Roswelllostcause - You're onto something there
![Rolling Eyes :roll:](./images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif)
Thank you for the feedback!
saori_1902 - Thank you!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7)
Will Liz stay away from Sean Carter at Max's suggestion?
Possibly…
Thank you for the feedback!
AlysLuv - Sorry to hear that your day sucked, but glad that the previous update helped some. Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - Unfortunately, can't give you any answers right now… Your questions will be answered in the future
![Rolling Eyes :roll:](./images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif)
Thank you for the feedback!
Eve (begonia9508) - Yep, Max surely intrigues Liz, even though she might not want to admit it. Who doesn't love a mystery, right?
![Wink :wink:](./images/smilies/icon_wink.gif)
Thank you for the feedback!
Natalie - Might just be…
![Rolling Eyes :roll:](./images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif)
Thank you for the feedback!
From SEVEN:
“Stay away from Sean Carter,” he whispered, a desperate urgency in his voice.
“What?” I breathed, my lungs starting to ache from the lack of oxygen.
“He’s dangerous,” Max said, his eyes trapping mine.
“I don’t know him,” I answered getting dizzy from not breathing.
“Just be careful,” Max insisted, his hand tightening around my elbow. “Please.”
I looked at the long dark lashes over his eyes, at the size of his pupils, the faint redness to his cheeks, the crease between his eyes.
“Okay,” I breathed, non-convincingly.
His grip on my elbow loosened and heat curled in the center of my stomach as his eyes traveled to my lips. The tension on his face smoothened and was gone by the time he looked up into my eyes again.
“Breathe,” he whispered with a soft grin and took a step back, breaking the spell his proximity always put on me.
Air rushed into my lungs at his command and I stumbled backwards. Max chuckled and shook his head, putting gloves back over his hands to collect the pieces of tissue.
Annoyance crept into my body and my lips tightened in a straight line as I let the stationary drop to the floor before I angrily stomped off to get the cleaning agent.
Max Evans was annoying. Max Evans was really getting on my nerves.
____________________________________
EIGHT
I placed my bag on the kitchen counter, brushing some errant strands of hair out of my face, just as my mother turned away from the sink. “Hi, Mom.”
I felt a chill go through me as she faced me.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said softly, not meeting my eyes.
I silently took in the prominent purple color below her eyes, like two large bruises, the translucency of her white and pale skin, the redness of her eyes, the visible blue veins around her temples and the dryness of her red hair.
She looked horrible.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, taking a step around the kitchen island.
“Just tired,” my mother said, offering me a soft smile that desperately failed to reach her eyes.
“Are you sick, Mommy?” I asked in a small voice. It felt foreign to see her like this. My mom was this torrent of energy, fiery like the color of her hair and, discounting some occasional bouts of light colds, I had never actually seen her sick.
“I had a bad night, that’s all,” mom answered, turning to take a pot of boiling water off the stove.
“You were fine this morning,” I pointed out, wrenched by the strongest feeling that she was lying. What had happened in the hours I’d been at school? Mom had been scheduled to spend the day working at the restaurant, nothing else.
“Maybe you got food poisoning or something,” I suggested weakly, her appearance frightening me more than I dared to admit.
I watched her long slender fingers tremble as she struggled to hold the weight of the water-filled pan over the sink, while pouring out the boiling water.
“Maybe,” she mumbled and I walked up to her, silently replaced her grip on the pan with my own hands and used my body to gently shove her out of the way.
“Let me do that,” I said and looked at her over my shoulder. “Sit down, Mom.”
I tried not to register how she looked ready to pass out as she gingerly lowered herself to one of the kitchen chairs.
“Have you seen a doctor?” I asked, placing the warm pan on the cooling stove.
“If this doesn’t pass, I will,” my mom promised tiredly, her voice a bare whisper. “It’s probably just a 24-hour bug.”
“Right,” I said, turning to face her fully. My fear was blasting through my system, my brain numerating every fatal disease on the planet. “You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”
She mustered up a smile, placing her elbow on the table to support her tired head. “Of course, honey.”
I inhaled, trying to let it go. It was probably nothing. Mom was the epitome of health; it just couldn’t be serious. Right?
“Your father wanted to ask you something,” my mom said.
I wasn’t that inclined to leave her alone, but had to ask, “Where is he?”
“At the restaurant,” mom answered and I nodded.
I looked at her with blazing worry, biting my lower lip. “You’ll be okay?”
She laughed lightly; a laughter that ended with a hacking cough. I felt the blood freeze in my veins.
