Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

SEVENTY-FOUR

At first, Max had respected the locked bathroom door, even though I knew that he easily could unlock it with his powers. He had pleaded with me to open the door, trying to get me to talk to him. But after ten minutes of that, it had grown silent.

I knew he was just outside though. I didn't need a connection to know that.

But when the day turned into evening and I was still seated on the cold tiled floor, Max ignored the lock and came inside.

I didn't fight him when he wordlessly reached down and picked me up, cradling me in his arms. I was too tired, too numb. I tried to enjoy the smell of his skin as I rested the side of my head on his shoulder, but I was empty. Apathetic.

I don't know if there was anyone else outside the bathroom. If we met anyone on the way to our bedroom. I didn't register anything except the rocking of my body in his arms with every step he took.

As he placed me on our bed, I automatically curled up on my side, moving back in time to when I had been a fetus, protected in my mother's uterus. Safe and blissfully ignorant about the evils of the world.

I was aware of Max walking away from the bed and closing the door. Locking it. The human way. Probably so that I could get out if I needed to.

I was aware of him pulling his shirt over his head as he walked back towards the bed, of him unbuttoning his jeans and kicking off his shoes even before he reached me.

Wearing only his boxers, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on my right eyelid and one on my left. His fingers brushed down my cheek. Slowly. Then he carefully started undressing me.

I was jointless. Like a rag doll. My arms and legs moved in whatever direction he wanted them to go. My pajama bottoms slid slowly down my legs. My sweatshirt was pulled over my head, followed by the white tank top.

When I was in nothing but white cotton panties, I curled back up. Knees to my chest, head against my knees, and closed my eyes. I felt his eyes on my body, on my head, and felt the heaviness of the silence around us, before I heard him move around the bed and start pulling the duvet back.

The bed dipped as he climbed on top of it, crawling towards me. His hands felt big, stronger than usual, as they circled my upper arms.

Maybe it wasn't his hands that were bigger. Maybe it was my arms that were smaller.

Effortlessly, he pulled me up against his seated body. It must be difficult to move me, considering that I had turned limp, but he barely jostled me. He was moving me around as if I was half the size I was. My thighs draped across his, my inner thighs reacting to the sensations of the hair on his legs, but the reaction never reaching my brain. My breasts pressed into his chest, the contact intimate and warm, but I only felt cold.

My arms were hanging lifelessly over his upper arms, as he wrapped his arms around my back and brought me closer. Tightly.

His breath was alive and warm against my neck, his tears real and wet as they dripped on my shoulder and rolled down over my collarbone, over my breast.

"Let me in," he whispered, lifting me slightly when my lifeless body wanted to slide heavily downwards in his grip. "Liz, please."

My eyes were closed, my forehead was resting against the top of his chest, and I knew that I should feel something when I heard the break in his voice, when I felt his heart vibrate in the air around me.

But I was tired. So tired.

"Don't give them the satisfaction," Max breathed. "Don't give them the power to torture you even after they're dead."