Snapshot · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

49. The Final Punch

The Crash
(2007) Max is 22, Liz is 21

He came up behind her, his lips warm and wet against the skin under her ear. Her reaction was not what he'd anticipated; he didn't know that he didn't have the right to touch her like that any longer.

Her head moved sharply to the side, away from the warm breath, before a turn of her head confirmed that the person invading her personal space was the last person she wanted to see right now.

A rush of anger and disgust moved through her as her eyes landed on the smiling face of her boyfriend. Her ex-boyfriend. Being confronted by her stormy eyes, his smile started to ever so slowly fall off his face.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his concern so sweet that bile rose in her throat.

Feeling the need to vomit, she pushed him away from her as she simultaneously jumped off the bar stool.

Only having one course in mind, getting out, she didn't feel the slightest need to offer him any words of explanation.

He was in no mood to put up with her odd behavior. Grabbing her firmly by the elbow, the previous stalker that turned into blackmailing boyfriend that later proved to be a disgusting cheater pulled her back against his body. "What's up with you? Why are you not saying anything?"

"Get away from me," she ground out, not loud enough to make herself heard over the music.

His hand slid down her elbow and folded across her hip, bringing her flush against him with a seductive smile. "Come on now. Are you playing hard to get? 'Cause it's a bit too late, sweetheart."

She pressed the palm of her hand against her lips as the bile was getting dangerously close to her mouth. With the motivation of not wanting to throw up in front of all these people, in front of the man she hated more than she ever thought she could hate someone, she gathered her strength and pushed out of his arms. Pushing through the masses of human bodies, she reached the door with a strangled cry and just made it around the corner before bending over and retching against the tiled wall.

Feeling tears sting her eyes, she rolled back on the balls of her feet and pushed the hair back from her face. She wanted to just lie down on the ground, curl up into fetal position and cry the world away. She might have done so if the door hadn't opened followed by a loud voice which ripped through her miserable cocoon.

"What the fuck is wrong with your fucking friend?!"

She flinched, looking up at a furious Sean. Either he didn't notice the tear stains on her cheeks and the fact that she was sitting on the cold ground, or he chose to ignore it. Because either way, he was already pulling her to her feet, his face close to hers as he furiously pointed to his eye.

"He's fucking insane!! I want you to stay as far away from him as possible. He's fucking crazy!!"

As his words ripped through her, her eyes were transfixed by the redness of his right eye and by how the tissues surrounding it seemed to get bigger as she watched. There was blood from his eyebrow, running down his temple at a constant stream.

He looked like one of those wrestlers on TV that Michael used to watch. Whenever they would bust up an eyebrow, the blood wouldn't stop running.

Upon hearing no response, he pushed her up against the wall. "Are you fucking listening to me?!"

This more violent side of Sean brought Liz out of her momentary daze and her eyes caught a hold of his. With a low, even voice, the melody of a warning lioness, she said, "Let go of me."

He blinked, surprise echoing through his features, and after a moment of hesitation, he did as she ordered. Taking a step back, he tried to pick up his trail of speech again, not wanting her to realize that her response had surprised him.