I was trying to keep my eyes open. I was trying not to fall asleep. Fighting sleep was difficult when you were running on empty.

But as soon as I fell asleep, there they would be. The nightmares. Of my mom's face melting, and me being burnt alive in my childhood home.

I slammed the book closed. Maybe reading a Jane Austen book was not the best method to stay awake. I usually loved them, but the old English language and the main male characters being portrayed as rude attractive boys, made my mind work too hard - made me think too much about my own life situation. Which resulted in me growing even more tired.

I reached for my iPad and started to scroll through the movies I had saved on it. Maybe action? Thriller? I scrunched my nose as movie after movie featuring 'Romantic Comedies' rolled by.

Definitely not.

I had just settled on 'Inglorious Basterds', and watched through the opening scene, when I was assaulted by a sensation akin to suction at the center of my chest.

I lost my breath as the impression of a vacuum cleaner attaching itself to my lungs befell me. Frightened, I sprung to my feet, the iPad tumbling forgotten onto my bed, and folded my hands around my throat. As if that action would somehow open up my airways.

The sensation was gone as quickly as it had erupted. A second later, I could breathe again and my body slumped tiredly back to the bed.

But the relief lasted only for a second, before my chest started heating up as if exposed to a really hot and intense sun. It wasn't uncomfortable, didn't even hurt, but it made me agitated and forced me back on my feet. I felt ready to fight, ready to defend myself; fueled with restless energy.

I felt strong. Invincible. Unbreakable.

It lasted for approximately one minute, before my pulse slowed down to normal and the sudden heat in my chest cooled and returned to normal.

I sank back down on my bed and stared unseeingly into the wall. I felt detached from reality and confused about everything that was going on in my life.

Was I going insane? It would be the most plausible explanation, after all.

Maybe when Max had healed me, he had drastically altered my mental status. Maybe he had messed up my neurons, messed up how my brain was wired.

Because lately I could hear Max's voice in my head, feel his presence in my shower and now this. Whatever the hell had just happened.

My hands were trembling, as if from exertion, as I picked up my iPad, distractedly scrolled the movie backwards to the point where I had been interrupted by odd phenomenon, and laid back against my pillows to watch.

Maybe if I just detached myself from everything, I would heal. I would be me again.

In spite of my best intentions, I fell asleep.


I awoke with a gasp, sitting up, the iPad tumbling to the floor and my body shaking from the abrupt yank into wakefulness.

Max's face swam in front of my mental eye and I had a very worrying feeling that something was terribly wrong. Terribly wrong with him.

I automatically reached for my cell phone, when I realized that I didn't have his number. Of course I didn't have Max Evans' number. Why would I?

The uncomfortable feeling of wrongness intensified and I had to get out of bed and pace back and forth in the small room in an attempt to calm my nerves. I felt restless and helpless. I glanced at the clock on the wall - 3.17 a.m. - and inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself.

Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·  √Read this story for FREE!