Roswell Fanatics

A/N: I am looking for someone to create a banner for this fic, if anyone is interested. THANKS!

Chapter 11


Liz
The phone is ringing. I keep thinking it’s a dream, but then it gets louder and louder and…why doesn’t someone pick up the damn thing. I crack open my eyes and realize that Max is sound asleep beside me. Poor thing. I know I’ve put him through hell. And the phone is still ringing. Groaning with the effort, I roll over and answer the phone. Someone is persistent. “’Ello?”

“Hello, may I please speak to Miss Elizabeth Davis?”

“This is she.” I’m too tired to think.

“This is Kimberly Ash with the Daily Journal.” Oh hell. I’m wide awake.

“What?”

“I understand you were the victim of a rape recently.”

Oh God, what does she want? I bite my lip, trying to keep it together.

“It is the policy of the Journal to run stories on crimes in the area in order to warn the community.”

“R-right.” I’m shaking.

“We’re trying to get information in addition to the police report to write the story. Can you tell me where you were the night of the incident?” My vision is hazy, My brain won’t connect with my mouth.

“I…I can’t help you.”

“Miss Davis…”

“Please! Don’t…don’t call here again.” I drop the phone in my lap, clutching it, not waiting to see if she hung up or not.

“Miss Davis…Miss Davis?”

“No…no….oh God, no.” Rape. Raped. I was raped.

“Liz?” I jump. “Liz, give me the phone.”

“No!” I can feel them on either side of me. They’re holding me down. I can’t move.

“Liz, give me the phone.” Max pries the phone out of my clammy, white knuckled hands. Where did he come from?


Max

“I don’t give a damn who you are or why you’re calling. Don’t call here again. Get your info from the police, and if you print one false word about this, we’ll sue you for all you’re worth.” I slam the phone down. Shit. “Liz.”

“No, no, no, no, no...” She’s curled up against the wall, on her side, mumbling and sobbing to herself. “No…please, don’t.” I know what’s happening, it’s not too hard to figure out, but what could that woman have said that would…oh shit.

“Liz…” I move closer, careful not to touch her.

“Please…don’t let them…don’t let them…don’t let them.” I lie down next to her, still keeping a few inches between us.

“I won’t let them. I won’t let them. Shhhh. I’m right here. I won’t let them touch you.”

“Max?” she whimpers, and my heart breaks.

“Hmmm?”

“I was r-r-r…raped.” She says the last word on a loud sob and dissolves into tears, burying her face in the pillow. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling pressure build up behind them as I reach out and stroke her back. She rolls over on to her side, allowing me to see her bloodshot eyes and tear stained face. “Max?” She looks so scared. I can’t take this anymore. I reach out slowly and bring her closer to me, half expecting her to fight me, but she doesn’t.

“Shhh. I know baby, I know.” Her head is tucked underneath my chin and her face is pressed into my chest.

“I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid, little one.”

“I let them do it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m a statistic.”

“What?”

“You know, ‘How Many Girls in the U.S….’yada yada yada’. I used to read those reports and think that it would never happen to me. And everyone’s going to think it was my fault, because that’s what they always think.” Oh Jesus. This is worse than I thought it was going to be. “And I never thought that word would apply to me, but she said it, just like she was forecasting the weather…I’m not like those girls Max, I’m not!” She’s rambling.

“What word, Liz?” I know I should be following this better, but I don’t think she can even understand herself right now.

“R-raped” A lump takes up permanent residence in my throat.

“Oh, Liz, baby…shhh.”

“It shouldn’t bother me, I mean, that’s what it is, right?” I wrack my brain, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“Liz, it’s a word. It describes what happened to you, it doesn’t mean anything other than that. It doesn’t say you did or didn’t do something. It doesn’t say it’s your fault. In fact…” I pause for emphasis and she finally looks up at me. “it’s NOT your fault.”

“It is my fault, Max.” I shouldn’t even be encouraging this thought, but I take the bait. I want to know what’s going on in her head.

“How is it your fault, Liz?”

“It just is.” Ok, that’s enough of that.

“Liz.” She flinches at the tone of my voice, but I don’t back down, I can’t. This is too important. “What part of this was your fault? The part where you went with Allan because you thought he would bring you to Brett?...who, by the way, probably planned the whole thing from the start? The part where the two of them ganged up on you and overpowered you? The part where you told them no and they did it anyway? Or the part where they beat you, violated you, and left you on the floor of that bar? Did you ask for any of that?” I won’t let her escape the facts. My voice rises in volume without me even realizing it. She struggles weakly to get out of my arms.

“Leave me alone, Max.”

“No.”

“Max…” She’s crying.

“Not this time,” I tell her, soft and low in her ear.

“Max, I can’t do this.” That scares me. It’s the first time that she actually says those words.

