Haunted

Maria sighed as she lay down on her bed. As usual she couldn't sleep; so like last night and the night before, she stared at her blank ceiling and let her mind wander. She tried to think about Michael and his return into her life, but it was too painful, she really couldn't deal with that right now. Instead, her mind wandered back to the memory she often replayed in her head, how everything all started…

/flashback/

The club: smoky and dim.
The noise: deafening and overwhelming.
The alcohol: strong.

Bright flashing lights illuminated the hoards of faceless people, writhing on the thumping dance floor, escaping from reality into whatever drug that was available. In the centre of the dance floor there was a sticky, dirty table where a few girls were employed to dance on. And there she was; a regular on the table, a ghost of her former self. Stringy blonde hair, lifeless dull eyes, and her bones were clearly visible through her pale skin every time she danced.

That heartache was now a constant pain, after so long it seemed to just be a part of her, she could barely remember then when she hadn't felt this way. Her bloodshot eyes darted around, searching the crowds, as she pushed her body to go through the same routine after routine, barely noticing the bald, middle aged men stuffing dollar bills through the thin straps of her black lace thong.

She knew those dollar bills would disappear the minute she found her dealer. He sold her anything she wanted that helped to escape the pain. Her dealer often gave her special deals and just enjoyed the sex as payment. So sometimes she could keep her dollars and pay her alcohol tab. Maria didn't really care; her body was numb and had been for a long time. Sex at least made her feel something, anything, which helped to fill the gaping hole in her chest.

It had been three years since Michael had left.

That night was the same as any other night in the club. She danced. She gave her dealer a blowjob. She snorted a few lines. She went back onto the dance table. After her third dance, she stumbled to the bar and ordered a glass of tequila.

"Yo, tight sista, let ol' duke get this." A thick New York accent sounded from behind her. She turned with a smile, and it froze on her face. Her vision clouded slightly. There he was, with the same brown hair yet styled differently. With those same hazel green eyes that sparkled and danced, a piercing through those same lips. That same smile…so charming, flirtatious and totally unexpected. Maria's opened mouth formed the question "Michael?" But no sound came. Instead, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she collapsed on the floor.

Maria awoke a few hours later. The first thing she noticed was that she was in a vehicle, and it was moving. Panicking, she sat up quickly and felt all of the blood rush to her head. "Fucking comedowns, such a crock of shit." She swore, and steadied herself before leaning forward to attack whoever was driving the car.

"Sweet ass baby gurl, I wudn' move if I were youse. Hit yur noggin pretty 'ard when you fainted. What's youse on, anyhow?" Maria lent back onto the seat as she struggled to remember what she had done during the night.

"Erm…coke, did a few speed pills I think. Had some tequila to wash it back."

"Well aint you sum kind of badass, da way youse goin your gunna kill yourself soon."

"That's the plan. Wait a minute. Who the fuck are you? How did I get in this car?"

Not-Michael chuckled, "Yeesh, don't have a freaky five on me, you dig? Name's Rath. I just swung by from New York – ment to be finding sum people here in Roswell….old family members…I guess you could call 'em. Big reunion and shit. You passed out, thaught it would be umm…"He grinned an eerily grin as he stared at her through the windshield "UnAmerican to leave ya there on da floor."

Maria sank her head down back onto the seats. Family Members. Michael. Not-Michael. Reunion. Her head wouldn't stay up, it felt like it was a balloon, ready to be sucked off into space. "Where are you taking me?" Her speech was slurred from the waves of exhaustion she felt rising over her.

"Your crib, read it offa back of your purse. Youse need a rest, I needs a place to crash for da night. Dunt worry, on da couch I know. Doubt I'd get any action tonight anyways, with you all coked up and half conscious." Maria yawned and nodded her head. She was too gone to even try and work out why this guy A) looked like Michael Gone Punk and b) Why he was taking care of her.

The last time she woke that evening was between the mists of semi-wakefulness. She was being held by strong arms, arms that brought back a thousand different memories, they were putting her down onto something soft…her bed? As the arms were being removed, her breath caught and she had never felt so much pain, the grief of losing Michael suddenly washed over her and she couldn't hold in her sobs. Not-Michael's hands stroked her hair and tried to soothe her down, she looked up at the blurry image of Not-Michael's face, and for a moment, she couldn't see the Mohawk or the piercings…all she could see was Michael.

"Please…stay with me. Just hold me." She pleaded, her large green eyes suddenly looking so lost, a child's pair of eyes that had seen too much pain in the world. Not-Michael nodded and slipped into bed with her, holding her close and whispering sweet nothings inher ear.

/end of flashback/

That was the first night Maria had slept in 2 years without needing the aid of drugs to calm her.

Maria sighed and rolled onto her front, burying her face in the pillow. That was the start of her and Rath; it had been a beautiful thing at first, until time destroyed them both.

Tbc..

(A.N : Thankyou all for your reviews, I suck at updating I know! But its been those reviews that have made me update this as quick as i have. Please, tell me what you think, any critiques? Ways to improve?)