Fandom - "Roswell"
Title: 'Monsters'
Author: mands_angelfox
Rating: PG
Genre : Angst
Pairing: None
Word Count: 711
Feedback: Constructive criticism is appreciated
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am merely borrowing them for my own twisted means and I am making no money out of this. Please don't sue me!
Author's Note: This was actually a response written for deviant_muses and the challenge was 'The Monster Under The Bed' and I thought I'd post it out there, I adore Roswell and have been meaning to write more fanfiction for it.
Summary: Michael's well versed in the way of monsters
-----------------------------
'Monsters'
Michael's never been afraid of the monster under his bed.
Maybe because he never had a loving parent to kiss a creased brow and to stroke hair whilst telling him that everything was going to be okay or maybe because he already had an actual monster to worry about.
The monster that drank and swore and hit. The monster that told him that he was a good for nothing dead beat that would never amount to anything.
Michael always knew he was different, always knew what he was capable of but every time hands were laid upon him, he would do nothing. His cover was too important, kill Hank and kill yourself. Bruises and cuts were easy to hide, Hank might have been a drunk but he was smart enough to know where to hit.
He was already lying about what he was so what was one more? Not that anyone would believe him, Michael Guerin didn't tell the truth, he was from the wrong side of the tracks. There wasn't a soul in Roswell that would believe the kid's word, only Max and Isabel but what could they do? No more than kids themselves.
Sometimes days would go by and there would be nothing to be afraid of but then suddenly a game would go wrong and Hank would get mad and Michael would be there, a convenient scapegoat. Fists beat against skin until Michael couldn't tell the difference between old and new. Silent, stoic and ashamed. Three emotions bundled up in the very mixed up Guerin child.
They say he hates the world, says he cares for nothing and no-one but himself but they don't know what he goes to home at night. Will never know, not if he has his way. He's been hiding it so long, it's become second nature. Max and Isabel's concern whenever it arose was shrugged off with a nonchalant wave of a hand or an angry exchange of words that were meant to say something else but in Michael's world, anger was easier.
No matter how hard Hank hit, Michael never ever hit back.
He just took it and sometimes he brought it upon himself, least that's what Hank told him. As he grew, he got mouthy and he would unleash all that hurt and all that pain and he'd receive a split lip or a broken rib. Insolence was unforgivable in the Guerin household. Lessons were beaten into you. Forever immortalised in a varied palette of reds, blues, purples and sometimes black.
Sometimes it wasn't Hank that was Michael's monster to fear; sometimes it was the little voice in the back of his mind. The voice that told him that Hank was right, that he wasn't anything or anyone special and he'd never belong. He didn't know what was worse, the ache in his body or the ache in his head. One from Hank's fists and the other from the words spewed from a mouth contorted into a visage so ugly that sometimes Michael couldn't bear to look.
Time passed and the beatings seemed easier to bear, he was bigger and stronger in a lot of respects.
He had Max, he had Isabel and eventually he had Maria. The girl that loved him in spite of everything and the one person that scared him more than anyone else. What she offered, all the things he had thought unattainable and for a while he was okay, actually okay. Life was looking up and then the monster reared its head again and Michael was left bruised and hurt.
Then one night, he couldn't take it any more and he showed Hank his true self. The events blurred, Hank was gone. The monster he had been afraid of for so long was gone and Michael was finally able to strike out by himself. Intimidating and daunting but ultimately the right decision. Life was good, well as good as it gets in Roswell, New Mexico, but then new monsters took Hank's place.
The men in black.
The skins.
The past that he had been seeking so desperately.
That one final goodbye.
Maybe he'll never be free and maybe he'll just have to keep fighting but let them come, Michael's well versed in the way of monsters.
Author: mands_angelfox
Rating: PG
Genre : Angst
Pairing: None
Word Count: 711
Feedback: Constructive criticism is appreciated
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am merely borrowing them for my own twisted means and I am making no money out of this. Please don't sue me!
Author's Note: This was actually a response written for deviant_muses and the challenge was 'The Monster Under The Bed' and I thought I'd post it out there, I adore Roswell and have been meaning to write more fanfiction for it.
Summary: Michael's well versed in the way of monsters
-----------------------------
'Monsters'
Michael's never been afraid of the monster under his bed.
Maybe because he never had a loving parent to kiss a creased brow and to stroke hair whilst telling him that everything was going to be okay or maybe because he already had an actual monster to worry about.
The monster that drank and swore and hit. The monster that told him that he was a good for nothing dead beat that would never amount to anything.
Michael always knew he was different, always knew what he was capable of but every time hands were laid upon him, he would do nothing. His cover was too important, kill Hank and kill yourself. Bruises and cuts were easy to hide, Hank might have been a drunk but he was smart enough to know where to hit.
He was already lying about what he was so what was one more? Not that anyone would believe him, Michael Guerin didn't tell the truth, he was from the wrong side of the tracks. There wasn't a soul in Roswell that would believe the kid's word, only Max and Isabel but what could they do? No more than kids themselves.
Sometimes days would go by and there would be nothing to be afraid of but then suddenly a game would go wrong and Hank would get mad and Michael would be there, a convenient scapegoat. Fists beat against skin until Michael couldn't tell the difference between old and new. Silent, stoic and ashamed. Three emotions bundled up in the very mixed up Guerin child.
They say he hates the world, says he cares for nothing and no-one but himself but they don't know what he goes to home at night. Will never know, not if he has his way. He's been hiding it so long, it's become second nature. Max and Isabel's concern whenever it arose was shrugged off with a nonchalant wave of a hand or an angry exchange of words that were meant to say something else but in Michael's world, anger was easier.
No matter how hard Hank hit, Michael never ever hit back.
He just took it and sometimes he brought it upon himself, least that's what Hank told him. As he grew, he got mouthy and he would unleash all that hurt and all that pain and he'd receive a split lip or a broken rib. Insolence was unforgivable in the Guerin household. Lessons were beaten into you. Forever immortalised in a varied palette of reds, blues, purples and sometimes black.
Sometimes it wasn't Hank that was Michael's monster to fear; sometimes it was the little voice in the back of his mind. The voice that told him that Hank was right, that he wasn't anything or anyone special and he'd never belong. He didn't know what was worse, the ache in his body or the ache in his head. One from Hank's fists and the other from the words spewed from a mouth contorted into a visage so ugly that sometimes Michael couldn't bear to look.
Time passed and the beatings seemed easier to bear, he was bigger and stronger in a lot of respects.
He had Max, he had Isabel and eventually he had Maria. The girl that loved him in spite of everything and the one person that scared him more than anyone else. What she offered, all the things he had thought unattainable and for a while he was okay, actually okay. Life was looking up and then the monster reared its head again and Michael was left bruised and hurt.
Then one night, he couldn't take it any more and he showed Hank his true self. The events blurred, Hank was gone. The monster he had been afraid of for so long was gone and Michael was finally able to strike out by himself. Intimidating and daunting but ultimately the right decision. Life was good, well as good as it gets in Roswell, New Mexico, but then new monsters took Hank's place.
The men in black.
The skins.
The past that he had been seeking so desperately.
That one final goodbye.
Maybe he'll never be free and maybe he'll just have to keep fighting but let them come, Michael's well versed in the way of monsters.