Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I remember it being partly cloudy. One of those days where the radiating heat of the sun was constantly being interrupted by quick bursts of cool, comforting shade.

It was the beginning of summer. School had only ended a week ago, and the two of us had spent literally every single day hanging out together since. After eight long months of torture, we finally got the chance to enjoy ourselves without having to worry about stupid stuff like homework or grades.

So naturally, we decided to worry about even stupider stuff.

Like the current situation Chloe was in.

“Max, come on, hurry up already!” She whined. Chloe might’ve been 11, but she still cried like a total baby.

“I’m trying!” I grumbled, running my fingers along the slightly rough surface of the blue painter’s tape currently decorating her face.

When we found a roll of it in the garage, Chloe had the brilliant idea of slapping some on her face so she could have an actual blue beard. Unfortunately, neither of us had the foresight to see just how much of a hassle it would be to take the stuff off when we finished playing pirates. If only I could find a loose edge…leave it to Chloe to somehow get the tape stuck to her skin this badly.

“Well, you’re taking too long! Try faster!” She pleaded. “If my mom sees us we’re gonna get into so much trouble!”

“This was your idea, genius. If anyone’s gonna get in trouble, it’s you.” I reminded her, finally finding a small bit of the tape that I could pinch between my fingers.

“The captain and her crew go down with the ship though,” She said, again – whining like a little baby.

“I thought the saying was ‘the captain goes down with the ship’...”

“Well- I’m changing it.”

“What?! Chloe, you can’t just change it like that.”

“Sure I can. I just did.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yuh huh!” She retorted. “Now come on, just rip it off…I can take it.” She said that last part in a voice that must’ve made her think she sounded like some kind of superhero. News flash for you: she almost certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Ugh, you’re impossible.” I groaned, deciding to relent on our little debate about old maritime sayings for now. “Get ready. I’m gonna count down from three, okay?”

Despite how confident she tried to seem just a couple seconds ago, Chloe looked like she might actually pee her pants. Nervously, she nodded, keeping eye contact with me as I got ready to pull. All I could really do was hope it wouldn’t hurt…at least – not a lot.

“Okay, here we go. One…two…THREE!”

Without a shred of hesitation, I tore the tape right off of Chloe’s face. It was a lot easier than I thought it’d be, but the ripping noise I heard made me think I’d accidentally pulled all her skin off for a second. Thankfully, Chloe still seemed to be in one piece.

“Ow!” She groaned, rubbing the side of her face I’d just pulled the tape from. “Did you get it?”

I raised an eyebrow, wiggling the blue strip in front of her face so she could see it. “Nope, I just wanted to hurt you.”

“Very funny…”

I giggled, releasing the tape from my hand so it’d slowly flutter onto the grass. I couldn’t help but give Chloe a look of sympathy though. Judging by how red her face was, I could tell that it must’ve stung.

What’s worse is that we were only a sixth of the way through.

“Well, that’s one down. Only five more to go.” I said.

I could practically feel Chloe’s dismay running through my bones the moment I said that. She almost looked like a scared little puppy…a puppy that had a burning bright red jawline, that is.

“Just- let’s do this quickly.” She muttered. “Don’t even worry about counting down. Just rip them all off.”

“Aye aye.” I said, feeling along the tape once again so I could find another edge to grab on to.

One by one I pulled each piece off, and while I did it as quickly as I could, some of those strips were really stuck. The one attached to her upper lip was so sticky that it took several heavy yanks before it finally came off her face. By the time I was done, Chloe was beet red, her poor eyes watery from how much she was straining herself not to cry.

“Excellent…job- Long Max Silver,” she croaked, giving me a thumbs up and a crooked smile that definitely wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Chloe…are you okay?” I asked, not really framing it as a question.

“Oh, yeah…totally.” She said…right as a single tear fell from one of her eyes and started rolling down the side of her cheek.

“Uh huh…”

I raised a skeptical eyebrow and reached forward, wiping the tear away with my fingers. I didn’t say anything else though. If she wanted to act tough, I guess I’d let her act tough.

Chloe gave me a weird look then. One that, to this day, I still haven’t been able to fully decipher. I still remember it, clear as day. For just a split second, her eyes bulged, then, her breath suddenly stopped, and she went stiff. At the time, I didn’t pay it any mind. To me, it was just Chloe being Chloe. Nothing else.

“Uh- looks like we have another adventure under our belts, don’t we?” She said quickly. “I can see the title card now…’The Adventures of Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver In: The Sticky Situation!’”

That was so corny I actually laughed. “I wonder what Captain Bluebeard would do if she didn’t have her first mate around to help her get in and out of trouble.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of a captain anymore now would I?” She smirked. “What’s a captain without her right hand?”

“A captain that needs a hook?” I said. Unfortunately, Chloe wasn’t amused.

“No, dummy, she’s nobody! I mean- what would you do without me?”

I hummed in thought. “Well…I probably wouldn’t get into so much trouble all the time…my dad still hasn’t gotten over us melting that barbie in your dad’s grill.”

“I think you mean Queen Callamastia’s last stand in the fires of Mount Doom.” She corrected me. That’s Chloe for you…always the one with the big imagination.

“I can still smell the hairs…” I grimaced.

“Oh come on, it was cool as fuck! Don’t try to tell me you didn’t like seeing it melt. When it got set on fire you went ‘ooooh’!”

I blushed. “Okay, it was pretty cool…”

“See?! Anyway, stop avoiding the question! What would you do without the amazing, super strong, undefeated, giga-smart Captain Bluebeard?”

Trying to ignore the spoonful of narcissism she just served me, I took a moment to genuinely start thinking about that question. What would I do without Chloe?

I wouldn’t really have anyone to watch scary movies with anymore. No one to talk to about the anime I watched either. I probably wouldn’t even have many excuses to go outside. I was too weird to be popular, too awkward to make friends, and way too timid to do anything cool on my own. I’d always had Chloe though. As long as I could remember. Without her, I think I’d be…

“Well, a first mate without her captain is…nobody.”

“Exactly!” Chloe smiled. “Now you’re gettin’ it!”

“Okay, captain.” I giggled. “What’s our next move then?”

“Argh!” She sounded. “Captain Bluebeard thinks us ne’er do wells should cool off by then there watching a few episodes of One Piece.”

“Argh! Aye aye, captain.” I saluted.

As we giggled together, I felt a breeze rush past us. The wind licked at our backs, ruffling our shirts and flooding our ears with noise. Not wanting to waste any time, Chloe grabbed my hand and led me toward the back door of her house. For that brief moment, time felt like it ran so slowly. My feet tread along the grass, tickling my ankles like tiny fingers with every step. Right before we got inside, I remember seeing something fly by, just barely out of view. When I turned my head to look, I saw a piece of the blue tape I’d just torn off of Chloe fluttering in the wind. The thin strip billowed with the breeze as it was blown past the fence surrounding us. Soaring into the sky toward some place I’d never know.

I miss those days. The days where it seemed like nothing ever mattered. Nothing but the two of us.

8 Years Later

It was hot. Way too hot for October.

Despite the fact that the weather had been getting colder and colder with each passing day that year, somehow, that day managed to feel hotter than even the highest peaks of summer.

The sky had been cloudless. The sun hung high and filled my body with an intense warmth as its light soaked through my skin. I don’t know how long I’d been standing, but my legs felt miserable. The stinging ache I was experiencing made me feel like I’d run a marathon and had a lumberjack take swings at my shins.

It didn’t help that my parents had argued with me in the parking lot for what felt like an eternity. For hours, they pleaded and begged that I come home with them, that I spent time away from Arcadia Bay and Blackwell.

“Honey, please, just come home with us. You need some time to recover, time to heal.” My mom had said.

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re feeling, but staying here isn’t going to help you. Your mother’s right. Come back home with us. We’ll help you get through this.” My dad said right after.

As much as I wanted their comfort, as much as I wanted to go back to someplace that wouldn’t tear me apart from the inside out…I couldn’t.

After everything that happened, after everything we’d gone through? I wasn’t going to leave her behind again. Not ever.

Finally, after they both realized it was pointless to try and convince me otherwise, they left for home. Their looks were sullen as I watched them drive away from campus, wrinkled from the worry that overtook their faces and almost resentful with my decision to stay. I didn’t like making them worry, but I had no choice. I had to stay here.

So now, I was left alone to walk back toward the dorm building with the sun looming over my head. It felt like an all seeing eye, a silent force that was stalking me and judging me for all the terrible decisions I’d made these last few weeks.

I couldn’t help but smile as I imagined that Chloe probably would’ve told me I’d just described Sauron right there. Thinking about the mischievously lopsided grin she might’ve had while teasing me about it made me feel so much calmer…yet so much worse.

I could barely keep my eyes open anymore. They were so irritated and puffy from the hours upon hours I’d spent crying today. The harsh light being cast on me from above made it damn near impossible to see more than just a few feet away. By now, I’d exhausted all the tears I had left. My lips cracked and bled from the dehydration and dry air of the Fall weather surrounding me, sending surges of stinging pain through my mouth as I breathed. I couldn’t help it, my nose was clogged after all; tight, strained, and congested. It probably looked red. Raw from the sheer number of times I had to wipe a tissue against it to catch my sniffles.

I allowed my feet to automatically guide me through the concrete paths that were paved in front of the dorms. The lush green lawn that surrounded the building was emptied, void of any students. Since everyone was in class, my only company were the birds that still lingered around town despite the cold weather. Their distant caws and hoots rang in my ears on repeat. A mocking cry that made me feel so powerless. Just a month ago, this place was teeming with life. Logan would toss a football to Zachary while a group of squirrels convened by the benches. Birds would chirp their carefree tunes as Samuel painted the windows. Everything was so much less complicated then. So much less painful.

I don’t remember walking into the dorm building, really. All I know is that at some point, I suddenly noticed I was languidly making my way up the flight of the stairs that led to the girls hall. I was glad no one was inside. No one would have to see me. No one would have to witness just how helpless and pathetic I looked.

I was dressed in all black, a similar outfit to the one I’d worn on the day of William’s funeral; a sleek black dress with a tiny shawl to match it resting atop my shoulders. Dangling around my neck was a golden necklace, bearing the silhouette of a standing doe. The one and only guardian angel I’d known throughout the horror I’d experienced in a week that never really happened. When I bought it, I figured it’d be lucky. Something to keep the universe at bay. Something that would stop it from setting its sights on me yet again. It was nice, but it was just a stand-in for what I really wanted: Chloe’s necklace. Those three bullets that dangled by an old, withered cord were laid to rest with their owner about two hours ago. Six feet below the ground.

I’d wanted to ask Joyce if I could have it. Something that would help make me feel a little closer to her. But the moment I worked up the courage to even try, a voice in the back of my head told me that it was a stupid idea.

You’ve already taken her daughter from her. You’re really going to sit there and ask her if you can take even more? Are you really that greedy? That cruel?

So, I just walked off. Ran away like I always do. I didn’t deserve to speak to her. Not when I’d been the one to take Chloe away from her. Today’s funeral was the first time I’d seen her in about two weeks. Between all the sobbing, she tried talking to me. Tried to let me know just how much Chloe loved and missed me.

It was so hard to hear a woman like her cry. For as long as I’d known her she’d always been so fierce, so strong. But after losing two of the most important people in her life, she broke down completely. I still remember how much it hurt my heart to see her get brought to her knees, wailing apologies to her daughter, crying to the heavens in hope that something somewhere would listen and bring her back. But nothing ever came.

Slowly, I inched closer and closer to my room. Of course, it just had to be the one at the very end of the hall.

A walk this long felt like some petty form of karmic justice. A way to make me suffer for just a little bit longer. As I meandered, the darkness of my outfit made me feel like a lonely shadow crawling across the walls.

When I did finally reach my room, it took an incredible amount of effort to lift my arm just enough to grab the doorknob. With approximately zero energy, I turned it and pushed the door open, walking inside. I don’t remember closing the door, or even moving throughout my room after that. I just sort of – blinked, and suddenly found myself sitting at my desk.

My legs had finally started to calm down. The weeping, crying sensation I felt them giving me my entire walk over was beginning to subside. It made me realize just how exhausted I was. How much I just wanted to sleep.

I couldn’t sleep though. I knew I’d just have nightmares like I’d been having every single night for the last month. So, all I could really do was sit there and stare at nothing in particular, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.

That final moment kept replaying itself in my mind over and over again. I could still feel the ice cold rain lashing and whipping at my skin. The roaring winds blasting me backward with every step I took on that soft, wet mud. It was like the world had come to an end. Everything I’d known was beginning to crumble and fly away into the tornado that loomed over the town like the forceful hand of an angry god.

Chloe and I were helpless. I mean – what could we possibly do to stop it? All week, I’d spent countless hours desperately trying to decipher what the hell my visions could’ve meant, and it all amounted to nothing. We’d only managed to accomplish one of the goals we set: finding Rachel. Of course, the only problem was that we found her dead, her lifeless, rotting body left to wither away in the junkyard.

For a single scary moment, I thought my only option was to sit on top of that cliff with Chloe and watch as everyone we knew got whisked away by the storm. I was ready to throw in the towel. Ready to give up. I’d been through far too much, and all I wanted was for that nightmare to end.

As I stared out into the sea, watching as the twister got closer and closer to the shoreline, I felt Chloe looking at me with horror etched into her eyes. For a moment, I thought she might break down, crumple under the weight of everything we’d been through, and all the horror we’d experienced those last few days together.

But she didn’t.

Instead, I felt an incredible resolve wash over her. She wasn’t scared anymore, she wasn’t angry, annoyed, or even depressed. She was certain. Certain of something I couldn’t understand until she reached into the pocket of her worn leather jacket.

“Max…this is the only way!” She yelled, trying to speak over the powerful gusts of wind currently clashing into us.

It was then that she handed me a photo. A Polaroid I’d taken of a brilliantly blue butterfly, sitting atop an old rusty bucket inside the Blackwell bathroom.

“I feel like I took this shot a thousand years ago…” I muttered. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what she meant. I was probably too distraught to process much of anything if I’m being honest.

While the photo got pelted by the rain, I gingerly took it from her hands and stepped forward. Staring at the image trapped inside the plastic coating. Before I knew it, Chloe was standing right next to me again. The same resolve I’d sensed now shining through her voice.

“You could use that photo to change everything right back to when you took that picture…” She said, “All that would take is for me to- to…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her will had finally started to show its cracks, and she buried her face in her hands. All I remember thinking back then was ‘No. I’m not going to let this happen. This isn’t how it ends’, and I immediately made that known.

“Fuck that!” I bellowed, finally turning to look at her. “No- no way! You are my number one priority now! You are all that matters to me!”

When I said those words, I swear, I saw the most melancholic smile cross her face, just before she let her arms go limp.

“I know.” She said, her voice fragile and afraid. “You proved that over and over again…even though I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m so selfish…not like my mom.” She continued. “Look what she had to give up and live through.”

I felt my eyes start to sting from the tears forming beneath my eyelids.

“She deserves so much more than to be killed by a storm in a fucking diner!”

I didn’t wanna hear it. I didn’t wanna let Chloe talk me into doing that. The moment I turned away though, she just came walking right back up to me, making sure I couldn’t ignore her cries. “Max, even my step…father. Deserves her alive. There’s so many more people in Arcadia Bay who should live…way more than me.”

“Don’t say that! I won’t trade you!” I shouted. At this point, I couldn’t tell if I was crying, or if my face was coated with rain.

“You’re not trading me, Max. Maybe you’ve just been delaying my real destiny…I mean- look at how many times I’ve almost died or actually died around you. Look at what’s happened in Arcadia Bay ever since you first saved me.”

I turned to look at the storm once again. Trying to pry my eyes away from her and denounce everything she was trying to say. Despite that, I couldn’t deny that I knew she was right.

“I know I’ve been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate…our fate…”

“Chloe…” I sobbed, shaking my head as desperately as I could.

“Max, you finally came back to me this week, and…you did nothing but show me your love and friendship.” She smiled, moving closer to me so we could see each other’s faces more clearly through the rain. “You made me smile and laugh, like I haven’t done in years. Wherever I end up after this…in whatever reality…all those moments between us were real, and they’ll always be ours. No matter what you choose, I know you’ll make the right decision.”

I clenched my fists, turning to face her. “Chloe, I can’t make this choice! I- I can’t!”

It was then that Chloe closed all the distance left between us, squeezing my shoulders in reassurance. Somehow, she was calm, collected. Despite the terror raining down upon us from barely a mile away, she said her next words without a hint of hesitation. “No, Max. You’re the only one who can.”

And there I was. Left to choose between thousands of innocent lives, and just one girl. My best friend, my fearless captain, my partner in time…the girl I loved more than anything in this world.

