posted on 16-Jul-2002 9:17:33 PM by SweetCherryKat
Hey folks, me again. I'm in a mood, I wrote, I conquered (eh? lol) Read on... feedback would be nice.. (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) *cough* just realized I'm being pathetic hehe. Leave some if you'd like.. I continue if you guys like it.

TITLE: Safe Haven
AUTHOR: Kat *SweetCherryKat*
RATING: Probably up to NC-17
SUMMARY: Returning once again to hell, will Liz realize that her childhood memories arent as horrible as she picutred... or only realize it's worse. Will her step-brother Alex and his crew save the ever drowning, overly-emotional sponge of depression known as Liz, before it's too late and the horror she's lived kills her.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.. no really... NOTHING. If I use songs I dont own them, I'm using Roswell characters and even though I want to tie Colin up and do incredibly illegal things to his body, I dont own anything.


My mother made a mistake.

I'll be the first one to step up and admit it for her since she doesn't seem to be taking that step for herself… and she says I have no initiative.

I told her that I don't see a point to her madness, and she told me that I was lucky to even have a father that I could be sent to.

If you haven't caught on, I'm going to be living with my dad… Jeff Parker.

Unfortunately I had to keep 'the bastards' name, so if you've yet to connect the dots, that would indeed, make me Liz Parker.

I don't know if this is also hard for you to guess, but I'm going to state the obvious if you haven't been able to draw any conclusions from what I've said: I don't want to go.

I don't want to go to some hole in the fucking wall town called Roswell of all things.

I don't want haul up my neurotic baggage and drag it with me across country from New Jersey.

I don't want to go through hell again.

The divorce happened three years ago… I was 13.

It's like that real beginning part of realizing that you're a teenager, and it's suppose to be the time of first real dates, and first real boyfriends, first real tears over something you consider important, and the first time that you get real true blue through and through friendships.

But that wasn't what happened for me.

Sure I had the normal realization that I was a teenager, I was finally in my teens, the best years of your life.

Nobody tells you what else comes along with it.

No one told me that the divorce rates were up.

No one told me my parents just became a statistic.

They'd been really good about it… about the fighting in the beginning. You see, it had been going on for years. Quiet bickers when little six year old Lizzie was safe tucked away in bed, her worries about the monster under her bed…

The monster wasn't under the bed though, it was outside her room. It was just waiting for the opportunity to pounce, to do some real damage.

He took on the form of someone that that six year old little girl thought she could look up to, could talk to, could go to fucking daddy-daughter dances with at elementary school when she hit first grade.

Needless to say, I never took part in those daddy-daughter dances.

Everyone else did.

My monster… was my father.

Now I know what you're thinking, he left you black and blue, he stole your innocence… he abused everything that you are.

Well at least you hit mark on the last one.

He abused everything that I was

There's all sorts of abuse…

I was six.

It started so small that I didn't even notice… I didn't take into account what was happening. At first it was just bickering… you know, the way old married couples do.

Normal right?

Normal to a six year old.

Then it was turned on me… slowly… over the years.

By then the kids at school had realized that I wasn't like them, that I didn't have that perfect Suzie-Homemaker-Mom, and I didn't have the kind of dad where I was indeed his little angel.
I didn't have any of it, and they just knew somehow, before I could even guess, everyone knew, and they ridiculed me to now end.

But I was silent.

I was silent the first time that I heard the smack… of a body hitting the floor.

I was silent the next day as I saw my mother with her bruised arms.

I was silent when the bickering turned to full out fighting… fists used on one end.

I was silent when I got dragged out of bed, my monster finally coming through the door.

Through it all.

And now my mother, Helen, is sending me to live with my monster that I tucked away after the last court session… before my therapy started.

He got remarried. It wasn't a shock to my mother, and it wasn't a shock to me. I remember him actually leaving the room and being on the phone when he was 'sure' my mother wasn't listening or home. But I heard him, "Don't call me here at home again.. we're going to get busted…"

He was on the phone with Nancy, his new wife. But not new punching bag.

I know that much at least. I'm so silent, that I've become that expert eavesdropper… but not a gossip. I'm just quiet, keep it all in, blame myself later for it. Nancy made my daddy get help after the first time he raised a hand to her, he never struck her, just raised it… as a warning of what was to come. He's never hit her… not like my mother… not like me.