“Of course, honey,” she answered, her voice hoarse from the coughing and I thought I heard a wheezing to her breathing. “Just go.”
I hesitated before walking up to her and kissing her cold clammy cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
She smiled at me, her light-brown eyes filled with love. “Love you too, Lizzie.”
*****
“What’s wrong with mom?”
My father looked up from behind the counter, my voice clear over the regular sounds of a restaurant. “There’s something wrong with mom?”
“Haven’t you seen her?” I asked, frustration chilling my voice.
“She’s just tired,” dad said and discarded the whole thing with a shrug.
My concern faltered by his ease. Maybe I was overreacting. “You sure?”
“She’s never sick,” dad echoed my previous thoughts and looked up with a smile.
I paused, not being able to completely discard that nagging feeling of worry at the back of my head. “You wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Yes,” my father said and placed a pencil behind his ear. “That daughter and father camping trip - that’s this weekend, right?”
I groaned. Right. I’d forgotten. My dad loved those things. I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong; I love my dad. I love hanging out with him. But camping is not really my thing.
“Yes, I think it is,” I agreed with a sigh.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Relax, Lizzie. It’s not like it’s your execution.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumbled.
“Sorry?” he asked with a smile that told me he had heard every word.
I scratched behind my ear and worked up a smile, “Thanks for reminding me, Daddy”. I swirled around to return to our apartment on top of the restaurant. I was itching to get back to mom. But my dad’s voice stopped me.
“One more thing, sweetie.”
My shoulders slumped and I reluctantly turned towards him. “Yes?”
“Could you pick up some consumables at Amy DeLuca’s?” he thumbed through a pile of papers in front of me and pulled one out for me. “Just some straws, cups, napkins etc.”
I grimaced. “Tonight?” Hoping that he would say ‘no’.
“Please,” he said and my heart sank.
“I want to check in on mom,” I objected and saw his face softened at my reason for reluctancy.
“Sweetie,” he sighed. “I know you’re worried. But there’s nothing you can do. She just needs some rest. I’ll go up there and see to it that she goes to bed immediately. In the meantime, you should let your mind think about something else.”
Maybe some distraction would be a good thing. I sighed. “Fine.”
“Thanks, baby,” dad smiled and I reached over the counter to retrieve the car keys.
“I’ll be back in about one million years,” I said bitterly over my shoulder, my exaggeration met with my dad’s chuckle.
Everyone knew that Amy DeLuca was just as much of a chatterbox as her daughter. Which was the reason my dad avoided going there if he could. His time was too precious to be wasted on chit-chatting.
Apparently mine wasn’t.
*****
The back seat was filled with boxes of green alien straws, silver napkins, souvenirs, three alien cakes, plastic cups with alien print and toothpicks designed as metal probes.
My ears felt like they were bleeding from Amy’s incessant chatter which had me immediately turn down the volume on the car stereo before turning the car onto the road that would take me into Roswell. The DeLucas lived just outside of the city center.
The outskirts of Roswell - the suburbs you might call it - were lined with villas and occasional mansions. For some reason, a lot of well-off people had decided to move to Roswell. Something I had always found a bit weird. If you were rich, why would you move to Roswell of all places?
That’s why I found it very strange to see a homeless person walk unsteadily down the streets in the most well-to-do neighborhood. To be honest, I had never seen a homeless person in Roswell.
My curiosity getting the best out of me, I slowed the car somewhat as I approached the stiff figure, letting my gaze drift over the profile of the person as I drove past.
My heart lurched as I saw the face of the ‘homeless’ and my feet hit the brakes so hard that more than half of the boxes in the backseat fell to the floor, one of the cakes teetering on the edge of the seat. The car came to an abrupt stop and I held onto the steering wheel with whitening knuckles, catching my breath, before pushing the door open and getting out of the car.
I must’ve been mistaken. It couldn’t have been…
I walked around the rear of the car and looked in the direction of where the car had just passed. And there he was.
The handsome and well-off player Max Evans.
Only, if his eyes hadn’t been haunting my dreams, I probably wouldn’t have recognized him. His gait was stiff, his shoulders slumped, blood had dried in the corner of his mouth, his face was discolored in a worrisome patchwork… Even his clothes were torn.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, my hand shooting up in front of my mouth to cover my alarm.
I had a feeling he hadn’t noticed me as he stumbled closer to where I had stopped the car. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as if he was concentrating on every step he took.
I struggled to get my trembling legs moving, but once they were in motion I couldn’t seem to stop them. I was running by the time I stopped five feet from him.
“Max?” I whispered.
