Title: In My Mind
Catagory: Alex/Liz (I really love them together!)
Rating: PG-13 to higher (at least by the time I'm done!)
Disclamer: I don't own anythig... YET LoL kidding! ~I would love to be the proud owner of a Colin Hanks though...~
Summary: Read on
Authors Notes: Ok, this is my first fanfic I've EVER posted. I guess I just got really inspired to do this. I'm a new TRUE BLUER and I really wanted to try it out... so be kind on the feedback. AND PLEASE SEND SOME FEEDBACK!

~*~IN MY MIND~*~

Part 1:

Lemme introduce myself – Liz Parker. I’m new here to this wonderful town of Roswell. Boring town, annoying town… suffocating town. Yep, that about sums it up. My only real emotion about this place. People talk here… and I don’t want them to talk about me, but I know they do. I’m “new” I’m the amazing new girl straight from NYC. Now, I know what is going through your head – WHY of all places would this girl move HERE instead of NYC. Ah, yes, the million dollar question. Since this is a SMALL town, that’s all ANYONE wants to know. Well I don’t know what to tell them.

I have no friends here… but as I look back I didn’t have many in New York either… well there was Lonnie. Good ol’ Lonnie. And let’s not forget Rath. But the thing is, now that I look back and actually start to think with a clear head, I see that they weren’t really friends.

They had a number of bad qualities, being nympho’s was pretty high on that list (can we put a GAG here please!?) The alcohol… the drugs… my problem, ok make that PROBLEMS.

I’m a punk. (No that is NOT my problem!) You know, the ‘I’m a bitch and don’t take no shit from nobody’ type of girl. So, I’m here in this town with all these really wholesome kids. Football players, cheerleaders, debate teamers… and all I want to do is gag.

I found one thing that I might be interested in… its singing. They have these tryouts for plays, musicals, bands… stuff like that, all the time here. Hey, as long as I’m not singing anything a blonde haired slut would sing, I’m cool.

So, here I am, in ROSWELL. I am beginning to wonder where they got all this alien stuff… and then I shove that thought aside to think about who in the hell MAKES this stuff.
Did I mention where I’m working? Oh yeah left the teeny weenie detail out… damn, and I thought you wouldn’t notice. Ok, I work at a place… I am a waitress… ok fine I’ll just lay it out for you- I work at a restaurant called the Crashdown. Laugh away you KNOW you want to. I’m in a sea foam green (how do I even KNOW that color?) work uniform, and oh the attenae… gotta love that.

My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jeff own it, they’re the ones that my parents shipped me off to. I’m sure they feel really lucky.

I go to therapy.

I see a therapist.

I have problems.

“The first step towards recovery is ADMITTING you have a problem.”

Well, congratulations to me. I have a problem.

So I go and see this therapist every other day… or more. We talk. Ok wait that’s a BIG lie (gotta cut down on those.) She talks, I say nothing. I refuse to. I’m not being a brat, I just can’t talk to her about this. I cant talk to ANYONE about this… it’s my problem, MY security blanket, and they want to take it away from me.

They want me to end up a cheerleader or a debate teamer. They want me to be a joiner not a loner. They want me to live outside of my head.

I don’t.

It’s really as simple as that.

So every night as I become numb, blocking out all the pain that I have come to rely on through anything… the tears role down my cheeks.

It’s like my emotions, my ‘human being’ side is trying to come out.

I don’t want it to.

That would mean I would have to live in this world, when I like mine so much better.

Pain is like that.

You get sucked into it, and you never want to leave.

Pain is something you can rely on. If you do something to hurt yourself, it will cause you pain. I have come to love pain. It’s the only thing in my life that I have left to rely on… because I know that I cant rely on anyone anymore, not even myself.

Because I’m not myself anymore.

I don’t even know who I was.

Part 2:

West Roswell High.


Ok, maybe a SLIGHT exaggeration… ok who am I kidding, add some horns to these people and hell here I come.

It’s like a big building full of people who want to know my life story. People who don’t seem to get the hint that I want nothing to do with them.

I walk in… head held high, trying hard not to loose it.

I’m a punk… in a room full of wholesome kids.

I’m the flame… they’re the moths.
The moths are so attracted to the flame because it’s new and different, it’s something they’re drawn to.

I draw people in.

Not my best quality.

I attract the girls because they want to know what’s wrong, maybe for new gossip… small towns are like that.

I attract the guys because I’m a bad girl, something that they never see here in this small of small towns.

I can feel people’s eyes on me. I know they’re laughing at me, I can hear the laughter, it’s inside my head growing louder and louder until I just cant take it anymore.

I can feel myself running, running from the laughter that I need to escape.

Until it’s gone.

Completely gone.