I never told my mom about my bruises.

I was young.

I thought it was normal.

And when I was old enough to realize that it wasn't… why drag up old bad memories that have been under lock and key for quite a few years.

She's sending me away.

To him again.

And I'm silent again.

I haven't spoken since she told me. I didn't speak when she put on the bus. I didn't speak as I began my journey to the hole in the wall.

And I don't know when I'll be able to speak again.

I must have been lost in thought again, because as I glance up I can see the 'Welcome To Roswell' sign in the distance, and I can clearly make out the smiling green alien water tower.

I bang my head against the window a few times, just for good measure.

I think about the steak knife that I have wrapped up in one of my sweaters that I wear to cover up my marks… it will be harder now that it's going to be so hot in New Mexico… but I know that, I've given it a lot of thought.

The bus stops all too soon, and I see them. Just Nancy and Alex… he's my step-brother. Nancy's son before she married my father… he's 16 too. I wonder if he knows.

He's looking at me like he knows.

She's looking at me like she knows.

And then I see him come up behind them, making the picture-perfect-family. Wife, Husband, Son. Such a disguise for him.

He's looks like a loving father.

I feel sick.

I am sick.

I look up at the sign over head, just to look away from the picture before me.

Welcome To Roswell, Enjoy Your Stay.

I want to die.


[ edited 4 time(s), last at 14-Sep-2002 4:43:10 PM ]
posted on 17-Jul-2002 11:01:20 AM by SweetCherryKat
Shameless bump for more feedback...

I know it's depressing but it does get better.. I swear ok! *tongue*

But anyway, just thought I'd let you know that a new part will be out tonight. I'm almost finished with it now!
posted on 17-Jul-2002 9:03:18 PM by SweetCherryKat
PART 2 As promised guys.. I hope to get some more feedbackers! And for all of you that did leave feedback, I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart!

I'm glad you guys like it!



I guess maybe it's not so bad.

I traded one hell for another.

Mother for Father.

I'm going to safely assume that you might want to know the story of that.

My mother wasn't always like she was either… but I wasn't six this time, no, I was much older. It was after the divorce that a few words started to slip out of her mouth.

At first it was just, "maybe if you had been better your father would have stayed…" Now being 13 I figured that maybe, just maybe I could ignore it. After all she was going through a tough time. She just lost her husband to someone else…now I think it might have been to someone better.

After all, Nancy didn't let him touch her.

Didn't let him brand her.

Didn't let him get away with it.

Cured him…

I'm not so sure about that last one.

Every time I look into those now-calm eyes, maybe even happy eyes that I'm here… I'm six years old again. And as I glance into my fathers eyes now, they morph into something else.

They're dark.

So dark…

The eyes of a true monster.

My mother, she started at me more at 14…
"You drove your father away" she'd say at least once a day, usually whenever she knew I was happy, "It's all your fault, I mean look at you… you act like a bitch, you ugly little slut".

In her eyes, if you've failed to see, because I was so ugly and such a 'bitch' as she put it, my father couldn't bear to look at me…

And eventually she couldn't either.

I think what really triggered my silence was her last sentence before her ending of the discussion of sending me to my father "Let him look at his ugly fat daughter, let him deal with her whoring ways. Let him see what he created…"

I never got a real first date, a real first boyfriend, never cried those real first tears over lost boyfriends or something insignificant like that, that most girl consider worth crying over. I cried real tears. I never made any of those real true blue through and through friends.

Like I said before, there are many kinds of abuse…

And I hoped being in Roswell, that maybe my father had changed, maybe the abuse would stop… but hope has betrayed me before, too many times to actually rely on it.

Abuse out ways hope.

My insanity out ways hope.

Everything out ways hope.

They took me to what will be my 'home', but I'm not so sure that living somewhere with him will be a 'home'… my 'home' to be exact.

Nancy doesn't seem so bad, but then again, my mother didn't seem so bad for 13 years.

Alex… he smiles at me a lot. Not those full-blown, happy go lucky kind of thing… but these small smile that are actually quiet… endearing.

It makes me want to smile back.

