One flew east, one flew west (CC m/l Mature) Complete 1/9/07

[rie482]

Title: One flew east, one flew west.

Author: Rie482

Rating: This going to be mature/adult

Summary:
Basically it takes place the day after Departure. Liz wakes up in a white room, not knowing how she got there. She's alone and scared, thinking about the horrors Max faced in the white room at the hands of the FBI special unit. Here enters a woman who should be a friend - just for her to tell Liz, she's crazy; that she made up the aliens, Nasedo, the Granolith and Future Max. She's told that she made it all up, that it's all in her head - a self defence mechanism after the shooting. Soon the lines between reality and make believe start to blur. Was it all some sick fantasy she had made up in her mind after the trauma of the shooting?

So yeah, this is a new concept to me. One I don't think many will like. It's here in the Alien Aybss because it maybe slightly dark at points with scenes of EST (Electric shock therapy). But you shall be given clear warning before this happens.

lemmie know what you think.



One flew east, one flew west,
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest…


“I-I trusted you, I gave you everything. I jumped off bridges for you, I broke laws for you, I risked getting shot for you, I trusted you! And you go off-- God, with Tess-- God, I saved myself for you!”

“Saved yourself? You slept with Kyle!”

*******

“Just tell me one thing do you love her?”

“Not like I love you.”

*******

“Max stop! It was Tess. Tess killed Alex. She mindwarped Alex and sent him to Las Cruces to decode the book, but he broke out of the mindwarp and she killed him.”

*******

“I've been really wrong about a lot. But I was right about one thing: To get you into my life, to be around you, to love you.”

*******

“I have to save my son...”


“I have to think.”


I start to open my eyes, the bright lights digging into the back of my skull the moment I let the light seep through. It makes me wince. I snap them shut and groan. I bring the balls of my hands to my sockets and dig them into my lids to make the pain of the light disappear.

Letting my hands fall from my eyes, I try once again to open them. This time the light isn’t as bright as before and I can actually look around me.

A sick sinking feeling rushes over me. “What the hell is going on?!” I mumble to myself as I creep backwards with my hands. I scramble and scramble until my back hits the wall. I turn quickly and come face to face with white. Pure surgical white. I press my hands against it mumbling the word no continuously as I dig my nails into the material. The wall isn’t made up of paint and concrete.

No.

It’s padded.

No.

The wall is made up of bright white padding. The type of padding that Max had in the white room, the type that could make someone go crazy.

I run my hands down the wall in despair. How on the earth did I get here? When did I get here?! The last thing I remember before waking up here is telling Max that I needed to think about us, about where we were going with our relationship. I can remember my anger at Max for letting Alex’s killer, Tess, get away in a space ship all because of that damn kid.

How did I get here?

I run my hands over my legs and then look down in horror. I’m a surgical gown. The type they give you when you are ready for surgery. I’m completely naked underneath. Oh shit. Oh crap. Why am I here?! What do they want with me?

An image of the things they have done to Max crosses my mind and tears spring to my eyes. I can almost feel the steel scalpel scrape in its way down my torso as if it were my memory that I am reliving. But it’s not, it’s Max’s. I’m yet to know what they will do to me.

I scramble nearer to the wall and grab on to the white padding. Clinging on to it for dear life I drag myself up until I am standing. I feel woosey, like someone has put something in my tea tonight. “It will pass once I start to move.”

But the second I do move I’m on the floor. I can barely stand up let alone walk. I search the room to find that my vision is blurry and moving in slow motion, as if I were watching everything slow down to a stop – like you would in a film. I feel so sluggish as I try to lift myself up again and once again try to stand up.

My arms give out before I can even lift my torso off the floor.

I don’t bother any more. I just lie here for a while, panic welling up in my chest as I think about being bathed in cold water, being subjected to EST and being shown the dead bodies of all my family. I can practically feel them lifting my skin off my body. They are digging all the way, down to the bone and pulling it all up, exposing the bright white bone and then leaving it – just to see how long it either takes for it to heal or for me to die.

After all – Ava did say I was changed.

They probably think I am alien now, able to shoot death rays from eyes so I too must be subjected to the same thing as Max. It was my dress they found, so why go after Kyle?

I bury my face into the floor as sobs take over my body. I want to go home. Why aren’t I at home, in bed stewing over the small things? Why am I in a padded cell? Why am I here? Where is Max?

Will I ever see daylight again? Are they going to kill me?

Where is Max? Will I ever see Max again?

Oh god, what if they have Max too? What if Tess leaving brought the FBI to all of us? What if I’m not the only one? What if Maria is being tortured right now? What if Max is dead?

“Why am I here!!?” I scream this out loud, hoping that someone out there will hear me cry. I feel so alone. This is what the white does to you, it makes you feel alone and already time seems to be slipping past me.

I can’t remember how long I have been here; I don’t know why I am here. I feel so alone.

Completely.
Utterly.
Alone.

No one has come for me yet – to kill me? To torture me? TO DO WHAT?!

Why am I here?! WHY!?

I can’t stand the not knowing. That’s why the panic is overwhelming slowly but surely. If they weren’t going to do anything drastic they would have been here by now, not calculating and planning.

I suddenly feel like I want to throw out the contents of my stomach onto the clean white floor.

But I don’t get the chance as I hear a noise. I struggle to move myself into the corner and then, using a padded tile again, I pull myself into a standing position. I still can hardly stand, so I use the wall to keep me stood up straight.

I watch as a door on the other side of the room emerges and from behind it enters my captor.

A woman.

A woman with a pot of pills in her hand and a bright smile across her face. She has long brown hair that tumbles around her shoulders. She has bright green eyes that seem so caring and gentle I can’t believe for a second she could be part of the special unit. She has such a kind face that I’d think she could have been a friend if she wasn’t here to torture me. She steps closer to me and I move closer into the corner and the wall that I am currently digging my nails into.

“Where am I?” I tried to snap at her, but my voice comes out like a meek whisper.

She smiles at me and moves forward slightly. “It’s nice to see you to Elizabeth,” She says this calmly yet in an almost bored mechanical way as if she does this all the time. “You know where you are.”

I shake my head furiously. “NO. Tell me where I am. I have a right to know!”

The woman’s smile falters and her voice is now tinged with frustration. “Like I tell you every single day Liz, you are in Roswell Psychiatric Hospital.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh at the woman. “Yeah, I’m not stupid you know. At least have the courtesy of being completely honest with me! I’m a big girl you know, I can take it.”

The woman’s hand moves to her hip and she moves around to put her back against the wall. She leans against it and puts a hand to her forehead warily. “Look, Liz, I don’t have time for this today. I don’t feel so great. So for the love of God just take your meds and we can go back to our stupid routine.” She lifts her other arm and extends the pot towards me.

I stare at them in complete disgust. “You think I’m going to take them? You have got to be kidding me right?”

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and sighs. “I don’t wanna have a fight on my hands. I don’t want to have to force the meds on you.” She shakes the pot. “Now be a good girl for Serena and take them.”

My eyes feel like they are going to pop out of my head as I look at her. “Serena?”

Her head drops and she stares at the floor defeatedly. “Yes. As in the End of the World, future Max, Serena. The one who helped Max travel back in time in order for you to make Max fall out of love with you.” She says this almost sarcastically and in a detached way.

“Where am I?” I whisper, a sinking feeling in my gut telling me something just isn’t right.

“In Roswell Psychiatric Hospital, where you have been for the last 2 years.” Her voice starts to rise and she pushes herself from the wall. She moves nearer to me with the pills and once again extends the out to me. “Just take them Liz.”

“Why aren’t you helping me? I thought you were supposed to be a friend, you’re not supposed to be …”

“Part of the FBI!” She shouts. “There is no such thing as the special unit! There is no such things as aliens. There is no Nasedo. No shooting. No Czechs. No Granolith. No future Max. No healing. No. Aliens. THEY DO NOT EXIST.” She screams this with such frustration and anger, something she suddenly becomes aware of. She quickly backs away and places a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” She whispers. “I’ve been shouting at patients all day.”

Patients? Oh my god. I’m really in a nut house aren’t I? I look towards Serena and it suddenly becomes clear I’m not in the white room; I’m in some totally different place all together.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

She looks up at me with wary disbelief. “You’re crazy love. Everyone here is.”

[rie482]

Heya. Looks like I'm going to post this every saturday

Thanks to the following for their feedback:
Gnomie - Me to. But I still can't say for certain that there will be a dreamer ending to this...
tequathisy - hey, nice to see you're around
behrlyliz
RhondaAnn
LovinGuerin2Much
Shiesty23


Part two.