He froze, his body trembling in stillness, as he raised his face towards my voice. There was shock on his tarnished face and, appalled, I took in the details of his injuries. His swollen and bloody lips, the open wounds barely hidden in his hairline, the odd angle to his nose, the bruising around the top of his cheek and the bottom of his jaw.
“Oh my God,” I gasped and took a step closer.
He flinched and I stopped, my arm paused in the air without purpose, almost closing the distance between us.
“What are you doing here?” he croaked.
My heart sent pain out to the very tips of my fingers. Who had done this to him? “What happened?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Max continued, his voice breaking, fear in his eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”
But I wouldn’t listen. I almost laughed at his suggestion. He wanted me to just leave him here? In this state?
“Who did this to you?” I demanded, anger burning through me in a way I had never experienced before.
“Liz,” he whispered and my anger gripped me more firmly in its vice as I watched tears form in his eyes. I wanted to hurt whoever had done this to him. I wasn’t even sure why, but right then - I didn’t even care about the reason.
“Get in the car,” I demanded, struggling to reign in my anger as I surveyed our surroundings. Was his attacker still out there? Lurking in the shadows?
“No,” he said, probably intending for it to be more forceful than it actually was. Instead he swayed on the spot and I closed the distance between us and put my arm around his waist.
He was stiff against my body and I was pretty sure that he wanted to fight me off, but he was too damaged to have the energy. Instead he slumped against my side, almost making me fold under his weight.
“You shouldn’t be around me right now,” he whispered brokenly, his breath bearing the metallic smell of blood as it brushed against my cheek.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mumbled and gently guided him - one stiff step at the time - towards the passenger side of the car.
If I hadn’t been so worked up, so afraid and fueled with anger, my body surely would have heated at the touch of his fingers against the bare skin of my waist, where my shirt had ridden up. His fingers were digging into the soft skin of my side as he tried to anchor his arm around my back.
I’m sure he was in a lot of pain, but he didn’t cry out once as I opened the car door and helped him get into the small space.
My movements were frantic as I took a hold of the seatbelt and leaned across his broken body to fasten it in the lock. I felt his warmth all around me and my concern for his physical state was threatening to break me. But I had to be strong. When I really wanted to fold into his lap and comfort him in a hug, I pulled back, ducking out of the car, and closed the door.
Running around the rear of the car, I ripped the door to the driver’s side open and hopped in. Closing the door behind me, I was struck with the deafening silence of the car’s interior. As I looked over at the victim I had dragged into my car, I was made severely aware of the fact that we were very much alone. In a confined space.
I looked over at my involuntary passenger. His fists were tightly balled up against his bloodied jeans and his breathing was somewhat jerky as he stared straight ahead.
“Max,” I implored, but he wouldn’t look at me. I swallowed, my own hands fisting in anger. Who would do such a thing to a person? To a teenager? In Roswell? Nothing ever happened in Roswell!
Max might be a bit narcissistic and something of a smart-ass, but he certainly didn’t deserve this. No one did.
“Who did this?” I asked, repeating my earlier question.
“Liz,” he whispered brokenly and I bit down on my lip hard to stop myself from screaming out in frustration. I had never felt like this. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out.
“Please take me home,” Max continued.
“No,” I shook my head, tasting blood from biting my lip too hard. “No, you need to go to the hospital.”
He looked over at me then and I felt tears pool in my eyes. His eyes were red and anguished, his swollen lips were begging me to, “Take me home.” I started to shake my head when he added, “My dad will help me.”
Right. His dad was a doctor.
I hesitated. “Are you sure? Isn’t it better if-“
He stretched his hand across the gear stick and grimaced slightly with the movement. Surprised, I let him take my hand. I looked down at our interlocked hands, both tainted by his blood.
“He’ll know what to do.”
I tried to think of what was the best thing to do. If I should listen to him or just go against his wishes and do the rational thing. But there were too many feelings running through my body right then and I couldn’t think clearly. Besides, he was making a rational argument: his dad
was a doctor, after all.
I swallowed and nodded slowly. “Okay.”
His body slumped with a noticeable exhalation, “Thank you,” and he let go of my hand.
I took a deep breath, tried to reign my emotions in, and directed my eyes forward. My hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel and I took another deep breath. I could sense his eyes on my profile and I closed my eyes momentarily, gathering my strength, before turning the ignition, putting the car in gear and directing the car towards Max’s home.
The drive to Max’s house was quiet. I tried to not listen too closely to Max’s ragged breathing and tried not to dwell on suspicions that he might have a punctured lung or broken ribs. Maybe he was bleeding internally right now, minutes away from dying? I unconsciously pressed the gas further into the floor and ignored the look Max gave me as he brought a hand up to steel himself against the effects of the increased speed of the car.