It was so stupid. So fucking unfair. So unbelievably cruel. But Chloe was right. I was the only one who could choose. The only one who had the power to save anyone.

My first thought was to rip that damn photo to shreds and say ‘fuck you’ to the universe. I’d hold Chloe tightly in my arms, tell her I’d never leave her again, and allow the storm to bear down on the town as the two of us embraced. It would be so simple, so easy. I could keep Chloe, and we could finally leave this godforsaken town behind so we could go make our own lives together somewhere. It would be fun…we’d travel around the country and go to all the places we’d dreamt about when we were kids. I’d take pictures every step of the way, maybe even get some of my work into any art galleries that wanted it. Chloe would be my muse. We’d be happy, alive, and free to roam to every corner of the earth that we could reach.

But, as I thought about all the amazing things Chloe and I could do together throughout our lives, my mind was drawn right back to the town standing helplessly in front of us. It was filled with hundreds- no- thousands of people that had so much potential and so much waiting for them. Victoria had only just started to understand herself, Kate was finally beginning to heal from her emotional torment, Warren and Brooke were finally going out on a date together at the drive-in, Taylor was waiting for her mom to recover, Juliet was shaping up to be an incredible journalist, Dana and Trevor seemed to be doing so well…there were so many people that I’d become friends with that deserved to live complete and fulfilling lives. They shouldn’t be forced to die in a storm like this…right?

But neither should Chloe. She didn’t deserve that. She never did anything wrong. She was just a girl that was angry at the world for taking away everything she held dear. Would she…hate me for taking her home away too? Hate me for taking her mom? I mean- she’d said it herself. Her mother didn’t deserve to die in a stupid fucking diner.

Right?

What was the right choice then? What was the best option? Which version of this stupid fucking story gave us the best outcome?

My heart knew the answer…I was just too much of a pussy to say it.

I don’t know what kind of face I made, but Chloe saw something in me that made her release the iron grip she had on my shoulders. She looked so calm

Why was she so calm?

“Max…it’s time.” She said,

She knew. She understood in that moment that my mind was made up.

“Chloe, I- I’m so sorry…I don’t wanna do this!” I cried.

“I know…” She whispered, wrapping her arms around me in a hug so warm that it cut through the freezing rain still spattering across our faces.

“I know, Max. But we have to. We have to save everybody, okay? And you’ll make those fuckers pay for what they did to Rachel.”

I didn’t know what else I could say. It was only now just dawning on me that this might be the last time I ever got to see her alive.

“Being together this week…it was the best farewell gift I could’ve hoped for.” She smiled. “You’re my hero Max.”

I shook my head. I was no hero. I was just a mistake that failed to do a single thing right my whole life. And now, I was staring into the vibrantly blue eyes of the woman I’d failed the most. I wanted to say something else, I wanted to let her know how much I loved her, but I couldn’t find the words.

So Instead, I did something that I don’t think either of us expected.

Moving forward like it was instinct, I reached out and cupped my hands onto her cheeks. Standing on the tips of my toes and leaning my head forward, I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and felt Chloe’s press into my own.

The world went silent as we kissed. It was my first one, and the most amazing thing I’d ever experienced. I don’t know how long it lasted, maybe three- five seconds? I’d never truly know. All I remember is that when it ended, I stared up into her eyes and felt my heart crumple as she slowly started to back away from me. Those blue locks of hers billowed beneath her soaked beanie, a color I’d never forget.

“I’ll always love you…” She said, “Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak…”

As she backed away, she gave me one last fleeting look. One that would be permanently engraved into my mind for the rest of my life. “And Max Caulfield? Don’t you forget about me.”

“Never.” I said aloud, mimicking the words of the promise I’d made to her right as I pulled myself out of my daydream.

By that point, enough time had passed to where students had started milling about the dorm building. Some of them were laughing amongst themselves, others were minding their own business, some were even having a bit of fun on the grass. Me? I was still stuck in my room. Still at a loss for words or emotion. For once, I wished time would just stop so I’d have the chance to catch up. Slow the world down so it wouldn’t move on without me too quickly. In a sick and twisted kind of way, it was pretty ironic. I could do it if I wanted to. Stop time itself and sit here forever. Like always though, I was too much of a pussy to even try using my powers again. I wasn’t even sure if I had them anymore.

Maybe I’ll just sit here and waste away until Kate or Victoria force me out. I thought. Hoping that I could get a little extra sleep. I was so tired.

Right as I turned in my chair to get up and head to bed (at an incredibly late three o’ clock in the afternoon), I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

Sitting on my windowsill, staring at me with its big buggy eyes, was a tiny blue butterfly. While its little antennae moved and wriggled around on its head, the glittering azure array of scales on its wings slowly flapped up and down in a hypnotic pattern. Don’t ask me how I knew, but to me, the bug somehow looked…curious.

Before I could even react, it fluttered away. Its little wings shimmering with every beat it made on its ascent.

I wanted to open the window and reach out for it. Cup it between my hands and never let go. I wanted it to take me away, allow me to fly toward the same blue sky it was aiming for. But I was too late.

I thought I’d exhausted all the tears I had left in me, but right as the butterfly disappeared from my view, I felt a single tear drop roll down the side of my cheek.

And for the hundredth time that day, I broke down in sobs.

Chapter Text

I think everyone, at some point in their life, wishes they could go back in time.

If not to see the people they’ve lost, or relive a moment in their lives where things might’ve been better, being able to go back by just a few measly seconds would be such an amazing power, wouldn’t it?

Maybe you were trying to comfort someone and said the wrong thing. You could just rewind it and try again. Maybe you hastily gave your teacher the wrong answer to a question in front of the whole class and made yourself look like a total idiot. Just rewind it and answer correctly. Maybe you play a sport, and you make a mistake that loses your team the whole game. Well, you could just rewind it and keep trying again and again until you finally got it right.

It’s easy to imagine how much better life would be if you could just turn back the clock, but no one ever thinks about the potential consequences of having a power so dangerously tantalizing, or the disasters you might create by doing even the slightest thing differently than how the universe intended.

And I think out of everyone in the world, I’m the only person that truly knows just how much damage messing with time can cause.

At least…I thought I knew.

While I didn’t realize it at the time, my life was about to change. And it would all start soon after I came face to face with a girl named Alice.

The day I met Alice started off just as boring and monotonous as every other day.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring loudly at me on my nightstand. It was 5AM, the same time I got up every single day of the week.

You might be thinking that 5AM is way too early to wake up, and believe me, I know. But I found out a long time ago that if you wanna be a morning person, you need to get a head start on everyone else first.

After silencing my alarm, I laid back down and spent nearly 20 minutes staring at the ceiling while experiencing some good old fashioned existential dread. It was kind of hard to breathe thanks to my cat Bongo deciding that he wanted to sleep on my stomach today. In the past, I’d tried to get him to stop doing that, but trying to get a cat to do much of anything is a battle you’ll almost always lose.

Once I nudged him off, I got up and did my morning stretches. Nothing too crazy, just some basic yoga poses to get the blood flowing. After that, I put on my running gear and made my way outside.

The path I took on my morning run was always the same. An hour and a half long trek that took me through the inner city and back. It was usually loud and bustling, but in the mornings, it was always nice and quiet. Still sleeping. Much like the people who actually liked themselves enough to get a full eight hours of rest before work.

At around 6:30 I got back to my apartment complex, Rochester Highlands. It was a small little place seated on a street called Westfall Road. I always thought the name was pretty ironic considering it wasn’t really on ‘high land’. In fact, it was almost as low as you could get around here. I mean- we were practically a stone’s throw away from Lake Ontario. The highest point of elevation was probably five feet at the most.

As for the apartment itself? I couldn’t really complain. It wasn’t the most lavish of spaces money could buy, but it was cozy, somewhat affordable, and extremely close to work. So, there wasn’t much more I could ask for.

As soon as you walked inside, you were placed into a tiny little foyer that opened up to a living area on the left. That space connected to the kitchen, the bathroom, the closets, and of course, my bedroom. It’d come a long way since I first moved here two years ago. Furnishing and decorating took a while, but thankfully, I’m an absolute beast at Animal Crossing, so it wasn’t my first rodeo in interior design. I had loads of photos lined up on the walls, and a cute comfy couch placed in the center of the living area that faced the TV standing atop my entertainment center. I had a nice coffee table placed between them too, and a few shelves strewn about the room that held a few more photos, candles, decorative plants; the works.

I made sure Bongo had his own amenities too, of course. I was a little scared that my super impulsive purchase of a cat tree worth several hundred dollars wouldn’t be a worthwhile investment, but it ended up working out in the end. That little tabby loved to climb, scratch, and hide in that thing all day long. Easily one of the best financial decisions I’ve ever made.

All in all, I had it pretty good (better than most people these days, at least). A bathroom, a bedroom, and a kitchen alone were basically everything a single photographer and her cat needed anyway, so I was practically living a life of luxury.

After stepping inside, I took a shower and got myself dressed for the day, choosing to wear a very fluffy and very snug pink sweater that I tucked into my jeans. I wrapped my golden doe necklace around my neck too, of course. There wasn’t a single day that went by where I didn’t have it on.

I’d never been a ‘dresses and risque clothing’ kind of girl, but I liked to think that my fashion sense had improved a little since the days I used to wear nothing but hoodies and jeans. Still though, no matter how much time passed I could never give up denim.

Once I looked presentable I got into the kitchen and ate the same breakfast I ate every single day: Waffles and bacon. With what little time I had left before I needed to get my ass to work, I did some research on my laptop. Scouring the internet for news about someone I was trying to keep tabs on. Just like the last 20 days, I found nothing of note.

With that, I tossed my dish into the sink and grabbed my bag. Before I left I gave Bongo a little scratch on the head like I always did, then, it was off to work.

The Rochester Institute of Technology…I started working as a photography professor there around two years ago. I’d been wanting to move over to the east coast for ages, and RIT had one of the best photography programs in the country. I figured with my experience and portfolio, I could get the job pretty easily.

And I was right.

After spending half my twenties working as a freelance photographer in Washington state, I figured I needed something a little more consistent. Teaching seemed like my best bet. After going through orientation, having some old geezer mentor me for a few months, and getting through my first two semesters without too many issues, I was finally a fully fledged member of the school’s faculty.

When I first applied, I wasn’t exactly sure I’d be a good teacher. I was never any good at public speaking. Hell- for the longest time I was terrified of it. When I was younger, I’d considered myself lucky to have only one panic attack on the days I presented school projects, so jumping right into education was a pretty big step for me.

Thanks to some encouraging words and assistance from a few friends though, I’d gotten a little better at it over the years. I was honestly really proud of my progress.

That didn’t mean it was all sunshine and rainbows though.

It was one thing to teach, and it was another thing entirely to deal with college students. It turns out that when you're a young and cool new teacher, you get some…unwanted attention.

If it wasn’t the boys in their late teens and early twenties trying to hit on me after classes, it was the older male staff members that made inappropriate comments about me behind my back. I’d tried to bring some of that stuff up to HR, but they either didn’t care or just chose not to believe me. Typical. Why believe little ol’ me over a guy who’s had multiple complaints made about him during his last 15 years of teaching, am I right? That totally doesn’t end in disaster…

Despite all that however, I still liked the job. Something about teaching people to get better at the art form I’d been obsessed with ever since I was a little girl was so fulfilling. I’d met a bunch of really talented and really bright students over the last few semesters I’d taught, and it was always satisfying to see them progress.

As soon as I got to campus, I made my way inside the same door I always did, and walked along the same path through the hall that I always took. The drive was short, so I usually got there around 7:30. Since the earliest classes didn’t start for another 30 minutes, the halls were usually pretty empty, which was absolutely fine by me.

The truth was, in spite of all of the progress I’d made toward being more comfortable while speaking in front of people, I still got pretty anxious before every lesson. Without fail, I could always count on feeling a lousy little pit in my stomach whenever I stepped foot on campus. A nice calming walk along the tiled floor without much to bother me was the perfect way to decompress and prepare.

All I ever had to deal with were the few students that chose to lazily mill around the halls while they tried to get their first class. Most of the time, they looked like zombies trying to find the next brain they could chew on, so no one was energetic enough to suddenly strike up a conversation or say hello.

With all that in mind, it was shaping up to be a pretty good start to the day. No unexpected setbacks, no bad news, no interruptions, and of course, no-

“Hey, Max!”

Great…shouldn’t have jinxed yourself, Max. I thought.

Putting on my most genuine ‘totally authentic’ smile, I turned on my heel and tried to make myself sound as chipper as humanly possible. “Donna! Good morning!”

“There you are, honey.” She huffed, slowly making her way over to me with a gait of exhaustion. I guessed she speed-walked over here all the way from her office on the opposite side of the building. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Donna Cariglio was a sweet older woman with curly black-gray hair that worked in student accounts and records. When I first started, I thought she was pretty nice. She was very welcoming, kind, and eager to get to know me…unfortunately it wasn’t until around a month after starting this job that I realized Donna could be a lot to handle sometimes.

I’m not sure why, but she can never seem to leave me alone for more than 30 minutes at a time. She’s always popping into my office whenever I’m trying to grade assignments, create new lesson plans, or do something as simple as eating lunch. She tries to talk to me all the time about faculty gossip, which I don’t really care for. Personally, I was already over highschool drama by the time I entered tenth grade. Thanks to Donna however, I’d learned way too much about the people I work with against my will over the last two years. I probably should’ve told her to stop, but…I’d feel kind of bad. I’m pretty sure I’m the only staff member that actually tolerates her.

“I was hoping I’d catch up with you before your first class,” She said, finally closing the distance between us.

“What’s up? Do you need something?”

“Did you get my email?” She asked, tilting her head as if I should’ve known what she was talking about.

“Uh…I don’t think so.” I said, but admittedly, I had seen that email last night. I just didn’t feel like opening it because whenever Donna sends me something, it’s usually a meme you’d find on a 50 year old woman’s Facebook page.

For the longest time, I seriously thought all the jokes about middle aged women liking minions was an overexaggeration. Boy, was I wrong.

“Weird. Must’ve been the system acting up again,” she sighed. “Anyway, remember when I told you about that student who wanted to be transferred to your class?”

“Oh- yeah. What was her name again?”

“Eh, I’m not sure. Ron handled most of the paperwork with her, I just wanted to let you know that she’s all set and should be in your eight o’ clock today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You walked all the way over here…just to tell me that?”

“What? And miss the chance to see my work wife?”

Insert groan here.

“Besides, I took the liberty of printing out a new attendance sheet for you.” She said, handing me a piece of paper that listed all my student’s names. I guess I couldn’t be too annoyed with her if she was going to go through the trouble of doing me a small favor like that.

“Oh- wowser, thanks Donna.” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, sweetie.” She smiled. And then, she got this conniving look on her face that I knew all too well by now. “By the way…did you hear about-”

“Nope!” I interrupted, quickly pulling my phone out from my pocket so I could act like I was checking the time. “Oh, would you look at that! I’m gonna be late! I should probably get going, thanks again!”

“Okay I’ll see you at lunch, honey. Take care!”

Thank dog.

Silently celebrating the fact that I just barely managed to avoid a potentially hour-long conversation with Donna, I turned right back around and finally walked over to my first class of the day.

RIT was a school known for its photography program, so naturally, I had a ton of students to manage on my own. There were a few other staff members aside from myself that taught the same classes, but that didn’t make the workload any less intense.

To put it into perspective, my ‘classroom’ was actually a large lecture hall. It was pretty much exactly what you’d think of if you tried to imagine what an advanced college level course might look like.

There was a big stage in the center with a couple of projectors that could beam images onto the walls hanging from the ceiling. Surrounding the stage, were a series of risers that stretched across the entire room. There were so many spots to sit in, and yet, the place was nearly full every single day of the week.

Normally, I’d get there about ten minutes before the start of class, but thanks to my little run-in with Donna, I only had about five. Half the time I’d normally have to settle in and reassert myself.

Making my way over to the table placed in the center of the stage, I set my bag down and let out a small breath, closing my eyes.

You know what you’re teaching today, Max. Just go with the flow and don’t let anything distract you. You’ve got this, I thought to myself. It was the same mantra I always repeated before the start of every lesson. It always helped to soothe my nerves.

The moment I heard the door open and felt my ears tingle from the sound of shuffling footsteps, I opened my eyes and gave my students a soft smile as they started milling inside. It was always pretty interesting (and pretty funny) to see how differently everyone acted in the morning. Some of my students were smiley, bubbly, and full of energy. Others looked like they’d just been dragged through a whole war and thensome right before they got to campus.

Some of them said ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, or ‘hi, Max’ as they walked to their seats. Others groggily waved, yawned, or just chose not to say anything at all; which I understood completely. Been there, done that.

