bed, when was the last time I had slept in a bed? Weeks? Months?

"Don't apologize. We couldn't just leave you there," he replies. His elbows are resting on his knees and his face is in his hands.

"Well thank you anyways. For catching me and for dragging my sorry self back here. I don't know what I was thinking climbing that tree," Actually, I do know. I was very wary of their intentions in the beginning, but I decided to not mention that detail. Hal looks at me, and I can tell that he understands what I did not say. Aliens are not the only things to be afraid of.

"Of course, what were you doing out there all alone?" Hal asks. If I hadn't been so drugged up, I probably would have frozen and not known what to say. As it was, I was fading in and out, but I made an effort to respond to him,

"I was waiting for a friend." The last thing I remember is my eyes drooping shut and the sound of Hal murmuring a response. The exhaustion of the day, with the sedative acting as a catalyst, pulls me into unconsciousness.


A/N: Okay, there it is! I've been obsessed with Falling Skies recently, and this idea has been floating around in my head. I mostly wrote it for myself, but I hope at least some people get to read it. Its kind of been my baby for the past week, so I hope some people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review, I'd love to hear what people have to think!