No. *I* got fucked. I always get fucked. Michael Guerin, Roswell's fuckee.

But I'm the troublemaker, right? I'm the big, tall, rebel with a chip on his shoulder. So if little Liz Parker runs into my apartment and throws herself at me, unbuckles my belt and attacks me, it's still my fault. If she rides me hard into my cheap mattress and whispers somebody else's name with triumph, it's still my fault. If she makes me betray her best friend and mine...yeah, it's still my fault.

I know I'm not a gentleman. I know I'm street trash. I know I'm not noble and altruistic like Max. I never will be. But that doesn't mean I would hurt him on purpose. That doesn't mean that I would welcome his girlfriend into my bed with open arms and let her use me for whatever blood she had in her big brown eyes. He thinks Liz is perfect. Everyone does. Everyone thinks she's a saint. And, oh...I'm the sinner. Can't forget that.

The sheets are sticky. I don't think I ever want to smell vanilla perfume again. Or eat vanilla ice cream. I think I'll puke if I do.

I don't envy Max anymore. I don't envy what he has that I don't. I don't envy the fact that he loves a girl who cried her way onto my cock. Did Liz care that I might have plowed her full of alien DNA? Did she care that she took the only thing from me that I had left to give to the girl I love? No. All she cared about was making me crumble like she's crumbling. All she cared about was erasing her sainted true love for five sweaty minutes.

And I can't erase her off my skin. I can't erase her from my bed.

Can a guy get raped? Can a guy's mind get raped even if his stupid teenage body is totally willing? Can a guy curse the fact that he's no longer a virgin?

A Women's Shelter would probably laugh at me. Would probably hand Liz a medal for getting one over on the vicious male population. But then, Liz is always ready to accept such things, isn't she? Prized. Awarded. On Max's pedestal. And I'm in the dirt. I'm in grill grease. I'm the lowest of the low. She wanted to be in the dirt herself...slumming it for just a little while. And then she left me here alone.

I have to change the sheets.

I can't move.

Maria's coming over. It was her I was expecting at the door. Her sunny face. Her big green eyes. Sandalwood. Cypress oil. Tonight might have been the night...the night we made it all real. The night I threw caution to the wind.
I wonder if she'll slam the door. I wonder if she'll hate the smell of vanilla as much as I do now. I doubt it. I know I'm not lucky enough to escape blame. I'm not. I'm the big, tall, rebel...I'm the alien with the powers...I should've resisted. I could've pushed Liz away. I could've said something. I didn't have to take advantage of her grieving, innocent, friend. She'll walk out like she did that night at the soap factory. Calm. She'll tell me she needs some air.

If I walk into the CrashDown tomorrow, I'll see Liz's brown hair cascading over Max's shoulder as he stares down at her like she's his goddess. I'll hear them laugh and there won't be the slightest flicker in Liz's eyes. If I walk into the CrashDown tomorrow...Maria will turn her back to me.

I need to get some air.

I need to get some air.

I don't think I'll ever breathe again.

*

The apartment door was unlocked...and when she turned the knob and let herself in, the heavy smells of perfume and something muskier assailed her senses. And something coppery. Something bitter.

She ran the last few steps.

By the time she reached the converted futon and stared down at glassy dark eyes, the scream had all ready begun to rip from her throat. Her knees lost themselves. Her hands clutched at the bedsheet that had fallen to the floor.
And something fluttered down from his limp hand.

A page ripped from the copy of Ulysses he always kept within arm's reach. Shaky red letters had soaked through the faded paper.

*I'm sorry, Maria. Love you.*

Underneath her sobs and the cloying smell of blood, vanilla wafted up and choked her. She clutched his fingers to her mouth, kissing the cool, soft, skin.

"I love you, too, Michael."