Page 59 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
“How?” Maya asks. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “How are you always so positive? After everything the universe has thrown at you, you still stand tall? How do you do it?”
I’ve never seen my best friend like this. Maya’s always so composed. She looks like she’s falling apart at the seams, barely holding herself together.
“I don’t know.” I say. “I wish I had something better to tell you, I really do. It’s just the way I am. I just think of what needs to be done and I do it. When life hands me lemons, I squirt them in the eyes of my enemies.”
“What? I can’t tell if you are insane, or just stubborn. Lemons! Coming from the freaking farmer, of all people. That’s so like you.”
Her laughter dies, leaving the tears tracking down her cheeks.
“You have no idea how much I wish I was you sometimes. You’re like my personal superhero. I wish you could share your secrets,” Maya says.
Yep. So much for bathing—we’d stood here talking instead. I look down at my mud covered, torn, leather clothing. I look like a barbarian.
I giggle, and soon we are both snorting with laughter. It’s not true laughter, the kind that comes from deep within your soul, but it’s enough to help us survive the crazy lives we have now.
All this time, I’d thought Maya had it all—a real home, someone she loves to build a life with. I’d always believed her life was perfect.
It’s time that I consider someone else for once. Maya has always been there, looking out for me. Even Taccit was. Yet I was always lost to my own thoughts and problems. Now, it’s time for me to step up and return the favor.
Maya deserves a bright future, with someone who truly cares about her.
We throw ourselves into each other’s arms, clinging as if we’re on a cliff’s edge and just realized we’re afraid of heights.
Everything aches—my sore back and arms from battling injustice, my chest from knowing Maya’s been suffering in silence, and my heart from losing my one shot at happiness with Taccit.
I let go slightly, enough to tenderly hold her cheek. “We’ll get through this, I promise. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, we’ll make it.”
She sniffs, asking the million-dollar question: “But how? What do we do about it? About him?”
I wish I had an answer to satisfy her.
My mind races with ideas on how to help her, but let’s face it; if I can’t come up with a convincing strategy to do my laundry, what chance do I have at something like this?
Still, I’m determined to try.
“Baby steps,” I say.
“That’s so unlike you,” Maya comments. “You’re always rushing in. You’re nearly as bad as Stacy.”
I still can’t help but wonder how I’ll go on without Taccit. But I do know one thing: he would never want me to admit defeat. He taught me to stand up for myself. I won’t let that memory of him fade, ever. Maya called me her personal superhero, and I’m going to live up to that. I will stand up for justice.
From now on I’m never taking crap from anyone again, ever.
* * *
My feet dragagainst the cobblestone path beneath me. I can practically feel each individual pebble through these thin, pathetic excuses for shoes.
When I first landed on Atraxis, I scrounged for any spare change, hoping to ditch my dull, monotonous government-provided spacesuits for actual clothes. The embroidered fabric and thin soles are everything that I once wanted, and yet now they feel utterly useless.
I long for my big, clunky boots again. Oh, and I’d give up everything just to have Taccit walking beside me. Everything reminds me of him. Everything.
Walter gives me a very chilling warning about making a scene today. He expects that perfect little wife that bends to his every will. Only that’s not me. He thinks he’s broken me. Clearly, he’s never heard the phrase “ignorance is bliss”—it’s his default setting. He has no clue what’s coming.
The heartless way Walter treats me scares me into behaving, for now. I’m always rushing headlong into adventure, but this time I’m going to follow my own advice; don’t be a fool and bide your time.
I force a smile to my lips, baring my teeth to the world around me. A single tear escapes as I recall Taccit mistaking my smile for a challenge to a fight. And by the gods, do I feel like fighting. I really am baring my teeth, not smiling now.
My gaze drifts to Walter Sullivan, that insufferable man strutting ahead with Mr. Lewis. He holds his chin high and has an insufferable smirk plastered on his smug face. My anger simmers beneath the sadness, slowly growing and merging like tiny streams joining to form a mighty river of boiling hatred.
