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Reply to Maria or visit her websitePosted to the Roswell Slash list June 10,2000
Title: Drugged (1/1)
Author: Alandra DeFlores
Date: June 10, 2000
Contact: (PlasmaticFanatic@aol.com) It's my first online fic, I'd really like to know what you think.
Distribute: anywhere, as long as you e-mail me first.
Spoilers: The White Room
Summary: A short Max POV
Disclaimer: Please. If I owned Roswell, I would NOT be writing fic. Well, I might, but that's not important.
* ~ + Special thanks to Meri for being my beta reader and thanks to Meredith + ~ *
What is wrong with me?
I'm all alone. I'm scared. I'm cold.
He enters. Inhuman. Unethical. Interrogating me. Prodding me. Asking about the dead agents. Telling me about the aliens they held captive years ago.
As if I give a damn.
I don't care. How can I?
He keeps leaning closer and closer to me, a smirk on his face. His blue eyes are piercing me while his breath falls in soft puffs on my lips.
Why? Why do I want his face to stay so near to my own?
Damnit, I have lost my mind.
He walks away for a moment, inquiring about those stupid orbs. When I refuse to reply, some guys in white suits come in and inject me with something.
But I've already been drugged. It just didn't come in a vial, a bottle or an IV.
The last thing I remember is a hand--his hand--stroking my hair softly... almost lovingly. An image of his face is the last image I have burned into my brain as I fade...
Electric Shock. Freezing Temperatures. Severe pain.
My body has endured all of these physical tortures, but it pales in comparison to the feeling that surges through my aching body as I try to use my powers on him and fail.
Because all I can do then is fall. Fall into his arms. I'm exhausted. I can't fight. And I don't know that I want to. He is cradling me, why is he cradling me?
I am disgusted with myself. I hate myself for feeling so damn safe for a fleeting fraction of time in the arms of a man who wants nothing but to poke, prod and destroy me.
Oh, God, what is wrong with me?
If I must die, please let me die now.
I cannot take any more of these torturous thoughts. Thoughts of this. Thoughts of him. If I continue feeling this way, I'd rather be dead. Anything to stop the flow.
************++++++++++++*******+++++++++++++****************++++++++++ It's done, like you didn't know. :)
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