Her mind painfully rips out off the claws of unconsciousness and her upper body propels upwards, her frightful gasp spreading through the room like a malicious gas. Her hands are in full-out panic, clutching at the bottom of her shirt, ascertaining that she is whole.
Her hands spread over her skin. The darkness offers her no answers while her fingers inform her that her skin is still intact. The loud sound still reverberates in her ears and she is certain that her fingers are lying. As her legs tumble out of the false security of her bed, her best friend sits up, squinting against reality.
"Go back to sleep," Liz whispers, her voice trembling in the stillness of the night.
Maria murmurs an indistinguishable reply before laying down again, pulling the covers up to her ears as if to immerse herself more deeply in the protective cocoon of sleep. Sleep is a protection that has abandoned the dark-haired petite woman who fumbles along the wall to find a weapon to push the darkness away. Seconds later she blinks against the bright light that floods the bathroom. The dream still haunts her. It mocks her with its persistence. This is the third night in a row that the dream has assaulted her, leaving her trembling and uncertain of her existence in the world. Leaving her somehow certain that she is supposed to be somewhere else. That she is supposed to be someone else.
Max Evans is staring at you again
She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear her mind of the tendrils of sleep weaving their way through her mind, trapping her, making her want to scream. Her fingers work quickly to unbutton the shirt and she pulls it open, exposing her naked chest and abdomen to her reflection in the mirror. As before, her fingers travel slowly over the expanse of her skin. During their travel, the fingers encounter three moles, but none of her senses confirm her conviction that there should be a gaping hole in her stomach.
You have to look at me
Commanded by the frantic voice, she meets her own eyes in the mirror.
Something is wrong.
The thought hits her with a suddenness that causes her to sway on her feet and she has to brace herself against the sink.
"Who are you?" she whispers to the reflection, but the chocolate brown eyes merely respond with a blank stare.
"Do you...do you remember Max Evans?"
Maria looks up distractedly from her plate, still wearing a frown of concentration from her attempt to decorate her pancakes with all available toppings.
"Uhm..." Maria stares at Liz for a few fleeting seconds before responding. "Sure. He was your lab partner, in high school. Right?"
"Mhm," Liz acknowledges, staring absently at the bowl of cereal in front of her.
Maria cocks her head to the side, contemplating her friend's odd behavior. "What's with the sudden interest in someone you haven't seen in four years?"
"I just... I was just thinking of all the people back in high school, you know."
Her evasive answer causes Maria's frown to grow deeper. Liz has been acting strangely for days and from the look of it, it isn't getting any better with time. Her friend is sporting some impressive circles under her eyes and her skin has taken on a sickly nuance. Maria's gaze travels lower, taking notice of the old sweater and pale worn-out jeans, and while shifting her eyes back to Liz's face Maria can't help but register the oily build-up in Liz's dark hair. When did Liz last take a good look at herself in the mirror? Scratch that. When did she last take a shower?
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Mnemosyne's Daughter | (Roswell Fanfiction) | √Fanfiction
Her mind painfully rips out off the claws of unconsciousness and her upper body propels upwards, her frightful gasp spreading through the room like a malicious gas. Her hands are in full-out panic, clutching at the bottom of her shirt, ascertaining...