I was never any good with names and faces, so even though we were already a few months into the semester, I still couldn’t tell you what some of my students looked like if you were to ask me unprompted. I was getting a little better with that though, slowly but surely.

While more and more students took their seats, I pulled my laptop out from my bag and plugged it into the projector. While I fiddled with the wires and opened up the slide-show for today’s lesson, I continued repeating my mantra:

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

My morning routine might’ve had a minor setback thanks to Donna, but things were starting to even out. As I kept repeating that same phrase over and over again in my head, the pit in my stomach slowly started to subside.

Today felt like it was going to be just fine. A standard, normal, run-of-the-mill, kind of day with absolutely no surprises.

And before you say it. Yeah, I know. Those were some pretty famous last words if I’ve ever heard them.

The moment I turned on the projector, right as some of the last few stragglers made their way inside, I felt something strange erupt inside my body.

It was a small throbbing buzz, and it was coming directly from the center of my right hand. It almost felt like I was holding some kind of invisible, vibrating phone; except it was somehow embedded inside the deepest layers of my skin.

Almost as soon as I felt it, I stopped breathing. For some weird, inexplicable reason, it didn’t feel right. Almost as if it was…agitated. That’s not how limbs are supposed to feel, right?

Slowly, I turned my hand over and stared at my palm. I don’t know what I expected to see exactly, but my hand looked fine. I still had five fingers, 14 joints, and not a single line on my skin was out of place. So why did it feel so wrong?

With every passing second that the buzzing continued, my fear and confusion grew to an immeasurable size. Suddenly, I could feel the pounding rhythm of my heart beating violently against my chest, and before I knew it, my throat was completely dry.

For a single, terrifying moment, I had only one thought crossing my mind.

It was that I knew this feeling. This sensation – this radiating energy. It was something I was familiar with. Something I hadn’t felt since-

No.

The second that thought popped into my head, I clenched my hand into a fist and stifled it immediately. There were probably hundreds of perfectly reasonable explanations for something like this. Things that were completely normal. Maybe I slept on my arm wrong, or maybe I pulled a muscle. Who knows?

I just had to keep telling myself to stay calm and ignore it. It would go away eventually.

Unfortunately that sentiment didn’t do much to stop me from feeling so clammy and awkward. Thanks to the episode my hand was currently having, I was now painfully aware of every single droplet of sweat currently forming on my skin.

Maybe I should take a moment to myself and head to the bathroom. My students could wait a few minutes while I calmed down, right?

No. Not without seeming like an absolute lunatic at least. My little display of craziness was probably confusing everyone.

Shit, everyone was staring at me like I was a total freak weren’t they? I didn’t even have to look, I could just- feel it. It was like every single eyeball in my peripheral was a tiny little needle specifically designed to prod at my nerves.

I steadied myself, inhaling my first breath of air in what felt like hours. Don’t lose your cool. You can do this.

Ignoring the sensation as best I could, I shook my head and turned to face the class, giving them all the best smile I could manage.

Thankfully, nobody said anything about my little spell of insanity. In fact, everyone seemed ready to start. Most of them had their notebooks already flipped open across the tables, pens in hands.

Well…it was time to do my thing.

“Good morning everyone!” I announced, receiving only a few groggy ‘good morning’s back from the crowd.

“So, housekeeping stuff first,” I said, clapping my hands together and moving forward across the stage. When my students were all grouped up together like this, they looked like a giant amorphous blob of pulsating color. It was hard to single out one person from the next unless I knew them well, so my eyes were usually all over the place; never finding a true point of focus to latch onto. “Like I said yesterday, this class is canceled tomorrow. I’m going on a trip and I’m not gonna be on campus, so don’t come to this room at eight o’ clock, alright? The only reason I keep reminding you guys is because last year, I said the same exact thing in an email and still had five people show up to my 101 class looking for me. Not that I’m pointing fingers or anything…”

I scanned the crowd and gave a knowing look to one of the offenders seated in the mess of students directly in front of me. His name was Jake Ramirez. Good student, but not the best listener and definitely not the best reader of emails.

When he noticed me staring at him, he shifted in his seat and shrugged nonchalantly. “Guilty…”

That got a few people to start laughing.

“Right,” I smirked. “Next, I’m almost done grading all your assignments on perspective. I should have them done by the end of the day, so…uh…make sure to check BrightSpace for those.”

Alright. So far so good.

For the most part, the slowly creeping sense of unease I was feeling as a result of my magical vibrating hand was being overshadowed by my anxiety. Never thought I’d be thankful for my stage fright until today.

Still, the buzzing didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time soon, which made it increasingly more difficult to ignore. With any luck, today’s lesson would be enough of a distraction to keep my stupid brain focused somewhere else.

“Okay…any questions about that?”

I got no response, signaling me to continue.

“Good. Now, uh- with that out of the way…” I said, moving back to my laptop so I could play the first slide of my presentation. “Today, we’re gonna be starting a new unit: color.”

As soon as I said that, I heard the sounds of about a dozen pens and pencils scribbling inside their notebooks.

“Color, as you all know, is one of the most fundamental elements of photography. You can use it to convey emotion, draw the viewer's attention to a specific point in the image, and even use it as a way to show us the story you’re trying to tell with your photos.”

I promptly hit the spacebar on my laptop, causing a new slide to appear that had a series of example photos from various artists lined up on screen. Each one was an iconic, colorful piece of art that I felt embodied my points. Untitled #96 by Cindy Sherman, Afghan Girl by Steve McCurry, Bliss by Charles O’Rear (which hopefully some of them would recognize), and Molotov Man by Susan Meiselas.

“All these photos here are telling a story, and their usage of color helps to capture that story.”

I hit the spacebar again, making everything – including the photos, go black and white.

“But, before we learn to understand how colors can enhance and enrich our work, I think it’s important for us to learn how a lack of color can change our perception of an image.”

The whole ‘changing the slide-show theme to black and white’ thing was an idea I came up with a few months ago. And yeah, I was still pretty proud of it. I had to give myself a little pat on the back for that one.

On the next slide, I had a picture of Bongo on display in full color. I snapped it a few weeks ago while he was lying on the cat tree. That lazy bum had his arms dangling off the side like he was some kind of delinquent. It was adorable, and a few of my students seemed to agree, because the moment he appeared on screen, one or two of them audibly went ‘aww’.

“Most of you probably know my cat Bongo by now, he’s a little stinker, but he looks pretty handsome in this photo I think.” I said, giving the image a smile. “When he’s in color, we can see lots of little details like the brownish grayish shades of his fur, or those big green eyes of his. But, when you take away that color…”

Suddenly, the image went black and white. “You can’t see all that anymore. The most important aspect of black and white photography is how it takes our images and forces our eyes to shift toward the more fundamental elements of the subject. Light, shadow, shape, texture…it allows us to make deeper observations about what we capture.”

I stepped forward, scanning over the class with intrigue. In the brief period of time that there was some dead air, my mind started to focus on that steadily whirring buzz in my hand again. I had to will myself to continue, clenching my fist in desperation. “Now, uh- can anyone name a photographer who excelled at capturing their subjects in black and white?”

I didn’t usually like to ask the whole class questions like this, but I figured it never hurt to let someone show off their knowledge every now and again. Plus, it would give them some participation points that I could add on to their grade at the end of the semester.

Immediately, I saw a few hands shoot up in the crowd. I decided to pick the one I saw first and pointed to a woman seated on the right side of the room. “Yes?”

“Brassaï?” She said,

“Great choice! Why did he come to mind?”

“His work on photographing Parisian life during the 30s and 40s is done in black and white. He had a lot of candid shots, and he captured so many different aspects of the human condition…like happiness, sadness, solitude...”

“Exactly!“ I agreed. “What’s your name?”

“Uh- Julia. Julia Packard.”

“Well thank you very much, Julia,” I added, making a mental note to mark her down for some bonus points once class was over.

“Now, she actually brings up a really interesting point. Brassaï used black and white photography to capture people as they were. It’s documenting realism. Not to mention – his work on photographing the people of Paris is practically timeless. By removing color, placing a focus on form, and perfecting composition, black and white photography allows the images you capture to transcend lifetimes.”

As I finished my explanation, I saw Julia flush with satisfaction. As hard as it was to discern her face among the sea of others seated next to her, I could tell she was proud of herself. Seeing that pride bloom to life in real time, that’s exactly what this job was all about.

The rest of the lesson went about as well as it could have. I did my best to guide the students through all the fundamentals of black of white photography: contrast, exposure, lighting, even some artists to look up and study. Hopefully, at some point next week, we’d move on to color like I planned.

There were a few times I found it difficult to speak over the course of the lesson however. The weird sensation in my hand had a death grip on my senses, constantly beckoning me to take notice of it and divert my attention away from all the students in front of me. Still, I ignored it and pushed through. 50 minutes later, we were finally done.

To close off the lecture, I assigned them the task of taking a black and white photo that highlighted one of the fundamentals we talked about. It probably eased their consciences to know that they’d have until Monday to get it done.

“Alright everyone, I hope you all have a good weekend! I’ll see you guys on Monday. Remember, don’t come to this class tomorrow. I’m looking at you, Ramirez.” I joked, which made him playfully roll his eyes.

Alright Max, another day, another lesson finished. Now, you just gotta get that grading done and figure out what the fuck is going on with your hand…

As students began to shuffle out the door, I started packing up. I secretly hoped that the moment I turned off the projector, the buzz would magically disappear. Considering it only started after I turned it on, I figured that maybe, just maybe, my body didn’t like it for some reason. Maybe I’d become sensitive to…I dunno, light rays? Does that happen as you get older?

Either way, it didn’t really matter in the end. As you might expect, nothing happened when I turned it off. In fact, I could actually feel the sensation getting worse. The once dull, irritating vibration at the center of my palm was slowly evolving into a much more violent and intense series of stinging throbs. You know how you’ll feel pins and needles after you wake up a sleeping body part? Think of that, but ten times worse.

I felt myself go stiff. This was bad. I was planning on taking attendance before I left for my office, but that’d have to wait. I needed to get the hell out of here and figure out what was going on before I lost my cool.

Quickly, I unplugged my laptop and started shoving it into my bag. Most of my students were already out the door, so hopefully, no one would notice how fast I was breathing.

After zipping up my bag I grabbed my attendance sheet, nervously crumpling the paper between my fingers as a result of all my worries. At this point, my hand was beginning to make me think it might actually get blown to smithereens if I didn’t do something about it as quickly as possible.

I was just about to pull my bag’s strap across my shoulder and make a break for it when I heard someone say “Um- Miss Caulfield?”

Eugh…

Listen, teaching already made me feel pretty old as it was. Having someone call me ‘miss’ or ‘professor’ was like a sucker punch to the gut. It made me sound like I was pushing 60…

“Just- Max is fine. Please.” I corrected, albeit with a bit more urgency than I meant to. When I looked up to see who was addressing me, I came face to face with a small, shy looking girl with a face covered in freckles, and a head full of frizzy red hair.

She was clutching her books tightly against her chest. Her impish face deftly pale from what I could only assume was nervousness. “Oh, uh- sorry. I- I wanted to uh- introduce myself. I just got transferred to this class?”

“Ohh!” I gasped, I’d almost forgotten about the late transfer. “Of course. Uh, you are…?”

“Alice? Alice O’Connor?”

“Yes! Alice!” I clarified “I remember now.”

I didn’t. Though, I found the name a little funny. Alice O’Connor wouldn’t be the first Alice I’d ever met in my life.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” I continued.

“Oh gosh, the pleasure’s all mine.” Alice said, sounding incredibly anxious. “Sorry. For- uh- transferring so late. I know you have a pretty full class but, you know, I figured I’d at least ask and see if I could get in here. I really appreciate you accepting.”

I knew I should probably try to end this conversation and get out of here as quickly as possible, but a part of me was genuinely curious about something. The semester started in August, and we were already several days into October. Despite that, this girl had requested a late transfer to my class for some reason. I’d never heard of something like that happening, and I’d been wondering about it for the last week and a half.

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s no problem,” I assured her, gripping the strap on my bag a little more tightly to try and fight back against the vibrations rippling through my fingers. “I am a little curious though…why wait so long to transfer over here?”

“Well- you see- I actually wanted to sign up for your class at first, but I messed it up when I registered.”

I expected there to be more to it, but Alice simply smiled at me like that was the end of the story. “And…you didn’t change it sooner?”

As soon as I said that, her face turned beet red. “Uh- no. I knew I’d have to talk on the phone with the registration office. It…kinda took me a while to work up the courage.” She confessed, moving one of her hands to rub the back of her neck.

“I see…” I said, honestly feeling a little sympathetic for her. I hated having to call people too, and If I wasn’t currently experiencing the world’s weirdest case of jazz hands, I’d probably talk to her a little more. I didn’t have the time to dilly dally though, so I readjusted my bag’s strap and started moving toward the door. “At any rate, I hope you have a good day, Alice. Again, it was nice to meet you.”

I only managed to get about three steps in before she called me again. “Oh- wait! Miss Caulfield!”

I bit my lip, turning back around to face her. “Please. Just call me Max. What is it?”

“Sorry,” She muttered. “I actually wanted to ask you something…if you don’t mind.”

I really wanted to tell her that it’d have to wait until Monday at the earliest, but the desperate look she had on her face was making my heart melt. I’d only ever seen one other person with such effective puppy eyes before.

Dammit, Max…why are you such a colossal softie?

“What’s that?”

“Okay, so- you totally don’t have to do this at all, and I know this is a suuuper unreasonable thing to ask, especially since we just met and you’re probably super busy,” She stammered. “But I was kind of wondering if – maybe…youdwannacometomyfirstjobwithme.”

She said that last part so fast that it was nearly unintelligible. “...what?”

“Ah fuck, I’m talking too fast again…” She groaned. After inhaling a great breath of air, she breathed out and looked at me with a lot more determination than I expected to see. “Okay, I wanted to ask if, maybe, you’d like to come to my first photography job with me. I finally managed to get one booked, and I’m super excited…but I’m also super scared things won’t turn out perfect. I was wondering, maybe, if you’d be willing to come along with me and help me correct any mistakes I make…maybe.”

That…was definitely new. I hadn’t been teaching for that long, but no one had ever asked me to tag along with them on a job before. Not to mention, who would hire an undergraduate to take photos for them? Was she taking family pictures for a friend? Senior photos for a cousin? I had so many questions that for a brief moment, I completely forgot about the raging storm of pulsating tremors in my hand. Or the fact that Alice was still talking.

“...and I’d pay you, obviously, Just ask for a percent and-”

The poor girl looked like she was about to spontaneously combust, so I raised a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about paying me. I’ll come along.”

For some reason, Alice got really dejected all of a sudden. After I said I’d go with her, she slumped her shoulders and looked off to the side in disappointment, meandering her way toward the door with a depressed limp in her step. “Oh…that’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be on board…I still wanted to ask though, just in case…”

“Alice, I said I’d come along.” I repeated.

She stopped, turning her head to look at me with incredulity. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I said.

Immediately, I saw her light up like a giant Christmas tree. “Oh! Oh my gosh that’s- that’s- you’d really do that?!”

“Sure.” I smiled. “I’ve never helped any of my students with their commissions before. Who knows? It might be fun.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much Miss Caulfield, I swear it’ll be fun. I promise.” She said, nodding in thanks while she backed up toward the door.

“Uh…Alice?”

“Yes?”

“It’s gonna be pretty hard for me to join you if I don’t know where to go.”

Alice’s body jolted with surprise, her eyes going wide as saucers. “Shoot! I forgot. Well, uh-”

“You know what?” I interjected. “Just email me. You do have my email, right?”

“Yeah! I’ll be sure to send you all the details! I swear!”

“Good. I hope I can join you but if it’s over the weekend I’m not gonna be able to tag along, alright?”

“Don’t worry, it’s in the middle of the week!” She said, her volume increasing the closer she got to the door. “Again, thank you so much Miss Caulfield! Have a good day!”

Before I had the chance to correct her again, she was gone.

Alice had been the only other person in the room, so now, I was finally alone. Left to stand on the stage in utter bewilderment.

As…interesting as that whole interaction was. I found Alice kind of sweet. She seemed so eager, and the way she started talking super fast whenever she got nervous reminded me of someone I used to know. Still, I really hoped I wasn’t getting myself into anything too crazy by agreeing to go with her on her first job.

Also, why did she make the decision to transfer over to me of all people? I hadn’t been teaching that long. Surely the other photography professors were just as good if not better than me, right? What would make Alice gravitate toward my class specifically?

Ugh…the sheer number of questions stewing in my head was going to make me short circuit if I wasn’t careful.