But showing emotion never brought anything good… never anything good…

Alex looks happy to have a sister. It's going to be hard for him to find out that I'm not going to be his perfect sister, but in those small smiles he keeps sending my way, I think he knows that.

I think they all know.

They live above a restaurant called the Crashdown. Corny, I know… but who am I to judge? It's better than the small apartment that my mother and I moved into to after the divorce. It was an ok apartment… 3 bedrooms 1 bath… not too bad. My mother made me stay in the smallest room would better qualify as a walk in closet. She said it was what I deserved. I believe her still.

They're taking me to my room now.

My first impression:

It's too big.

It has it's own bathroom, it's own balcony… a big bed.

I don't deserve this.

This is a joke right?

This is a fucking cruel joke.

Just something my mother would do.

But I don't object. I don't need to start being that annoying girl that my mother thinks I am... she always said that I complained too much. Fat little slut that complained too much.

I walk into the room and sit on the bed and stare blankly ahead. I guess they eventually leave, not that I barely notice. I'm a little busy finding the ceiling interesting right now.

Alex comes in and lays next to me staring at the ceiling as well.

"It's not the same you know," he says to me.

I now what he's talking about.

"What's that Alex?" I say my voice with an edge of bitterness.

"Jeff… dad… he's not like he use to be, when he was with you…he told us you know," Alex replied turning to face me.

I just continue to stare at the ceiling.

"Well I'm oh so happy for you that daddy dearest is picture perfect for you… send my regards to the happy family," I tell him as I hoist myself off of the bed and out the window, down the fire escape, and running into the ally.

Looks like I found my voice.. and it's bitter.

I don't get far running out of the ally, because I just so happen to run into something.


Clumsy slut I hear a voice in my head say, No wonder your mother sent you away!

I feel arms and hands helping me up and I finally glance up.

I think I've died.


What do you guys think? Bad?


posted on 31-Jul-2002 3:42:40 PM by SweetCherryKat
Hey guys! Let's all gather round and give thanks.. well ok I'll give thanks to you guys for the wonderful FB!!!

Kari: I'm so glad that you didn't think it was bad! I was really worried!!! I'm really glad you like it!

Veronica: I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! Thank you for your fb!

JaneLane: Thankie so much for your great fb!

roswellluver: Yeah, even writing this is making me sad.. but I can't just forget about the idea I had in my head! Thanks for the fb!

Apathygirl666: Ok you get more more more! hehe! Thank you so much!

PixieChic: Thank you!! I love getting feedback from you hehe!

Talena: Thank you for being a new reader! *And thanks to anyone who nominated me (lora) hehe* And thank you for the bump-age!

IceRose: I'm so glad you like it! Thankies!

Frenchkiss70: I'm really glad you enjoy it.. I was hoping to provoke feeling with this fic! Thank you for your bumps!!

Roswelllostcause: Thank you for you fb!

Marteloise: Thank you so much!

Salonica: Thank you so much for the compliments and the fb!

And last but certainly not least.. hehe

NewYorker18: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ENCOURAGMENT! You have no idea how much your bumps and feedback mean to me.. no I'm not going to get emotion, I just really really would like to thank you!

Lora: How much do I love you.. hmm... A LOT! Thank you for you bumps, you're great FB, and of course, you're constant 'Are you posting more yets' I got from you like everyday (lol) so this is for you babe!

Selena: I'm so glad that you like it! I love you girl! Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback! I hope that you enjoy this next part!

Ok.. that took a while, but now here's the next part!

Part 3:

Well if I'm not dead yet, I'm sure that I will be soon.

I glance up at who I ran into once again and take in his hard as steel eyes, his disastrous caramel hair.

He has walls built of fear, anguish, pain, anger, and of course stone. I can tell you know… I can tell.

I'd call it a gift but then again it's what I live… so easy to identify, so hard to live with.

I can feel my eyes grow wide as I glance down at his hands on my arm. They must of got there when he reached out to steady me.

They're hurting me.

I yank my arms away from his hands and they burn.

That's what I get for wearing a sweater that digs into my cuts when pressure is put on it.

I look into his hard as steel eyes again, and I can see a little shock there… but it's hidden quickly.

