Author: therecordwontstopskipping PM
Side story to "Ali Di Angel." Max is waking up and she's confused. Is she Maxine Walker, daughter of Anne Walker, and human, or Maximum Ride, daugher of no one, and part bird?Rated: Fiction T - English - Max - Words: 830 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 4 - Published: 12-15-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4718978
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AN: This is a side story to my other, story, ALI DI ANGEL.
If you want, you can read this is you haven't read Ali Di Angel, but it will make no sense whatsoever.
Just thought you'd like a warning.
Disclaimer: JP owns everything.
My back hurts.
I know it's childish, but I want Mommy to make it better.
But, wait. I don't have a mother.
Or do I?
A flash of blond hair in my mind and a name pops into my mind. Anne Walker.
One side of me shies away from the name, while the other embraces it.
My back hurts.
I don't have a mother. Neither does Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, or Angel.
But...who are they?
My head hurts.
A flock. A flock of birds, perhaps? No, it's flock of kids. Kids, but they're birds too.
No, that's impossible. No one can have wings.
My back is on fire.
I want to scream out, to cry, to somehow block the pain out, but I can't. I hear my breathing and heartrate move slowly upwards-
Wait a second. Since when have I heard my heart beats.
Since always, haven't I? Because I have raptor hearing and sight.
But I don't.
Maximum Ride does, doesn't she?
And I'm Maxine Walker.
Or am I Maximum Ride?
My head hurts worse now.
My limbs feel dead. I'm trying to wiggle my fingers, wiggle my arms, do anything but I can't.
Something flashes through my mind.
I have to save Angel! I can't let me them get to Angel! Something pricks my arm and my limbs deaden. I can't feel them, can't control them, and drop to the ground. NO! Angel! I have to save her!
....But who's Angel?
I can feel my despair in the . . . memory? Is it a memory? I don't - I don't....remember doing that.
But I do.
Lava pours into my head and I almost cry out. My mouth is trying to move, to let me release this howl of pain, but my mouth is dead. My tongue is numb and I cannot move it.
Memories of another life, are pouring into my head. But I remember two childhoods. I try to whimper, but cannot.
In one childhood, I'm the unfortunate girl who's father had died. I live with my mother. I'm an only child. I am human.
In the other childhood, I'm the unfortunate girl who has no parents. Maybe I do, but I am probably a test tube baby. I used to live with a man named Jeb. I am an only child. I am part bird.
Neither childhood makes much sense to me.
I'm a subsititute teacher.
I'm a part human on the run.
I'm a spoiled little girl, who's mother gives her everything.
I'm a underfed little girl, who whitecoats starve and laugh at.
I'm the girl who was in a horrible accident, resulting in the two scars on my back.
I'm the girl who had her wings stuffed into her back, resulting in the two scars on my back.
I draw in a sharp breath, trying to grasp the situation. I have two childhoods. I only lived out one. Nothing makes sense anymore.
That's not my voice.
Max. Listen to me.
Who, a disembodied voice?
Max. You are a avian-human experiment. You lived out the first childhood. The second childhood is false, planted there by whitecoats to deceive you.
I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy.
Max! the voice orders. Listen to me! I'm telling the truth. Do you really feel like you lived out the first childhood? A lifetime of happy memories.
No. Wait, stop it! Why are you talking back, Maxine?!
Or is it Max?
I'm so confused.
My back hurts.
That's your wings regrowing.
Quite beautiful ones. Do you belive me?
Somehow I do.
Another voice perhaps?
"Max, can you hear me?"
No. This voice is hitting my ear drums, not being created in my head.
I wiggle my fingers. They move. A feeling of waking up is coming over my body and I struggle to open my eyes. I wrench them open and -
Too bright, too bright, too bright...
I clench them shut and wait a few seconds before slowly opening them.
A brunnette is leaning over me with concerned eyes. Maxine and Maximum are warring inside of me.
Maxine remembers her as a freak who knocked her out.
Maximum remembers her as her baby, her gorgeous baby, her baby with the goofy chicken wings.
My voice is rusty as I croak out, "Angel."
Poor Max. Poor, little confused Max.
She'll be better by the next few chapters.
Don't worry about her.