“I know it feels like that now, but you will get through this Liz.” She shakes her head, miserably. “You’re not alone. I’m here, your mom is here. We’re going to help you.” She sags against me, no longer crying, and I know I’ve won the battle

“What am I supposed to do Max? I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep.”

“But what about…”

“Let your mom and me handle it, ok? You just worry about you right now.” She nods her head in resignation and sinks back down onto the bed, wincing as her back touches the sheets. “What’s wrong?” She looks as if she’s about to lie, but thinks better of it.

“My back…I guess the muscles are stiff because I haven’t been moving around much, or maybe I pulled it…before.” I briefly wonder why she never mentioned this, but this is Liz and admitting weakness is not her strong point.

“Turn over.” I take both of the pillows from the bed.

“Max, I can’t…”

“I’ll help you, support yourself with your elbows, and raise your hips. She looks at me skeptically for a split second before rolling on to her stomach, wincing with the effort. When she raises her hips, I slide a pillow underneath her to take the pressure off of her ribs, and another one underneath her arms. “How’s that?”

“Good.” She sighs and rests her head on her folded arms.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Um, my shoulders and my lower back.”

“Can I pull your shirt up?”

“Yeah.” I’m surprised she’s not arguing with me on this. I pull the shirt up above her shoulders, listening to make sure that I’m not hurting her. The smooth skin of her back is marred by one large, yellowing bruise between her shoulder blades. I wince, knowing that the muscles underneath the bruise are probably the ones hurting her the most. I trail my down either side of her spine. I can feel the knots without looking for them.

“Max…” her voice sounds so small.

“Hm?” I put my hands gently on either side of her neck and stroke firmly, releasing the tension.

“You must be tired of taking care of me,” she mumbles into her arms.
“I’ll always take care of you Liz.” I pause when I hear her gasp in response to a particularly tight muscle in her shoulder. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s ok. You’re not hurting me, it’s just…tight.” I resume kneading her back, moving to the bruised area. I let up on the pressure a little.
“This might hurt a little, sweetie, but it’s where the muscle is really tight. You have a bruise here.” I touch it gently and she sucks in a breath. Her whole body is tense.

“Relax,” I slide my hands down and apply more pressure on either side of her spine in long strokes. Her body goes limp. “You’re going to take care of me one of these days, you know.”

“I know…” she’s trying to stay awake but I can see her eyes sliding shut “Max…thank…you.”

“Shhh, go back to sleep.”

Liz

I feel like I’m always sleeping. I can’t help it, I’m so tired. My back hurts, but I didn’t say anything to Max because, well, he’s Max. And he’s been worrying about me so much.

“Shhh, go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” I whispered, “can’t stop thinking…thinking too much.”
I close my eyes again as I feel his hands on my shoulder blades. “Relax, let your mind go blank.” I concentrate on the motions, which helps me not to think about anything else. He works the tips of his fingers in wide circles from my shoulder blades to my ribcage to my spine, down to my waist, and back up, using his palms. It slowly eases the tension out of my muscles. The rhythm of his hands moving in slow circles lulls me away from nervous alertness. Slowly, he leans down and gently kisses the back of my neck. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “it’ll be OK.” I wish I could believe him. I feel like I’m always taking one step forward and two steps back.

Suzanne

I’ve been so good at leaving them alone, and yet here I am, still whining about the fact that she won’t let me near her. This whole situation has me worried on so many levels. And not the most obvious ones either. Liz has never trusted men. Quite honestly, I’m shocked at how much she trusts Max, but I guess Max is different. He always has been different when it comes to her. She wanted to be left alone when her father skipped out on us, but he wouldn’t do it. He gave her space, but was always there anyway, helping me with the housework or mowing our lawn. All I ever got from Liz was stony silence. And then I walked into the house from grocery shopping one day and found her huddled on the couch in Max’s arms. She was crying her eyes out. And I breathed a sigh of relief.
Since John left, he has sent me a postcard every three months, each from a different location, with nothing written and with no return address. I’m staring at the latest one from Texas.

He’s taunting us. Liz doesn’t know and I’m not sure if I should ever tell her. But I know she would be stark raving mad if she found out on her own. Sometimes I hope he never comes back We’re doing just fine without him. Other times I cry myself to sleep at night, missing the man I married, not the man who up and left me. So I can’t say it doesn’t surprise me a little that Liz has let Max in so much. Granted, I’ve never seen him pursue something so tirelessly. The boy does not give up.

“Suzanne?” Speak of the devil. I guess I zoned out there for a minute.

“Hey Max.” Then I notice the look on his face.

“What happened?” He sits heavily into a chair at the table and presses his forehead into his hands.