I’m. Not. Crazy.

I’m not. I’m really not. I didn’t imagine Max’s hands on my stomach and I definitely didn’t imagine the sensation of the bullet wound healing. I didn’t imagine seeing into Max’s soul. I was there, I remember it!

I felt it all.

I remember the pain on Max’s face as he climbed on my balcony just to find me in bed with Kyle. I can still feel Max’s arms around me as we danced to the slow and invisible sounds of I Shall Believe. I can still feel the pain of being left alone on my balcony.

I felt it all.

I know what it feels like to bury your best friend in the ground. I know I went to Las Cruses and investigated Leanna and the destiny book. I can still feel Max’s goodbye kiss just before he left me at the Crashdown. I can still feel the pain of his leaving that nestled itself in my chest as I sat with Maria, mourning over a love that had died a long time ago.

I saw it all.

I remember watching that bitch leave this planet.

I REMEMBER EVERYTHING! I WAS THERE!

It. Was. Real.

“I’m not crazy, I didn’t just make it up.”

“Yeah, that’s what you tell me every single day Liz. I know you think it’s real, but it’s not.”

“I was there! It happened!” I exclaim as I near her. I place my hands on either side of her shoulders and plead with her to believe me with my eyes. “I’m not making this up. I’m not delusional.”

“Then why do we have a piece a paper with your name on it that states that you are?” She declares. “Honey, you’re going to have to accept that you’re crazy one of these days… or you are never going to get out of here.” She slides her hands up on to my arms, pushes them off her shoulders then lifts the pill pot to my face. “Now Liz, please, for me, take the pills and go to sleep. You look like you haven’t slept in two years.”

“No.” I say as I take a step back. If she thinks she can just manipulate me into taking something I don’t need she has another thing coming.

“Liz.” She says more forcefully. “You know that by law you have to take these… so take them.” She comes closer, the pill pot nearing my face.

“No” I say just as forcefully as I push her arm away. This sends the pills flying across the room.

“Take them Liz or we will be forced to medicate you and for yet another day you shall be locked in here drooling into the padding.” She threatens me as she picks the bright red and blue pills off the floor. One by one with a deep plop they find themselves back into the pot and back into my face.

“NO!” I shout this time as I take the pot of pills and throw them all in her face.

She doesn’t flinch, she just says in a loud voice. “Guys!”

She stands there, her hand on her hips and stares at me in anger and sympathy. “Liz, I told you that you will never get out of here by acting like this.”

Four men enter the cell and I quickly back myself into the corner again. I almost trip over my weak and feeble legs as I try desperately to get away from them, but it’s no use. They gang up on me and one by one they take either an arm or leg and lift me up. I’m quickly on the floor, pinned and unable to move.

I writhe desperately and in panic as I watch Serena pull a needle out of her uniform and draw out some lime green fluid out of a vile. I start to cry as soon as she moves towards me, she has this look on her face that screams that she doesn’t want to have to do it - but will anyway.

She stops for a second and looks down on me. She’s stood there, her hand on her hip and with the needle in the air, with a disappointed and angry expression on her face. Her lips are pursed together and I can almost see a large vain on the side of her skull. It’s something out of a bizarre horror movie… or I could go as far as saying One Flew the Cuckoo’s Nest - the Nurse Ratchet stood over Bromden, her menacing orange smile scaring the hell out of him.

“Liz… you know that this won’t have to happen again tomorrow, if only you will take the damn things.” For a moment then I thought she was almost going to plead with me to take them - and I think I would have given in if I had been given the choice.

But I wasn’t.

She steps forward and without a care in the world she jabs that needle into my thigh.

I can feel it scrape along the bone as she has plunged it so far in, but that’s over in a second. I can feel the green fluid released into my system its warth starting to quickly take me over.

It’s warm.
Inviting.
Caring.
Soothing.

The room starts to spin as I stare at the ceiling. I have this feeling of complete calm and peace just before I drift off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Liz?”

I sit up straight at the sound of her voice and I frantically start searching my dream for her. I know she is here - I knew she’d come to find me. I knew that Max would go up to my room the next day, not content on leaving it there between us and find that I was missing.

“Isabel?” I shout down the corridor of school, which for some reason I am roaming in just my pyjamas

“Liz?” Her voice is now right behind me and the second I turn around I come face to face with Isabel, making me visibly jump. “Liz!” She shouts in relief and she pulls me tightly into a hug, the first I have ever received out of genuine concern or affection. “We’ve been going crazy - we saw the letter you left but it was so unlike you just to up and leave again that I thought we’d check.”

I put a hand up to signal her to stop talking. “Wait a minute… there’s a letter claiming I’d just left Roswell?”

“Yup.” Isabel nods. “You ran off to Florida again. Max was convinced it was all a load of crap and thought you were in danger - so now I can tell him otherwise…”

“No!” I shout in panic. This shocks Isabel and her expression of relief turns serious. “I’m still in Roswell and Max is right - I am in danger. I didn’t write that letter. I didn’t leave of my own accord. I’m being held by this woman called Serena.”

“Serena?”

“I think she is part of the FBI… but I was told a long long long time ago that she was to be a friend - so I don’t understand why she isn’t helping me!” I shake my head. “Anyway, I’m being held captive. I don’t remember anything after I went to bed last night after Max left.”

Isabel nods; her serious expression still on her face. “Do you have any idea where you are?”

I laugh. “You’ll never believe this,” I say with a giggle. For some reason the whole situation seems absurd and detached - as if it were happening to someone else completely and all I can do is laugh. “Serena keeps saying that I’m in Roswell Psychiatric Hospital.”

Isabel’s expression doesn’t change and I stop laughing, realising that to her it is still very serious. “Why?”

“She says I’m crazy - that I’ve made up everything. You, where you are really from. Everything. Apparently it’s all in my mind - it just didn’t exist.”

“Okay,” She says with a nod. I can see her taking it all in, starting to formulate a plan. “I’ll tell Max and we’ll get you out of there.”

“Hurry.” I say softly, tears staring to form in my eyes. I don’t know what is worse - being held and tortured or being told you are crazy when you know in your mind you aren’t.

Isabel’s hand rests on my shoulder and she looks at me with a small smile. “Don’t worry,” She says this softly and tenderly. “Knowing Max, you’ll be out of there as quickly as you can say Czechoslovakian.”

Sadly - I find that hard to say.

[rie482]

Heya guys, here is part three. Just a warning that on the 23rd (not next saturday, but the saturday after) there will be no update. I'm moving into my halls then - BUT never fear, I am going to be having speedy internet so I shall be back the following saturday.

Thank you to the following for their feedback:
ADreamerDestiny
katrina
tequathisy
HBGO
RhondaAnn - ahhh you see that's the beauty of this idea... it leaves you questioning.

Part three.

I wake up suddenly and I find myself bolting upright, the air rushing into my lungs in short sharp burning gasps. My hair is sticking to my face and to the sweat that has drenched my skin and nightshirt. My bed bounces lightly underneath me in reaction to my awakening and I twist the sheets into balls in my hands as I scan the room. There is no sign of white - no sign of padding. All I see is the familiar surroundings of my room.

I laugh softly. It was all a dream.

A dream. It made so much sense.

Serena.
Being told I was crazy.
Isabel actually hugging me.

I should have known.

Shaking my head in complete relief and embarrassment, I lift up the covers of my bed and put my feet on the floor. I lift myself up onto my feet and stretch, a small smile on my face. Max will be here soon, I know he will be. After our talk last night, he will be here to convince me that I need to come back to him - that too much has stood between us.

“So Much has happened to pull us apart - yet here we are, our feelings as strong as ever. We can’t deny that we love each other; it’s not something that could ever disappear. It’s like breathing. It’s something that is a part of us and we just can’t ignore it.”

I frown as I can hear Max’s voice coming from the balcony, saying the exact same words that he had said to me the night before. He’s probably trying to add more to it - to bring more emphasis on to what he thinks. But I still need time, I still need to adjust to the fact he has a baby out there. He has a son that will depend on him to save him and I can’t let go of that fact knowing that one day Max will have to go back for him.

I walk towards the window, ready to tell Max once again that I need time to think. I can already picture the look on his face as I tell him this - love and sadness all at once. I don’t want to see it, but I have to come to terms with this, to evaluate the situation I have found myself in.

I look out the window to just feel my jaw drop. Inside my room it’s as light as day, but outside its night time the stars shining down on to my balcony. Before me is the image of me talking to Max out there.

