Sore by Josephine
***
Info:
Summary: Sequel to Wounded and Broken
Disclaimer: Per usual, I don't own Roswell, and I sure envy the lucky ducks who do! The
song is "Fortress" belonging to Ken Block and Sister Hazel
Feedback: Me gusta! Please, just send a few thoughts to tobyjo44@hotmail.com! I
really appreciate it.
Category: um, Liz angst I believe it is called, and tends towards Dreaminess
Series: This Wounded and Broken all go together as "Pieces of You"
Distribution: "Want. Take. Have." Just send me the URL, and make sure you have
Wounded and Broken too.
Author's Note: I wasn't planning on continuing Liz's story, but someone threw the plot
bunny in my lap, and it wouldn't leave until this was written. I hope this rounds out the
trilogy well. I think I am going to win some prize for the corniest endings ever though.
~Jo P.S. DON'T ASK FOR MORE!!!!! I think I will go insane and kill someone if I
have to use this storyline anymore.
***
Sore by Josephine
***
I was running along a fence, grabbing onto the chain links to pull myself along. I had to
stay in front, had to beat the team, not only at the finish line, but every time the whistle
blew. I had no rest. I had to keep going. Everytime I thought I had to stop, I would pull
myself further, as if my feet refused to become lax in their motion.
Even the wind blew against me, wanting me to lose. But for some reason, I wasn't going
to let that happen. I simply had to stay ahead. This was more important than just a race.
It ran deeper than that within me.
Halfway around the gigantic fence, I fell hard to my knees. I cried out in pain as not only
my skin was ripped, but I saw the others pull ahead, and the teacher reaching for her
whistle.
I heard the shrill sound or it, and bowed my head low in defeat and I cried.
***
My eyes snapped open as I heard the beginning of a song playing on my alarm clock/radio.
It was time for my first day back to school.
~It's bitter-
~It tastes a lot like winter
~And will it release me?
The words of the song slunk out of the radio, swirling around my ears.
~And kill me? Don't kill me
And I knew that even though it had been only a dream, I had lost the race, and that was
going to affect me the rest of my life.
~And I've been staying high
~And I've been feeling sorry for myself
~And I've been resurrecting my
~My fortress to protect myself
***
My backpack felt heavy weighing hard down on my shoulder. I mentally blocked out the
loud noises of the school around me, and focused on getting to my locker without
breaking down into tears. Before I could get there, Maria caught sight of me, and gently
pulled me to the side of the hallway.
"Liz, how are you?" She didn't wait for me to reply. "Are you okay? You look kind of
detached. Here, smell this." She shoved a vial under my nose while explaining what it
was, and that it would calm me down at least until lunch when I could have some more. I
was quiet as the foreign smell filled my nose; I was never a believer in aromatherapy.
"I'm fine, Maria. I gotta get my books." I ignored the stares from around me as Maria
swiftly hugged me, and walked away. I fell against my locker and let the feel of the cool
metal fill my head.
***
I fell hard onto my bed that afternoon, still excuses with a leave of absence from work.
The comfort of my familiar quilt was great relief from the whispers and stars and
avoidance I had suffered through all day. And yet, I had asked for this.
It had been my wish to try to be normal again, to go to school like everyone else, be
myself again. Even thought that was what I wanted most in the world, I knew deep in my
heart, that it was impossible.
My old self had been left behind in that alley-way on a warm night on the Florida coast.
My old self died at the hand of Nathan, one who I let in, and who betrayed me.
When I returned Maria had to regain my trust, and no one sled had yet with the possible
exception of my mother. It was for her that I finally let myself cry and see the truth of my
wounded, broken and sore existence.
My mother and Maria were still the only ones I could talk to, apart from myself. Even my
journal seemed futile and blank now, a piece of who I was before, nothing more. All I was
now was an empty shell trying to stay alive, although life itself was empty now. The
beauty had been desecrated, and tears were the only break in the monotony of weakness.
***
I am alone. My parents didn't want to leave me, but I assured them that I would be fine.
But I'm not.
I am in a state of panic because alone I will get hurt again, and no one will hear when I cry
and weep, and my body lays broken on the ground.
And I didn't know how to rid myself of this feeling, aside from turning the radio on which
seems to help some.
~Shattered
~tired, broken, worn down and tattered, and
~Can you even hear me?
Until the phone rings. There is no one else to answer, and I am too afraid to let it ring, so
with a shaky hand, I lift up the receiver and whisper, "Hello?"
And there's a pause, and a voice asks kindly, "Is Liz there?"
~What do you expect out of me?
~I'm being buried alive and screaming
~Can't you see- oh can't you see me?
And I attempt to respond, 'this is she', but it come out more like an injured squeak. Then I
swallow and manage, "Yes."
~Without my home, yeah- I'm so lost, so lost
***
Then he's here, and I'm struggling to breathe because he's so close, and he's smoothing
back my hair as I sit and stare silently straight in front of me. And I startle as I feel his
warm hand on the cool skin of my arm.
"Let me see, Liz. Show me what happened to you."
And a broken cry escapes my lips as a tear slides down my cheek, and we are connected.
Images are flashing against the inside of my eyelids. Images of the tears and endless
letters and phone calls.
I never realized that they suffered for me, and I wouldn't let myself trust them.
The flashes are gone, and we're both crying and I fall into his strong arms and sob.
***
I cannot deny this soreness within me. But now I realize that the soreness had made me
who I am- and now I don't want to deny it.