“A newspaper called and Liz answered the phone. The woman was less than tactful about getting whatever information she wanted. Sent Liz into a flashback.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, well, something had to trigger it, I guess.”

“Is she alright?”

“I think she took a few steps back, but she’s sleeping. She’ll be ok.”

“I want her to see a psychologist.”

“I do too, but I don’t know if it’s too soon.” He’s right…damnit.

“It probably is.”

“But you know Liz, even if she does get to the point where she can talk about it, she won’t want professional help.”

“Max, I’m not saying you should drag her to the psychologist, but…wait, yes I am. I am her mother and I give you permission to throw her over your shoulder and carry her caveman style into the office if you have to.”

“When she’s ready.”

“Yeah, whenever the hell that is.”

“Have you talked to the detective?”

“No, we should probably call him to set up a time to give the statements.”
“I don’t know if Liz is going to be able to do that after what happened earlier today.”

“It will be ok, Max. Just be there for her. It’s going to be upsetting for her, we know that, but there’s no avoiding it. And soon enough, it will all be over and Liz can concentrate on getting her life back.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me too.”

“You look tired.”

“I am, haven’t been sleeping well I guess.”

“You want to take a nap? I’ll clean up.”

“You need to rest too Max, I know you’re up all night with Liz.”

“She fell asleep watching a movie. I took her to bed and we slept for a while. She’s still asleep and I need something to do to get my mind off of all of this stuff. Go.” He should be a lawyer.

“Yes sir.”


Max

The kitchen was never cleaned up from breakfast this morning, so it looks like a disaster area. I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed something to do to get my mind off of all of this. It looks like the perfect mindless project. But wiping down tables and taking out trash is apparently not enough activity to do it. All I can think about is Liz and how she’s going to get over this latest hurdle. Until that woman called, she was denying it with whatever brain power she had left. I can’t believe that the bitch just called and ASKED about it, as if it wasn’t a sensitive subject. Do they teach tact in journalism classes? Apparently not. I pick up the postcard that Suzanne left on the kitchen table and was studying so intently before I walked in. Who does she know in Dallas? I flip it over.

Mrs. Suzanne Davis
10120 Helsen Lane
Clifton, VA 20124

There’s nothing written besides the address. That’s weird. And that’s definitely a man’s handwriting. What the hell? My over-protective mode goes into high alert. On a hunch, I go to the secretary where I know they keep the address book. It’s laying open underneath the phone. Flipping back a few pages confirms it.

“Fucking bastard.”[/b]

This part was really difficult to write. Hope I did it justice.

[/b]Chapter 12

Liz
Damnit. I think I slept through the whole day again. Dusk is falling and the house is eerily quiet. I carefully sit up, noticing happily that the room doesn’t spin into vertigo when I do. It is almost completely dark except for the last rays of sunlight that have managed to come in from underneath the shades. This is my room. Where is Max? I force down the now familiar tightness in my chest. Just because he isn’t in the room doesn’t mean he’s gone. I have safely lived in this house for almost 22 years. It isn’t any less safe than it was.

But it feels that way. I run a shaky hand through my hair, realizing how greasy it feels. My impromptu shower a few nights ago wasn’t exactly a cleansing experience. I stand shakily and make my way to the bathroom. The bright yellowness of the lights momentarily blinds me. I lean on the sink and wait for my eyes to focus. I don’t remember the last time I saw myself in the mirror. But when my eyes finally focus, I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. Gaunt, thin, pale, dark circles slowly fading to yellow from the attack.

The handprint across my cheek stands out against the whiteness of my skin. God, what did they do to me?. I pull off the t-shirt, shorts and panties and stare at my naked body. Oh. God. Bruises everywhere. Fading, but fading too slowly. Some of them are turning brownish yellow, but the majority of them are still angry and purple. And my breasts…oh god.

I can’t look anymore. The bruises prove it happened and I can’t look at myself. I turn around, trying to keep myself under control.

“Liz?” Max. Shit. I forgot to close the door.

“Oh, sorry,” he blushes when he sees me standing here completely naked. I don’t have the energy to be modest. What’s he blushing about? Not like he hasn’t seen it already. He turns to go and starts to shut the door behind him. Then he stops with his back still towards me. “Are you ok?” That voice. Oh god. I hate when he uses that voice. It’s gentle and tender and it makes me want to cry. No Liz, you will not cry.

“I just wanted to take a shower, but then I saw myself and…I’m disgusting.” My voice is surprising steady given that I’m tearing myself apart on the inside.

“You’re not disgusting Liz.”

“You won’t even look at me.”

“You aren’t wearing any clothes.”

“Like that stopped you before.” He spins around, fixing me with a hard glare.