I place my hands on the window and I’m instantly being flung into the body of myself that is stood before a heart broken Max.

“I can’t deny that.” I hear myself say. “I couldn’t deny that even if I tried.” This is the exact same thing that I had said the night before. “But, Max, there all these things that stand in our way. Undeniable things that are just as real.”

“Nothing has stopped it before.” He says in a soft and desperate tone. His hand is outstretched towards me, reaching out to feel my skin under his. I step back, shaking my head, knowing that if I felt his touch I wouldn’t be able to step away from him; to think.

“You didn’t have a son to consider then. You do now.”

“Liz.” He whispers painfully.

“Don’t Max.” I whisper in just as a sad and pathetic way. My heart is breaking to do this, but I need the space. I need the time.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say as I back away towards the window. “But I have to think.”

I climb into my window and close it slowly. I stand watching and expecting Max to turn away and leave, just like he did last night. And he does, until he reaches the ladder and he just swings round, a look of pure anger on his face, spending a blast towards me.

I wake up with a start, flinging myself upright once again. I’m clutching at my chest as I heave in heavy gulps of air that burn my lungs. I go to wipe the sleep from my eyes, to find I can hardly move my body let alone my hand. It’s then that I realise.

I’m still here.

It wasn’t a dream. I lie back onto the floor and tears immediately spring to my eyes, I don’t even need to open them to realise where I am. I don’t need to look to see the white surrounding me.

That was all a dream. Waking up in my own room, a smile upon my face was all a dream. I roll on to my front and stretch my whole body out onto the padding. I bring my hands up over my head and dig my nails into it. I look up and start to pull myself to the wall with my bare hands, my nails scraping through the padding beneath me with my body trailing behind. It’s limp and heavy, barely able to function let alone pull me to the edge of the room.

When I finally reach the edge, I use the padding to help me up against the wall and I lean against it, the air burning my lungs at the way I had used the rest of my energy to just get here. I sag against it and just let it hold me up.

I don’t know how long I’m stood here against the white padding, but soon the door that materialised last time appears again. Once again Serena steps through into the room but this time with a more pleasant smile on her face.

“Morning Liz!” She says in a singsongy way, as she moves nearer to me. “How are you today?”

I look at her if she is completely crazy and just spit, “How the hell do you think I am? I’m stuck in a mental asylum when I’m not crazy!”

Serena stops dead in her tracks and I half expect her bright smile to change into an angry expression at the way I spoke to her, with venom and disgust. But she shocks me by widening her smile. “Progress!” She says excitedly, as she almost starts to clap her hands like an excited child. She almost spills the pills in the pot at the way she suddenly moves. When I look at her in complete disbelief on my face she replies, “I’ve been having the same conversation with you for the last two years. You always ask me where you are and think I’m the Serena that had been friends with Future Max.” She hands me the pill pot. “For the first time you have remembered exactly where you are and given me a reply to a question!”

I stare at her with my mouth hung open. “But I’ve only been here one day!” I laugh hysterically at her. “I’ve been here one day and you keep acting like I’ve been here two years!”

This wipes Serena’s smile off her face and it suddenly changes into a frown for a split second. It’s as if she’s disappointed that I’m not suddenly all better miraculously over night. Then it’s gone and she’s shrugging as she toys with the pill pot. “Oh well.” She says cheerfully. “We can’t expect you to run before you can walk now can we?”

With this she takes my wrist, opens out my hand and then places the pill pot in the middle of my palm. She doesn’t wait for me to take them and she doesn’t try to persuade me to take them; she just walks out the room leaving the door open. She stops outside and looks at me pointedly. “If you take them you can come out. We have only kept ya in there because you aren’t playing nicely with us and getting violent with us. I really don’t want to keep you in there Liz but I will if you don’t take them because you are just too dangerous to bring outside without them.”

By rights, you are thinking that I’m screaming in my head that I shouldn’t take them. THEY ARE EVIL LITTLE PILLS MADE TO WARP YOUR MIND. THEY ARE EVILLLLLLLLLLL. DON’T TAKE THEM!! You think I’m just going to throw them in her face and allow myself to get pinned down into the white padding; then just sleep it all off until the others come to find me.

What you don’t think I’m going to do is what I’m doing right now. You don’t expect me to take the pills, but I do quickly wanting desperately to get out of this room. You have no idea what it feels like to be trapped in a room that has no life or colour to it except for white. You have no idea what it feels like to be doped up to the point you are unconscious - dreaming weird dreams about purple banana’s like I did last night. You have this overwhelming sense of helplessness as you stare at the white open walls because you have nothing what so ever to focus on. There is this never ending sea of white and even though I have been in here only a day, which I spent most of drooling into the padding, it’s starting to make me feel at a loss and so lonely.

I had actually been looking forward to seeing Serena again.

That’s how much it affects you - even after a day.

So I fling the blue and red pills into my mouth and with a big gulp I swallow them. I feel a sense of relief and dread settle over me as I feel them one by one slide their way down the back of my throat, entering my body like an invasion.

But I have to get out of this room. I have to find a world outside the white of my padded cell. I need to find someone who will help me and I need to be wide awake for when the others come to get me.

Because I can feel them coming.

I know they will.

Max will save me.

So I look towards Serena and with a look of determination I step out into the world again.

[rie482]

Thank you to RhondaAnn for your feedback

Part four.

To my horror, it’s a world made up of white. White walls, white chairs, white clothes, white beds, white pills, white counters.

There is even a white smell.

White.
White.
White.

All there is to this place is white.

Even the first few people I come across are so pale that they seem to blend into the background - in to the sea of white I had hoped I’d escape when stepping out of my cell.

I follow Serena mindlessly, watching the white around me never changing. There isn’t a speck of colour anywhere. Not a peck of dirt. Not a poster. Not a foot print. Not a thing. I dare to look out the window just to find it’s covered by a blind.

A white blind

Everything is colourless, pristine and surgical. As if it were just taken out of its box and had hardly been played with. It makes me shudder even though I am not cold.

This place is so cold and without feeling I just wish I could go back to my cell, huddle myself in the corner and just wait it out until the guys come to save me. But I can’t seem to drag my feet to a stop or turn around; I just keep following Serena mindlessly watching out for any sign of life.

We enter a silent room and I instantly want to puke. There are about thirty people in this one room and all there is a pure silence. It’s like being in a library, the compulsory unwritten rule there hanging in the background, but this is different. With the silence there is no movement. It’s as if they are all frozen in time, stuck in a moment that they are forever doomed to live in.

Men and women, young and old just stare out into the room, blank white etched across their faces as they just stare. There isn’t one blink in the two seconds I am stood there, they don’t even flinch at the sounds of Serena walking around in her high heels, the only thing heard through out the room. I start to move further into the room after Serena, but stop the second I see the face of a young man staring aimlessly at a TV.

It’s off.

This has got to be proof that I’m not crazy. I’m definitely not staring out at the walls, drool making its way down my chin slowly but surely. I’m not that pale and lifeless. I have movement, it’s slow and groggy movement but it’s movement none the less. I don’t stare out my hollow looking eyes at the TV in front of me.

I’m not crazy. I’m not one of them and I won’t be turned into one of them. I refuse to let it happen.

The heat of hope surges in my chest at the thought I won’t be here long enough for it to happen. I will be saved, saved from this madness.

I know it.

So I turn around to Serena who is standing, waiting patiently, for me to come with her. She has an unreadable expression on her face as she looks at me and I can just about imagine what she’s thinking. I can almost hear the workings in her mind as she thinks about how she’s going to turn me into one of these things. She’s thinking that slowly but surely she’d gonna drain me of useful information. She is going to pull the where abouts of the aliens out of my mind and then leave me as a useless carcass, staring at the slightest speck of dust.

She’s wrong.
I’m not here for much longer.

I start walking towards her and she turns, continuing our journey to where ever we are going.

* * * * * * * * *

I’m sat at a large oak desk, a young man sat on the other side of it. He’s sat back in his black leather chair, resting both his elbows on the arms on the rests with his hands together. It looks like he’s praying as he sits there with his pointed fingers resting under his chin.

But he’s not.

He’s just sat there staring at me, through me. It’s as if I’m not there, but he’s looking at me as if he’s tearing me apart. I shiver at the way his beady dark brown eyes just look and look and look. It makes my skin crawl as he just watches me, as if he’s waiting for something. Should I be talking at this point? Or should I just be sat here waiting for him to finally speak after he has dissected me from the inside out with those beady evil little eyes that I swear are too small for his head?

