posted on 20-Apr-2002 11:34:44 PM
You know, I posted this story earlier on the 20th of April, but nobody responded. But the one person who's read my Roswell fiction before... asked me if I'd post this.... so technically.... this is a reprise... and also it's a homage for the person who's read my work. I don't like being ignored nobody does people!

Rebekah

TITLE: Nightmare
AUTHOR: Rebekah
RATING: R to NC17
CATEGORY: MLR
SPOILERS: The Pilot. Tess, Lies and videotape. Busted. Behind the Music.
DISCLAIMER: Not Mine, I'll put 'em back when I'm done playing with them, don't worry they'll be just as sexually frustrated as they were before.
FEEDBACK: Reply in the thread, e-mail me, whatever, just acknowledge my existence will ya', I've gone too long without people not reading my work… I like to know that it has a purpose other than for my own amusement.
NOTES: At end (yeahh, when I get there that is)!



NIGHTMARE

Beginning Chapter one


He lies below me, breathing my name like a mantra prayer. I want to hear my name said like that for the rest of my life. Feeling so warm and safe, having his arms encircled around my waist. Moving lower, leaving his hands to grip my hip bones, guiding me towards our mutual goal.

"Are you sure" he breaths out on a whisper.

I answer his question without a word, impaling myself down on his hard dick. Pain, a stark tight pain. But I want this-- we both want this.

I move languidly slow, taking him in so as not to hurt myself so definitely. Coming into contact with my cervix, he’s really inside me. I open my eyes, searching out his. He stares up at me, his expression awash in awe and love.

"Liz…" my eyes go out of focus, the pain is fading to the back of my mind, but it’s there no doubt about it.

"Liz Are you okay?" I breathe in deeply. And I start to rouse; moving myself to the rhythm that has welled up inside me. He gasps from under me. Gripping my hips more fiercely. Pressing me down hard when I move on the down stroke.

He knows to leave me in charge of this interaction. He may have been the one to knock on my bedroom window, but I’m the one who let him into my bed.

Moving more purposefully now. Feeling sweat slick down my spine, and pool at the small of my back. The exertion of this act… I never factored it in. He groans loudly, I can feel him become more insistent, driving into me, seeing perspiration gather on his brow, and chest. I need more leverage… I can feel something nearing. But I need something.

He reads my body language and pulls his knees up to support my aching back. I moan his name in thanks.

I’ve never felt this stirring need for release before in all my seventeen years. It feels so cold and hot at the same time. This is gnawing stimulation-- which won’t ebb, unless I push harder, or move in a more sensual pace. But I can feel his need over powering my own. He’s breathing more erratic, his body becoming awkward and ungraceful. Before I can make a conscious decision. I feel and hear his guttural cry, and the hot sensation of him filling the sheath we placed over him not too long ago.

"Liz…" He groans my name, as his release over takes him. And I watch in fascination. As he let’s himself go with such abandon. He’s beautiful.

My eyes open to the invading screech of my alarm clock. Screaming in my ear. Rolling over onto my back, feeling the stickiness of sweat clinging to my chest and neck. And the unmistakable ache between my legs.

"Damn it." I squirm out of bed, and into my bathroom. My reflection staring back at me, mocking me in my unsatisfied state.

I keep having these damn dreams! They won’t let up, four out of seven nights a week. My own boyfriend is laying me in my sleep. And each morning, be it Saturday or Wednesday I wake up feeling like a truck has run me over. I’ve never come in my dreamscape I’ve never come in any scope. I want to scream this is so fucking frustrating!

I walk away from the mirror, to turn on the shower. Not wanting to look into my own hateful eyes. Stepping under the spray, this is where I compose myself into what everyone sees. Selfless, ever encouraging Liz. The one to come to when you need someone. When will I be able to just go to someone? Who am I kidding I could always go to Maria, but she has enough to deal with right now.

I should just take it.

Max, I love Max. I express that to him in so many ways in my waking hours. But in my bed, in my head at night. I truly express how I feel. Giving myself to him for the first time in the dark. Experiencing the pain over and over. It never ceasing to come when I maneuver and I take him inside me. It’s masochistic of me to let my sub-conscious encounter the pain of losing my virginity so many times over.

Ever since Maria came to me confused out of her mind about her life. It all came down to her breaking it off with Michael. I can’t believe it was that simple, just cutting the cord from this person she cares so deeply about. God she loves him. And I understand where she’s coming from so well, and that freaks me out.

I said it to Maria that night "good bad indifferent, I’m committed." And I wasn’t lying; I wasn’t placating myself to the point where I don’t know who I am.

Last year I didn’t know who I was. So much pain, I felt like crying everyday, I felt like just walking into traffic. But I’m not that self-pitying; I was stronger than the feelings that were howling inside my head and chewing at me inside my gut. Then Alex got killed. And I knew that from the second Valenti told us. I knew something was deadly wrong.

I knew Alex almost as well as I knew myself. He was sensitive, but sensitive does not mean he’d deliberately drive himself into on going traffic. He’s too strong for that, too smart and too aware that his life ending would affect everyone who knew him.