Forgetting about all that for the time being, I let out a long winded sigh and finally made my way into the hall. I immediately started walking toward the nurse’s office with the intention of getting some help with my hand, but there was a problem.

The throbbing, all the vibrations I felt, they were all – gone. Vanished without a trace. My hand was finally back to normal and I was so stuck in my own head that I hadn’t even noticed.

I felt my brow scrunch with confusion. A few minutes ago, my hand threatened to explode into a million pieces. Now, it felt the same way it always did. What changed?

Again, more questions.

One thing at a time, Max. I told myself.

I figured that I’d sleep on it. It was probably best that I focused on grading all those assignments first instead of worrying about things I didn’t have an answer for at the moment. So, I turned around and started my trek to the office building on the opposite end of campus. An unnerving presence of apprehension fixing itself into the back of my mind.

Throughout the rest of the day, I found myself constantly bracing for the inevitable return of the throbbing feeling that plagued my hand during class. But it never came back. I think at some point, my brain reasoned that it must’ve been an issue with my nerves instead of anything weird or out of the ordinary. I wasn’t sure if that was because I couldn’t think of any other reason for something so strange, or if it was because the explanation I did have in mind was one I didn’t wanna think about.

Either way, I went to bed that night feeling incredibly uneasy. All I could do was hope and pray that something similar – or worse, wouldn’t happen during my trip.

Chapter Text

Wanna know one of the best parts about being a morning person? Getting up early for a flight is an absolute piece of cake.

When I was younger, the very idea of waking up during the wee hours of the morning just so I could board a seven o’ clock flight would’ve made me feel like I was on my deathbed. Yet, here I was. Wide awake at 6AM and ready to go. The old Max could never.

When my dad told me that most of my habits would change or phase out as I got older, I didn’t realize how right he’d be. Being able to get up super early made me feel very mature and adult, but that also had the unintended side effect of making me feel like a grandma who wakes up at the crack of dawn so she can grab the early bird special at the nearest diner.

Don’t let anyone fool you….getting older really sucks.

Right after I got home from work, I spent the night packing for my trip. I went down the entire checklist, making sure I had absolutely everything I’d need for the next two days: clothes, toiletries, electronics, and of course, my camera equipment. It might’ve been a pain in the ass to get it through airport security sometimes, but I’ll be damned if I ever found myself somewhere without a camera closeby. Walking around without one was basically like being naked for me. If I didn’t have one in my bag, then I’d have one wrapped around my neck, and if I didn’t have one at all, I didn’t feel like myself. It was sort of like a separate body part I couldn’t live without.

Aside from all my stuff, I made sure Bongo had everything he needed too. He was pretty self-sufficient so all I really had to do was top off his feeder and fill up his water dispenser. I knew he’d be alright while I was gone, but it still pained me to think that I’d have to leave him until Sunday night. Bongo can be a real asshole of a cat sometimes, but he’s my asshole. And I love him for it.

Once I double checked to make sure I had everything I needed, I zipped up my luggage, gave Bongo one last pat on the head, stepped out of my apartment, locked the door, and carried my bags all the way to my car so I could drive to the Frederick Douglas airport nearby. It was a really short drive, around ten minutes.

The next eight hours that passed by were a pretty boring and uneventful blur. When I got to the airport I gave the front desk my bags and spent way too much time trying to get through security with all my camera equipment. Once I was finally inside, I felt my stomach grumble in agony and decided I should probably get something to eat. While on my way to the terminal, I scouted out one of those little eateries and ended up buying some overpriced waffles for breakfast.

They sucked.

After that, I spent the next two hours cramped into the window seat of a plane with two other people way older than me. Normally, I’d say that scenario was a pretty good description of what my own personal hell might look like, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that they both kept to themselves, which ended up making for a pretty soothing ride.

When we got to Chicago, I had to wait an extra hour to board my connecting flight, so I had a lot of time to do what I did best: observe.

At bigger airports like O’Hare International, there are so many different people from so many different places all packed together in one big space. One moment you’d see someone like me, an ordinary American girl from the east coast just lounging around in a chair; the next, you’d turn a corner and see a family from Belgium gorging on a bucket of chicken they bought from KFC.

There was always something so interesting about seeing all these different people milling about the terminals and interacting with one another. It was so interesting in fact, that I almost felt something I liked to call ‘The Itch’.

‘The Itch’ was a feeling I got whenever I saw something that truly piqued my interest. It could be anything: a bird, a street lamp, an old plastic cup left behind on the side of the road – as soon as I felt it, I’d immediately get filled with this incredible desire to photograph whatever I was looking at as quickly as possible. I’d pull out my camera, line up the shot, and snap a photo. No questions asked.

I wouldn’t spend too much time trying to get the perfect framing, the best angle, or even the most photogenic lighting. I just let the moment speak for itself. And usually, the photos I took whenever I got the itch were some of my all time favorites.

During my highschool years, the itch came to me like it was clockwork. I’d take a picture of practically everything I could see, and back then, all I could afford was a small instant camera my parents had gotten me for my 15th birthday. It was small, clunky, pretty annoying to operate, and an absolute pain in the ass to adjust, but I loved it. There was always something so special about the way those old polaroids looked that kept me hooked on them for years.

I had to make the switch to digital eventually, though. Every year that passed was a year that film got more and more expensive. It just wasn’t sustainable, especially when I started freelancing after college and needed to save all the money I possibly could.

The only problem was that whenever I got the itch, I always felt more inclined to take a photo with that old instant camera instead of the fancier, newer ones I had in my collection. I’m not entirely sure why that was. I figured that maybe, my brain really liked the idea of a polaroid more than a digital photo because it wasn’t something you could touch or doctor in any way. It was a moment in time frozen in its purest form. A true memory.

Or, it could’ve been nothing more than a remnant of my old habits. Who knows?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. My old instant camera was sitting alone on a shelf somewhere in my room collecting dust, so I wasn’t going to be taking any candid photographs when I felt the itch any time soon (assuming I felt it at all).

Nonetheless, I thought for a split second that maybe I’d snap a quick photo of some tourists with my Sony Alpha 7, but as usual, the moment I reached into my bag and felt my fingers brush against the smooth metal surface of the camera’s body, my desire plummeted to approximately zero.

Sighing to myself in disappointment, I plugged my phone into a charging station and tried to keep myself occupied for the remainder of my layover. When it was finally time to board, I plopped into another window seat and spent the next four hours awkwardly sitting next to two strangers. I hoped the ride would be just as soothing and quiet as my first one today, but of course, I totally jinxed myself. One of the passengers had a baby that decided to have a melt-down and cry for the entire duration of the flight. If I didn’t have any noise canceling headphones and audiobooks to save me, I might’ve lost my mind.

Lo and behold, after almost eight hours of traveling, I finally arrived in Seattle: the city I’d spent most of my adult life living in. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I smelled the air and immediately felt a great sense of familiarity…

And by familiarly I meant sea salt, way too much coffee, and a nauseating amount of car exhaust fumes.

Oh yeah, that’s the famous smell of Seattle I missed so much.

Once I grabbed my luggage, I stepped outside and texted my parents to come fetch me. They’d known I was making a quick stop back home for months now and were all too excited to bring me back to their place in Queen Anne, even if it was only for a little while.

Almost the exact second that old SUV rolled into the pick-up lane, the passenger side door burst open, and I was nearly tackled to the ground by my mom in a viscous hug. I didn’t even get the chance to utter a single syllable before I felt my body being crushed by a pair of surprisingly strong arms.

“Oh, my baby!” She shouted, happily planting a grand total of 5000 kisses all over my face. “I’m so glad to see you, honey! Did you get here okay? You didn’t have to wait too long, did you? No one gave you any trouble? No rude comments?”

She didn’t give me even half a second to answer a single one of those questions before she pulled me into another rib shattering hug. That’s my mom for you, one of the most amazingly kind and unapologetically loving people you’ll ever meet…but also a lot to handle sometimes.

Thankfully, my dad came to the rescue.

“Alright honey, give her a second to breathe before you knock our poor daughter out cold.” He chuckled. Once my mom finally managed to rip herself away from me with what seemed like great difficulty, my dad graced me with a much softer and much gentler embrace; his big arms instantly made me feel nice and cozy, just like they always did. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.”

“It’s good to see you too.” I smiled.

Despite the embarrassing number of kisses I just got in front of a dozen strangers, and the couple of hugs that made me feel like a giant stress toy, I was really happy to see my mom and dad. Not being able to visit them these last two years hurt way more than I thought it would.

I never imagined the day I’d actually start to miss my mom’s bear hugs would ever come, but life still seemed to be full of surprises.

After we packed my bags into the trunk, the three of us drove back home while my mom bombarded me with question after question. It was mostly surface level stuff about work: what living in Rochester was like, and what friend’s I’d made over the last year. I did my best to answer each one, but trying to get my mom to stop jumping from one topic to the next was a herculean task.

When we finally pulled into our skinny little driveway, I felt a massive wave of nostalgia pass over me. Even though it’d only been a year since I last visited my parents, it still felt like I’d been gone for a lifetime.

My apartment was nice and all, but I hadn’t lived in it long enough for it to truly feel like home just yet. Whenever I walked inside, I still felt that annoying tinge of unfamiliarity. A rattling at the back of my head that said ‘you aren’t where you’re supposed to be’.

When I stepped into my parents home though? The stiff shoulders I’d acquired from traveling all day immediately slumped and relaxed. It was almost like I’d been holding something in for a while, and it was only just now getting the chance to escape. An engine letting off steam it’d built up over hours of work.

The house itself was a place I always thought to be really sweet. It wasn’t a luxurious mansion by any means, but it was nice and cozy. On the first floor, there was a pretty spacious kitchen and dining room that opened up into a living area on the side. It had a nice big window that allowed lots of natural sunlight to filter in, making it the best spot to lounge around whenever you were exhausted from doing way too much homework at once.

On the second floor there were two bedrooms and two bathrooms; pretty much everything we’d ever needed while living here. My old room was pretty barren these days since I brought the vast majority of my stuff with me during the move, but I could still see my old bedsheets with the flowers on them neatly laid across the mattress, exactly how I left them.

Since I was starving, my dad decided that we order takeout and catch up a little bit. They both got some sandwiches from Panera, but me, I got my usual order of chicken tenders and fries from one of my favorite spots in town: Ezell’s.

“It’s been so hard not having you around here, honey.” My mom said as she finished sadly swallowing a bite of her chicken sandwich. “I miss when you’d come home for family movie nights and we’d sew pillows together…”

“I miss you guys too…” I admitted, trying not to sound too sad for my mom’s sake. “But this job’s been pretty good for me, I think.”

“You think?” My dad chimed in with a chuckle. “Max, a few years ago I never would’ve imagined you speaking in front of three people, let alone fifty.”

I felt my cheeks flush with heat. “Well, it’s still pretty nerve-wracking…”

“But you’re still doing it, sweetheart!” Mom added, reaching a hand across the table to affectionately squeeze one of my shoulders. “I really hope you know that both of us are so proud of you.”

It was then that she let out a long, tired sigh. Slowly, she pulled her hand away and gave me a look of wistfulness I wasn’t all that familiar with. “I really wish you’d see yourself the same way we do sometimes, honey…you’ve accomplished so much, but you still beat yourself up all the time.”

I didn’t really know how I was supposed to respond to that.

My parents were always trying to tell me that I’ve ‘accomplished so much’ and that I’ve ‘made it as a photographer’, but in these last ten years since highschool, I’d never really felt that way. If I was being completely honest with myself, I still felt like I was 18. Still shy, timid, and trapped in my own little cocoon of mediocrity. Instead of being a fully realized, confident version of myself like I should’ve been by now, I was still the same person I was in 2013, just – older.

Not knowing what else to say, I turned away and began idly chewing on another tender while staring at a random spot on the wall. Cue the awkward silence.

After a couple seconds worth of dead air, my dad spoke up again, breaking through the discomfort with his sweet gruff voice. “So…uh- how long are you gonna stick around before you head over to your hotel?”

“Mm…” I hummed. “I wanna go say hi to Kristen and Fernando while I can. So, maybe another couple of hours?”

He nodded. “Sounds good, sweetie. I filled up the car for you so she’s all ready to go when you are.”

I gave him a grateful smile. I really had the best parents ever. “Thanks, dad. You know, you really didn’t have to-”

“Hey.” He interrupted. “You might be older now but you’re still my little girl. Like it or not, I’m gonna spoil my daughter whenever I can.”

I rolled my eyes, but that didn’t stop me from giving him a great big smile of appreciation.

“On that note, while we still have you here I’ve been meaning to ask…” My mom started, giving me a nefarious look that told me she was about to ask a question that would embarrass the hell out of me. “Is my beautiful daughter seeing anyone?”

See?

“Mom…” I groaned, leaning back in my chair to avoid the onslaught of eyebrow wiggles she was sending my way.

Both of them started snickering together like a pair of hysterical chipmunks. They always knew the quickest way to fluster me, and I swear, they’d made it their life’s mission to get me red in the face every single time I came to visit.

“You guys are such bullies…”

“We do it out of love, I promise.” My mom teased. “Still though, you were talking to that one girl not too long ago weren’t you? What was her name again? Sally?”

Oh great.

Now, this might sound crazy, but my disastrous love life wasn’t really a topic I wanted to broach with my parents all that much. Suddenly, the idea of going out to visit Kristen and Fernando was becoming more and more attractive by the second.

“Welp, I should probably get going.” I said, standing up and completely ignoring my mom’s questions.

“No, wait! Seriously, what was her name? Was it Bella? Jane?”

“I love you both so much, and I’ll be sure to bring back the car tomorrow night.” I smiled, making my way towards the door.

“Please make it back in one piece,” My dad added in exasperation. “Love you, Max.”

“Honey, wait, it’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear!”

“See you guys again soon!”

Before she could object or guess yet another name, I plucked the car keys off the rack and stepped outside. Right as I shut the door, I could hear the muffled voice of my mom continuing to guess names like she was reading off a list. All my poor dad could do was say “no, honey…” over and over again in response.

Sorry, pops…

Well, that was one crisis averted. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to deal with any more until tomorrow, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

When I moved to Seattle back in 2008, it took me a long time to adjust.

I wasn’t really a city girl, so I received the biggest shock of my life when I was suddenly thrust into a giant bustling concrete jungle with no friends nearby when I was only 12 years old.

To make things even worse, I was almost immediately branded as the new dorky weird kid at school that no one wanted to talk to, so for the longest time, I felt completely alone.

That was until I met Kristen and Fernando.

My becoming friends with them always felt more like a stroke of good luck than anything else. Fernando and I had been in the same art class with a teacher named Mrs. Gillis back in 7th grade. One day, during a lesson, Fernando noticed me doodling a pretty shoddy version of Illidan from World of Warcraft in my notebook and started talking to me about it. Our shared love for the Alliance made us hit it off pretty quickly, which eventually led to me meeting Kristen: one of his close friends.

They were basically the only people I talked to during the vast majority of my highschool years. We had loads of fun together just messing around and being stupid across the city, but these days we were pretty out of touch. After I moved to the east coast, I tried my best to stay connected; messaging them every now and again to see how they were doing, and what work was like…but that’s about as far as our conversations usually went.

Fernando was currently working as a concept artist for a video game development company called Hardsuit Labs. Their studio was based in Seattle, and from what I’ve heard, they were currently working on some kind of rehashed vampire game that Fernando was pretty excited about.

Kristen on the other hand was working as a registered nurse at Harborview Medical. She always talked about wanting to be a professional singer, but that idea kind of fell by the wayside a couple years after we graduated. She wasn’t really making any money by performing at gigs or shows, so with the help of her parents, she went to college and spent four years completing the nursing program at the University of Washington.

Since both of them had pretty busy, hardworking jobs, it was needless to say that I didn’t get to say hi to either of them for very long.

My conversation with Fernando lasted a grand total of ten minutes. I asked for him at the front desk, got him to come down, and the two of us talked about what we’d been up to for the last year. There really wasn’t much to say. He was still working the same job, still talked to the same people, and still didn’t have much else going on in his life. The entire time we spoke, I got the impression that he was desperately trying to rush back upstairs so he could complete whatever he was working on.

I wanted to talk to him some more, maybe ask him how his family was doing or something, but I figured the only answer I would get was ‘they’re fine’. So, I decided to call it and let him get back to work.

Kristen was a little more energetic than he was, but our conversation was almost exactly the same.

Same job, same people, same life. The only difference was that, unlike Fernando, she actually looked like she wanted to continue talking to me for as long as she possibly could.

That was only because she wanted to avoid going back to work though. So unfortunately, when we ran out of things to say after only a couple of minutes, we said our goodbyes and parted ways.

All in all, I spent more time driving across the city to greet them than I spent actually talking.