"Thanks for… not letting me fall on my ass," I tell him. Hey, my mother may have raised a slut, but she didn't raise an impolite slut (well if you don't could the 'ass' part…) I never was a good girl…

Now I see amusement in his eyes… he doesn't even try to hide it.

That's right.

Laugh at me.

But of course, I don't say anything, I just look at my shoes.


This is interesting.

"I was just on my way to see Alex… are you, you know that kid that's suppose to be living with them or something?" He asks. He has a low voice.

Sounds like my father when he's angry.

Sounds like one of my mothers many 'friends'.

"Well if you mean 'that kid' as in the 16 year old daughter of Jeff Parker then yeah," I say sarcastically and then take a step back, turning my feet at an angle that would allow me to run if he try and hit me.

"I'm Michael Guerin," he says to me sticking out a hand, but of course, I don't realize that it's just to shake my own, so I flinch back.

That feeling of my stomach dropping is back, as I think he's going to hit me.

I look up into his eyes again, and the shock… and, what is that? Understanding? It's evident in his eyes this time.

And now the 'sinking stomach' feeling is replaced by a choking feeling in my throat… he might know.

Did Alex tell him?

And then did this… this… Michael guy tell all of his friends?

Does all of Roswell know about what a fat slut Jeff Parker's real first child is?

I start to walk backwards… away from him.

He's told people.

He had to of told people.

"Hey!" He asks, something like fake concern, radiating off of him.

I'd answer, but I cant… the choking feeling in my throat is preventing it.

The last thing I see before turning around and once again running from my problems, is his hand dropping. It's pretty obvious now that I'm in no mood for introductions.

I cant think of what I'm doing, where I'm going.

I just suddenly feel like everyone around me is laughing at me.

Everyone that I run past is laughing… laughing and thinking, 'what a fat whore', 'what a sleaze', 'what a bad daughter she must be'…

I cover my ears as I run, tears… worthless tears are stinging my eyes, but I don't care, I have to stop the voices.


I start to gulp in air, and to clear my throat, hard.

My hands on my knee's, I shut my eyes tight, hoping to clear my vision of these useless tears, and to stop the ringing of voices.

As I straighten up, I realize where I am.

Roswell Park.

What a place to end up.

I notice a swing set nearby and make my way over to it.

As I begin to swing I remember all of the times I did this as a child. Only difference is that before the fighting started, I had someone to do it with, my father.

When they really began to fall apart and the fighting got out of hand I remember how often I use to sneak out and run to the nearest park… it was only a couple of miles away.

And I would swing.

I would be free.

And for a moment, and if only for a second I would forget.

Forget about the fighting, the painful jabs from my mother directed at me cutting me deep.

Forget about how much worse off I would be if I got caught sneaking out.

I got caught once or twice and the 'punishment' was harsh, but it was worth it. Anything was worth it to just be able to forget.

If only for a second.

And as I swing higher and higher I forget.

Forget the fact that I was sent away by a mother who didn't want a fat skank under her roof.

I forget that I was sent to my monster again, who now has a family that I feel extremely left out of… a family that has never felt a blow.

I forget my past.

But only for a second.

As I begin to come to a stop, that's when I notice someone on the swing next to me.


As I hear his voice I shove my shoes into the sand beneath the swing and come to a complete stop.


"I think we need to talk Lizzie-Bear."

And then I snap.

What do you guys think?

Love you guys!


posted on 14-Sep-2002 4:41:43 PM by SweetCherryKat
*Clears Throat*

Bonjour! Je ne parle pas anglais? Eh?

Ok, so you're totally not buying that right? ok ok...

So here I am!

Hey Lora my little stalker! hehe! This next part is for you.. even though right now you arent on.. but still!

Thank you EVERYONE who left f/b! I know it's been a while, but I've been busy.. RL sucks and what sucks even more is being SICK!

Ok so I hate this next part, but it's just bringing in one very important person.. I like to call him.. Max.. *tongue*!


Part Four:

Fucking amazing.

This is just great.

'We need to talk' I mean, what is that?

And calling me by my nickname… the same one that he use to call me right before a beating? Not exactly the best idea from him.

One look at him and I just know that he thinks that we can talk this out… that if he just talks to me that everything will be alright and I will fit right in with his perfect little family, with his perfect little step-son, and perfect little wife.

But I'm not perfect.