“What did you want me to do, Liz? He lets it hang in the air and I shut my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that.. His eyes soften as they scan my body and I fight the urge to cover myself. “Take your shower, I’ll meet you downstairs. Dinner is ready.” Ok, I know, that was low. He doesn’t look back and I can tell by the way that his shoulders hunch that he’s pissed. The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My stupid thoughts, and my stupid guilt, and my stupid mouth. If you haven’t noticed, biting sarcasm and anger are my defense mechanisms of choice. And they usually come back to bite me in the ass. Like right now. I didn’t mean what I said. He did what he did because I begged him to do it. I begged him not to involve my mother. And then I made him feel like dirt because he’s seen me naked. I know, I’m a bitch. Sighing, and fighting back tears I start the shower. The hot water feels like teardrops on my cheeks. Or maybe I’m crying. I can’t tell anymore.


Max
I know what she did back there. And I also know that right about now, she’s feeling guilty as hell about it. Here we go again with the old Max-and-Liz-fight-and-both-feel-guilty routine. But trying to make me feel guilty for helping her when all I did was exactly what she wanted to do? That was out of line. And she knew it. There’s this gnawing feeling in my chest that I did something wrong. Did I make her uncomfortable and she was just too embarrassed to say anything? That bothers me. I tried so hard not to overstep the boundaries, whatever the hell they are. The other half rational part of my head is telling me that I did nothing wrong, that Liz is just taking it out on me because I’m here, she can, and she’s scared. But it’s making my head hurt to think about it.

“Where’s Mom?” So much for that.

“She went out.”

“Out?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Meeting for work.” I’m putting bowls of soup on the table, avoiding all eye contact. I can’t look at her right now. “Your soup’s ready.” She sits down at the table, staring into the chicken broth and noodles. Her hair is wet and her entire body is covered in a long t-shirt and sweatpants. It’s almost July.

“I’m not hungry.” I squash the urge to reach across the table and force feed her.

“Then don’t eat.” I can feel her flinch, even though I’m not looking at her. We finish dinner in tense silence. She pushes the empty bowl away and stands, going back upstairs, her head down and shoulders slumped. She’s the one who started this crap, so why do I feel like shit?


Liz
It’s almost 10 o’clock and I heard Max come upstairs a few minutes ago. I came upstairs after dinner and stared at myself naked in the mirror for another hour. I’ve been lying in bed for the last two hours, staring at the ceiling and alternating between crying my eyes out and hugging the pillow that still smells like him. Right now I’m back to the crying.

Pa-the-tic. Especially since I’m the one who started this whole thing. I have to fix it. He has to know that I’m sorry, that I wasn’t upset with him. It was just the whole…seeing myself in the mirror…thing that triggered it. I pull myself off of the bed, ignoring the healing pain in my ribs and arms.


Max
My head hurts. I took two Advil and am lying down, but I haven’t turned off the light. I don’t have the damn energy. And I can’t stop thinking about

“Max?”…Liz. She’s standing at the foot of the bed. I didn’t hear her come in, must be more tired than I thought. My heart lurches in my chest when I finally look at her. She’s wearing a bathrobe and…not much else. She looks like a beaten puppy.

“Liz?”

“I’m sorry Max.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m really…really sorry.” She’s staring at the floor. I can’t take this. I sit up and throw the covers back. She still hasn’t moved.

“Are you ok?” She shakes her head and looks like she thinks I’m going to hit her and that’s the last persuasion I need. “C’mere Liz.” She moves cautiously towards me and when she finally reaches the bed, climbs up into my lap. She’s shaking. What the hell? “Are you sick?” She shakes her head no.

“I’m so sorry Max. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. Please…”

“Shh, it’s ok. We’re ok. I’m not mad. Just tell me what’s wrong.” She pulls out of my arms, lying on the bed next to me and with shaking fingers, unties the knot on her robe.

“Liz…”

“Do you want me Max?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I wasn’t disgusting, did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it, Liz? What are you…” She starts to shake harder as she pulls the robe apart, uncovering her bruised body. She’s completely naked except for a pair of tiny cotton panties. Oh God.

“Please, Max. Please, make me feel…not…disgusting….” She sobs. “You can touch me, it’s ok. I trust you. I need you. Please…” She’s begging me. My heart breaks for her. I drag my eyes away from her bruised torso to her face. Fear. Trepidation. Longing? She’s shaking harder. God.

“Liz, no.” Automatically, bring my hand up to cup her face, leaning over her.

“You don’t want me.” She cries, raising her fists and pushing them weakly against my chest. “You think I’m used! I’m dirty! I’m a slut!” Her tiny fists keep pounding into my chest, hurting her more than it’s hurting me.
“Stop it Liz.” But she doesn’t, just keeps right on pounding and screaming as if I didn’t say a word. “Stop it Liz!” I take her wrists in my hands, pulling them down to the mattress, being careful not to hurt her. And it hits me like a ton of bricks. I do want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. Not like this. I curse silently to myself, praying that I can do this right.

