Not My Life
Author: Pharo
Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Jason Katims, UPN, and Melinda Metz.
Summary: Kyle POV on recent events in his life.
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Things are worse when you find out the real truth behind them. I know this from personal experience. After you hear the whole story, you wish that you could change what happened; make it so that you don't have any knowledge of what actually went down.
I remember when Liz had been let in on the "alien secret". I would wonder what going on between her and Evans. After Maria, Alex, heck, even my dad, found out, I would lie awake on some nights, silently staring at the ceiling, wondering what was the big deal with Evans, anyway. I would close my eyes and wish to know their little "secret", to have the knowledge that lured Liz to him.
But after I was let in, I realized that my life would have been better off if I had never known, been left alone with my little knowledge of the case, and be forced to make my own theories as to what was so unique about them.
My life changed more drastically in the few months after I knew the truth than the seventeen years prior to it. After that, there were times when I wasn't even sure of who *I* was. How scary is that?
Now, when I think of the confusion I felt at that time, I wonder how Alex felt when he was mind-warped. I mean the guy had no control of his mind, body, or actions. He was just a little pawn on someone's big chessboard of life.
I didn't think it could get any worse than Alex dying, but it did. We were all so eager to find out who Alex's "killer" was, assuming of course, that he didn't end his life willingly.
And now, after it is all said and done, I can't help but cry. Cry for Alex and what he had to go through. Cry for Tess and wonder why she had to do something so horrible that I'd never be able to remember her as anything, but a murderer, the image now imprinted in my mind forever. I cry for myself, in a sorry attempt to relieve the pain I'm feeling.
This pain is so intense. My heart hurts so much that I don't even want to go on living on some days. It feels like someone is taking a sharp nail and slowly hammering it into my soul.
It hurts even more to know that the person who is the root of all this pain is this girl, who I had considered my sister. It makes me sick to my stomach that this girl, who lay in the very bed that I am lying in right now, probably thought up the whole plan in my very own house.
It huts so much that I'm not able to do anything more than what is necessary. I mostly lie around when I don't have to do anything. I absently drift though classes. I've lost my appetite, but force myself to have a bite of something to ease my dad's mind. There is no need for both of us to feel like hell.
I mostly think of the aliens and how they've ruined my life. Well, if I allow myself to be perfectly hones, I'll admit that it is my own fault that I feel horrible every single day.
I'm the one who wished to know their secret. I'm the one who stuck my nose into something that I wasn't fully ready for. I'm the one who made them tell me what was going on and now I'm the one suffering the consequences of my own actions. I can't believe how stupid I was back then.
When did my "life" get to be this way? I'm not even sure I can call it a "life" any more. When did it come to the point where I had to *convince* myself to get out of bed and do something? I don't even remember the last time I could safely wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, even remotely happy, or without this ache that had now become a familiar sensation in my heart. I don't know how long I can go on living like this, but I pray that it will end soon.
The worse part of it all is that I can't even bring myself to talk to anyone about all of this. I don't even know where to being. If I talked to a "normal", unbiased person, they'd think that I was insane. If I talked to one of the "Pod Squad" or even their human counterparts, they'd just tell me to get over it and understand that it isn't my fault. I don't want to hear that kind of stuff.
I'm tired of it all…of hearing, "Kyle, it'll pass" or "Kyle, you've got to get over this". The thing that people don't understand is that I *can't* get over all of this. I've tried and it doesn't work. I'm unable to forget about it or even come to terms with it. How do you "accept" that kind of stuff? I can't just pass it off as some little, insignificant, incident in my life. Because it wasn't and I was never good with pretending.
So now all I can do is hope that it'll be over soon. I go back to what had started this whole thing. Every night, I wish that the last few months were all some very long, very weird, dream. I wish that this weren't my life. Yet, sadly, every morning, I wake up and the cloud of pain still lingers in my heart, forcing me to live this life for yet another day.