***
The End
***
***
Info:
Summary: Sequel to Wounded and Broken
Disclaimer: Per usual, I don't own Roswell, and I sure envy the lucky ducks who do! The
song is "Fortress" belonging to Ken Block and Sister Hazel
Feedback: Me gusta! Please, just send a few thoughts to tobyjo44@hotmail.com! I
really appreciate it.
Category: um, Liz angst I believe it is called, and tends towards Dreaminess
Series: This Wounded and Broken all go together as "Pieces of You"
Distribution: "Want. Take. Have." Just send me the URL, and make sure you have
Wounded and Broken too.
Author's Note: I wasn't planning on continuing Liz's story, but someone threw the plot
bunny in my lap, and it wouldn't leave until this was written. I hope this rounds out the
trilogy well. I think I am going to win some prize for the corniest endings ever though.
~Jo P.S. DON'T ASK FOR MORE!!!!! I think I will go insane and kill someone if I
have to use this storyline anymore.
***
Sore by Josephine
***
I was running along a fence, grabbing onto the chain links to pull myself along. I had to
stay in front, had to beat the team, not only at the finish line, but every time the whistle
blew. I had no rest. I had to keep going. Everytime I thought I had to stop, I would pull
myself further, as if my feet refused to become lax in their motion.
Even the wind blew against me, wanting me to lose. But for some reason, I wasn't going
to let that happen. I simply had to stay ahead. This was more important than just a race.
It ran deeper than that within me.
Halfway around the gigantic fence, I fell hard to my knees. I cried out in pain as not only
my skin was ripped, but I saw the others pull ahead, and the teacher reaching for her
whistle.
I heard the shrill sound or it, and bowed my head low in defeat and I cried.
***
My eyes snapped open as I heard the beginning of a song playing on my alarm clock/radio.
It was time for my first day back to school.
~It's bitter-
~It tastes a lot like winter
~And will it release me?
The words of the song slunk out of the radio, swirling around my ears.
~And kill me? Don't kill me
And I knew that even though it had been only a dream, I had lost the race, and that was
going to affect me the rest of my life.
~And I've been staying high
~And I've been feeling sorry for myself
~And I've been resurrecting my
~My fortress to protect myself
***
My backpack felt heavy weighing hard down on my shoulder. I mentally blocked out the
loud noises of the school around me, and focused on getting to my locker without
breaking down into tears. Before I could get there, Maria caught sight of me, and gently
pulled me to the side of the hallway.
"Liz, how are you?" She didn't wait for me to reply. "Are you okay? You look kind of
detached. Here, smell this." She shoved a vial under my nose while explaining what it
was, and that it would calm me down at least until lunch when I could have some more. I
was quiet as the foreign smell filled my nose; I was never a believer in aromatherapy.
"I'm fine, Maria. I gotta get my books." I ignored the stares from around me as Maria
swiftly hugged me, and walked away. I fell against my locker and let the feel of the cool
metal fill my head.
***
I fell hard onto my bed that afternoon, still excuses with a leave of absence from work.
The comfort of my familiar quilt was great relief from the whispers and stars and
avoidance I had suffered through all day. And yet, I had asked for this.
It had been my wish to try to be normal again, to go to school like everyone else, be
myself again. Even thought that was what I wanted most in the world, I knew deep in my
heart, that it was impossible.
My old self had been left behind in that alley-way on a warm night on the Florida coast.
My old self died at the hand of Nathan, one who I let in, and who betrayed me.
When I returned Maria had to regain my trust, and no one sled had yet with the possible
exception of my mother. It was for her that I finally let myself cry and see the truth of my
wounded, broken and sore existence.
My mother and Maria were still the only ones I could talk to, apart from myself. Even my
journal seemed futile and blank now, a piece of who I was before, nothing more. All I was
now was an empty shell trying to stay alive, although life itself was empty now. The
beauty had been desecrated, and tears were the only break in the monotony of weakness.
***
I am alone. My parents didn't want to leave me, but I assured them that I would be fine.
But I'm not.
I am in a state of panic because alone I will get hurt again, and no one will hear when I cry
and weep, and my body lays broken on the ground.
And I didn't know how to rid myself of this feeling, aside from turning the radio on which
seems to help some.
~Shattered
~tired, broken, worn down and tattered, and
~Can you even hear me?
Until the phone rings. There is no one else to answer, and I am too afraid to let it ring, so
with a shaky hand, I lift up the receiver and whisper, "Hello?"
And there's a pause, and a voice asks kindly, "Is Liz there?"
~What do you expect out of me?
~I'm being buried alive and screaming
~Can't you see- oh can't you see me?
And I attempt to respond, 'this is she', but it come out more like an injured squeak. Then I
swallow and manage, "Yes."
~Without my home, yeah- I'm so lost, so lost
***
Then he's here, and I'm struggling to breathe because he's so close, and he's smoothing
back my hair as I sit and stare silently straight in front of me. And I startle as I feel his
warm hand on the cool skin of my arm.
"Let me see, Liz. Show me what happened to you."
And a broken cry escapes my lips as a tear slides down my cheek, and we are connected.
Images are flashing against the inside of my eyelids. Images of the tears and endless
letters and phone calls.
I never realized that they suffered for me, and I wouldn't let myself trust them.
The flashes are gone, and we're both crying and I fall into his strong arms and sob.
***
I cannot deny this soreness within me. But now I realize that the soreness had made me
who I am- and now I don't want to deny it.
***
The End
***