I go to speak, to break this stare and silence situation but he just puts his hand in the air, signalling for me not to bother.

So I sit back into my chair and wait. I think he’s just going to go back to the staring but to my surprise he shifts and leans forward to the desk where a file currently sits. He lifts it with his long thin fingers and they wrap themselves around it. With the file between his fingers he leans back into the chair and just stares at that.

Another two minutes go by and all there is silence as he stares at that open file. I don’t know what is worse - him staring at me or staring at that file.

I almost jump out of my skin the moment he takes in a long deep and raspy breath. It’s long and it sounds like he’s gurgling phelm somewhere deep in his chest. He looks at me over the file and smiles slightly.

It’s a pretty little smile that peeks out of those thin lines that are his lips. “So Elizabeth Parker,” He says in a posh British accent, his voice higher than I had expected. “I hear you are making progress.”

“What ever progress means when I’m not crazy.” I bark at him. “I know what you are trying to do here but you aren’t going to turn me into one of those things out there.”

He smiles and looks up at Serena who is stood in the corner, fumbling with her hands nervously. I have a feeling she hates being in this room as much as me. “I see she has a slight spunk about her now.” He turns those beady little things back to me as his smile fades slightly. “So, Elizabeth…”

“It’s Liz.” I spit at him. Usually I’d let anyone call me Elizabeth it they so wish to, but there is something in the way he’s British accent rolls my name off his tongue.

“So, Elizabeth,” He says it with more emphasis this time, as if he loves torturing me. “Do the aliens still exist?”

I sit there and stare at him in the exact same way he was staring at me the moment before. Is this some trick question? Is he looking for one more reason to drug me up? Is he trying to get me to deny their existence? I can’t do that, but then again - is this trying to get me to slip up? Is this really the FBI looking for a way for me to confirm their suspicions and bring them in?

What the fuck do I say?

As I’m deciding what to say, I can see him in the corner of my eye a small smile starting to twist at the corners of his mouth. I don’t even get to open my mouth before he says three little words. “I thought so.”

My eyes feel like they are going to bulge out of my head.

“Now, Elizabeth, I think we shall have to start you on group therapy and see what happens.”

[rie482]

Thank you to behrlyliz for your feedback.

Please give me feedback - I like to know what people truely think about my work

Part five.

There is a circle of chairs, twenty in total, in this one small little room with one chair slap bang in the middle of it. On one side there is a cabinet, standing tall and mighty over the group. It’s big and it’s silver, a definite contrast to the pure white that surrounds me.

It’s the only injection of life in the room – it’s probably because it supposedly contains every last detail of our lives.

That’s what Serena told me when she brought me in here.

“The idea is that the whole group work together to make you see what you are feeling and seeing isn’t real. The group sessions are to make you see sense and to help you work as part of a community – so one day you can go back into the real world functioning properly.”

“But what if you are functioning properly?” I ask, my arms wrapped around my chest as the coldness of this place starts to seep in. “Like me?”

“No one here is.” Serena says as she sits me down in a chair.

I turn my head to look at her with disgust. How can she think that I’m not functioning normally? Me? Not normal? I am a grade A student – the top of the whole school. I work hard. I am friendly, polite and studious. I have a job, friends and I am almost in a relationship. I feel, I breathe. I can talk and I have no problem with food.

I don’t see things that aren’t there. I don’t make anything up. I don’t hear things.

I’m normal.

A normal small town girl.

I may have a few secrets to keep – but I know I am functioning properly.

“But I am.” I say, knowing full well she’s working with the FBI to get me to admit that I know aliens. I look around the room eyeing everything cautiously. I don’t see any camera’s so I turn to her and whisper, “You don’t have to do this. Future Max said you were a friend of mine – he kinda made me think I could trust you. So why are you part of the FBI?”

She looks at me for a moment before resting her hand on mine and smiling sympathetically. “I’m not part of the FBI Liz. I am a psychiatric nurse for this mental institution.”

“Don’t lie to me Serena. How can I be crazy when I know what I know? I saw it with my own eyes and I’ve heard it with my own ears. I know there is no normal and what I know for sure is that I know you are working for the FBI. I know this isn’t just some mental institution.”

Her look of sympathy just deepens once I say this to her. It’s as if she’s really looking at a small child that just can’t understand the death of a loved one. It’s that sympathetic look that makes you feel small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things and what they are about to say is something more important.

“Liz. I understand that you are confused about all of this. No one has really explained what is going on with you and this is what the session will be all about – helping you to understand what is going on. Right here,” She places her hand on the filing cabinet next to her. “Is where every last detail of your condition and your life is stored. They will use this information to help you progress out of your psychosis.”

“What am I supposedly diagnosed with? I ask, thinking that maybe if I make them think of a stupid mental illness they might just about slip up. They really are underestimating me.

She places her hands on her legs and runs them down her thighs, pressing out any creases in the pure white dress that she is wearing. She looks pensive, as if she is thinking about what she is going to do. She looks at me for a moment then she says something that makes me almost step back in my mind. “Liz, I know I shouldn’t tell you this, I’m not qualified – but I think you should know before your session begins. You are a paranoid schizophrenic.”

I sit there completely dumbfounded. There I was thinking that maybe – just maybe – she would have said I was a manic depressive, which would definitely be something to indicate this is really the FBI. But when you think about it… what I am claiming to be true could be linked to the illness. In their minds I’m hallucinating aliens and orbs and lights, they can definitely link it back to the illness.

Don’t get me started with the fact I’m saying this is all down to the FBI… sounds like the rambling of a paranoid person.

Oh they’re getting clever. They were prepared for this.

I laugh in disbelief at this entire situation and the look of sympathy washes away from Serena’s face. “You lot are really clever. Really.”

“Liz.” Serena says firmly. “You are crazy. I’m not sick enough to make this up.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I say as I chuckle to myself. “I’m out of here soon anyway.”

She had left me there when I had started to laugh hysterically. I have no idea what came over me, probably the coldness numbing me completely to the point that hysteria is the only thing I can feel. I just know I laughed for a good solid ten minutes – on my own about nothing in particular.

For a moment I felt quite up lifted, my spirits high for the first time since I left my ‘cell’. I felt a huge weight lifted from my chest as I just laughed and laughed and for the first time in months, since Future Max Evans disappeared from my life completely, I laughed and felt happy.

That was until I felt two hands wrap themselves around my bare arms and lifted me off of the floor – I have no clue how I had gotten there.

And that shocked me to the core, because for a whole ten minutes afterwards I was left sat in this very centre chair staring into space. Could I really be crazy to think that aliens exist? Am I really a paranoid schizophrenic? I remember Serena’s kind and honest voice and expression and a sinking feeling started to eat at me. She seems so genuine that I am already feeling myself start to question the existence of what I know.

But as the people around me started to flock in slowly, I realised they are wrong. I’m not wearing a white and vacant expression on my face as I sit in my chair. I have the sparks of life as I sit here, where as they don’t. They are devoid of it as they slowly drool away in their seats, the flicker of a life out of this place no where in sight. How on the Earth are these people going to ‘help’ me when they cannot help themselves? How can these people make me question the existence of anything I know?

It washed over me quickly. A realisation. I can’t question the existence of Max because it’s like questioning the existence of my very being. It’s something you cannot deny exists.

I am here. I am living. Therefore Max is.

I just need to hold on to the fact and remember the feeling of his hands just below my rib cage as he healed me. I need to remember the flashes, the feelings and the memories if I am to make it out of this okay.

I need to stay strong; for myself.

“Today,” I’m startled out of my little world by the sound of the English accent piercing my solitude. I shoot a look at the man and there he is sat right in front of the cabinet, his beady eyes staring at me intently as he holds his folder open on his crossed knee. “We are examining the case of Elizabeth,” Once again he points a look at me as he exaggerates the saying of my name, knowing it’s going to grate on me. Now I know full well he is here to break me down – he IS part of the FBI. Another thing that will make me strong until the others come and get me out of here. “Parker, a paranoid schizophrenic. The trigger of this was the fatal shooting in her parent’s restaurant the Crashdown Café on the 19th of September 1999.”

“Fatal?” I ask incredulously. I was going to be the only fatality that day and yet here I am. Who, I wonder, have they decided died that day? Maria? Dad? Another of the waitresses working that day?

