"Are you sure?" he breaths out on a whisper.

I answer his question without a word, impaling myself down on his hard dick. Pain, a stark tight pain. But I want this--- we both want this.

I move languidly slow, taking him in so as not to hurt myself to the point of agony. Bumping, coming into contact with my cervix, he's really inside me. I open my eyes, searching out his gaze. He stares up at me, his expression awash of awe and love.

"Liz are you okay?" I breathe in deeply. And start to rouse; moving myself to the rhythm that has welled up inside me. He gasps, gripping my hips more fiercely. Pressing me down hard when I move on the down stroke.

He knows to leave me in charge of this interaction. He may have been the one to knock on my bedroom window, but I'm the one who let him into my bed.

Moving more purposefully now. Feeling sweat slick down my spine, and pool at the small of my back. The exertion of this act... I never factored it in. groans loudly, I can feel him becoming more insistent, driving into me, seeing perspiration gather on his brow, and chest. I need more leverage... I can feel something nearing. But I need something.

He reads my body language pulling his knees up to support my aching back. I moan his name in thanks. I've never felt this stirring need for release before in all my seventeen years. It feels so cold and hot at the same time. This gnawing stimulation--- which won't ebb, unless I push harder, or move at a more sensual pace. But I can feel his need over powering my own. He's breathing more erratic, his body becoming awkward and ungraceful. Before I can make a conscious decision. I feel and hear his guttural cry, and the hot sensation o him filling the condom we placed over him not too long ago.

"Liz..." he groans my name, as his release over takes him. And I watch in fascination. As he let's himself go with such abandon. He's beautiful.

My eyes open to the invading screech of my alarm clock. Rolling over onto my back, feeling the stickiness of sweat clinging to my chest and neck. The unmistakable ache between my legs.

"Damn it." I squirm out of bed, and into my bathroom. My reflection staring back at me, mocking me in my unsatisfied state.

I keep having these damn dreams! They won't let up, four nights out of seven. My own boyfriend is laying me in my sleep. And each morning be it Saturday or Wednesday I wake feeling like a truck has run me over.

I've never come in my dreamscape I've never come in any scope. I want to scream this is so frustrating!

I walk away from the mirror, to turn on the shower. Not wanting to look into my own hateful eyes. Stepping under the spray, this is where I compose myself into what everyone sees. Selfless, ever encouraging Liz. The one to come to when you need someone. When will I be able to just go to someone? Who am I kidding I could always go to Maria, but she has enough to deal with right now. I should just take it.

Max, I love Max. I express that to him in so many ways in my waking hours. But in my bed, in my head at night. I truly express how I feel. Giving myself to him for the first time in the dark. Experiencing the pain over and over. It never ceasing to some when I maneuver and take him inside me. It's masochistic of me to let my self-conscious encounter the pain of losing my virginity countless times over the last few weeks.

Ever since Maria came to me confused out of her mine about her life. It all came down to breaking it off with Michael. I can't believe it was that simple, just cutting the cord from this person she cares so deeply about. God she loves him. And I understand where she's coming from so well, and that freaks me out.

I said it to Maria that night "good bad indifferent, I'm committed." And I wasn't lying; I wasn't placating myself to the point where I don't know who I am.

Last year I didn't know who I was. So much pain, I felt like crying everyday, I felt like walking into traffic. But I'm not that self-pitying; I was stronger than the feelings that were howling inside my head, chewing inside my gut. Then Alex got killed. And I knew from the second Valenti told us. I knew something was deadly wrong.

I knew Alex almost as well as I knew myself. He was sensitive, but sensitive does not mean he'd deliberately drive himself into on going traffic. He's too strong for that, too smart and too aware that his life ending would affect everyone who knew him.

Tess, god that fucking bitch. That fucking whore. She used Max; she used him like a pawn. Moving him around her fictitious game board. I won't hold it in. I hate her. I tolerated her--- as best I could. I let her be around me. When I knew buried down inside that she was two sided. One side I don't know what, but the other side was depraved. She killed my best friend. And she stole the person I love more than life its self. She stole Max's innocence. She took something that I knew he wanted to give me.

People say that I'm the epitome of innocence or naivete. But that must come from the people who don't know me at all. The people at school.

I'll never forget walking down the hall, just... going to my locker minding my own business. It was right after I'd gotten back from Utah. All eyes on me. I never felt more self-conscious in all my life. But I didn't let on. I never let any of those prying eyes know that I felt smaller than dust, smaller and smaller by the second. I was empty.

"Without your dreams, you're just me..." You're just me, you're just me, just me.

I had dreams before I knew Max; they were the dreams of someone who couldn't think outside the scope of her immediate life or as far as senior year. I'm not saying I was closed minded, or shut off from the outside word. But I truly felt like I lived in a haze for the most part of my life. Than I died and Max brought me back.