lost → liz gillies

Chapter 10: Finale

In the dimly lit living room of Liz and Michael's home, the air was thick with tension. The intervention team had gathered, their faces etched with deep concern. Without hesitation, Michael had agreed to participate, and the moment had arrived for Liz to confront her struggle with alcohol.

Liz, looking disheveled and drained, sat on the couch, a haunted expression in her eyes. Her colleagues, friends, and Michael surrounded her, forming a circle of support.

Daniella, her voice gentle yet firm, started the conversation. "Liz, we love you, and we're here because we're worried about you. We've noticed your behavior changing, and we believe that you may have a problem with alcohol."

Liz's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—surprise, defensiveness, and a hint of vulnerability. "You guys don't get it," she mumbled.

Eliza spoke up next. "We want to understand, Liz. Please, help us understand what you're going through."

Tears welled in Liz's eyes as she began to speak. "You don't understand the pressure, the expectations. It's like I can't escape from the past. Everything I do, every role I take on, it's like I'm trapped."

Elaine, her voice filled with empathy, asked, "Trapped in what, Liz?"

Liz's voice quivered as she replied, "In the shadow of Victorious. In the memories of what happened on set. I thought I could move on, but I can't."

Adam, who had silently observed the proceedings, spoke up. "Liz, you don't have to carry this burden alone. We're here to support you, but you have to let us in."

Liz's eyes welled with tears, her emotions raw as she faced the intervention team. Her trembling hands reached out, fingers brushing against the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Her voice, tinged with desperation, quivered as she spoke, "This... this is the only thing that makes me forget, makes me forget what happened."

Eliza, the voice of reason, leaned forward, blocking her access to the bottle. "Liz, we understand that it's been difficult, but alcohol won't make the pain go away. Please, talk to us."

Liz's agitation grew, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You think you know what it was like, what happened on that set? It was like we were all... toys to him." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Dan Schneider... he hurt us, all of us. And we were just kids."

The room was filled with an eerie silence, the weight of her confession hanging heavy in the air. The pain in her voice was palpable.

Michael, struggling with his own guilt, finally spoke. "I knew what was happening, Liz. I knew, and I couldn't protect you. I should have done more."

Liz turned to him, her eyes burning with anger. "You knew, and you did nothing. You let me suffer, and now you're here pretending like you care?"

Michael hung his head, unable to meet her gaze. "I was weak, Liz. I was afraid. I thought if I could just keep you by my side, I could protect you from the world."

Sam Adegoke, who had been a silent witness to the unfolding drama, spoke up. "Liz, we can't change the past, but we can support each other now. We can help you heal."

Liz's eyes darted back to the bottle, her craving for its numbing comfort intensifying. "This... this makes me forget. It makes me forget everything that happened."

Daniella, her voice gentle but unwavering, said, "Liz, we don't want you to forget. We want you to heal. You don't have to face this alone."

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, heavy with the weight of bitter accusations and unspoken pain. Liz's voice, normally melodious, had transformed into a torrent of anguish as she lashed out at Michael.

"You knew!" Her scream pierced the air, reverberating with years of suppressed torment. "You knew what he did to us, what he did to me, and you did nothing! You didn't protect me; you preyed on me just like he did!"

Michael, his face a mosaic of guilt and regret, stuttered, "I tried to shield you, Liz! I thought I could love you out of the darkness!"

"Don't you dare," she spat, her eyes ablaze with fury. "Don't you dare pretend your love was anything but selfish! You groomed me! You took advantage of my vulnerability, my broken relationship with my parents, and you used it against me!"

Their words hung in the air, a battleground of emotions. Liz's anger was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, but beneath the rage, there was hurt. Hurt that Michael, the person she had once believed in, had betrayed her.

Michael, his face a mask of torment and regret, struggled to find words to defend himself. "I told you couldn't give you what you wanted when we first met! You were the one who made advances towards me when you were 15!"

"Don't you dare shift the blame onto me!" Liz's eyes blazed with fury. "You fell in love with me, and you took me when I was just a vulnerable teenager! You should have been the responsible adult, the one who protected me! But you failed, Michael. You failed me! Just like everyone else!"

In the midst of the chaos, Elaine, her eyes brimming with empathy, stepped forward. "Liz, we're here for you. But you have to understand, Michael is not the enemy here. He made mistakes, grave ones, but he's not the person who hurt you on that set."

Liz's laughter was bitter, devoid of any humor. "Oh, he's not?! He might not have been Dan Schneider, but he was part of it! He watched as we were sexualized, as we were drugged, as we were broken! And he did nothing!"

Michael, his voice cracking, implored, "I loved you. I still do. But I couldn't undo the past, no matter how desperately I wanted to."

Liz's retort was a venomous whisper. "Your love was poisoned, Michael. You claimed to protect me, but all you did was feed off my pain. You're no better than him!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the echoes of their confrontation. The colleagues, once mere spectators, now understood the depth of Liz's suffering. The wounds she carried weren't just from Dan Schneider but were intertwined with a toxic love story that had shattered her youth and trust.

In that moment, the facade of strength that Liz had worn for years crumbled, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath. The battle against her past had just begun.

Liz's voice trembled as she repeated the words like a desperate mantra. "I want a divorce, Michael. I want out of this."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her shoulders heaved with the weight of years of pain and betrayal. She felt trapped, cornered by the past, and Michael was the living embodiment of her torment.

As she pushed against his chest, her sobs grew louder, more desperate. Her once-loving husband clung to her, refusing to let her go. It was a heart-wrenching struggle, the physical manifestation of her desire to break free from the grip of his manipulation.

The colleagues watched in horror, their eyes filled with tears. They had suspected that Liz might have been a victim, but they had never imagined the depths of her suffering. Her cries, her anguish, were a raw revelation of the pain she had concealed for so long.

But as Michael's arms tightened around her, and her struggle grew weaker, the ending remained ambiguous. Liz's battle against her past and the hold Michael had on her was far from over.

The only certainty was that the battle for Liz's freedom had just begun.