Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·

EIGHT

The days leading up to starting school passed in a blur. It was at the beginning of February that I miscarried, on the fourth of that month to be exact. Our parents had arranged for us all to go back to school the following Monday, on the 8th of February. Incidentally, on that date, exactly 100 days had passed since the Halloween Party where I had first seen Max use his abilities. The party which had been the starting point for the chaotic life I was leading now.

It was surreal to think that it had only been 100 days, a little bit more than 3 months, since my whole life had changed. The things I had experienced during that time was more than most people would experience in an entire lifetime.

But in those few days before school would start for our group of weathered teenagers, I thought very little about numbers, months, and experiences. My mind was trapped in the foggiest of dazes, where I would not allow myself to think of neither the future nor the past. 

Apparently, Buddha had once said, Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment,and that was exactly what I was trying to do.

Some might call it denial. Some might call it repression. And some might even call it regression. I called it coping. My father had briefly attempted to speak to me about seeing a therapist about, well, everything, but I had quickly brushed him off. Distracted him well enough to start talking about something else. 

What was there I could tell a therapist anyway? 90% of my life was classified. Top Secret. Inconceivable. 

The only thing I would be able to talk about with an outsider was the miscarriage. But that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to my problems. 

Maybe I could have talked about the death of my mother, focusing on the grief rather than the chain of events. But pondering the prospect of doing so had me realize that the therapist would sooner or later ask about those dangerous details and I might not have the energy to lie about what had happened. I definitely would not be able to tell the person that I still suffered nightmares tied to my real memories of how it felt to have your skin being so hot that it broke out in blisters and actually melted. The therapist would obviously be able to tell that I could never have been burnt because I had no scars. Not a physical mark on me. How would I explain that?

I spent my days watching from the outside, trapped in some imaginative glass bubble. Max was there, both inside and outside the bubble, his mind firmly connected with mine, his attention always fixed on my well-being. Max was better at interacting with the group, engaging in conversations, laughter and banter, while I solely continued to observe from the periphery. My body registered every brush of his hand against mine, every hug, every kiss to my forehead, cheek, lips. But I was not really there.

I observed my friends while they seemingly moved on with their lives, as if we were at some camping excursion instead of a fairly well guarded mansion. As if bad things had not happened and we were not still under threat. I watched Maria and Michael tease each other, get annoyed with each other, make out, yell at each other, laugh and hug. I noticed the glances between Isabel and Alex and the subtle touches whenever they got close to each other.

I watched my dad relax, involved in a discussion with Amy and Philip one second, then reading a magazine or book the next. He was getting more comfortable now that he could finally be open about the secrets in his head that hadn't made sense for so many years. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But I couldn't help noticing the glances he threw in my direction with increasing frequency. How he kept wanting to talk to me, tell me to eat something, pulling me into sporadic and surprising hugs. While I was focusing on trying to respond to his concern by reassuring him that everything was okay, he was worried senseless about me. Obviously, I was failing miserably at my intention to calm him down.