Tess, God that fucking bitch. That fucking whore; she used Max; she used him like a pawn. Moving him around on her fictitious game board. I won’t hold it in. I hate her. I tolerated her--- as best I could. I let her be around me, When I knew buried down inside that she was two sided. One side I don’t know what, but the other side was depraved. She killed my best friend. And she stole the person I love more than life its self. She stole Max’s innocence. She took away something that I know he wanted to give me.

People say that I’m the epitome of innocence or naiveté. But that must come from the people that don’t know me at all. The people at school.

I’ll never forget walking down the hall, just… going to my locker minding my own business. It was right after I’d gotten back from Utah. All eyes on me. I never felt more self-conscious in my life. But I didn’t let on. I never let any of those prying eyes know that I felt smaller than dust, smaller and smaller by the second. I was empty.

"Without your dreams, you’re just me…" You’re just me, you’re just me.

I had dreams before I knew Max; they were the dreams of someone who couldn’t think outside the scope of her immediate life or as far as senior year. I’m not saying I was closed minded, or shut off from the outside world. But I truly felt like I lived in a haze for the most part of my life. Then I died and Max brought me back.

Maria spoke metaphorically about her being asleep the whole time. And as much as I’d like to be able to push my friend’s philosophy aside, I can’t. Have I been asleep the whole time I’ve been involved with Max? I said that I lived in a haze, and then he brought me out of it. I can’t stop thinking that I shut part of myself down when I got involved with Max. I just wish I had the initiative to wake the part of me that’s been living out its fantasies when I go to sleep.


End chapter one continued in chapter two…. (Not there yet though).


[ edited 2 time(s), last at 23-Apr-2002 5:20:14 AM ]
posted on 21-Apr-2002 3:55:50 AM
Hey Pacekates

Thanks for reading my piece.... and thank you for responding... and there will be more to it soon... promise.

~Rebekah
posted on 21-Apr-2002 6:08:46 AM
You know I'm reelly not familiar with this board.... I wish I had known not to lable my repost as solely chapter one.... 'cause here comes chapter two!

Disclaimer:(again, 'cause I don't want to get sued) All Characters affilliated with Roswell... are not mine, I just wanted to play with them for a little while... if anyone from Fox wants to to try and squeeze money from me for using these people unlawfully... they're not gonna get much!

NIGHTMARE

Beginning Chapter two


"Yes and I’d like a Will Smith-- I want that well done, no Mayo… hold the pickles, and could you replace the pimento olives for garlic stuffed?"

I really hate my job sometimes, actually most of the time I hate my job. After about an hour of taking orders, everyone starts to look the same. Even people that I know don’t look familiar. I can count on both hands, both feet and then barrow someone else’s hand, how many times people have come in I've taken their order, then after they’re done with their meal. They tell me how rude I was for not acknowledging who they are. Because I have A.P History with them or we played kick ball together in Elementary School! Or something as equally unimportant at this time in my life.

I hate my job.

"Girl, what is up with you today?" I’m on my break and trying really hard to unwind while I’m on the thirteenth hour of my double shift. Three more hours to go and then I have homework and oh yes-- I have to eat. Food is the last thing I'll want to be near after I'm done.

"Nothing, I’m just tired. And I have too many things going at once." She gives me a sympathetic look, and rubs my shoulder. "Sweetie darling, darling sweetie… you know how much I love you right?"

I’m having a hard time understanding where this sudden out pouring of love is coming from, but I’ll take it.

"Yes I know." Smiling back at her.

"Good ‘cause you’ve been looking really down lately… and I don’t want you feelin’ low without me there to gripe at. But listen I gotta get outta here. My Mom’s coming in from yet another one of her Little Green Men merchandise hunts. And I left the house a mess. I’ll call you later if I can get the place looking half decent, and console my mom from what ever atrocity occurred this time."

With that she slings her bag over her shoulder, and leaves.

Three hours, three hours, three hours… I can do this.

******

I don’t want to go sleep. The only other time I’ve ever felt that sleeping would be a bad idea, was when I was five and wanted to stay up and wait for Santa Claus to show up and bring me Malibu Barbie or a puppy. I fell asleep on the living room floor, my dad found me at two am. He tucked me into bed, kissed me Good Night. And I was the minority among most children that Christmas Day.

I stayed asleep until ten past eleven. When my mother shook me awake and asked if I wanted to see what Santa brought me? I was fuming. They had moved me! I had the prime spot staked and claimed. And they moved me! I digress that I was five, and I have now moved on to bigger and more provoking things to keep me from sleeping.

Sex.

I’ve never had sex. I’m a virgin. I always hated that word.

Verr’gIn.

Chaste, pure, undefiled, unpolluted, unsullied, fresh.

I don’t feel pure, I don’t feel chaste, and I certainly don’t feel fresh. I’m exhausted, horny-- (another word I do not enjoy), and I’m fed up.