He once again stares intently at me, his eyes boring their way into my skull. “ Yes, Elizabeth. Fatal shooting at the Crashdown on the 19th of September 1999. The victim,” He looks down on the folder that’s on his knee and then back up at me. For a moment I swear I see sympathy – something I’ve only seen from Serena to date – peering at me from those beady little eyes. Even when he speaks there seems to be a softness that just hadn’t been there before. “The victim was your boyfriend.”

Oh shit. Not Kyle. Why the fuck do they have to bring Kyle into all this? Oh well – at least it’s all make believe, something they want to use to get me to crack.

“The victim was your boyfriend, a Mister Maxwell Evans.”

[rie482]

As I stated at the beginning of this fic - there will be dark scenes involving Liz. This is one of them and she may seem out of character but I think under the circumstances considering she is supposedly a 'paranoid schizophrenic' I think she would react in this way. If you have problems with this... I'm sorry but I DID warn you

Thank you to the following for their feedback:
raemac - there is definitely going to be more
Gnomie
RhondaAnn

Part six.

Once again I’m laughing, which by the look on the Doctor’s face doesn’t go down well.

“What is it Elizabeth?” This comes out as soft and questioning, as if hurt by the way I am laughing. This makes me stop completely mid laugh, my hair flinging out around my face whipping me as I had frozen in mid laughter. I look at him closely, and there in his expression is anger – yet the tone of his voice makes it sound like I have hurt him.

The gasps of everyone around me as me jumping out of my skin. Not once had I heard a thing from the people around me, but now all of a sudden there is a gasp of horror. I sit up straighter and start to look around, my eyes bulging out of my head as I look at the faces around me.

The drool is no longer there, the lifelessness in their pale sheet white faces is now tinged with the pink of life. There upon their once expressionless faces is horror and disgust and it’s all aimed at me.

“You actually expect me to believe that?” I spit at him. “You expect me to believe my ‘boyfriend’ Maxwell Evans was killed that day?”

He looks down at the page again and then back at me. “Well it clearly states here that this is the case. It says that your fixation and delusion revolving around Max Evans ‘being an alien who can heal’ is due to the fact he died.” He takes the folder and stands up. He takes a couple of steps towards me and hands me the folder. He stands over me as I take it. Crossing his arms he remains there, standing tall over me as if I am a naughty little child, his beady little eyes watching me as I turn my attention to the document in front of me.

There it is in black ink, “Elizabeth Parker; diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and prone to extreme violence. Trigger: fatal shooting at the Crashdown Café 19th September 1999. Victim: Boyfriend Maxwell Evans.” The words are there and it makes my blood run cold at the mere thought that Max could have died that day. But I know, I know that it was me that was shot that day. I can still feel the bullet piercing my skin layer by layer as if in slow motion. I can still feel his hand pressed against my skin.

“Bullshit.”

I throw the folder onto the floor and cross my arms again.

Everyone around me gasps and looks at me again with a more serve disgusted look. But I don’t care, I know the others will be coming for me tonight and that just makes this all that amusing to me. I look back up at the English man and grin sheepishly, daring him to question me.

It’s childish; I know that. I could be the reasonable Liz Parker that I’m notorious for and listen to him, but if he’s going to stare down on me like I’m a per petulant child I will act that way.

He sighs and picks up the folder from the floor.

Then he turns to the group. “See, this is the anti-social behaviour that must not be exhibited in public. This childishness and disregard will not be tolerated by those in society.” He sits back down in his chair, the look of anger in his expression but the tone of hurt still in place. “What do we say to Elizabeth?”

“You’re crazy.”

It starts off as a whisper. A few in the room speaking quietly and not at the same time. It’s something I would have missed completely if I hadn’t been listening intently, playing along with this pathetic game.

“What’s that?” He says. “I couldn’t quite hear you then.”

“You’re crazy.”

This time everyone says it at exactly the same time, as if they are all one person; one voice. It’s mechanical and it’s detached – almost inhuman and I can feel my jaw drop to the floor as I hear it.

It starts off quietly, a bit louder then before, but then they start to chant it.

“You’re crazy.”

It starts to get louder.

“You’re crazy.”

It gets louder still, this time with a few pointing at me. Disgust is evident on their faces.

“YOU’RE CRAZY.”

“YOU’RE CRAZY”

They continue for what seems like forever as I stare at them in complete horror, my knuckles going as white as the chair I am gripping onto for support. My head starts to ache as I’m bombarded with the chanting.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m not.” I mumble under my breath. I’m not crazy, I know I’m not. Max Evans held me close to him the other day after I watched Tess Harding fly away into space with his unborn child. I can still feel his arms around my body.

“YOU’RE CRAZY.”

“I’m not.” I say a bit louder, more firmly as I stare at the floor. I will not be made to look like a fool and I will not accept defeat. I’m not crazy and they all know this – if I crack, they’ll get all the proof they need that Max is in fact an alien, so I have to let them know I’m not.

“YOU’RE CRAZY.”

“I’m not.”

An overwhelming anger starts to boil away in my stomach as they chant at me over and over and over that I’m crazy. They are all staring straight at me, their eyes wide and haunting as they point at me with their long spindly fingers.

Their voices have melded together into one mechanical voice, deep and harsh.

“YOU’RE CRAZY.”

One guy gets up from his chair and points at me from stood up.

“YOU’RE CRAZY.” He screams this at the top of his lungs. I can hear him above everyone else.

Something snaps.

“I’M NOT CRAZY!” I scream as I snap my head up and lunge towards the man who is stood in front of me pointing at me as he chants over and over and over again just like the rest of them. I’m at his throat, dragging him down on to the floor with me as I chant loudly.

“I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy! I’M NOT CRAZY!”

I can feel my nails digging into the flesh of his neck as I chant it over and over again. It’s stumbling over my lips in a frenzy and I can just feel something in the back of my mind telling me to stop this. I’m hurting the man in my grasp, his lips are starting to turn blue, yet I don’t seem to care. I can’t stop. It’s like my whole body is on auto pilot and for the first time in my life I’m scared of myself. I can feel hands wrapping around my arms, trying their hardest to drag me off the poor man whose nails are digging into my wrists as he tries he’s hardest to pull my hands from his throat. But they can’t pry me away from him.

I’m killing him but my body doesn’t seem to want to stop.

“Liz.”

A small whisper, Max’s voice in my mind, is the only thing that makes me stop dead. For a second, the feeling I get when ever Max is around invades my senses and it’s as if he’s in the room with me. I can smell him as I hear his voice ringing through my ears. My name is said again in a loving, tender and questioning way that calls to me to listen. “Max?” I ask in a confused whisper, turning my head around the room looking for him.

But then the feelings gone and I’m felt here on the floor; with someone’s throat in my hands. It’s only now I realise I’m still holding the man by his throat and in shock I drop his head onto the cold white tiled floor.

I stare down at him in complete horror, tears welling in my eyes, as I’m dragged away out the door.

[rie482]

Heya, sorry I didn't post this on saturday. I was in Brighton with my man for the first time since we moved to uni. As I mentioned at the start of this fic - it's not going to be roses and light for Miss Elizabeth Parker. This is a definite example of this with a scene of electric shock therapy.

I hope I do not offend any one.

Anyway, thank you to the following for their feedback :
RhondaAnn
Raemac
Alizaleven

Part seven.

I’m being dragged down a long white corridor, my legs dangling behind me. I stare at them absent minded as I watch them bump over the tiles and I feel my body sliding across the cold white tiled floor. It chills me to the bone yet I can’t feel it. All I can feel is the exhaustion and the horror of the last two minutes of the pure violence I demonstrated against that innocent man.

That man who I had almost strangled to death with my bare hands. I can still feel his skin lodged underneath my finger nails and feel the sting of his own claw marks on my wrists. I don’t care that I’m dropping blood onto the pure white tiles. I’m leaving my mark.

“Where to?” I hear one of the guys carrying me ask.

“Room 60.” I would have shuddered if I had the energy, but I don’t, so I hang there limply with just the hands of two strangers holding me upright. That damn English accent is one that makes me cringe inside, it makes my stomach churn and I want to be sick every time he opens that thin mouth and speaks.

My name rolling off his tongue just makes me what to jump off the nearest bridge. There’s something hideous in his speech, something evil and sinister. It gives you a feeling of hopelessness and dread; it makes you feel trapped and alone. I think it’s more sinister than the pure white that surrounds me.

I don’t even need to see the room to know it’s gonna be horrendous… it was in his tone. Like he was almost excited by it.

I hear the door open and for a second I find the strength to lift my head and look around me.

I wish I hadn’t.