The saddest part was that I wasn’t really surprised. The two of them were nice, and I definitely wouldn’t have gotten as far as I did in highschool without them to keep my spirits up, but our friendship had never gone deeper than drunkenly messing around together on the Fremont Troll at 4PM.

These last two years being gone from Seattle had allowed me to slowly watch myself fall out of friendship with them, and at this point, I had to wonder if it would even be worth it to try and say hello next year when I inevitably came back. I doubt they’d notice.

It also made me a little fearful that the same thing would happen to some of my other friends. People I knew that I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe, I was simply at a point in my life where all the friendships I’d fostered over the course of these last ten years were finally starting to slip away.

Like I said, getting older really sucks.

Either way, I had nothing left to do in the city, so I started the nearly four hour drive over to my hotel. From there, I’d be able to go to my true destination: A place that I always managed to come back to no matter how many years passed me by.

You’ve probably been wondering where the hell I’ve been meaning to go all this time.

Since I’m a photographer and all, you might’ve imagined something like a gorgeous scenic resort of some kind with tons of potential locations for some great shots. The perfect place for a photography professor’s weekend getaway. While that would’ve been absolutely amazing, it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Every single year, around the same time in October, I make a trip to my home town of Arcadia Bay to visit an old friend.

Arcadia Bay itself was a small and quiet little town nestled against the sea. No matter where you went, you could always smell the salty nip of the air and hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

I’d spent the vast majority of my childhood living there with my mom and dad, but when I was 12, we had to make the move to Seattle and said our goodbyes to the town along with everyone in it.

At first, I’d been more than excited to explore a whole new place, a city filled with wonder and possibility. But Seattle wasn’t anything like I imagined it to be. During that lonely period of time between the move and my first conversation with Fernando, I always found myself thinking about the bay and all the happy memories I’d made there as a kid. A part of me had always wanted to go back, but for the longest time, I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.

That was until I got accepted into one of the country’s premiere art schools: Blackwell Academy.

It was easily the biggest attraction that people had toward the place. A prestigious art school that taught some of America’s most well established and renowned artists, and it just so happened to be located in my hometown.

Getting into Blackwell started out as more of a pipe dream than anything else though. It was my ideal school, and the photography program there was being taught by one of my idols. While it was great to dream about, my parents didn’t have the money to send me there. If I wanted in, I’d have no choice but to bank all my hopes on getting a scholarship, which – if you know me – was insanely unlikely.

While I had my doubts, one of my tutors at the time, Mr. Turner, still encouraged me to build a portfolio that I could show to the school anyway. He figured that whether or not I got in, it wouldn’t hurt to at least make one and try to get myself out there, ‘throw my name into the pile’ so to speak.

After spending over a year and a half taking photos and studying nonstop to keep my grades up, I actually managed to get in, much to everyone’s surprise.

I still remember the day I got that acceptance letter. Both me and my parents were fully prepared to see something along the lines of ‘Dear Miss Caulfield, we think you’re amazing, but…’ within those first few sentences. However, as soon as we all saw those emboldened letters of congratulations printed at the very top of the page, we woke up the neighbors with all of our cheers and celebratory screams.

I thought it would be the beginning of a new era for me. My chance to truly come into my own and hone my craft at a school dedicated to fostering talent.

And boy was I wrong. Remind me to never be optimistic about anything like that ever again.

To say I had a terrible year there would be an understatement. It was more like the worst year of my entire life, but I still somehow managed to get through it, which is more than I can say for Blackwell itself.

After a number of terrible terrible things happened at the school within a short period of time, its reputation was completely trashed, and parents started pulling their kids out of the various art programs they’d signed up for.

Fewer students and a shitty reputation meant less money, less money meant less money to spend on the school and faculty, less money to spend on the school and faculty as well as a shitty reputation meant a teacher shortage, and all of those combined meant that Blackwell was forced to shut down only four years after I left it behind.

I wasn’t entirely sure how the school even stayed open for that long, but it was a shell of its former self by the time it finally closed its doors. It was kind of sad. A place that once represented opportunity and growth for hundreds of students had become nothing more than a trashy private school unfortunately placed in the middle of nowhere.

You’d figure that after all of that I wouldn’t want to set a single foot in that town ever again, right?

Well, that’s the thing…no matter how far I strayed away from Arcadia Bay, I always felt this powerful invisible force pulling me right back toward it. A rope wrapped around my waist that was tied too tightly for me to unravel, and tugged too forcefully for me to fight back.

So here I was. Ten years later and I was still going back to that place every single year. I had so many emotions and memories tied to that town; some beautifully happy, some terrifyingly horrific.

If I was being honest, a large part of myself had wanted to let that place go for years, leave it behind and never look back. However, another, much louder and more voracious part of me kept saying otherwise.

You can’t just leave it behind, it’d say. It’s only fair.

Regardless of all the conflicting feelings I had, I was almost there anyway. I’d spent way too much money and traveled way too much distance to just back out and go home at the last second.

There was no stopping it now. Tomorrow, in around 12 hours, I’d be back in Arcadia Bay to see someone I hadn’t talked to in exactly one year. Maybe one day I’d be able to fight back against that invisible rope and move on from that place once and for all, but that day was definitely not today.

By the time I got to my hotel, it was pretty late into the night. The drive took around four hours, and after spending more than half my day traveling around, going from one place to the next. I really just wanted to settle down and finally get some much needed sleep.

The place I was staying at was a 2-star hotel called Ashley Inn. It wasn’t the priciest place or even the most comfortable, but it got the job done. The beds were ever so slightly too squishy, the pillows were just a little too soft, and the sheets? Way too thin. Thank dog I only ever stayed at that place for one night at a time.

After I checked in and got to my room, I changed into my pajamas and tried my best to get cozy. Not being in a bed I was used to always fucked up my ability to sleep though, so it took me around an hour and a half of tossing and turning before I was finally able to shut my eyes.

I don’t remember what I dreamed about. These days, it was pretty rare for me to recall any of my dreams, but I wasn’t complaining. Unlike everyone else who had wacky weird visions of elephants eating cotton candy or something, I usually had nightmares. Nightmares I’d rather live without.

As usual, I woke up the next morning at around 5AM and stared at the ceiling until I felt sane enough to get out of bed and stretch. After getting dressed into my running gear, I stepped outside and ran around the area for about an hour. This part of Tillamook was pretty rural. Lots of farmland, a couple of buildings spread out here and there, but otherwise, a whole lotta nothin’. I kind of enjoyed how peaceful it was in comparison to Seattle and Rochester, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling a little out of place as I ran past all the freshly harvested corn fields across the valley.

After I got back I showered, changed into my outfit for the day, collected all my camera equipment, and ate some subpar waffles at the hotel’s breakfast bar. Between bites, I scrolled through various news websites on my phone in search of anything that’d give me some more information about a certain someone I’d been trying to keep track of. As usual, there was nothing new.

Once I finished eating, I packed my camera equipment into the car and made the 15 minute drive over to the town.

Passing by that old white sign that said Welcome to Arcadia Bay always filled my stomach with a confusing melting pot of emotions. I felt nostalgia, but also dread. Eagerness, but also anxiety. Familiarity, but also estrangement. So much about the town had changed over the last ten years, yet it still held the same silhouette of the place I once knew. It was almost like one of those aliens from Men in Black that wore a human’s body as a skin suit. It might’ve looked like Arcadia Bay, but to me, it was anything but.

It took another five minutes of driving before I finally reached my destination: Arcadia Bay Cemetery.

By the time I got there it was around eight o’ clock, the exact minute the gates would open for the day.

In years past, I’d let myself sleep in for a little bit and get there at around ten or eleven, but at those times, there were way more people walking around than you might expect. It was mostly older folks shuffling around to visit their long dead friends and family. While that was fine, I really liked having the place all to myself when I could. It didn’t take me very long to figure out that in order to get some time alone, I had to be there as early as possible.

After visiting this place annually for ten years in a row, I knew the groundskeeper by name. He was a sweet older gentleman named Stan, and every year, we’d say the exact same set of words to each other in greeting.

“Good morning, Stan.” I said as I walked through the gates.

“Good mornin’ Max. Good to see ya.” He said, nodding toward me with that old tired smile of his.

It was a surprisingly warm morning. There wasn’t a single cloud in the slowly brightening sky, and there was barely a hint of wind to be found in the air. In previous years, it was so cold at this time of day that I’d have to bundle up or wear gloves. Guess I could thank climate change for the nicer weather.

As soon as I got a good distance away from the gates, I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath, letting the cold salty hint of the nearly nonexistent breeze transfix into my nostrils. Off in the distance I could hear the faint echoes of birds chirping and chiming in the trees. Otherwise, it was completely quiet. The perfect environment for a visit.

The Arcadia Bay cemetery was a large strip of land with a wide gravel road stretching across the entire length of the property. When you walked in, you’d see row after row of gravestones and tombs neatly placed into a tight grid. Some of them were a little uneven, shifted to the side thanks to years of harsh weather disturbing the ground. Others were discolored, corroded from the salty sea air that drifted through the trees. In a way, the sight eerily reminded me of what weeds looked like as they sprouted from the ground. The graves were almost like the uneven and sporadic stems of dandelions growing against the grass, all varying in shape and size.

I’d done this enough times to know exactly how long it would take for me to get to the place I wanted to go: 300 steps forward, 150 steps to the right. It was a little bit of a trek, but I didn’t mind.

As I walked forward, the gravel crunched and shifted beneath my feet. Every step felt heavier than the last, like every time I raised one of my legs, someone would magically place a block of lead into the soles of my shoes.

I took note of every landmark that I passed. A large stone pillar, a set of old metal benches, a tattered American flag, and finally, a grave carved into the shape of a pillow. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was time to turn to the right.

The grass I walked on was recently cut, every blade wet and shimmering from the morning dew still coating them. My shoes grew slippery with every step, sometimes squeaking when I hit a particularly dense patch of grass beneath me.

There weren’t any landmarks to keep track of, so I always kept count of my steps.

102…103…104…105…

When I eventually reached 150, I stopped and turned in place.

Right in front of me, low to the ground, was a single gravestone, seated directly next to a set of long wilted flowers.

After ten years of constant exposure to the ocean air and the harsh elements of western Oregon, the once polished granite looked a lot more dull and worn. The smooth luster the stone once had was long gone, replaced with green stains that must’ve been left over from slowly growing moss. Even the engraving was starting to grow soft. The once sharp and clean edges a machine had cut into the stone were now rounded and pitted with dirt that Stan just couldn’t clean out.

Despite all that, I could still clearly read what it said.

Heres lies Chloe Elizabeth Price

March 11, 1994 - October 7, 2013

“Like a butterfly, she spread her wings and flew unto the heavens.”

“Hey Chloe…” I said softly, trying to sound cheerful. My voice’s volume didn’t break past anything louder than a soft whisper though. “I’m back.”

While I stared at the engraving and allowed my mind to pore over each individual letter, I fished into my jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Right before I arrived in town, I’d stopped at a convenience store to grab them; a lighter too, since I don’t usually carry one on me.

To be clear, I don’t smoke. It smells nasty, the fumes taste like shit, it makes me feel terrible afterward, and also, it’s super bad for you. However, every single year, on October 7th, I make an exception to smoke just one.

Some people would probably call that a waste of money. I mean – a single pack was worth around 17 bucks these days. In this economy, that was a pretty hefty chunk of change to throw at something that would kill you. I didn’t care though.

Opening the pack, I lifted a cigarette to my mouth and plopped it between my lips. Using the cheap Bic lighter I’d bought alongside it, I cupped a protective hand over the flame and lit the tip, inhaling a puff of that putrid smoke and allowing it to fill my lungs. The paper crackled in tandem with my falling chest, ashes and smoldering dust fluttered to the ground as I stood in place like a statue in front of the gravestone.

I’d done this enough times by now to not have a coughing fit after that first breath anymore. When I started this little tradition around eight years ago, I could barely get one or two puffs in before having to stop. Nowadays? All I felt was a tingly, hot sensation spreading through my throat and sinuses. It was oddly calming.

Pinching it between my fingers, I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and tilted my head toward the sky. Exhaling a thick cloud of dark gray smoke that faded into the air.

“It’s been a while, huh?” I said, thinking out loud. “Now…where do I even start?”

I looked back down at the gravestone, almost like it would somehow respond to me if I spoke to it. When most people talked to the dead, they closed their eyes and remained silent while they let their words flow throughout their mind. It was supposed to be respectful, a way to honor a sacred space in which the dead were buried.

To Chloe though, that custom would’ve been a big fat load of bologna.

I could already imagine what she might say to me from beyond the grave if I decided to actually follow those rules:

“Don’t be a pussy, Caulfield. If you’ve got some shit to say, then say it out loud!”

I smiled at the thought. Chloe always liked to be loud, obnoxious, and as rebellious as humanly possible. If you told her not to do something, then you could be rest assured that she’d do just that within the next 30 seconds you took your eyes off of her.

It was such an expected behavior that Chloe’s dad, William, always knew that if he wanted Chloe to stay away from something, he had to tell her exactly what it was every single time. He knew that the moment he said anything along the lines of ‘don’t touch that’, or ‘stay away from there’, Chloe would immediately put herself in harm's way just so she could figure out what it was. Her brain always worked like that, always whirring and turning in an attempt to understand how things worked. She would’ve been such an amazing engineer.

If her life hadn’t been ruined by a knock on her door, that is.

I still remember the ringing horror I felt in my head after I heard Joyce’s loud, sorrowful screams. The sight of Chloe’s disbelief and watery eyes while a police officer pitifully stared at them from the doorway of their house was a memory permanently branded into my mind.

The day William died might as well have been the day Chloe died too, because after that, it all went downhill.

They were always so inseparable. Two peas in a pod. Every single mannerism, habit, and quirk that Chloe had could almost always be attributed to her dad. Her talent for tinkering? That was something she got from William. Her voracious appetite? Also a product William. Her wild imagination? That was William too.

Losing him was like losing half of who she was, and in the few days that passed after his death, I was pretty much the only thing that kept her together.

I was there for her. There to comfort her as she woke up in the middle of the night to painfully sob into my shoulder. I cried a lot back then too. Not just because I also loved William, but because having to watch Chloe: my bubbly, obnoxious, and dorky friend deteriorate into a depressed sulking mess was one of the worst things I’d ever had to experience. She was always so strong, always willing to smile in the face of anything that brought her down. My fearless, ever capable Captain Bluebeard. But losing William was too much. Even for her.

I did what I could, but there wasn’t much a 12 year old version of me could do to help outside of whispering reassurances and holding her tight. Trying to keep Chloe from falling apart was like trying to stop a jenga tower from toppling over after you took out the wrong piece. It was hopeless, only a matter of time before it crumbled to the ground.

To make matters even worse, the day of William’s funeral was also the day my parents and I left Arcadia Bay. As soon as he was buried and everyone started to filter out of the cemetery, we hopped into our overpacked car and started our four hour long drive to Seattle. I’d been a crying mess the whole day, barely able to see past my own tears. It hurt so much to see Chloe and Joyce in so much pain, but what really killed me was watching my best friend get smaller and smaller with every inch we traveled. When I peered out the back window to get one last look at her, she seemed so despondent and hopeless. There wasn’t a single shred of the girl I once knew left in that red puffy face of hers, and I was about to leave her behind for a place far far away.

I love my parents, I really do. But to this day, I’ve never truly forgiven them for that.

It’s always been a small resentment I’ve held in the back of my mind. I knew that back then, we had no other choice. We’d already overstayed the amount of time we had to move out of the house. Hell – the only reason we were even allowed to stick around for so long was because the family moving into it was so kind and understanding. We were really pushing it by still being in Arcadia Bay on the day of the funeral, so we had to get going.

But that still didn’t change the fact that we left my best friend and her mother behind on the day they needed us the most. I’ve always wondered what might’ve happened if we stayed in town for another few days. Would I have had the courage to actually message her instead of ghosting her for five years? Would things have turned out differently if I’d been there for just a little bit longer?

I’d never know.

To Chloe, the last words I ever spoke were the ones I left on that tape recorder we loved to use as kids. Before we went to the cemetery, I recorded something while she was getting ready and left it on the floor of her bedroom. I was so sad and anxious at the time that I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it was a message full of false promises about staying in touch and never leaving each other behind.

What a load of crap that turned out to be. I thought.

Five years after I left, Chloe was shot in the bathroom of Blackwell Academy by a boy named Nathan Joshua Prescott.

It was all over the news…for about five seconds at least until a much bigger, more sensational story started spreading across the country like wildfire.

I seriously doubted anyone these days remembered her name. In the end, Chloe was seen as nothing more than an unfortunate victim of a troubled youth’s psychotic break, but she was so much more than that.

