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A year ago, I had been a small town girl. A normal small town girl, who studied too much and had grandiose dreams of going to Harvard. A small town girl who had yet not figured out what she wanted to do with her life.

My world had been small and I had liked it like that. I had quite enjoyed that the biggest dramas in my life concerned my next exam and whatever life crisis Maria might be experiencing at the time. I had been quite happy about spending my weekends curled up in my bed reading a book or watching a movie.

Outside of school, most of my hours had been filled with working at the family restaurant. I hadn't minded. Every last cent my parents had given me in wages was put away in my savings account. Because even though I liked my humble and slow-paced life, I wanted to get out of Roswell. I always believed that there was something bigger waiting for me out there. Away from Roswell.

Even in my small town life, I had believed that I was meant for greater things.

Apparently, I had been correct. I was meant for greater things. But it was nothing like I had expected. Nothing that my wildest imagination (and sometimes it was indeed wild) could think up.

But it seemed as if I wasn't getting out of Roswell. It seemed as if I might just die here. It seemed as if my greater purpose would actually kill me.

Focus, Liz!

The mental order was harsh and annoyed, snapping me back to the surreal nightmare of my reality.

My mind had only wandered for a second, trying to pretend that the blood staining the walls didn't exist and that the inches thick dust covering some parts of the ground - and which I had to walk through - wasn't the ashes of aliens.

But worse than the blood and ashes of aliens were the carcasses. Pure aliens turned into ashes, hybrids did not. Hybrids stared at me with their unseeing eyes, their death forcing me to sometimes crawl over their immobile and stiffening bodies.

The closer we got to where Max and Isabel believed Command to be, the more obstructed our path became by an increasing number of fallen warriors.

I felt removed from what was going on around me. I was sinking further inside my own mind, all mental defense blocks going up to shield me from the horrors my eyes were not prepared to see. I knew I would be carrying this around with me forever - if I survived - and something inside of me screamed for me to protect myself from future pain and nightmares.

But the biggest reason why I felt removed from my present reality was Max.

He was acting strange.

He had seemed fine for the first twenty minutes or so - after we had gotten out of our hiding spot and started walking. He had held my hand and kept me close, while he and Isabel had gone through strategies. They had even laughed on occasion - to ease the tension in the air.

Then, Max had started to communicate with me through the bond, while still talking to Isabel. I had witnessed him doing that before, but it still amazed me how he could have two different conversations at the same time.

But his ability to keep a secret conversation with me while strategizing with his sister was not what had made my throat close up. It was not even the knowledge that we were getting closer and closer to the most dangerous alien on Earth.

No, it was that Max was starting to share memories of conversations between him and Tess with me. He had done something similar when Tess had been close, to boil my anger and give me the boost to react, but this was different.

This was intimate.

I was so taken back by his actions that I asked him out loud, "What are you doing?", making Isabel stop mid-sentence and look at me with a confused, almost annoyed, expression.

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