Out of no where I find a massive amount of strength, pulling the men dragging me here off of me. They try to grab me again, their finger tips skimming over my shoulders as they desperately grab at me, but I manage to fling myself forward enough to be out of their reach.

I’m scrambling to my feet with my hands, like a desperate and caged animal. I bolt out of the door, my hair flowing behind me, my legs doing over time as I run for it. I have to get away from that room, away from the pain that goes in there.

So I run. Past the nurses. Past the patients who are stood around staring at me in shock and horror. I get to the nearest door and clutch the door knob, twisting and shaking it in desperation. I can hear them running down the corridor, their white shoes almost soundless on the white tiles. But I just about hear the squeak of their rubber souls on the white as they sprint in the direction I just came from.

The door doesn’t open and they’re getting nearer so I go down the corridor, sprinting like my life depends on it. I turn the corner I’m faced with and almost fall over as I take it too quickly. I quickly get stable and start running again, towards a clear plane of glass that’s inside a door.

I stop for a second and just stare out the door; at the colour of life that’s outside this place of white. I can see grass, green grass and for a second I almost sob at the thought I already can’t remember what it feels like to have green grass between and underneath my toes and bare feet.

So I run towards the door, a determined look upon my face. I will get out of here. I will get out of here and walk on that lush green grass. I’ll revel in the life that is out there.

I will not be made to suffer.

I’m at the door now, reaching out my hand to push it open. My heart is racing with adrenaline and I have the brightest smile I have had on my face for the last three months.

Then arms encircle me and lift me off the floor, taking me away from the life.

“NO!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I’m pulled away from the door; away from the life that I can see past that pane of glass. I know where they are taking me and I start to thrash like a wild animal.

I dig my nails deep into the man’s arm, deep enough to draw blood but he doesn’t even flinch. If I were to look properly, I know I’d find the scars of other peoples nail prints deep into his white skin. But I don’t care if he can’t feel it; I dig them in further and drag as hard as I can. Blood starts to pour over the floor, yet he still doesn’t flinch.

I thrash and thrash, tears down pouring down my cheeks as I envision the torture that will be hold me in that room. An image of Max being electrocuted flashes across my vision and I find myself thrashing even harder.

I won’t let them do this to me.

I don’t deserve this pain, this suffering. What have I done to deserve an electric shock to the head?

Then in the corner of my eye, I see the reason why being moved out of the room on a stretcher unconscious. I can clearly see the red finger prints I left on his skin and see the faint blue of his lips – me having almost choked the life out of them. I can see the faint scratch marks on my own wrists, where the man who I had strangled tried to drag my hands off his throat as I was throttling the life out of his body.

I suddenly go limp, guilt overriding my body’s reactions.

I just hang there like a rag doll in the arms of a child. My arms and legs flop around uselessly as he takes me to the room. I can just lift my head enough to see him walking through the door. I don’t resist as they place me on the table.

I don’t resist as they take my arms and strap them down by my sides. I can feel the material of the strap digging into my wrists, but I still don’t try to move. I can still see the half dead figure of that man in my memory.

It’s burned into my vision and stays there even when I close my eyes to batter away the tears. It won’t budge.

I can feel them strapping down my legs. I try my hardest to think of something happier, something to distract me from the real world for just a second. I think of Max’s face, his deep and haunted eyes looking at me from the window of my balcony.

I can feel them applying the gel to my temples and feel the electrodes being placed over the top of it.

I can see Max smiling at me the way he used, from across the classroom, a smile at how we were sharing the secret that he had entrusted me with. I can just see his smile broaden as I whisper the word hi.

Then I’m snapped back to the real world, a bar thrust in between my teeth to stop me from biting onto my tongue.

Because it’s that harsh. Many people having bitten their tongues out at the volt of electricity that’s been driven through their bodies. See, I know what’s happening to me. I’m aware, unlike all those many people who had been subjected to this. The confusion they must have felt, not knowing what was happening with no one willing to really tell them.

The loneliness

But I don’t have time to think about the past people who have been strapped to this very table, the seizure taking them just as it will me. I can feel the charge of the machine electrifying the air around us, my hair almost going static.

“On.” His English accent piercing the silence.

“One.”

I clench my hands into fists.

“Two”

My whole body tenses and my eyes flutter closed.

I’m preparing myself.

“Three.”

“And go.”

Then I hear sparks crackling in my ears and see bright lights behind my eye lids.

My whole body shakes hard and violently against the table as they thrust electricity through my brain.

The last thing I feel is my nerves burning.

The last thing I cry is:

“MAX!”

Blackness.

[rie482]

Thanks to the following for their feedback:
Shiesty23
alizaleven
guelbebek
RhondaAnn
raemac


Part eight.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill"

A child's voice echo's around me as I'm stood on the top of a huge hill, looking down it as I teeter on the edge of it. I smooth my hands down my legs nervously to find something other than a hospital gown underneath them. I'm wearing a blue dress, with a white apron over the top of it. It's heavy and restricting, making it hard to breathe as I stare down at it. I lift my hands to my head and gasp in horror at the white band that sits around my head. In wonder I bring my hands round into my hair, bringing the locks forward.

They are blonde.

"To fetch a pail of water"

Someone's stood beside me, holding my hand tightly. I shoot a look towards him and there he is stood beside me; Max. He's looking down the hill with me, a bright smile on his face as he does so. He's wearing a black suit, with a top hat resting upon his head. The hat is sitting to one side and has a photo of us together resting in the brim. "Max." I whisper as I stretch my hand out to touch his cheek, seeking the warmth and comfort that only his touch can give.

He turns to me, the smile still bright on his face but instead of turning into the warmth of my hand, he grabs me by my arms and pushes me. Hard.

"Jack pushed Jill"

I stare back at him in shock as I fly down the hill, my blue dress flapping up and around me in the breeze.

"MAX!" I scream to him as I fall, tears in my eyes as I watch his smile widen into something demonic. It twists and turns his beautiful face into something of horror.

"Down that hill"

But as I fly down the hill, my arms out stretched to him, he doesn't batter an eye lid. He just stares down after me with that demented smile on his face.

I hit in the floor with a whack, pain shooting through my body. Then all I see is blackness.

"And walked away after"

"Liz?"

* * * * * *

Wet.

That's all I feel right now. Wetness.

It's not even a comforting warm wetness, like when you're in the bath or the shower. It's cold.

Cold and sticky making me feel uncomfortable on this padding. I roll over to find a pool of dribble being rubbed into my face. I don't bother to move - my whole body is too tired and shot to want to move, so I just lay here my face swimming in my own dribble. I shift my body slightly and realize that I've wet myself right here on the padding as I was lying here unconscious. Great.

I groan as I open my eyes slowly. I snap them shut again, the brightness of the lights making my head spin faster than it already is. But it's too late and my stomach is starting to object violently. I sit up quickly but it's too late - I throw up all over myself, brown flowing over the white of my gown.

Nice.

I throw myself back onto the padding and just lay there. I can't do anything else; I can hardly move my arms and legs as they are acting like dead weight. All I can do is feel the disgusting warmth of the vomit that covers me. At least it’s better than the coldness of my urine and dribble; it chills you to the bone as it dries on your skin.

But soon that too will go cold and I’ll be just left here sat in a pool of wet crap; my own body hitting out against me. I thought my day had gotten bad, but this – this is just cruel. I need to change but I can’t be bothered to move and call out for help; so I’ll lie here sure that in a minute they’ll come by and give me something.

I hear the clicking of the door that appears from no where – in a different place to the last time. I swear it moves, constantly shifting position – but that could just be me and my imagination. It’s not like I can actually see the door in the padding, so it could have just been in the same place the whole time.

Or it could be just to annoy the hell out of me, to make me as crazy as they seem to think I am. That’s if this place really is a nut house; it could still be the FBI playing tricks on me, to get me to crack and admit the aliens do in fact exist. They could be trying to get me to turn him in by making me vulnerable.

But then again – it could just be me being paranoid like the label tattooed to my head states.

NO.

I can’t think that way. I’m not crazy.

I’m not.

“Morning Liz.” Serena’s warm voice penetrates my reflection.

Morning? How long have I been out of it?

I manage to move my head enough to look at her from the floor. “How long have I been here?”

“What do you mean here?” She asks cautiously, as if expecting something.

“Here. On this floor in my own vomit?” I snap at her. “How long have I been here since you decided to fucking fry my brain?” I glare at her, my eyes being the only part of my body able to move.