Would you believe me if I told you that I saved her? That I stopped her from being shot and spent nearly a week working with her to find a lost friend?

Probably not. It’d been my secret for the last ten years. Something I’d never told anyone, even my closest friends: the week that never happened.

I still remember how much passion and resolve leaked out of Chloe’s voice as she told me that she didn’t deserve to live over everyone else in that town. I remember wanting to say no. To hold her tight and let Arcadia Bay get destroyed by some stupid magic tornado. And most vividly, I remember the feeling of her lips against mine. So soft and caring. So bold and strong. A feeling I’d never forget.

Never.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I took a drag from my cigarette. As I spoke, smoke billowed out of my mouth and nostrils. That strangely relaxing yet caustic sensation of heat once again filled my insides.

“So…2023…this year went by pretty fast, I think. Most years kind of fly by nowadays though.” I said, my voice a little nasally.

“Let’s see, what happened…oh! AI is getting scarier every day. Seems like it might be coming for almost every single creative job out there, including mine.” I said begrudgingly. “I think you’d be pretty disappointed to find out that ‘Skynet’ actually turned out to be a bunch of online bots that can’t draw hands very well.”

I pressed the cigarette to my lips again, taking yet another drag. “Teaching’s been going okay. I really like the job, actually. Most days have been blending together lately. It’s all the same stuff: I wake up, I run, I shower, I eat…but teaching? It’s one of the only breaks I get from my usual routine.”

On that thought, my mind was drawn to that girl from my Thursday morning’s class. I was already having trouble remembering her name and face, but I could easily recall how proud she looked after answering one of my questions. It was so gratifying to see.

But now that I thought about Thursday’s class some more, I remembered Alice, that strange girl who asked me to accompany her on her first photography job.

“I met this weird girl the other day too…” I said. “Her name’s Alice. She booked her first job and wanted me to come along with her – it was kind of cute how she asked and got all nervous. The way she talks super fast reminds me of you, actually. Remember when you’d confess doing something stupid to Joyce and you always let the words spill out of our mouth as fast as you could?”

I giggled, but it was punctuated by yet another somber sigh.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years…” I whispered. “You know, through all this time, I’ve spent nearly every single day wondering what my life would be like if I didn’t go back to the start of that week. If I didn’t just sit by and cry while you bled out on the bathroom floor, thinking that your girlfriend left you, and that your best friend abandoned you.”

I took another drag, mostly as a way to ease the slowly growing pain in my chest. “If you were alive today, would you be proud of me? Everyone always says I’ve ‘come so far’, but…have I? Have I really?”

I shut my eyes, inhaling another puff of smoke. “I miss you so much, Chloe…”

In year’s past, I probably would’ve cried or started tearing up. Nowadays? All I really felt was a painful tugging feeling in my gut. Lately, I’d been starting to wonder how much longer it would be before I felt nothing at all. That thought honestly scared me more than anything in the world.

After a long bout of silence, I gave the gravestone beneath me a melancholic smile. “I’m so rude. I didn’t even ask how you were doing, did I? Not that you’d answer in a way that I could hear…”

Slowly, I turned my head to face the direction of another grave not too far from here. One that belonged to a girl I never met. One I still wish I could’ve helped.

“I bet you and Rachel are having loads of fun, wherever you two are. Probably out there having a gazillion adventures together. One day I’ll join you both…one day. It’d be nice to finally meet the mysterious Rachel Amber after all this time.”

More silence.

I knew that if I stayed much longer, some of the older folks would start filing in to say hello to their loved ones too. It was probably about time I wrapped this up. It’s not like I had much else left to say anyway.

Turning back to face Chloe’s gravestone again, I took one last drag. “I’ll see you again next year, Chloe. Until then, try not to get into too much trouble, alright?”

And now, for the last part of my little ritual.

Bending forward, I placed what was left of my cigarette on top of Chloe’s stone. I figured that no matter where she was, Chloe would never turn down the opportunity to have a smoke.

As soon as I got back up, I couldn’t help but grimace a little. I’d smoked almost the entire thing and hadn’t even realized it.

Whoops. Sorry, Chlo.

That was a new record. Each year I smoked my one cigarette, I’d gotten closer and closer to finishing it. Maybe next year I’d finally get through one for the first time.

“Bye, Chloe.” I said, forcing myself to turn away and make my walk back to the gates.

Like every other year, Stan and I said the exact same set of words we always spoke to each other in farewell.

“See ya, Stan.”

“See ya, Max. Stay safe, alright?”

Once I got back to the car, I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel and took another deep breath. Staring at the cemetery from behind my windshield always made me feel so uneasy and hollow, a feeling that I knew would only slightly subside the moment I started driving away.

Just as I planted my key into the ignition however, I felt my phone suddenly start to buzz inside my pocket.

I was kind of confused considering I almost never got messages from anyone this early in the morning, much less on a Saturday. I was pretty much the only morning person I knew.

Curious, I checked to see who it was. I expected it to be some kind of spam message or something, but to my surprise, I’d actually gotten a text from an old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time.

9:58AM - October 7th 2023

Victoria: Hey nerd

Victoria: We still up for tomorrow?

I smirked, typing out a quick reply before I sped away from the large black gates standing in front of me.

Max: You bet :)

Chapter Text

After spending pretty much the entire morning going to the cemetery and paying my respects to Chloe, I was emotionally exhausted and just about ready to head back to Seattle at long last. Before I took off completely though, I had one more thing to do.

Well- it was more like several things that were a part of one big thing.

Seeing Chloe was the main reason I came back to Arcadia Bay in the first place, obviously, but there was one other tradition I started around ten years ago that I’ve kept up with to this day.

Right before I graduated from Blackwell and went back home to Seattle, I decided to go around the entire Bay area and take as many photos of the town as I could. At the time, I did it as a way to cope with the fact that I’d finally be leaving the place. The wound that Chloe’s death left behind was still wide open and fresh, so the idea that I’d have to leave her for the third time in my life was something that I really didn’t take well. The photos were simply a way for me to feel like I was still there. A little piece of Chloe that I could take with me wherever I went.

When I came back the next year, I did it again. Then again…and again. By this point, it’d sort of transformed into something more like a personal time-lapse project than anything else. A way I could document how much the town had changed over the years. So, whenever I made this trip I was sure to bring all my camera equipment along for the journey.

My first stop was Arcadia Bay proper. As soon as I was absolutely sure that a car wouldn’t run me over, I’d haul my tripod into the center of the road, adjust my camera’s settings, and take a long perspective shot of all the different buildings, storefronts, and restaurants that lined the streets.

Over the last ten years, a large number of the businesses that used to thrive and bustle with activity were now either dead, closed, replaced, or in the process of being replaced. It was honestly pretty sad. There were only around two buildings left that I even recognized anymore. One was a bait and tackle shop called Fillmore's, the other was a small inn owned by some lady that I could only assume was still around because she was stubbornly refusing to sell the property out of spite.

Good for her.

The next place I traveled to was a large retro looking building covered in chrome from top to bottom. I knew it as the Two Whales: a 50s style American diner that served the best waffles in the whole wide world.

Chloe’s mom, Joyce, actually worked there for a long time. Way before I even left the town in 2008. I always liked to think that she was secretly the glue that held the place together, and it turned out that in the end, I was one hundred percent correct.

Years ago, she sold her house and stopped working at the diner to go settle down somewhere outside the town. Not long after she left, the diner was slapped with multiple health code violations and was forced to shut down. The building itself had since been rebranded as some trendy new bar called ‘Sailor’s Cove’. The old neon sign that once depicted two whales swimming together side by side was now replaced with some caricature of a bearded sailor drinking rum. It was kind of cool looking, but it didn’t have the same charm the old logo did.

To this day I’ve never been inside. I’d rather keep my memory of what the Two Whales looked like safely secured inside my photos than have it marred by some weird bar filled with old men. I did miss hanging out there though. Chloe and I would always eat there after school, and when I met back up with her during that week from hell, one of the first things we did was reconvene at the diner. Just like old times.

Like the shot I got of the town, I plopped my tripod onto the sidewalk across the street, adjusted my camera’s settings, and snapped a photo. After checking it to see that it was framed and lit to my liking, it was onto my next destination: the shore.

When I was a kid, Arcadia Bay’s beach area was the spot to be. In the summer it was constantly filled to the brim with people looking to have fun in the water and relax to the sound of all the crashing waves. It was one of my favorite spots too. The sheer number of times Chloe and I would get into a splash war was way too big for me to count. She’d never admit it, but I won pretty much every single battle.

There’d been a point in time where you could see dozens upon dozens of different fishing boats and ships slowly meandering across the horizon line of the sea. These days though, you wouldn’t see a single thing for miles. The bay used to be full of fishermen – hell, it was the most well respected and sought after job in town. However, as the years went by, pollution from big businesses like The Prescott Foundation had all but wiped out the local fish population, completely destroying one of Arcadia Bay’s biggest exports.

The beach itself looked more or less the same as it did ten years ago, just a lot more gloomy. Without all the distant boats, the place seemed pretty barren and lifeless. Plus, it didn’t help that there was slightly more garbage littered across the shoreline than I remembered.

Once I pulled into that sandy parking lot, I went through my usual routine of setting my tripod down, adjusting my camera’s settings, and snapping yet another photo before taking my leave.

My next location would’ve been the town’s old junkyard. The spot Arcadia Bay’s waste management company used to take all the impounded vehicles, old signs, and metal scraps that would later get melted down into…whatever it was they did with all of that.

It also just so happened to be Chloe and Rachel’s favorite hangout spot.

‘American Rust’ as Chloe liked to call it, housed a small brick shack at the back end of the grounds where she and Rachel had created their own little home away from home.

I’d only ever been inside it a handful of times, but to this day, I still vividly remembered what it looked like.

It was small, very small. Maybe a little less than 200 square feet in size (and that was being generous). Despite that though, it was surprisingly well furnished.

When you walked in through the doorway, you’d immediately be greeted to the site of makeshift tables and chairs all haphazardly placed in the leftmost corner. Some of them were just old wooden planks propped up on cinder blocks, others were either long discarded seats and appliances left behind in the junkyard, or repurposed scraps like metal barrels and cable reels.

The walls were lined with a combination of both graffiti and posters. If they didn’t have a bunch of silly drawings hastily etched into them, they were covered by images of some famous model or band that I didn’t recognize. They even had a dartboard set up on the side wall that had a little scoreboard written below it. I couldn’t tell you the exact tally, but I do remember that Rachel had been beating Chloe in a landslide victory.

The place looked like it'd literally been thrown together in about two minutes, yet it still felt strangely cozy. Like it was ‘lived in’. When I walked through it for the first time, it actually made me feel a little sad. By the time I’d finally returned to Arcadia Bay in 2013, Rachel was already missing and Chloe was already filled with anger. Stepping into that tiny hideout of theirs was like peering into a much happier and more innocent lifetime that had long since passed. I was like an intruder, a stranger that was so graciously allowed to see the most intimate and personal facets of their lives on full display.

I hadn’t stepped foot inside the place since that week though, and for a while, I physically couldn’t. After Rachel’s body was discovered only a few feet away from that little brick shack, the police closed the junkyard off to the public. Not long after that, it was gated and walled off so no one could get in. The town’s administration was very vague about the reasoning…something about ‘not wanting kids to get hurt by all the hazardous materials inside’.

Yeah, that was all one big lie. Everyone knew the real reason: they didn’t want another body to end up getting buried there.

I mean – It made sense, but it also made taking decent pictures pretty much impossible, so I didn’t even bother anymore.

Whenever I passed it, a little voice in the back of my head would always encourage me to break in and snap a couple of photos. For old time’s sake.

I, of course, never listened to it. That place held one too many bad memories for me to ever wanna take another peek inside. I knew all too well that the moment I got even one look at that junkyard, my mind would take me right back to the night Chloe and I found Rachel buried beneath the dirt. I still remember the smell. That horrifically sweet yet putrid smelling stench eroding off her rotting corpse was something I’d never forget.

Sometimes, I’d see that decomposing face appear in my nightmares. It always looked at me with a disappointed glare. It’s empty eye sockets contorting and shifting as if to silently say ‘you failed me’.

The worst part was that I knew it was right. I did fail Rachel, and passing by that junkyard every time I made the drive over to my last destination always served to remind me of that.

Which brings me to my final stop: the last place I’d always visit on my little trip through memory lane.

It was located at the very edge of town. To get there, I had to park my car at a rest stop and make an agonizingly long and exhausting journey up a steep trail lined with trees and foliage. Since it was noon, the sun’s light was doing its absolute best to assault my eyeballs by constantly glittering through the orange leaves hanging high above me.

Being blinded was bad enough already, but being blinded while also carrying a couple dozen pounds of camera equipment up a steep hill? That was even worse.

It was totally worth it though, because after about five minutes of walking, I made it to the top of the cliff that housed Arcadia Bay’s largest and most famous landmark: the lighthouse.

No matter where you were in town; whether it was as close as the beach or as far as the forests, you could always see it. A giant white tower that hung high above the sea. At night, it would shine its light through all the fog that coated the ocean to let porting ships know they were finally home. I was certain that over the years it had helped guide hundreds – maybe thousands of ships back to Arcadia Bay’s shore, and even though I wasn’t a sailor myself, it always made me feel so safe.

It was like a beacon I could always search for, something that would shine through even the darkest parts of my mind and guide me back to reality. In a weird way, I felt more at home here than I did almost anywhere else. I didn’t really know if that was a good thing or not.

The lighthouse itself was very…lighthouse-y. Even when I was a kid, the poor thing was already showing off some pretty bad signs of rusting. These days? I was honestly surprised to find that it was somehow still operational.

When we were little, Chloe and I used to sneak inside just so we could climb to the top and get the best view of the town. She always loved it, but I was ridiculously afraid of heights. Just being up there made me feel queasy, yet, that didn’t stop me from joining her nearly every single time.

It was mainly because she'd call me a chicken if I didn’t climb up with her, but also because the building felt like our own little hideout. A secret pirate base at the top of the world that the two of us could share together.

At least for a while.

After someone spotted us talking to each other on the observation deck, we got into some trouble with the keeper, which eventually got us into some trouble with our parents. Needless to say, they were all equally angry with us, and from that point on, we weren’t allowed to go up that hill anymore.

I remember being bummed about it for weeks, but of course, Chloe was quick to remind me that we could totally go back up there…as long as our parents didn’t find out.

With that in mind, the cliffside once again became our go-to hangout spot. We’d make the journey up there after school about as often as we could, but we never tried sneaking inside the lighthouse again. Not because the keeper was doing a much better job at locking the place up or anything, but because we were both too scared of getting spotted by someone and neither of us were willing to admit it.

Even without the extra height the lighthouse provided, it was still the best view in town. It even had front row seats! Right next to the tower itself, a small lonely bench was set up close to the cliffside that allowed you to get a good look at the entire bay area. Sometimes, I’d catch Chloe staring at the water for hours while she sat on that thing. I liked to think that it gave her hope. That as long as she kept her sights on the sea, she could build a massive pirate ship and sail the hell out of Arcadia Bay toward someplace greater.

I wished she’d gotten that chance.

Being able to travel like I did always made me feel so guilty. Chloe was born in Arcadia Bay, lived in Arcadia Bay, and died in Arcadia Bay. She never got the chance to leave town and explore LA with Rachel like she planned, never saved enough money to go on a lavish trip to Paris with her mom, and she never even got the chance to come up to Seattle so she could visit me during the five years we spent apart. If Chloe was in my position, she’d be traveling all over the country, visiting every place she could think of.

Instead, I was spending my money on plane tickets and hotels every single year just so I could make a trip back to the town that took everything away from her. If she still was alive, she’d probably chew me the hell out for that. Thankfully, I didn’t have to think about it for too long, because the lighthouse’s entrance was finally coming into view.

As soon as I got to the top, I walked over to that ever familiar bench and took a seat, allowing myself to sink into the old splintered wood that was definitely in need of some repairs.

While I breathed in the salty sea air, I stared at the hypnotically undulating waves of the ocean while my body recovered from the exhausting hike I’d just made. As great as my endurance was, inclined planes will forever be my worst enemy.

I made sure to sit on the left side of the bench too. When we were kids, Chloe was very insistent that she always sat on the right side for some reason, so whenever we came up here, I’d usually take the left. We never officially ‘claimed’ either side, but we adhered to that rule anyway. It was just something we did. One of those little unspoken traditions we had as best friends.

When you sat down up there, all you could hear were the soft melodic crashes of the waves colliding with the rocks hundreds of feet below you. It was so quiet and peaceful.

In that quiet, I liked to close my eyes and imagine that Chloe was sitting right next to me, silently watching the waves like we always used to.