We reached Max’s house in no time. I tried to maneuver the car to a stop as gently as I could, forgetting that the borderline reckless drive had probably jostled Max more than my stopping ever could.
I quickly unfastened my seatbelt, pushed the door open and practically ran around the car to help Max with his seatbelt before he could attempt to do so himself. I opened the door and my frantic hands repeatedly bumped against his as I pushed his hands away from the lock.
“Let me,” I grumbled.
I was sure that he would have laughed at me if the circumstances had been different. The fact that he didn’t told me how serious this was.
His warm breath brushed against the side of my throat as I unfastened the seatbelt.
I guided the seatbelt to retract from around his chest and leaned back slightly, lining my face up with his as I leaned over him. I inhaled at the sight of his face up-close, swallowing a gasped sob. His face seemed to be getting worse by the minute, growing more and more terrifying in color variation.
Swallowing back nausea I locked eyes with him and whispered, “You ready?”
He looked into my soul and from some warm place in his tarnished body, he murmured, “Thank you.”
I absently bit my lower lip and saw his gaze flicker to that point of focus. Mortified by my action, I instantly released my lip and nodded, taking his gratitude as an affirmation to my question, “Okay.”
I carefully put my arms around his middle, pushing my fingers between his hard back muscles and the soft cushion of the car seat. I heard his groan of pain against my ear as he pressed his forehead into the curve of my neck. Pressing my heels into the ground, I started pulling on his upper body to help him outside.
I’m pretty sure he did most of the work, but with mutual sounds of exertion we managed to get out of the car. Just as Max was straightening to almost his full height, there were steps on the gravel driveway behind me.
“Oh my- Max!”
I turned to see Isabel running towards us, worry and fear etched into her beautiful features. Following in her footsteps were two adults; Mr. and Mrs. Evans.
Max’s arm was across my shoulders, his side glued to mine, as he looked up at his family. Isabel immediately flung herself at her brother, inadvertently pushing me away. Max grunted with palpable pain and Isabel quickly jumped back, even though her hands continued to fuss over his face.
“What the hell happened?” she cried, tears tumbling uninhibited down her cheeks.
I looked over at the parents who had now reached the scene. I don’t think I had ever met them. The parents looked nothing like their children. Just like Isabel and Max really didn’t look much alike.
Odd.
But that wasn’t the weirdest thing. Mr. Evans reaction to his son’s condition was worse.
I jumped in fear as Mr. Evans boomed at the top of his lungs, “
What the hell did you do?”
But instead of shrinking back towards my car, I found myself moving in front of Max.
Max’s mother looked at me with a calm face and plastered a fake smile on her painted red lips. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“That’s Liz,” Isabel said, appearing uncertain about her role all of the sudden. Maybe her father’s outburst had surprised her too. “She’s our classmate.”
“Thank you for bringing our son home,” Mrs. Evans said politely. “Now, we need some time alone with our son.”
I looked at the anger on Max’s father’s face and held my ground. Fear coursed through me as I saw Mr. Evans’ eyes narrow.
If looks could kill…
“Why are you angry with him?” I demanded hotly. “He needs your help. He wanted me to bring him here so that you could help him.”
“We will, Liz,” Mrs. Evans said, the smile on her lips turning strained as she shot a worried look at her husband.
“Liz, go,” Max said quietly behind me and I felt him start to move.
I twirled around, grabbing his bloodied hand. “No.”
His damaged eyes looked at me and there was something really warm in his gaze partly concealed behind crystal clear fear. “Just leave. Please. I’m home now. I’ll be okay.”
I felt the anger from before creep back into me. “He’s yelling at you. I won’t leave you here with him.”
Maybe it was ridiculous, but I felt as if Max would be punished further - by his father - for getting beat up.
“I will only say this once, young lady,” chills ran down my spine as the dark and threatening voice of Mr. Evans filled the air. “Leave. Now.”
For the first time since I had seen Max Evans walking brokenly by the side of the road, barely able to remain on his feet, I felt tears fall down my cheeks. With my back still turned towards Max’s family, only Max could see my face.
His eyes glistened with concern, and something I couldn’t decipher, as he watched the tears slide down my cheeks. He gingerly brought his free hand up to my cheek, letting his thumb brush against my skin as he whispered softly, “I’ll be okay. Go home. Your mom needs you more than me.”
I closed my eyes against his touch for a second, before his words hit me like a sledgehammer.
Your mom needs you.