I finally open my eyes.

I’m in the band room, or at least that’s what I’m going to assume from all of the instruments in here.

Finally alone.

I see a guitar in the corner, and before I can stop myself, I’m picking it up, sitting, and my fingers are playing possessed by my soul that’s guiding them.

I can feel the tears flowing as I begin to sing:

“I’m feeling closed,
Take it inside,
Burn up the pain,
My thoughts are strange.
Just like the things I used to love,
Just like the tree that fell,
I heard it,
All this still inside,
I’m feeling.

I wanna bleed,
Show the world all that I have inside,
I want to scream,
Let the world flow,
that what keeps me alive.

Take out these strings,
They cut my veins,
Wrap them around,
Every fucking thing.

Prisons for people,
not for me,
I must remain in chains forever,
My love is music,
Like a memory melody.

I wanna bleed,
Show the world all that I have inside,
I want to scream,
Let the world flow that keeps me alive.

Well I said,
I want to bleed,
I want to feel,
I want to scream,
I want to bleed.

Wont you let me take you for a ride,
You can stop the world,
Try to change my mind,
Wont you let me show you how it feels,
You can stop the world,
But you won’t change me,
I need music...
I need music…
I need music…
To set me free
To let me bleed.” – Cold (CD- 13 Ways To Bleed Onstage.)

I didn’t hear anyone come in. My eyes are closed, and I can just feel the pain. For once I can feel emotion. The emotions I hate… depression, loneliness… The overwhelming need to hurt myself is back.

My eyes snap open and I begin scanning the room for something sharp, anything to cut deeply with.

I’m glad I’m alone


That’s when my eyes land on something unexpected.

A person to be more exact.

Great, I can see it now, all the talk around school.

‘Yeah the new girl is a total psychotic!’

‘Bawling her eyes out!’

‘Playing a guitar and singing some song!’

‘She’s pathetic!’

I feel a chill run through me.

“I… I didn’t mean to startle you… I was just… I forgot my book…” the guy stuttered. So he’s AFRAID of me, the psychotic. I feel wonderful.

“I gotta go.” And then I’m up and taking off.

I heard him call out faintly- “I’m Alex.”

I wasn’t in the mood for introductions.

Part 3:

I’m going from table to table. I suppose that some small part of my mind has to be on what I’m doing because I seem to be getting the orders right and everything.

I go up to another table.

Fake a smile.

Ask for order.

Fake a smile.

Bring drinks.

Fake a smile.

Bring food.

Fake a smile.

Need anything else?

All of this, over and over again. Eventually there are no more tables to wait. All of the people have vanished.

Now my entire mind is focusing on that one moment… the one in the band room.

That guy… he was… different.

I could tell right when I saw him. He wasn’t some football player jock having some hope of getting with me so he could say he laid the bad girl.

He was someone just like me. A punk. Bright green eyes, brownish red hair, with red streaks, lean body, and tall. I kept feeling a little ping inside of me.

I looked right into his eyes… they seemed so deep. Deep and pain filled. I wanted to know him… I did. But I can’t feel this ping, this feeling of needing someone. I can’t do that, it’s not fair to him.

All I want to do right now is take a knife and cut deeper and deeper until I finally dig out that ping and destroy it forever.

~Ting ting~

I’m actually almost rejoicing that another customer has entered, something to keep my mind off… Alex, yeah that’s his name.

Wrong again.

I must be the most unlucky person in all of the world, or at least in Roswell anyway.

Another thing I hate about small towns is that everywhere you turn, there’s someone you know. And I guess this must be my lucky day, because I just turned around and met eyes with Alex… someone I know. So my theory is correct. Go me.

I don’t even bother to lock eyes with him. I don’t want him to see the pain in them, to see into my soul, after all, the eyes are the windows to your soul. So I look away, going in smooth circles on the milkshake machine.

Of course he sits at one of the stools. Right where I would have to talk to him (although I’d have to talk to him anyway… I AM a waitress after all). I guess you can’t back out of this one can you Liz? I sigh as I drag myself over to where he’s sitting.

I finally get some kind of courage inside of me and raise my eyes to meet his. Beautiful, bright, green eyes. No matter how bright they are I can see the shadow in the back, the shadow of pain, just waiting to overtake him.

I want to save him… I want to rescue him from all of the pain that he is feeling. I can’t help him; I can’t even help myself. I feel even guiltier for that… I can’t help him.

“Hi, welcome to the Crashdown. I’m Liz, your server, what can I get for you tonight?” I say the speech that I was taught and look at him waiting. Ok, so he’s not listening to me. He’s just staring at me.

He shakes his head slightly and looks back down at the Formica table.

“Orange soda.” Good choice, one of my favorites.