Either that or saying something snarky like: “The fuck are you still doing here, Caulfield? Get your bony white ass outta this town and nab a hot chick instead of brooding up here with a dead girl.”

“Easier said than done…” I muttered.

Look at me, 28 years old and I’m over here having fake conversations with an imaginary version of my best friend.

Sighing dejectedly, I opened my eyes and got back to my usual routine. Just like the last three times, I set up my tripod, adjusted my camera’s settings, and took one last photo of the town from the very edge of the cliff.

And with that, I was finally done.

As soon as my finger left the camera’s shutter release button, I took a moment to stare at my handiwork.

For all intents and purposes, it was a great shot. I’d properly adjusted the size of the aperture, perfectly tweaked my camera’s ISO settings, increased the shutter speed to account for all the waves in the frame, picked the correct white balance, modified the exposure – I even made sure everything was focused exactly as it needed to be. Combine all that with a near perfect composition and the final shot was positively gorgeous. A photo only a professional photographer like myself could make.

And yet, I felt nothing when I looked at it. I wasn’t proud or disappointed, I wasn’t even mildly intrigued. Staring at that photo did nothing but make me feel one big blah.

When I was younger, I would’ve given anything to take pictures like this. To so easily and so casually create a work of art that looked amazing because I’d spent years honing my craft. The teenage version of me would probably be jealous of all the skills I’d accumulated over the course of my career, but…what did any of that matter if I felt nothing when I looked at my work nowadays?

All the photos I’d just taken in Arcadia Bay – the town, the bar, the beach, the lighthouse – not one of them carried the same magic my old work used to have. They were images crafted out of habit and routine; the same routine I’d been adhering to since my senior year of highschool. They didn’t have any personality, any flair or pizzazz.

Whenever I looked at all the photos I’d taken as a teenager with that shitty instant camera, I felt nostalgia and longing. The hazy edges of those polaroids made me feel like I was peering into a dream. A point in time where I was so much more passionate and happy about the things I loved.

When I looked at the photos of Arcadia Bay however, I saw nothing but soulless documentation. A series of photographs that I‘d only taken because I’d been doing it for the last ten years.

The magic was gone…and it wasn’t just those photos either. For a while now, I’d been feeling the same way about every photo I took.

Before I left Seattle, every photoshoot I was hired for was exactly the same. I’d meet with the client, snap a couple of photos, show them what they looked like, then bring them back home to touch up. Everyone I worked with always said they loved the final results. That I was ‘amazing’. That my work was definitely ‘worth the price’.

Me on the other hand? I hated all of it. No matter how hard I tried to capture that wistful feeling I used to evoke with all my old photos, I could never seem to get it right. It didn’t matter how much better I got as time went on, or how much praise I received. To me, every photo I took was nothing more than an empty husk of what could be. A shell with no hermit crab, a chrysalis with no butterfly.

Maybe that was my fate. Maybe I was doomed to chase after an impossible feeling I just couldn’t reach anymore.

Honestly, that seemed kind of fitting for someone like me.

Sighing to myself once again, I started unscrewing my camera from atop the tripod so I could finally begin packing up. It’d be a slightly less exhausting walk back to the car, and from there, I could head back to my hotel and get ready for the long drive home.

Another boring and emotionally exhausting day in Arcadia Bay. Here’s to next year… I thought. Even my inner voice was dripping with sarcasm.

With my mind finally starting to wander away from the town, I thought about my students, the people that made my life a lot less cyclical, and to that end, Alice. I was still curious to see exactly what I’d gotten myself into when I agreed to go with her on this photography job she had lined up. Hopefully it’d be something simple like senior photos and not some huge event that would catch me off guard.

I’d only said yes in the moment because I was genuinely interested to see one of my students working out in the field, but on my flight to Seattle, I started having second thoughts.

Alice seemed nice, but I learned a long time ago that appearances can be pretty deceiving. Who knows? Maybe she was trying to get free work out of me, or worse, scam me with the help of her ‘client’...

I reasoned that it was best to be cautious. It probably wasn't a good idea to suddenly go out on a job with someone I’d only met a few days ago. However, there was one thing that stopped me from backing out: I had a theory. One that was probably completely irrational, but one I wanted to test nonetheless.

That weird throbbing sensation, the one I felt while I was teaching the other day. It’d plagued me throughout the entire class period, and interestingly, only stopped after Alice left the room.

I know there’s this whole logical fallacy that tells you not to attribute one thing to something else based on bias or whatever, but Alice being the cause of my vibrating hand was the only theory I had that made any sense. It didn’t feel like a muscle spasm or nerve damage. It felt like energy had been pulsating right through my skin, and when I was in close proximity to Alice, it got way worse. If I met up with her again and felt the same thing, I’d know for sure that she was the cause.

You might be thinking that’s crazy, that the idea of a random girl somehow making my hand buzz was impossible, but believe me, if you’d seen even half of the things I'd seen, you’d know that nothing was impossible.

The only problem was…what would I do if it was true? If my theory was correct and Alice was the cause of my little episode on Thursday, what was I supposed to do about it? Should I talk to her? Avoid her? How do you go about telling someone that they make your hand feel all buzzy?

Ugh…that’s one too many questions for me to handle right now. Let’s try to focus on one thing at a time here, Max. Step one: get back to your parents’ house.

Agreeing with that thought, I got back to the task at hand: Unscrewing my camera and packing everything up.

Right as I went to place my equipment back inside my bag however, I sensed something strange moving out of the corner of my eye – something from the town. A sudden, erratic movement that stood out among all the rest.

From this distance, it was kind of hard to see, but when I turned my head and squinted my eyes, I could just barely make out the sight of a truck swerving and sliding across the town’s main road.

Weird…

Whatever was going on, it’d definitely piqued my curiosity, so without a second thought I turned my camera back on and quickly grabbed a high zoom lens out of my bag. As soon as it was attached, I peered through the viewfinder to get a better look at the scene.

Whoever was in that truck had to be drunk or something, because they kept running straight into lamp posts and mailboxes like it was Grand Theft Auto. To make matters even worse, they seemed to be getting faster. Too fast for me to keep up with at such a high zoom level.

Curiously, I adjusted my camera’s focal length so I could see more of the town at once and get a better idea of the truck’s path. A decision that I’d later come to regret, because what I saw made my blood run ice cold.

Far away, minding her own business, was a woman with brown hair idly walking along the sidewalk. And the truck was barreling straight toward her.

She had to have been wearing earbuds or be hard of hearing, because she wasn’t reacting to any of the crashing and swerving going on behind her. She was about to be hit dead on by a truck going at least 60 miles an hour, and she was none the wiser.

Immediately my mind began to race at lightspeed, desperately trying to come up with something – anything that I could do in order to save her.

My first thought was that I should call the cops, but there was no time. She’d probably get hit way before anybody even got there.

Shit, it was getting closer…come on Max, think!

I could try to grab her attention, but how? There was no way she’d ever notice a girl who’s barely foot five jumping up and down on top of a cliff from so far away, not when she was so focused on walking toward whatever destination she was trying to reach, that is. If I wanted to warn her, then I’d need something that would really stand out. Something flashy enough to be spotted from a mile away.

The lighthouse immediately came to mind, but there was no way I'd have the time to break into that rusty old thing and figure out how to turn on the light before it was too late. I needed something more immediate, and that left me with one last idea:

My camera’s flash.

It would be a longshot, and there was no telling if she’d notice it from so far away, but it was all I could think to do.

With trembling hands, I fished back into my bag and grabbed the brightest camera-mounted flash I owned. My heart was pounding against my chest, a dull thud that I could feel reverberating throughout my entire body. I knew that if this didn’t work, that woman was dead.

It took a little longer than I would’ve liked thanks my stupid shaking fingers, but the second that flash was attached to my camera, I cranked the power up to the max and started tapping the shutter release button over and over again as quickly as I could.

By now, the truck had gotten dangerously close. I only had seconds at best to warn her.

“Come on, see me!” I begged, but no matter how many times I clicked and clicked and clicked…the woman just wasn’t taking notice.

My heart began to sink, and dread began to creep over me like a slowly growing shadow.

She couldn’t see me.

“No, no, no, no, no…” I uttered in despair, snapping picture after picture so fast that my finger threatened to fall right off, but she still wasn’t seeing me. She was going to get hit.

She was going to get hit.

I’d failed. I knew that deep down there was absolutely nothing else I could do to help her now. The only semblance of hope I had left were the desperate flashes of my camera as I continued to take pictures.

But right when I thought it was over, right when I was ready to throw in the towel and allow myself to grapple with the fact that I at least tried, I saw her head turn toward me. It was the tiniest, almost imperceptible movement, but it was there. And in that split second, I knew that she’d seen me. She’d finally managed to spot my warning.

If only it wasn’t far too late.

With abject horror seeping through my skin, all I could do was watch from afar as the truck slammed into her body at full force.

Time seemed to slow down, and in that moment I saw every single movement she made as she began to flail helplessly against the force suddenly colliding against her.

“No…NO!” I screamed, crying out so loudly that I felt my voice shatter to pieces.

And then, the impossible happened.

I expected to see that woman get swallowed whole, to watch her body disappear beneath the truck’s frame as she got run over by a hunk of metal ten times her size, but that didn’t happen.

Somehow, the truck had suddenly stopped moving…actually, no – scratch that – everything had stopped moving.

The brown haired woman was frozen in place, stuck in the middle of her fall. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her arms were helplessly pointed toward the sky.

At first, I had no idea what was going on. I was confused, shocked. Like my body had lagged behind and failed to take in its surroundings.

For a split second, I thought that maybe this was all just a weird side effect of extreme stress. That my mind was somehow distorting time because I was so overwhelmed with emotion and terror. I was about to witness someone die after all, it only made sense.

But as my brain began to process what was happening, computing every single ounce of information being presented to me through my camera lens, I was struck with the horrific realization that I knew exactly what was going on.

Time hadn’t stopped because I was stressed or overwhelmed. Time had stopped because I had made it stop.

For the first time in ten years, I’d done something that I swore to never do again, and realizing that made me freeze with terror.

I didn’t even scream. I was so horrified that the only sound my throat could utter was a tiny shaking gasp. It sounded like I’d just had all the air in my lungs involuntarily siphoned out by a vacuum cleaner.

Reflexively, I jerked my face away from the viewfinder, dropping my camera onto the grass. My grip had suddenly become far too weak to continue holding on to that thing any longer, so my hands were left to tremble in place, stuck in their upright position as if I was still grasping at something. I wanted to run, flee from the area as fast as I could, but the only command my body listened to was the movement of my eyes slowly motioning to stare at the device now lying on the ground.

I gaped at it like it was some kind of freakish monster that’d sprung out at me from the deepest pits of hell. A wave of dizziness washed over me too, one that left my body unable to feel anything but a primal sense of fear.

Since my body was refusing to listen to me, I was practically catatonic. The only thing I could do was repeat the same phrase over and over again inside my head.

You didn’t just do that. You didn’t. You didn’t just do that, Max.

I thought I was going to pass out, maybe even throw up. Fuck, maybe both? I didn’t know. Either of those options were nothing in comparison to the sheer gravity of what I just witnessed. I really didn’t want to believe it, but I knew better. What’d just happened was really really bad. If I had somehow altered time, changed fate in any way at all, then that would mean-

My thoughts were suddenly cut off by the image of that brown haired woman appearing in my mind. Thinking of her made me feel like I’d just been knocked in the chest with a sledgehammer. Immediately, I took in a long deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding and turned to look back at the town. The extra oxygen did its magic to help bring me back to my senses, and slowly, I was able to fully assess the situation.

Thankfully, nothing was frozen anymore. Great.

What wasn’t so great was the fact that the truck was still slipping and sliding across the road, now a much further distance away from where I saw that woman get run over.

I couldn’t see her anymore, which was probably for the best. Luckily, I could already hear the ambulances rushing onto the scene from the opposite end of the street. Hopefully there was a chance she’d make it, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

Watching those paramedics run out of their vehicles to help her made bile rise within my throat. Even from the cliff, I could tell things were looking pretty grim. The little dots dancing in the distance that I understood to be the first responders didn’t spend a whole lot of time tending to the woman’s wounds. In fact, all they did was pile up around her and lift her onto a gurney.

If that meant what I think it did, then I really was about to throw up.

An innocent woman that’d done nothing outside of minding her own business had just been killed. She had a family that would never see her again, friends that would be wondering where she was, and I’d been completely powerless to stop it.

Except…maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

I didn’t even give myself a couple of seconds to think about it. Instead, I acted on pure instinct.

With still trembling fingers, I bent forward and picked my camera up off the ground. Thankfully, the grass had cushioned the impact of the fall, so the only damage it ended up suffering were a few spots of dry dirt staining the camera body. Thank dog…that thing was not cheap.

Quickly, I pressed my eye right up to the viewfinder and adjusted the lens so I was centered on the scene of the town. I could see everything in much more detail now, which ended up being more of a curse than anything else. The doors of the ambulance were only just starting to close by the time I began looking through my camera lens again, so I briefly got to see one of the woman’s legs bent in a direction that shouldn’t have been possible.

Forcing myself to swallow the slowly growing lump in my throat, I steeled myself and tried to think positively.

You can save her. I thought. You have the power to make sure she won’t end up that way.

The only problem was that it was easier said than done. As I panned my camera over to watch the truck finally come to a stop at the edge of town, I realized that I had no idea how I’d even activated my powers in the first place.

It’d been ten whole years since I last used them, and honestly, I didn’t think I still had them after all this time.

After what happened during that week from hell, I’d sworn to never use them again. I was too scared. Too hurt and broken by what I’d experienced back then to ever chance going back in time by even one single second. There was simply too much risk.

But at the moment, I’d completely wiped all of that from my mind. The only thought I had going through my head was that I needed to save that woman. I needed to tap into my powers and figure out how to stop her from getting flattened by a three-ton truck.

In a desperate attempt to make sense of all that, I pulled away from my camera and closed my eyes. Forcing my brain to recall all the sensations that’d been flowing through my body during the critical moment my powers had activated. I had to think: what had it felt like to stop time?

Outside of being at a total loss for words, rife with shock, and frozen in terror, I faintly recalled feeling a strange tingling sensation prickling throughout the length my hand. It felt like electricity had been dancing between my fingertips. A feeling that I was all too familiar with.

That sensation…that feeling of power and energy coursing through my skin…it was exactly what I used to feel whenever I used my abilities back then.

Remembering that opened up the floodgates, causing memories of my powers that I’d long since buried to come rushing toward the forefront. It was as if I’d never forgotten about it in the first place, and suddenly, I could somehow recall exactly how I used to turn back time in vivid detail.

It was a simple process, really. First, I’d flex my right wrist then allow that strange yet powerful energy inside of me to pulse and grow toward the center of my hand. Second, I’d feel for something. It was hard to describe exactly what it was, but it was sort of like a presence. A formless ripple in reality that only I could sense. As soon as I felt it, it was time for step three: push. Well – I didn’t exactly push, but it definitely felt like it.

It was almost like I was grabbing onto a big amorphous blob made of empty space and pressing into it with my fingertips. After that, all I had to do to reverse time was focus my mind and press into that blob as hard as I could manage.

I’d never been able to go back by more than a small handful of seconds. Couple that with the fact that I hadn’t used my powers in over ten years and I wasn’t sure how much time I could buy. Realistically, I could maybe go back by about five seconds at most, and if I really pushed myself, I figured I could get that number up to at least 30. Either way, it wasn’t much to work with, and there was no telling what I could do to try and save the brown haired woman with such a small amount of time, but I had to at least try.

Besides, the longer I stood around thinking about it, the less time I’d actually have to save her.

So, without a single wasted movement, I held my breath and lifted my right arm into the air. At the same time, that ever present voice in the back of my head started screaming at me in protest. Begging me to stop what I was doing and let the universe continue to chug along as it originally intended. But I ignored it.

Slowly, I flexed my wrist and felt a familiar energy creeping along the length of my palm. So far so good.

Now, it was time to feel around for that presence. It’d been a while, but I knew I’d recognize it the moment I felt it; I just had to concentrate and focus all of my senses on finding that familiar blob.

It didn’t take very long. After spending only a couple of seconds wiggling my fingers around – I sensed something. That indescribable yet unmistakable force I couldn’t quite make out. And with that, I was finally ready for the last step.

The only thing I had left to do was push. After that, time would move backwards, and hopefully, I could save that woman from her fate.

I couldn’t help but hesitate though. Despite already having broken my vow to never use my powers again just a few moments ago, I was struck with the realization that this would be the first time I’d made the conscious decision to use them since that week. If I did this, I'd potentially be risking way more than just one life.