My eyes flung open and I stared at him, seeing the realization hit him just as suddenly as it hit me. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Liz, I’m-“
“How do you know about my mom?”
“Now is not the tim-“
I swallowed back the tears, squeezing his hand in mine, demanding an explanation. “I never told you about my mom.”
“Someone told me that she wasn’t feeling well,” Max mumbled, his eyes pleading for me to let it go.
“Who?” I whispered, begging him to tell me the truth. “Who, Max?”
No one knew. No one knew that my mom was not herself. I had just found out myself.
“I was at the CrashDown earlier today; I saw her,” Max explained.
“Liz, you should leave,” Isabel said to my right and I watched Max quickly look away from me, in the direction of where I presumed his parents were standing.
“No,” Max said forcibly. “You leave her alone.”
His fierce order froze my heart and I got the feeling that I was on enemy ground and that I had my back turned towards that said enemy.
“You make her leave right now, Maxwell,” his father threatened, “Or I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
My heart galloped in my chest and my hand started to tremble, still holding onto Max’s hand. Max probably felt the tremble and looked back at me.
“I’ll explain later,” he promised calmly, but I found myself not caring if he would or not. Suddenly I really needed to get out of there. But I also wanted to take Max with me. Would I really be able to leave Max with this monster of a father?
He squeezed my trembling hand and gave my body a gentle shove in the direction of my car. I looked over my shoulder and met Mr. Evan’s eyes. I instantly regretted that I had done so. I’d never seen anything more terrifying than that man’s face at that moment.
Still, something deep inside of me made me sharply say, “If you lay one hand on him…”
The corners of Mr. Evans’ mouth twitched and my fists balled at the side of my body, wanting to punch him for almost smiling in this situation.
“He’s my son,” Mr. Evans said coldly. “He’ll get the treatment he deserves.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I flickered a nervous look in Max’s direction, wanting him to soothe my nerves. But Max wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at his father, his body tense.
“See you, Max,” I said quietly.
“Yeah,” Max answered, still not looking at me.
With an ice cold heart I got into my car and drove off, refraining from looking in the rearview window as I left Max to his family.
*****
“My God… Liz, what happened to you? Are you hurt?”
Paternal hands were flying across my face and whispering over my body. The parental love and concern fractured the ice around my heart and I sank to my knees as sobs were wrenched out of my body.
“Baby, baby,” my dad whispered, kneeling next to me and pulling me into his arms, rocking me back and forth.
I could hear the fear in his voice as he tried to comfort me. The fear of the situation with Max’s parents had finally hit me, and the fear and worry for his well-being was suffocating. But mostly I cried about Max not having this; not having parents that comforted him and held him when he was in pain.
“I’m fine,” I sobbed. “I’m fine.”
“Please tell me what happened,” my father whispered and I could hear the tears in his voice.
He had seen the blood on my hands, on my clothes. Max’s blood. Of course he was assuming it was mine.
“It’s not my blood,” I croaked as the sobs calmed.
“Then who…?” My father tenderly brushed the hair away from my face, pressing a kiss against my forehead.
“A friend,” I replied. “I found him hurt on the side of the road. When I was driving back from Maria’s.”
My father looked at me, fear in his eyes. “Is your friend okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said quietly and my voice broke, tears threatening to return. I swallowed them back. “I brought him to his place.”
“Okay,” my dad said slowly. I expected him to ask more questions, but he just pulled me back into his arms, hugging me tightly.
“How’s mom?” my voice was muffled against his shirt.
“Asleep,” my dad answered. “She was exhausted.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, waiting for the relief that should come with his reply. But it didn’t come. I needed to see her for myself.
I pulled back and looked up at my father’s face. He looked tired, his face worn and haunted. “Can I see her?”
“Of course, baby,” dad replied. “Just be quiet.”
I pressed a kiss to his cheek and gave him a final hug with a whispered, “Love you, Daddy,” before crawling out of his arms and making my way over to my parents’ bedroom.
I carefully pushed the door open, watching the light from the living room stream into the dark bedroom.
I just needed to see that she was breathing.
I quietly walked up to the bed, to the still form of my mother, and fell to my knees next to the bed. I grew still, watching her closely. It was not until I saw her chest move and felt the breath cross her lips that I relaxed. The relief weakened my body and I suddenly felt drained as the events of the past few hours caught up with me.
This had been the evening from hell.
I tenderly brushed at her hair and whispered, “I love you, Mom.”
She didn’t stir, deep in the grip of sleep. I sat by her side for another five minutes, before getting to my feet and leaving her alone.
TBC...