His voice… slightly deep with a note of humor in it. I like it… a lot.

Part 4:

So now he has his orange soda and Saturn Rings. I keep glancing at him. I know that I shouldn’t, it’s just trouble. I don’t want to suck him in…

I pull the sleeves down on my shirt. Yeah, I wear a long sleeved shirt under my uniform… to hide the cuts. Wouldn’t want to scare off the customers. Plus I can do without the questions from the wholesome kids.

I grab a notebook from the back and make my way back out the dining area of the Crashdown. I sit at the far stool, the one farthest away from him. I don’t want to give him any bad ideas.

I begin my letter… to Paul. He always sort of understood me… I haven’t really talked to him since what happened, since I left. I keep writing all of these letters, and end up throwing them away. The words just don’t seem to say how I really feel… they just seem like bullshit, and he hates bull shit.

I don’t really know where to begin…

~ Ok, not a good opening line… I never know where to begin. ~

I know we haven’t talked. And I know that I’m the guilty party that has made this so. I just want you to know that I love you… I know that I’ve hurt you more than you are willing to admit. I’m just so sorry, and sorry just doesn’t seem to cover it. I only regret that I was the only one that lived through it. I should have died with them… I didn’t want to be saved, if I wanted to be saved I wouldn’t have put the gashes in my wrists that are still here to this day.

It’s my fault that you have to feel all of this pain, and I pray to god that you will never have to resort to the outlet that I had… have to.

I miss you so much. I miss seeing your face, the way you can always seem to make me laugh… the way you have never made me cry. I’m just so jumbled up Paulie. I wish you could save me, I wish you COULD HAVE saved me from the monster that I had become. Trapped in this ‘box’… But I don’t want you to feel as if it was your fault, because it wasn’t.

I think what I miss most is your friendship.

I know you probably wont reply to this letter, and I won’t be shocked. I wouldn’t reply either.

I just don’t want you to have to feel this way on my account. You don’t deserve that, you’re a magnificent person, and you deserve so-

That’s when I had to stop because:

a) I’m crying lightly
b) I have now noticed someone beside me

I look up at him from under my eyelashes. He’s so close that I can smell the leather or his jacket, and his cologne. I can even feel the heat coming off of his body.

I swiftly wipe the tears off my face and eyes, he lifts his hand to brush away the rest but I pull back, and look away. I have to remind myself that this guy probably thinks I’m a complete freak… which is probably true.

“I’m Alex, if you didn’t catch it earlier.”

I look away to hide a smirk… of course I caught it.

“And you’re Liz. The girl with the amazing voice that can play guitar like a bad ass… MY guitar to be more exact.” He smiles… I feel conflicting emotions. He didn’t call me the NEW girl. I was just a girl to him… thank the lord.

And yet, he probably thought of me as a nothing, only someone to talk to in a deserted restaurant.

“You’re guitar huh? Sorry about that… sorry about… everything.”

“No apology needed. I obviously wasn’t doing the guitar justice! You put me to shame!”

I almost feel a little happy from his comment… proud. And then the walls go up. No one pays me compliments unless they want something. This is no different, I have to remind myself of that.

I jump up and start to move around the counter.

“Is there something you wanted?” I asked, my voice clipped.

I can see he pulls back in a little surprise of my change of mood. That’s right buddy, this is me.

He’ll probably get up from his seat now, drop the money on the counter and leave like all the rest of them do. I can hear a thought nagging at the back of my mind:

Why are you REALLY doing this?

And then another voice, that actually has an answer for once:

Because you like him and you KNOW he could get in.

He doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t go right away. He just watches me as I begin cleaning, and eventually leaves.

He left a big tip.

Part 5:

“I really don’t think that we are making any progress Liz, I really don’t.”

Well… DUH!

My therapist really isn’t as bright as she comes off at the first time of meeting her.

I think that someday, she thought that she would be able to crack me and then she’d be able to write a great book.

By now, I think she can see that book deal slipping.

I still don’t talk to her, and when I do, they’re all lies.

I once told her I even had a little imaginary friend named Little Liz. I still piss her off, by going along with me having an imaginary friend. It avoids the topic I don’t really want to discuss, and amuses me.

She’d like to drop me as a client, I just know it. But I’m paying her bills for the most part, and she still thinks she can crack me someday.

“Would you like a soda Liz?” she asks politely with a big smile, trying to become my friend again.

“Aren’t you going to offer one to Little Liz?” I ask seriously.

The smile falls off her face.

The book deal has most definitely been thrown out the window.


Hey guys, if you want more, tell me. If not, I have more I would like to post!! (but I want to keep focused on this one, if it's what you want!!!) HEY Instant Message me- TeflonTuffGrl77