Liz
He doesn’t want me. Not like this. He thinks it’s the rape talking. Maybe that’s partially it, but I know in my heart how I feel about him. I lay in bed thinking about what I said to him earlier, and for some reason it clicked. I love him. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. I know that if it takes me ten years to get over what happened to me, he is the only man I will ever trust to touch me. But that’s not going to happen. He only sees me as a friend. I’m such an idiot. Could I be any more desperate? God, he must think I’m a slut or something.

Max
I love her. I love Liz, my best friend of 17 years. And this is not how I ever pictured this happening. Why did this revelation have to come now? Max you are dense. She doesn’t feel the same way about me. She’s just emotionally unstable and feeling insecure.

“I won’t do this to you, Liz.” Gripping both wrists gently with one hand I use my other hand to bring the edges of the robe up to cover her. I brush the sweaty hair back from her forehead and she nuzzles into my hand, tears streaming down her face.

“Please Max.” Oh God.

“Not like this.”

“I’m ugly.
”
“You’re beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why don’t you want me?” Silence. She’s staring at the ceiling.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Liz…”

“Stupid…”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Look at me Max! Look at me!” She shrugs out of the robe, and throws it on the floor. “Look at me! I’m hideous!” She rolls out of bed before I can stop her and walks to the full length mirror on the door, staring at her naked body. “How could anyone want me now?” Silence. And then…

“ No wonder you won’t touch me, I yelled at you and I made you feel like shit!” At least there is some truth to that second statement. .She curls into the fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees and weeping. I bite my tongue to keep from crying like a baby. How is it that this girl can reduce me to tears twice in a matter of days? I have to be strong for her right now. Damnit. I can’t stand to see her like this. Silently, I get off the bed and go to her. I wrap her in the comforter and take her shaking body in my arms from behind. She leans back into my chest, resting her head on my shoulder as I carry her back to the bed.

“You’re beautiful, Liz.” I whisper in her ear. Wearily, she opens her eyes. “You know I love your hair,” I say softly, running my fingers through the silkiness. “It’s so soft.” She closes her eyes, relaxing for once. “Open your eyes. You have beautiful brown eyes. I can tell everything you’re thinking just by looking at your face.”

“But…my face…and the rest of me….”

“They’re just bruises Liz. They’ll go away.”

“Why don’t you want me?” Oh God. If only she knew. Her voice is tiny and I cringe internally. I have to think of something she can’t argue with. I’m not even sure if she’s thinking straight. But the only thing I can think to tell her is the truth. And it’s probably the one thing that will scare her the most. I wrap my arms around her body, praying that she doesn’t freak out.

“ Because I love you.” I’m not sure I said the actual words because I can barely hear myself talking, but apparently she heard me.

“You…you…what?”

“I love you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just saying that.” She tries to push me away and won’t look at me. Ok, that’s it. I take her wrists and pull her gently towards me.

“I do.”

“You love me?” Nod. It hasn’t hit me that I actually told her yet. God I hope I didn’t freak her out.

“But you don’t want me?” She whimpers and the sound breaks my heart…again. This has to stop.

“God no, Liz. I want you.” She wraps her arms around my neck and clings to me like a lifeline. “But it’s because I love you that I won’t do this.” I stroke her forehead. “Not when you’re like this.”


Liz
Oh my God. Max loves me? He wants me? Max? My best friend Max? The guy who has seen me in all states of mental health and nervous breakdown; every state of dress and now undress. He knows everything. I know everything about him. He loves me. He wants me? Holy shit. I look up into his amber eyes. I swear they’re the color of mercury, and right now they’re glowing. I feel his fingers repetitively stroking hair back from my forehead.

“Liz, now would be a good time to say something.” Oh god. This isn’t exactly how I pictured this happening, but here it is and I can’t screw it up.

“How long?” I choke out.

“I don’t know, a long time now I guess. I was too much of a chicken to say anything, or maybe I didn’t even get it, and then this happened and it made me realize…” I clap my fingers over his mouth. Poor rambling boy. I’m going to save him the breath.

“I love you too Max.” His eyes immediately snap to mine and he searches my face as if looking to see if I’m lying. Because he can tell just by a look if I’m lying or not. Just the look in them reduces me to tears again. Happy tears this time, but damnit…I cry way too easily lately. When he kisses my forehead in that tender way of his, I lose it, throwing my arms around his neck. He pulls me to him and tucks my head underneath his chin. “I love you,” I whisper into his chest.