And one talk with him is not going to transform me into what he wants me to be.

I learned long ago that I cant be what everyone wants me to be.

I'm the ugly fat outcast with suicidal and cutter tendencies that no one takes seriously.

That's who I am.

It's hard enough for me to accept, but it makes it even harder, and makes it hurt even more when someone is trying to make me something I'm not.

I want to snap… and I'm one step away from just jumping off that cliff and letting all of my anger out to the one person who truly deserves it. The one person that ripped my life apart.

Ripped my childhood apart.

Ruined my entire life.

But I realize that he's the wrong person to put the blame on…

I have to remind myself that it's my fault that all of this happened.

I have to remember that I must have caused this.

My dad use to be a good dad… and one day, I must have truly fucked up because the fighting and beatings started.

I bet my parents even fought about me.

They probably asked themselves why they had to have such an ugly, fat, monstrosity of a daughter… and they'd fight about that.

And then it was taken out on me.

It's all my fault.

Always my fault.

So I tuck it all inside and stare blankly at my "dad".


Don't say it… don't say it.

"Sorry… I know that what I did was wrong-"

Like that makes it any better…

I want to yell at him, I want to scream at him that he tore me apart. That he left me black and blue and I was just a kid. What he did was more than wrong, and all I get is a sorry.


I say calmly.

I don't think he deserves to see me cry anymore, he's seen it enough times being the cause of it.

He doesn't deserve any emotion from me at all.

"Apology accepted. You can leave now," I tell him in my monotonous voice.

I'll give him what he wants, and then I'll take it out on myself later.

I don't think that he believes that I've accepted his apology because now he's standing and he's moving towards me.

Looks like I fucked up again.

I don't want to look in his eyes, I remember being younger and looking into his eyes, if only a quick glance and then… I'd see all of the anger and the hate… and it was all my fault… and then I'd feel the blow… and I'd bore the marks for days… the scars for years.

I don't want to look at him.

I just cant.

I feel that little jump inside of me again, the one that tells me that I might get hurt again, that I might be dragged off and beaten without mercy, only to have that followed up with words that sting just as much.

Well I always was one glutton for punishment and pain so I do glance up.

And I don't see anything but hurt… and maybe regret.

And then I realize what he stood up to do.

To hug me.

As he comes closer though, I can't help but flinch away.

He lost all rights to touch me a long time ago.

But I don't think that he realizes that because he pulls me to him anyway, and I freak out.

I push him away with all of the strength I have inside and just run.

I can hear the faint calls of my name and nickname behind me but I say screw all that.

I need to go and hide.

I need to go and cause myself pain.

I need to just go.

I duck into the first place I see only to realize that it's packed with people and it's pretty dark… only lit with low-watt light bulbs.

I notice a stage, and then things start to come into focus.

I must have ran into some sort of club or coffee house… or a little bit of both.

I cant even remember how I got here now.

The figures on stage look familiar… and then I notice that it's Alex, Michael, and someone else I don't know.

Shock of all shocks, it's a band.

Alex is bass, Michael drums, and the unknown lead is guitar.

Currently Mr. Unknown is sitting on a stool with a microphone up to him and a guitar slung around him.

And then he starts to play.

'Well I know the words,
But I cant really speak them,
To you…
And I hide all the pain,
That I've gained with my wisdom,
From you…

And I'm eaten alive,
By what I hold inside,
All the things that I live with,
I cant easily hide,
And I'm left here with nothing,
Nothing to live for,
But you…

It's not easy to hide,
All this damage inside,
I'll carry it with me,
Until I'm not alive…

When you look at my face,
Does it seem just as ugly,
To you…
And I cant seem to erase,
All the scars I have lived with,
From you…

I'm so sick of this place,
And this taste in my mouth,
Cause of you I cant figure,
What I'm all about,
And I'm left here with nothing,
Nothing to live for,
But you…

It's not easy to hide,
All this damage inside,
I'll carry it with me,
Until I'm not alive…'

Sometime during the song I end up leaning against the wall and sliding down it.

I bring my knees to my chest and let the tears fall… my blurry eyes locked with Mr. Unknown through the crowd of people…


posted on 14-Sep-2002 10:12:17 PM by SweetCherryKat
Bump... no fb?