What’s on TV? Insomniac Theatre, Maria and I used to watch that when we willingly had slumber parties. Eating popcorn that by that hour, stung hour lips from our excessive salt intake. And Coke that had gone warm or flat, or both. I remember one summer; we had stayed up well past three am. We were completely sleep deprived. The sun was rising, tinting the sky orange and red. We sat in front of Maria’s eighteen-inch. Eyes red rimed… having no idea what was going on. Monotonously singing along to The Backstreet Boys I want it that way, we don’t nor did we ever like The Backstreet Boys. But we saved out selves because during that mornings broadcast. They consistently aired Matchbox Twenty's… 3 am.

Staying up till dawn with my nearest and dearest, just because I could. Watching B-Movies and cheesy romantic comedies. Usually starring Meg Ryan opposite Billy Crystal, Kevin Klein or Tom Hanks. I haven’t seen When Harry met Sally since the summer before I died. God, saying it makes me sound like Emily from Our Town. That play I had to read last year in English.


******

Max and I haven’t been "close" since before Utah. Or more or less, since before we dawned ski masks and walked inside that convenience store. I’m not sorry for what we did. For what I did, I’m only sorry for the time we lost.

I lost.

Granted it was only a couple of days. But one day on the wrong side of those bars. Is too long to bear.

I don’t want to think about what happened in Utah. I want to think about… something else. Anything other than the gamut of traumatic events, that have happened in the last three years.

*****

A flash, then a rumble bellowing from the west. And the calming beat of rain on the roof of Amy Deluca's Jetta.

It rains in New Mexico, I know that surprises some people. But it does, quite a lot sometimes too. I like the rain, my dad used to say that when it rained, God was crying. I asked him why God would be crying once. He said, because He felt like it. I took his word for it, and never asked about God and his miss placed tears again.

God's not crying today. I don't think today's rain has to do with Him. And I'm not going to say that it has to do with me either. I'm not that self-righteous, you know. Today it's raining, because… it needs to rain.

"I call shot gun, woooo!"

I remember him covered with goo, smiling like an idiot. Rain pouring down, cold and hard. Big fat drops mud everywhere. And… he was smiling. My friend was smiling, my friends were smiling.

"What are you smiling about Girlie Girl?"

I turn to look at my friend. Her long blonde hair in two identical braids. Lipgloss shinny and ever present. My friend With the Lips.

"Alex." I answer simply, not even realizing the ramifications that might ensue.

"What about Alex?" She asks me, completely unfazed.

"Last year, when you and Michael were in Tucson with Laurie Dupree."

"Yeah… that was weird, go on."

Another rumble from the west, and the rain turns to hail.

"Alex and Kyle, when Michael killed the Queen. They came out of the cave. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen. They were covered in this slime, or goo, or whatever."

I can't help but hear the musical sound of Maria laughing.

"He always ended up covered with something, didn't he?" She gets out between giggles.

"Yeah… he did." I agree.

"I bet he was one of those kids that always played in the dirt or something. Or one of those kids who's sub-consciously trying to recreate the womb, so they're constantly in water."

"Recreate the womb, constantly in water? Maria, have you been listening in psychology class? Or have you been reading your mom's books again?"

The hail is huge, roughly the size of peas.

"Au contraire Monoamine, I've been doing both."

We pass the sign that says, 'Welcome to Roswell, Alien capitol of the world'. Little do they know how right that sign is.

We're coming in from Albuquerque, from a self-imposed shopping spree. More or less, Maria dragged me on a two-hour drive, so she could try on twelve pairs of pretty much the same jeans. With variations of, studs… Rhine stones, fringe, and sparkles. She bought two pairs, both hip slung, one plain and the other with studs on the belt. Tasteful, I swayed her from the hideous idea of buying Rhine stone-encrusted leather jeans. She bought me mocha for that.

We're quiet again, the weather outside covering up our lack of conversation.

"I miss him." She says out of the silence.

"I miss him too."

End Chapter two (I know I know kind of anticlimactic, but this is where my fingers stopped… and they wouldn't go again, more WILL come).
*bounce*

[ edited 2 time(s), last at 23-Apr-2002 5:24:29 AM ]
posted on 26-Apr-2002 12:07:15 AM
quote:
Alien614 originally wrote:
Hey Rebekah, It's me! I'm really glad that you are posting this here. I know you aren't getting alot of feedback but I think if you post all of your chapters on the same thread on the regular board first. Not everyone comes over here. That way they don't have to go searching everytime for the first chapter and so forth. Also put a rating on your title. like NC-17. Cause that will attract more people! Just to let you know I still think this is a great fic and you are a great writer! jackie*happy*


Thanks for the helpful insight.... I really appreciate it Jackie.... I'll go post chapter one on the creative board.... I put up chapter two there... but I haven't checked if anyone responded.

Thanks again,

~Rebekah

[ edited 1 time(s), last at 26-Apr-2002 2:47:34 AM ]
posted on 26-Apr-2002 11:27:21 PM
quote:
Angelalien originally wrote:
First off I like the story, Secondly why is Liz have dreams of Max and her have sex where she is feeling it in the morning.

*angel*



Thank you for reading my story.....

Where is she feeling it? Are you kidding me? She's feeling it in her vagina. LOL.... I'm sorry your quiry just seems kind of off kilter to me... Where else would she be feeling it?

~Rebekah

[ edited 1 time(s), last at 26-Apr-2002 11:28:22 PM ]