Forsaken by Aelita
Title: Forsaken

Author: Aelita

E-mail: aelita@onebox.com

Rating: R

Category: Rath POV

Summary: A tiny but scary peek into the twisted mind of Rath

Disclaimer: Doesn't own Roswell or characters associated with

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How should I begin?

My life started in a sewer.

Not a hospital, a home, or even a freaking elevator like they love to show in those stupid movies. A god forsaken sewer.

I know how you gonna react. Your mug is gonna twist in disgust and pity and you gonna ask 'What kind of woman would give birth in a sewer?'

Screw you.

I don't need you fucking pity. And I don't give a flying fuck about your disgust.

But the thing is, I wasn't born. I hatched. Yeah, you heard me right. I hatched from a pod. Ah, now you're scared. How... pitiful.

Guess what?

You should be.

I can see the wheels turning inside that ugly head of yours.

'What is he?'

Nice hair, man. Makes your ears look bigger. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

I killed him by the way.

To answer you question... Easy. I'm an alien. More of a hybrid actually. Mix of human and alien DNA to create a perfect soldier.

There is nothing wrong with being a perfect soldier. I look mighty good too. Scientist of whatever planet I'm from did a damn fine job. They missed one thing though.

To be a good soldier, you need something to fight for. A family, a loved one...

And you need a conscience. I had it at some time in my fucked up life.

Did you know that conscience could wither and die?

Somewhere along the line, I stopped being a soldier and turned into vengeful, twisted killer.

Some scary shit, ain't it?

And ya know somethin'? It's your fault. Not you personally, but your species.

You know that in my entire life, no one had ever said a nice word to me? Not fucking once.

When I was a kid, I used to go to Central Park and look at families. I used to listen to mothers tell their children how special and beautiful they are.

I felt like my guts were ripped out.

I watched them play around nice cheerful blankets and eat sandwiches and other good-tasting shit in the spring. And I tried to ignore the pain in my gut cuz I haven't eaten in days. I used to come a little closer and watch as they fed the rest of the food to the ducks cuz they fucking didn't want to throw it into the garbage. And I had to fight the urge to attack those stupid birds and fight for those ridiculous pieces of bread.

I quickly learned how to steal food. Ya gotta or ya gonna starve to death. I don't need to now. All I gotta do is come up to some little fucker like yourself and tell 'im that I want his food. Works like a freaking charm.

Once, when I was really really hungry, I bit down my pride and walked over. Before I opened my mouth, the parents ran over and yelled at me to get the hell away from their nice clean picture-perfect children. They screamed that they'd call the cops if I didn't. So I fled. And I've never tried to walk over again.

But I still watched.

And I know they've seen me too but they always looked away.

I wanted to run to them and scream at them to look at me. To look past old clothes and dirty skin and see that I'm just like them. That I'm just like their kids. And if tables were turned, it might've been their son or daughter roaming the streets, cold and hungry.

As stupid little fucker as I was, I still realized that it ain't gonna do shitload of good.

So I just watched.

I watched them play in the snow in the winter. Their faces turned pink and they laughed like crazy while building some stupid snowman. And when the cold weather seeped through their thick winter coats, they went into their heated little homes and had hot chocolate to warm up.

I hated winter. They don't have freaking heating system in the sewer. And body heat doesn't help as much as they say. We never got sick; a quirk of having some alien shit mixed in out blood. But sometimes we got so cold, we couldn't feel our hands and feet and our skin hurt.

By some fucked up twist of fate, our crib was right under Park Avenue. Ya know, one of those expensive as shit parts of the city. At night, I roamed the streets, looking into brightly-lit windows. They had all those beautiful things, most of which they've never used... and I had shit.

I didn't care much for that. I didn't want those things. All I wanted was for someone to lo...

Whatfuckingever.

It was like a drug. It hurt but I couldn't stop watching.

The worst time was always Christmas. Kids were allowed to stay up a little later so they could play with their new toys. And the pride and love on the faces of their parents...

When I came back to the crib, I used to lie for hours and wonder. Why the hell was I left here? Why didn't I have a home? Did I have a family somewhere?

Did I have a mother?

I used to dream of her. A mother. My mother. She always looked the same: tall, long blond hair, and the warmest brown eyes you could imagine. She used to sing to me these soft lullabies and tell me stories. And when I woke up, my face was wet with pathetic little tears.

Like I said, I was a stupid little motherfucker.

I grew up though. And now, I'm someone you don't fuck with. Cuz I'll break you.

I now know who I am and why I'm here. And it ain't helping shit. My life sucks even more.

I killed one of my so-called friends. And was betrayed by the other two.

I'm alone now.

Not that I give a shit.

It makes it easier.

Cuz now I can do whatever I fucking want without having to listen to them whine and nag.

And you know what I want?

You know how you humans like to say, 'what goes around, comes around'? Or some stupid shit like that?

You didn't fucking care what'd happen to me.

Now I don't give a flying fuck to what happens to you.

Yep, this room is cold. And there is no food here.

I ain't gonna stick around but I'll come back in a few days.

I wonder...

Which will kill you first?

Cold or hunger?

What? Now ya gonna cry and beg? Pathetic really.

Too late, man.

Consider it payback. Ain't it a bitch?

The End