Max
She loves me. My head is going in a million different directions. I want to hold her like this forever, protect her. I’ll never let anyone hurt her again. I think that this is too fast, she’s not ready and it could really mess up our friendship right when she needs it the most. I want to spend the rest of my life showing her exactly how much she means to me, how beautiful and strong she really is. And an overwhelming part of me wants to kiss her. With my body’s natural reaction to that image, I realize she’s practically naked, pressed up against me. I’m getting hard. Holy shit. All of the nights we’ve spent exactly like this, all of the things we’ve been through, all of the ways she has trusted me with her body and I choose now to have a normal 21 year-old male reaction to it? GREAT. I don’t want to scare her. And it dawns on me exactly how much a simple thing like this would scare her right now. I pull back, laying her down on the sheets, struggling to keep myself under control.

“Don’t go.”

“Liz, I’m just going to get you something to wear. I’m right here.” She nods and loosens her death grip on my neck. I turn my back to get a t-shirt from my gym bag, and that’s when she hits me with,

“Are we ok, Max? Is this weird? I…I don’t want to lose you.” I turn back around to face her.

“You’re not gonna lose me, sweetie.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” I hand her the large t-shirt and motion for her to go into the bathroom, but she doesn’t. "I want you to promise me something though."

"What?"

"I want you to see a psychologist." She cringes and glares at me I mentally prepare myself for shit to hit the fan, but just as fast, her shoulders slump and she hangs her head. "Liz?"

"Ok." OK? That's it? No, really...

“I can’t be a normal girlfriend Max.” She won’t look at me and she’s picking at the material of my t-shirt in her hands. I sit next to her on the bed.

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“I want my life back, my whole life. And that includes you and I mean, certain things that maybe girls are supposed to do, or that you might want me to do, I’m not going to be able to do for a very long time.”

Oh. I get it.

“Liz, sweetheart, look at me.” When her eyes meet mine, I can see the shame in them and it irks me. “Is this what you really want?” She nods without hesitation. Maybe she’s been thinking about it longer than I gave her credit for.

“I do Max, I do want this, I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“How are you going to disappoint me?” I prod gently, already knowing exactly what she’s going to say.

“I can’t…I’m afraid to…have sex. I mean…you know. And most guys…well, they want sex, right?” Well, yes. But this is me…and her…and oh god she actually thinks that….

“Hey.” I sit down on the bed and pull her into my arms. “Slow down. Do you honestly think that I care about that right now?” She shrugs her shoulders and buries her face in my chest. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere and that hasn’t changed, ok?” Nod. “You know I would never make you do something you aren’t ready to do.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

"We go slow, ok?” She doesn’t say anything for a long moment and I wonder if I crossed the line. “Liz?” She looks up at me, her eyes finally meeting mine. I can't resist taking her face gently in my hands, noticing that the bruising and lacerations have faded somewhat. "Liz, I want you to see a psychologist so that you can get better, for everyone, not just me, ok?" She nods. For a long minute, we do nothing but stare at each other.

“How slow?”

“Like snails, until you say otherwise.” That earns me the smile I was going for.

“Max?”

“Yeah?” She leans in, our foreheads almost touching.

“Will you kiss me…slowly?”

TBC

Sorry for the long wait. This semester is kickng my ass.

Previously:

“I can’t…I’m afraid to…have sex. I mean…you know. And most guys…well, they want sex, right?” Well, yes. But this is me…and her…and oh god she actually thinks that….

“Hey.” I sit down on the bed and pull her into my arms. “Slow down. Do you honestly think that I care about that right now?” She shrugs her shoulders and buries her face in my chest. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere and that hasn’t changed, ok?” Nod. “You know I would never make you do something you aren’t ready to do.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“Shhh. We go slow, ok?” She doesn’t say anything for a long moment and I wonder if I crossed the line. “Liz?” She looks up at me, her eyes finally meeting mine.

“How slow?”

“Like snails, until you say otherwise.” That earns me the smile I was going for.

“Max?”

“Yeah?” She leans in, our foreheads almost touching
.
“Will you kiss me…slowly?”

Chapter 13

Liz
He slides his hands from my shoulders to face, gently supporting my head as he brings our faces even closer together. I think I’m shaking again, but for an entirely different reason. I’m excited, I’m nervous, I’m relieved, I’m ecstatic, I’m scared, I’m happy. I’m with Max. Oh my god. He finally brings his lips to mine and I grab his wrists that are still supporting my face, and lean into him. His tongue flicks across my lips tentatively. His hands move up into my hair and I smile to myself. Max has a hair fetish. He brushes his lips against the corners of my mouth gently, unhurried. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. He tastes like mint and smells like aftershave. He feels strong, solid, so much bigger and stronger than I am. And so gentle. “Max…” I gasp when we finally pull away. It wasn’t the longest kiss in the history books, but the feelings coursing through my body right now are scaring me in their intensity.