She smiles again slightly. “Good. It wasn’t all in – all in my imagination.” She whispers the last bit.

Somehow I manage to find the strength to push myself up slightly and to lean back onto my arms as I just stare at her in disgust. “You mean you thought people frying my brain was all in your FUCKING IMAGINATION!” I scream it at her. “YOU THINK THAT TORTURING ME WAS IN YOUR IMAGINATION?!” I manage to roll on to my side and on to my knees. I sit there on all fours letting my head dangle. I can’t bare to lift it right now, a searing pain shooting through my forehead every time I do try.

I lift my hand to it and sob as all I feel is this sense of nausea rushing over me. It’s mixed with a feeling of complete blankness, as if a part of me is missing and the happy switch is stuck in the off position. My arms give out and I just let myself roll back on to the padding.

“I’m not crazy, you know that right?” I whisper to Serena as I cry silent tears. I can feel them moving down my cheeks, but that seems to be the only thing I can feel.

Serena sighs for a second and then does something I’d never expect from her; she moves towards me and kneels next to my limp body. Then she brings her hand to my hair and strokes it like soothing a child. “But honey,” She says slowly and calmingly. She almost sounds like my mother as she speaks to me. “You aren’t thinking properly, you’re seeing things that just aren’t real and you are hurting people because of it.”

I can’t deny that I’m hurting people, yesterday was proof of that, but I don’t even bother deny that I’m seeing things. I just don’t have the energy to fight her.

I hear my door open again and the sound of wheels; I snap a look at Serena.

She sighs. “I’m sorry Liz but it has been decided by the board of directors that you should be given more shock treatment to rid you of the violence you have be demonstrating. John’s still in the recovery room, scared to death because of what you did to him yesterday and they feel it is better for you that this happen so you can start to rebuild yourself.” She pauses for a second, soothing my hair one more time. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t fight as they lift me off the floor and change me into something else. I don’t care as I’m laid out onto the gurney and wheeled away; I just lie there watching the lights above me move ahead.

I don’t even think about what they are going to be doing to me in that room… all I can think about is the fact they didn’t come for me.

Like they said.

“Max?”

[rie482]

Thank you to the following for their feedback, it is much appreciated.
alizaleven
RhondaAnn
raemac
Michelle in Yonkers

Part nine.

There’s now a sense of dullness as I stare at the padding. I can’t move a muscle – not that I can bare the thought of moving any part of my body. It’s lying limp around me – it’s as if it isn’t actually part of me, it’s like some separate entity all together living breathing and pissing itself without me. It moves when it feels the need to, yet I don’t notice it. I’ll occasionally feel the warmth of my urine running down onto the padding beneath me but that’s all my mind really acknowledges, the warmth it provides a reminder that maybe I am still alive.

But even then I have no control over my mind, my mind churning around numbly as I stare at the white that forever surrounds me. It flashes a series of mixed memories, the memory of watching my mother decorate the Christmas tree then a flash of Max’s eyes staring down on me as he heals my bullet wound.

But even then it’s not the same as I remember it. I’m lying there on the floor, my dress bust open, his hand just above my skin but in an instant he disappears. I flicker my eyes over to another spot in the room to see a body lying in the corner.

Then all I see is the white and my mind ticks back into the steady numbness it has adopted today.

I hear the door of my cell open and some how my body moves enough to be able to see Serena walk into the room, the same pot of pills in her left hand but with a fresh set of clothes in the other.

She pauses for a moment, as if to say something to me, but shakes her head as if reprimanding herself and moves forward. In an instant she is kneeling beside me, helping me sit up.

“Morning.” She says quietly as she lifts my arms up. I look at her, my mouth parted slightly as if trying to form a response but find that all I do is gape at her; a small pool of drool in the corner of my mouth. My mind is screaming to speak, but once again my body has other ideas. It lets my arms flop back down onto the padding. She isn’t deterred; she lifts my arms, but this time one at a time and peels the white gown away from my sweat and vomit covered body.

Once she has the gown she turns to the pile of clothes next to her, just letting my body thump back in the same position I was in before; the only difference is I’m naked this time. I can see the Goosebumps on my arm, but I can’t feel the cold. I just want to scream and lift my whole body off the floor, grabbing the nearest thing to cover myself with – but it’s not going to happen.

I’m lifeless

She turns back to me and puts my arms through the holes of a jumper that I could have sworn I used to wear. I manage to move my eyes to look at her questioningly. She stays silent although I know she’s seen me question. She waits until she’s completely dressed me in a black roll neck and blue jeans until she tells me what this is all in aid of.

“You’re going home.”

A huge jolt of life runs through me and I can feel my body almost smile in response.

“It’s only for a little while mind, the Doc recons that maybe it will jolt some sense into you – remind you of who you used to be before the shooting.”

I just lie back onto the padding. What are they planning to do with this new idea? How on the Earth are they going to be able to get me there without people noticing? Is this going to be a made up replica of my home? One thing is for sure that is that it’s going to take more than a set of my home to make me think I’m crazy. It will take more to break me.

This is going to be interesting.

* * * * * * * * *

I walk through the door, my eyes combing the area. It looks the same, yet feels different, almost lifeless as I walk through into the lounge. It’s as if no one has lived here and I almost smile at the idea that this is just a set. This IS a made up place to get into my head. I can feel Serena’s wary eyes boring into my back, tucking my hair behind my ear I move in further.

I let my eyes fall over the pictures of the room and the comforting sight of the sofa that I had spent many girlie nights on. Everything in the room is the exact same to how I left it. If I had really been inside for two years I wouldn’t still have the perfect memory of what this room looked like.

Would I?

I stop as my gaze claps onto the figure of my mother stood in the corner, her hands over her mouth as she looks at me in shock. She stands small there, her eyes darkened by bags I had never noticed before, her hair hanging limply around her face. This completely floors me because at the end of the day I’d expect them to take me to the flat – either a fake or the real thing – but still an empty one. To see the figure of my mother stood there takes me aback.

“Liz?” She asks her voice ringing through the air and sending shivers down my spine. It’s her voice, the exact same one I remember listening to a few days ago talking about going to the bank, but it’s broken. It’s old and it’s sad.

It’s real.

“Mum?” I shake my head and step back as she comes towards me. This can’t be real; none of this can be real surely?

The moment she places her hand on my arm I fix my eyes with hers and something changes. Something inside me is churning away telling me to believe in what they are telling me.

It’s like a whisper in the back of my mind, telling me – urging me to.

I try to fight it.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She whispers, tears on her cheeks.

“It’s only for an hour Mrs Parker, but don’t worry if this goes okay she’ll be back for longer.”

“Good, I don’t like thinking she’s sat inside that place; she’ll never get better locked in there.” She slides her hand through my hair and pulls it back over my shoulder. “That’s what we all want; for you to be better.”

I smirk. “But I’m perfectly sane mum and you know it.” I just let the words spill out of my mouth and watch her reaction. “I don’t know how they managed to get you to do this, maybe they are holding Dad hostage, but I don’t believe any of this. They aren’t going to break me with this.”

She frowns. “But Liz, you aren’t well. Every time I’ve come to see you I’ve had to convince you that there aren’t such things as aliens.”

I shake my head with a smile. “Don’t you see that I KNOW this is all a set up? If you had come to see me over the two years I’ve supposedly been there don’t you think I’d REMEMBER it – how come I don’t remember even one visit?”

She looks like I’ve just slapped her across her face and fresh tears pore down her face.

“Liz.” She whispers broken, my words having apparently hurt her.

I just ignore it and move towards the door that would lead to my room if this was the real place. I take the door knob in my hand and turn back to them “I know that when I open this door there won’t be anything there. I know that this is all a set up.”

I take the door knob and turn it, flinging it open for all to see with the biggest smug face on my face.

One that disappears as I’m faced with my room in all it’s glory.

I step in, my mouth opening in complete shock and disgust. This IS my room, but some how it’s different. It’s devoid of the clothes that were thrown across the room before I left. I quickly run to the chest of drawers and fumble at the drawer, throwing it out in frustration and shock. I let it fall to the floor, my mouth wide as I inspect the clothes that fall to the floor with it.

The same clothes that I SWORE I had thrown out a month ago. The same ones I had had for years.

This can’t be real. Surely? This is just some sick trick… after all it’s the FBI. They’ve been watching me for months and have taken this stuff out the trash for this exact purpose.

Right?

I look around me and I see the posters that grace my wall are the same ones I took down six months ago. They are in the exact same places as they had always been for about three years. It’s as if they had never moved in the first place.