“Liz….” His voice is husky. He frames my face with his hands again, brushing back strands of hair. Somehow, I ended up on my back, with him next to me, leaning over me and looking down with such absolute adoration that I want to cry. And the next thing I know, tears are forming in my eyes and I blink furiously, but that only makes them fall harder. He starts to pull away, obviously afraid that he’s done something wrong. I shake my head furiously, grabbing him and wrapping my arms around him as securely as I possibly can, I hold on for dear life..

“Liz, sweetheart….”

“I’m ok.”

“You sure?” He sweeps one hand across my face, searching my face.

“I’m sure.”

“Ok…what’s this about then?” he uses one thumb to catch a stray tear.

“Overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I wish I didn’t cry at every little thing.”

“I don’t think that will last forever.”

“It won’t?”

“No, give yourself some time.”

“Time to what?”

“To heal, to get help. I think you’ll feel better if you talk to a therapist… someone who’s trained to help you. You’re going to realize that all of these “weird” reactions that you’ve been having aren’t so weird.”

“Max, I don’t know.”

“You promised me, Liz.” I know I did.

“I know…I just…”

“I know, I know it’s scary. But if you keep it all inside, you’re going to go crazy.”

“I’m just trying so hard, Max. I want to forget.”


Max

My heart is still hammering in my chest. “I know baby, but it doesn’t work like that. You’ve already seen what happens when you try to pretend like it didn’t happen.” I knew that convincing her to see a psychologist wasn’t going to be that easy. She’s trying not to cry and guilt wrenches in my chest but I push it off. I’m doing this for her. She laughs bitterly through oncoming tears.

“How did we get on to this topic? Five minutes ago, you were kissing me.”
“And then you started crying.”

“You’re right.”

“About what?”

“I need help if I’m ever going to be normal again. I don’t know what they can do for me, but I’m kinda desperate at this point.” She smiles. Wait…she’s smiling now?

“Desperate?”

“I want you to kiss me again, and I know you won’t until I promise not to freak out on you.” I can’t help but smile at her logic…and the fact that she’s right.

“You blame me?”

“Not really.”

“You can cry all you want Liz, but they’d better be happy tears when I’m kissing you.”

“Those were happy tears.”

“Were they?”

“Yeah.” She nuzzles into my neck, holding tightly.

“You would tell me if they weren’t, right?”

“Promise,” she yawns, curling into my chest.

“Tired?”

“Mmm, Yeah…”

“Go to sleep.”

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I kiss the top of her head, looking down into her eyes, but she’s already asleep.


2:06 am.

A loud noise startles me out of sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but I immediately look over to be sure Liz is ok. She’s sleeping peacefully curled up the crook of my arm. I breathe a momentary sigh of relief. What the hell was that noise? Carefully, so as not to wake her, I pull away from Liz. She moans in her sleep, searching for my body. I really don’t want her to wake up right now. I drape her arms around my pillow and she pulls it closer, calming back down. I slip quietly out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. The house is really creepy at night, even with the built in lights. I creep down the stairs, straining to hear anything signaling trouble. Nothing. The house is completely silent and I start to wonder if I was dreaming it. Then I notice that the light in the kitchen is on. Oh great. As I enter the kitchen, the smell of alcohol hits me like a freight train. There are open containers all over the counter. Shit.

“Uhhh”.

I know that moan. That is the moan of a drunk person. Double shit.


“Mrs. Davis?” Moan. Yep, definitely a drunk Mrs. Davis. At what? 2 in the morning? Now I’m praying like mad that Liz doesn’t wake up and come looking for us. This is the last thing she needs. I round the counter and find her sitting on the floor, leaning up against the corner of the kitchen cabinets. There’s a broken vodka bottle on the floor, vodka everywhere. She’s sitting on top of the broken glass and nursing a lacerated finger in her mouth.

“Hey Max,” she drawls, heavily intoxicated. “How’re you and Liz tonight?” I ignore her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not really sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I just want to help her Max. But she won’t let me.”

“Oh God.” I should have known this would happen. Again.

“You’re takin’ good care of her, aren’t you Max?” Here we go.

“Of course I am.”

“Good thing you love her so much, because I’m a horrible mother.”

I don’t need this..

“No you’re not.” Experience has taught me that it’s pointless to argue with a drunk person, I don’t know why I bother.

“You do love her Max,” she says as if I was trying to deny it in the first place.

“Yes, I do, very much,” I say quietly, flashing back to Liz’s face in my hands just hours before.

“I made an appointment with Dr. Emery.” What? Then it clicks. Allison Emery, one of the psychologists on Dr. Aarons’s list.

Triple shit.

“You didn’t clear it with Liz, did you?”

“She won’t go if I tell her, you have to make her go. Promise you’ll make her go.” And in true drunk fashion, she goes from factual and confident to blubbering like an idiot in less than ten seconds. And as we’ve established, I can’t stand to see Davis women cry. She covers her face with bloody her bloody hands. “I’m such a mess, horrible, crazy mess.” I’m done for. I make my way over to her, trying to avoid crunching glass and vodka underneath my feet.

“Mrs. Davis…”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Max? Call me Suzanne!” If she wasn’t drunk, I’d think she was mad at me.

“Ok, ok…Suzanne…” This is awkward. And when Liz finds out, she’s going to have a conniption fit. She starts to cry, real, sobbing, hiccupping tears.

Oh joy.

She’s not listening to me at all.

“Suzanne, you need help.”

“I know. I know I do, Max.”

“Come on, let’s get out of the kitchen, ok?” She nods, and I move forward again, taking her by one arm and helping her to her feet. She leans heavily on me until we make it to the couch in the living room. It isn’t until now that I really notice the way she’s dressed. The low cut black dress and heavy makeup don’t exactly suggest a business meeting. I’m stuck between feeling sorry for her and being angry as hell. Liz needs her…sober. But the woman is obviously going through hell. Still, what kind of mother does this? A screwed up one. I return to the kitchen to get a first aid kit that I know they keep there. When I get back, she’s leaning over her knees, shoulders shaking. “You didn’t go to a business meeting, did you?” I’m not sure if my voice comes out sympathetic or accusatory. I can’t bring myself to care at the moment. She shakes her head, not looking at me. “Where did you go?” I lower my voice, taking one of her hands and inspecting it for shards of broken glass.

“I went to see Liz’s father.”

“WHAT?” I drop her hand. “Are you insane?” I hiss, afraid that I woke up the entire state of Virginia.

“He saw Liz’s story in the paper and called me at work. He’s worried about her and well…even with insurance, we can’t afford to pay the medical bills that this thing has racked up. He offered to pay half and I couldn’t refuse him.” What a prick. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with Liz until she’s attacked, and then he wants to do this. What, does he think it’s going to make up for it?

“Back up…he’s HERE? I thought he was in Dallas.”

“Oh God, you saw that?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t tell Liz, did you?”

“No I didn’t, Jesus Christ Suzanne, you can’t keep this from her.”

“I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well, you had better figure it out, because I sure as hell am not keeping secrets from her.” Silence. I take the opportunity to inspect her injured hand again. Using the tweezers from the kit, I gently pull the tiny shards of glass from the skin. She winces but doesn’t pull away.

“Please Max, don’t tell her yet!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he…he said he…wants to help us but…he can’t see Liz.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He told me tonight that…that he would help with the medical bills if he could see Liz but I don’t think she can handle it right now and I told him no.”

“Bastard.”

“He said he wouldn’t help us. I got angry and told him he could go to hell.”

“Good for you.”

“Do you think I made the wrong decision?” She looks at me for the first time and I can tell that she’s almost sober.

“No…I think that under normal circumstances, she would want to see him but not with all of this shit going on. Not unless he’s going to stick around.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“I figured.”

“I know she’s an adult, I probably should have let her decide, but I didn’t want her to have to handle one more thing, you know?”

“Yeah” I let go of her hand and get up to put the kit away.

“Do you think she will?”

“I don’t know, I feel bad keeping secrets from her. She’s going to find out about this Suzanne, and when she does, she’s going to be mad at both of us”

“I know…I’m sorry Max.”

“It seems like people are saying that a lot lately.”

“You have enough to worry about with Liz, you don’t need my problems on top of hers.”

“These are sort of Liz’s problems too though.”

“I just want to help her.”

“Did you really make an appointment with Dr. Emery?”

“Yeah…I…I knew that if I confronted Liz about it, she’d just freak out and I know she needs help. Dr. Emery is going to see her, just to do an initial evaluation kind of thing.” She looks up again and fixes me with a completely sober, pleading look. “Please make sure she goes Max, please.” I really don’t know about this. I’m not in the mood to be castrated. But she’s right, maybe Liz needs a push in the right direction.

“Please…”

“Look, ok…I’m not saying I agree with how you did this. I think she probably needs more time. But if you go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, I’ll take Liz to the psychologist. When’s the appointment?”

“Thursday at 1.” Oh great, today is only Sunday.

“Ok. Do we have a deal?” She looks away, considering, lets out a breath and looks back at me.

“Deal.”

“Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

After seeing Mrs. Davis safely up the stairs and into the master bedroom and returning to the kitchen to clean up the evidence of her drunkenness, I return to the guest room, amazed and thankful that Liz didn’t wake up to find me gone. It’s 3 am. But there’s no way I’m sleeping now.

TBC

Questions? Comments?