I still remember taking them down and burning them.

Crap.

“No.” I whisper in panic as I pull my hair back from my face. “No. This can’t be happening.”

I scan the room as I back up to the window. Quickly I turn round and fumble at the lock.

It’s stiff and covered in cobweb as if never used. I used it the other night. I know I did. I did… didn’t I?

I force it open and I’m through it, out onto the balcony in a shot. I don’t take time to notice whether anything is the same as I left it, I just go to the place where my proof resides.

“I’ll prove to you I’m not crazy.” I exclaim as I drop onto my knees at the wall. I turn to the brick that will open up to reveal my diary.

I wrap my fingers round the edge of it and pull.

It doesn’t move.

I tug and I tug, but nothing.

I slump to the floor, tears trekking down my cheeks. All I can feel is the numbness.

I’m not crazy.

Right?

[rie482]

Heya guys... new part

Thank you to the following for their comments:
RhondaAnn
alizaleven
raemac
maya

Part Ten

This can’t be happening… this is all some elaborate plan to get me to crack. I wrote in that diary the night Tess left and I placed it in the hole in the wall. That brick was loose and I had held it in my hands that night – it was large and it was heavy in my hands. I remember having to push it back into the wall.

It was there.

“What did you do to it?” I scream at Serena as she comes onto my balcony through the window. She moves awkwardly as she hitches up the skirt of her uniform, almost tumbling forward as it stops at the top of her thigh - catching on her skin pulling the material tight to the point she can’t move. She looks like a comical nurse out of a Carry On film, a young nurse all nervous and awkward in a uniform just too tight to breathe.

Once she’s out onto the balcony she looks at me, sympathy on her face. I hate that look. It’s as if she’s looking at a stupid person… someone on a special needs ward of a hospital who needs the sympathy just to make them feel good. To make them feel human. It’s used by everyone – even I can guiltily admit I have used it a few times at work.

I just want to slap it off her pretty little face.

“We haven’t done anything to anything Liz.” She replies calmly as she goes and sits on my chair. Her eyes look up at me from where she is sat.

“Then why isn’t it there!” I seethe at her, tears starting to fall down my cheeks as my frustration takes over. I’d usually rant and rave at this moment, but someone how I still don’t have the energy to do anything other than cry. I think that after everything that has happened over the last year – I’m just completely out of life and energy to fight. It’s one thing to have the will power to prove your best friend was murdered, but another to try and prove your sanity to someone who is willing to break you for information.

I just have to remember that this is all in aid of… to break me. This isn’t real. They must have cemented the brick in.

That must be it.

“What isn’t there, Liz?” There she goes again with that sweet honey voice

I flash her a glare. “Don’t talk to me like that!” I yell at her as I scramble onto my feet, suddenly finding some energy in my frustration. I take a step towards her sat form and point directly at the wall where the loose brick used to be. “You know what was there! You know my diary was there!”

“Liz, there is no diary. You’re confused…”

“No. No I didn’t. I wrote in that thing everyday for a year!”

“Liz, You made it all up… The aliens, the granolith and Future Max - even the diary - just didn’t and still doesn’t exist.”

“For the love of God stop feeding me this Bollocks!” I scream in her face, my hands wrapping around my stomach in agony an agonising sense of despair starts engulfing me slowly but surely. “I had a diary in that wall – I know it exists. Everything that I have seen and experienced over the last two years EXISTS. I was healed from the brink of death. I met aliens! I went to school with them. I had lunch with them… I was friends with them. They showed me things I didn’t think I’d ever see. Max brought me back to life on the fucking Crashdown floor. How the hell can you say that when I. WAS. THERE?”

I stop for a second, my mouth hanging open in shock.

I just admitted that there were aliens – That I WAS healed by Max.

I’ve given them exactly what they wanted.

Shit.

I stare at her, tears in my eyes as I throw my hand over my mouth. I’m expecting her to grin manically a cold blooded killer emerging from her pretty and calm exterior she wears. She’ll take her phone and give in the order to kill Max and then to dissect him piece by piece… scrutinising over every last little piece they peel off his bones.

But she doesn’t.

She stands up and places her hands on my shoulders, looking deep in my eyes. She is pleading me to understand as she looks at me. “Liz. You weren’t the one who was shot that day at the Crashdown shooting. It was Max. Max didn’t heal you because Max was the one who died.”

I start to shake my head. “No.” I whisper, my throat dry with confusion and fear at the way she is calmly replying to my outburst. She isn’t calling reinforcements to kill Max… to take him away. She’s pleading me to believe her. “Max isn’t dead.”

She takes my hand.

* * * * * * * *

I’m stood outside a set of tall black gates that tower over me menacingly. They are foreign amidst the greenery and the calm of this area. This used to be a place I could walk through just to bring me peace of mind… it used to center me as the alien abyss sucked me in further and further into the lies and death that had started to take over.

Which is quite ironic – To find peace in a place of death.

But that’s the way it had always been to me, yet now… the cemetery just hasn’t been the same to me since Alex’s death. I don’t see the gates as comforting to me but instead as something that makes me want to hurl. The blackness reaching out into my chest and dulling any life that I had left within me.

This was the last resting place of my best friend.
It will forever been known as that.

“You know I won’t be fooled by a fake headstone – right?” I say to her as I fold my arms around my chest. “It’s not like you can’t make one and place it in the ground.”

She doesn’t respond to this, she just guides me through the black gates by placing a hand on the center of my back. Something Max did.

No.
He does.
He’s still alive.

I walk aimlessly, letting her guide me, mindlessly reminding myself that this is all some idea to get me to admit that Max is an alien.

But wait - I’ve already done that out loud with a hell of a lot of drama… so I have no idea what this is all in aid of. Maybe they have Max held some where and this is all in aid of making him spill information he just doesn’t have. That must be it. They know that he can’t stand to watch me being broken by this – they are filming all this just to torture Max.

I mustn’t let this get to me.

They WILL NOT break me. I won’t let them.

We stop.

I look down and almost sob out loud. Even though I know this is all some set up to get me to break down, it still hits me hard to see the letters of a gravestone spelling out the name of the love of my life.

Max Evans
A beloved Son, Brother and Boyfriend.
‘I may not be there amongst the living but I’ll always forever be with you; walking by you.’

Tears are forming in my eyes besides telling myself that this is all a load of crap. That this is shit. I need to be strong and not let them break me just to torture Max.

But it looks so real. So real that if I was to actually walk through this before I wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary about it. I’d actually just see any other old gravestone, black marble amongst the green.

But on inspection, I’d see the browning yellow tulips and smile at the fact that someone still tended to this grave. I’d notice the love and attention given to getting rid of the weeds and walk away thinking of what a lucky man this Max was to have such love and affection given to him even after death.

In real life this gravestone before me would be the grave stone of Max Evans.

“No.”

I back away from the grave, my hand still firmly over my mouth as I try to stop myself from crying out loud. “This is fucking sick.” I spit at Serena who is stood just a meter away. I spin round to her and glare at her. “Why do this to me? Why?!”

She steps forward, a sympathetic smile still gracing her light pink lipstick covered mouth. I almost bring my hand up to slap it off. “It was to bring you back to reality.”

“That’s BULL!” I scream at her, hands balling into fists as my anger starts to build. She’s lying to me.

“Liz… Max did die at that shooting. He did.” Pointing at his ‘grave’ stone she looks at me pleadingly again. “There’s the evidence right in front of your eyes! Why would I or anyone else want to make this all up?”

I shake my head furiously as I tug a lock of hair behind my ear. “This is shit. He ISN’T dead! You’re the FBI trying to torture the hell out of me!”

She comes towards me and places her hands on my shoulders again. This time it’s to stop me from throwing them around wildly like I had been doing as I shouted at her. “Liz. You’re paranoid. There is no FBI special unit after you!”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” I cry out her, tears freely falling now. “Why are you so hell bent on torturing me like this?” I sound so tired and desperate that the woman at a gravestone a couple of yards away looks like she wants to come and hug me.

I think if I was anyone else I’d hug me too.

“We’re trying to HELP you!” She says exasperated. “Liz, you’re not well.”

“THEN WHY DON’T I FEEL IT?”

She stops for a second and looks over my shoulder. I frown as she concentrates on that person and smiles an ‘oh hello smile’. I hear the sounds of footsteps.

“Liz?”

I tense up completely. I know that voice.

It visits me in my dreams.

I turn round, my arms around my body as a chill runs down my spine.

“Alex?” I whisper in complete horror.