The flicker of a memory rushed past me then. Cold, icy rain lashing and whipping at my skin. Powerful gusts of roaring winds slicing at my face life freezing knives. The soft cries of a girl who told me she should be the one to die.

I felt my throat run dry. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. Maybe it was better for everyone if I just told myself that I did what I could and there was nothing left for me to do.

But the image of that woman being slammed into by that truck kept coming back to me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of her bent and broken legs out of my head.

She was an innocent woman. An unfortunate victim of circumstance. Someone who didn’t deserve to die. Someone that I, with the power I had, could save.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed anymore doubting thoughts I had straight out my head and looked toward the town with determinant eyes.

This was it. No more stalling. I had no clue what might happen, but I wouldn’t know until I tried. So, with one last breath, I tensed my still trembling fingers and got ready to push.

One…

Two…

Three!

…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing happened.

It didn’t make any sense. I’d gone through everything I used to do in order to activate my powers, but time didn’t slow down. It didn’t even come to a stop. Everything around me just kept moving along as it normally did. The orange leaves still fluttered with the breeze, the lights of the police cars kept blinking back and forth between blue and red, and the ambulance, which was now almost outside my line of vision, rolled along the road like it had just been a few seconds earlier.

What the hell?! I thought.

Maybe I’d done something wrong. It’d been so long I was probably just rusty. Time for take two.

A little more quickly this time, I stretched out my hand and…

Again, nothing.

I didn’t even bother counting down on the next few attempts. Relentlessly, I kept repeating the same process over and over again; trying (and failing) to make time bend to my will. But it was no use. No matter how much I strained myself or how hard I tried to force it, nothing happened. It was like every time I tried to push, I hit a wall. Something that stopped me from tapping into the energy I was feeling.

I felt my heart start to pound violently against my chest again. By now, the ambulance was long gone. Even if I somehow could get my powers to work, there was no chance in hell that I could turn the clock back far enough to make a difference.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I cried. For good measure, I tried to use my powers around two or three more times before I finally gave up and stomped my foot against the ground with fretful anger.

And yeah, I’ll admit it, I started whining like I was a little kid who’d just gotten her phone taken away.

My frustration was justified though. It didn’t make any sense. Had my stopping time been a fluke? Had all of it simply been in my head?

No. I could feel the energy flowing through my hand, even now. I knew it was real, but something was…off. For some reason, it felt like I was missing a step. That a crucial piece of the puzzle was strangely absent.

Ugh. It could never be easy, could it?

Okay, back to square one. If I wanted to stop time again, I had to try and recreate that moment. Figure out exactly what set my powers off in the first place.

I took a moment to ponder, rummaging through my thoughts and replaying the scene in my head. I had to try and recount every little detail I could manage, and fast. Ironically enough time wasn’t exactly on my side.

So with uncertainty, I pressed my eye up against the viewfinder like I had earlier and stared at the now empty street still damaged by the truck’s recent rampage. The lamp posts were disfigured, bent and toppled by the unstoppable force they’d collided with. I tried not to think about the fact that the brown haired woman had been subjected to the same kind of force when she got run over.

Next, I started tapping my camera’s shutter release over and over again. Snapping picture after picture with the camera flash still turned up to max brightness.

Nothing was happening yet though. It still felt like I was missing something, but what? What wasn’t I understanding?

My frustration was starting to mingle with my fear. I was so anxious I was liable to empty my stomach at any moment, yet so irritated I wanted to scream.

Nevertheless, I grunted and continued to retrace my steps. The only other thing of importance that actually happened next however was that I…watched that woman die.

The way she crumpled against the truck’s front end, the way she stared so helplessly at nothing in particular during the moment of impact; it was reasserting itself in my mind like a virus. Burrowing into a place I couldn’t ignore no matter how much I tried telling myself I had to.

Of all the emotions I felt during that split second before she was hit. The loudest and strongest one of all, was my desperate desire to reach out and grab her. To pull her by the arm at the last second and save her from death.

And it was on that thought, that I felt something change.

The energy that was flowing through my hand, it rippled, pulsating while it moved from my fingertips directly into my camera. I didn’t understand how I knew that, but I could feel it. power flowing through my lens, and with it, the presence that I’d felt lingering in the air.

Like a lot of recent events, I didn’t know what was going on. This felt new. Different from anything I’d ever experienced before. But, through all that confusion, I realized that I’d just found the missing piece. Now, there was only one way to find out if it would work.

Mustering all the determination I had left, I steadied myself and got ready for one last attempt. If this didn’t work, I didn’t know what would.

One…

Two…

Three!

The moment I pushed, the world around me came to a complete stop. Once again, everything – gusts of wind, fluttering leaves, soaring birds, crashing waves…all of it stopped without a single movement.

I’d done it…holy shit, I’d actually done it! If my heart had been pounding before, it was absolutely hammering now.

As insane as this all was though, I had to try and force myself not to get too hyped up just yet. I’d only gotten halfway there, the next step would be to actually try and figure out how to reverse time enough to make a difference. When I ‘pushed’ on this attempt, I’d actually pressed into the energy I felt surrounding my camera. Whenever I did that before, it would let me go back in time. Now, it was only stopping it.

I really had my work cut out for me; something had definitely changed about my powers, I just wasn’t sure how.

Wanting to give myself some room to think, I pulled away from my camera…only to find that time was suddenly moving at a normal pace once again. All the frozen waves and birds, they were all back to normal. Sloshing against the shore and flying through the sky like it was business as usual.

But that couldn’t be right, could it? I hadn’t released my power or anything, I could still feel all the energy flickering against my hand.

I didn’t even have the capacity to feel freaked out anymore. I was just confused. With each passing second, all of this started to make less and less sense. I mean, it didn’t make any sense to begin with, but at least back when I first got my powers, I had an idea of how they worked.

Sighing, I raised the camera back up to my face with a crease of annoyance forming in my brow. I’d have to try and stop time again.

Except, the viewfinder showed me that it was already stopped. Nothing was moving, it all looked exactly the way I’d left it when I first pulled away.

I swear, my head was about to go nuclear from how ridiculous this was getting.

Even more confused now, I lowered my camera and stared at the waves below me. They were still crashing and sloshing into the rocks like you’d expect.

Then, I looked back through the viewfinder. Once again, all the waves were motionless. Frozen in time.

Don’t tell me…

Within the next 30 seconds, I probably moved my camera up and down around a thousand times. Just to be sure.

As I suspected, the scene I saw through my camera was always the same: the exact moment I’d chosen to stop time. Whenever I pulled away however, everything seemed to move normally. Like nothing had happened.

It was almost like the device was somehow a conduit for my power, and it only worked if I was looking through it.

I guess that was one mystery solved. It seemed like I could only manipulate time through a lens…weird.

But if that was the case, then how was I supposed to rewind?

As if on cue, I felt the energy in my hand shift for a third time. Instead of dancing between my fingers or flowing through my camera, it wrapped around the zoom ring of my lens. It was almost like it had a mind of its own, like it was trying to tell me something.

Cautiously, I decided to listen and turned it clockwise. I expected to see my view get smaller and smaller, but instead, I saw time reverse.

The once motionless waves were now crashing into themselves and flowing backwards, the birds were flying in the opposite direction, and best of all, the ambulance was finally starting to move back toward the town’s main road.

I had to practically stop myself from jumping right off the cliff out of pure joy.

Yes! This is it!

Now invigorated, I continued to turn the zoom ring and watched as the world rewound around me. The police cars slowly began to move in reverse, shimmying around various corners of the road that led back to their starting points. The truck, in all of its dented glory, started sliding backwards. Colliding with obstacles that magically repaired themselves with every second I kept pushing.

It was so mesmerizing to see it again – the way the whole world seemed to shift and change as I forced it to move backwards.

What was even more mesmerizing was the fact that I didn’t feel any pain. Back when I first got my powers, rewinding too much would seriously fuck with my head. It always felt like I had a pair of invisible hands inside my skull that would curl their fingers around my brain whenever I went back in time. The more I pushed, the harder and more intensely they squeezed. Right now though, I felt nothing. I’d already far surpassed the amount of time I could normally rewind, and since I wasn’t experiencing any pain or discomfort yet, I had no idea what my new limit might be. Was that another way my power had changed?

Putting a pin in that question for now, I kept turning. Watching as the truck inched closer and closer to that spot on the sidewalk where it’d run over the brown haired woman just a few minutes earlier. Dog, had it already been a few minutes? I guess trying to mess with time really starts to make you lose track.

Slowly but surely, the truck finally made it to that critical point I’d been waiting for, and once again, I was forced to see that terrified expression. The one that woman had on her face the moment she’d gotten hit. It was just as gut wrenching and frightening as it was the first time. The only upside was that now, I could watch it disappear as she slowly sprang back to life, looking like she was minding her own business while a large truck wiggled away from her in reverse.

I figured that I could go on for way longer if I needed to, but I didn’t want to risk changing too much. There was no telling what might happen if I went back too far, no telling what the consequences might be. All I needed to do was go back just enough to save her. Nothing else.

So I continued to push, continued to go back in time until the truck was positioned farther down the road than I ever remembered it being. The brown haired woman was further away now too, so if luck was on my side, she’d hopefully have an easier time seeing my camera flashes before the truck could hit her now. It was all so perfect, and if I messed up – well, what did it matter? I could just go back and try again.

I was just about to ask myself how I could force the rewind when I suddenly felt energy start to zap and spark on the shutter release of my camera. I still didn’t fully understand how I knew it, but I could tell that the moment I pressed that button, everything would be set in stone. I would go back in time, and I’d be able to make a second attempt at getting the woman to notice me on the top of this cliff. All it would take was the simple press of a button…so, why wasn’t I doing it?

This entire time, I’d been telling myself that I had to save that woman down there. That since I had this power, it was only right for me to try. ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ and all that.

But for some reason, I just couldn’t get myself to do it. Every signal I tried sending to my brain was met by a brick wall located somewhere in my head. A blockage that suppressed the desire I had to press that button with an urge that begged me to stop.

Even with time completely frozen, I could still feel my hands trembling. Like my body was waging a war against itself.

It should’ve been so simple, right? I mean, I see someone die, I save them. That’s what anyone in my position would do.

But no one, not one person on this planet knew the dangers of what I was about to do.

Ten years ago, I’d done the very same thing: saved someone from their fate. And throughout the course of that stupid week, without even thinking about it, I did it over and over again. I’d changed the course of events so many times that the universe retaliated against me. Threatened to destroy thousands of people all because I’d kept one girl alive

This event could lead to the same thing. What if my saving her guaranteed that someone else might die in her place? What if another massive storm threatened to destroy this town and everyone in it just because I couldn’t control myself?

But the way her legs looked…the way that woman looked so afraid when she got hit…would I really be okay with allowing that to happen when I had the ability to prevent it?

Would I really be okay with letting potentially thousands of people die for one person though?

The memories started to leak through again, and I could practically feel them now. The raindrops, so terribly cold, slapping against my skin with a force so strong that it threatened to rip it all right off my bones.

The look in Chloe’s eyes. The fearful resolve they held as they glittered against the dark gray sky, the shaking sternness in her voice when she told me that there were so many people in Arcadia Bay who deserved to live more than her.

If I did this, what would my journey with Chloe have been for? What would it mean if I let the same events unfold for a second time and made a different choice?

Could I do that? Could I really live with those consequences when I still felt so guilty?

What would Chloe say to me if she was here? What would she think? What would she do?

…

I didn’t know.

I guess that was my answer.

Using all the strength I had left in my body, I forced myself to pull away from my camera one last time. Making my muscles move was a slow and painful process, almost like a mouse trying to free itself from a glue trap.

When I did eventually succeed, my arms helplessly flopped to my sides in defeat.

The waves had started moving again, the birds had begun soaring toward the horizon, and the orange leaves of the trees surrounding the cliff continued to fly away with the breeze.

It was all I could do to simply stand there and stare. Watching with my own two eyes as the now empty street of Arcadia Bay stared back at me, lifeless and alone.

Chapter Text

In years past, my visits to Arcadia Bay would usually end with me going back to my hotel and taking a nice long nap. After spending so much time traveling around the town and taking pictures that stirred up some painful memories, I’d normally be so exhausted that I needed a couple hours to recuperate before I went back home.

But this year, that didn’t happen.

The second I got back to my room and I heard the door close behind me, I immediately ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach right into the toilet. I was honestly surprised I’d been able to hold it in for so long. I‘d felt it bubbling and churning all the way from the top of that cliff down to the entrance of the hotel.

I’d hoped that once I let it all out, I’d feel some kind of relief, but of course, I was never that lucky. Despite having nothing left to throw up, I still felt like I might implode from the inside out at any given second. A ticking time bomb just waiting to destroy everything around her the moment she decided to let her guard down and relax.

Because of that, I continued gripping onto that toilet for an extra hour, keeping my fingers tightly curled around that porcelain bowl like it was my only lifeline. I figured that maybe, I could stay there all night and go back home in the morning, but that thought was washed away the second I closed my eyes and saw the silhouette of those legs. Those bent and broken legs…

I had to get out of here.

Willing myself to stand up, I exited the bathroom and got right to work on packing up as quickly as I possibly could, but it wasn’t without a ridiculous amount of difficulty.

I’d blown through nearly all of my energy and thensome thanks to today’s events. My legs felt like they’d just been subjected to a 30 thousand mile long marathon, and my arms, they felt like they’d just been forced to bench press mount everest.

The only reason I was able to move at all was because I still had latent surges of fear and guilt fueling what little power my muscles had left. It made my body groan, but I had to suck it up and focus on directing all that extra strength towards my one and only objective: getting the fuck out of here.

I needed to put as much distance between myself and Arcadia Bay as I possibly could. I needed to go somewhere that wouldn’t be damaged or hurt by my stupid fucking powers.

Fuck, my powers. Why today of all days? Why now?

Forcing the rest of my clothes back into a now bulging luggage bag, I grabbed everything I owned and checked out of the hotel as fast as I could manage.

It was hard, trying to ignore the strange looks I got in the lobby as I handed in my key and power walked back to my car. I figured that I must’ve looked about as freaked out as I felt, because the receptionist gawked at me like I was one minor inconvenience away from dropping dead on the floor. Which wasn’t too far off.

The moment my bags were in the trunk and I got into the driver’s seat, I gripped my steering wheel way more tightly than was probably necessary and contemplated on where I should go.

I couldn’t just go back to my parents’ house, could I? What if my powers acted up again and that caused something bad to happen? Besides, would they really want their stupid fuck-up of a daughter inside their home right now? The daughter who let an innocent woman die today?

But where else was there? It’s not like I could just show up to any of my friends’ houses on such short notice and ask to stay the night. That would just cause them trouble. Plus, if I did look as bad as I felt, they’d wonder what was wrong with me and ask a bunch of questions I didn’t wanna answer.

I didn’t really have much of a choice now, did I? At the very least if I went back to my parents’ I could just walk in, avoid them, and go to my room. Anywhere else and I’d be forced into conversation, all the while endlessly worrying that staying near them for too long might hurt them.

So, with an insane amount of reluctance, I drove straight from the Ashley Inn all the way back to Queen Anne in Seattle.

The four hour drive back was usually so mind-numbing, a way for me to clear my head after a long day of contemplation and reflection. However, today, I just couldn’t get my brain to stop focusing on everything that had happened earlier.

Ten years…ten fucking years of nothing and all of a sudden something this crazy happens. On the tenth anniversary of Chloe’s death, no less. That was either one of the most ridiculous coincidences in all of human history, or the universe’s sick and twisted idea of poetic justice.

And yes, in case there’s still any confusion, I have powers. Specifically, the power to go back in time.

Sounds amazing, right? I mean, who wouldn’t want the ability to reverse, retry, or erase absolutely anything you wanted?

Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as a free plate of waffles.

If I’d learned anything during the week I’d gotten my powers, it was that the universe always takes its toll. For every little thing you change, something else of equal or greater magnitude will change along with it in order to keep the balance.

For instance, I’d reversed time to stop my friend Alyssa from getting slammed in the face with a football once. I thought nothing of it at first. I’d just gotten my powers that day and in my mind, I was simply performing a good deed. Helping someone that didn’t deserve to get hurt.

But then, the next day, a toilet paper roll was thrown at the back of her head instead. A sign that silently told me I’d only managed to delay the inevitable.

Time tends to hold a grudge like that.

It's kind of like a petty highschool bully when you think about it. Someone who’s always trying to get back at you in any way they can in the event you cross them. And so, even after saving Alyssa from having two separate objects thrown at her face, she eventually found herself stuck on the second story of a collapsing building just a few days later. She’d been punished because I dared to save her from a little pain and humiliation.

I’d retaliated against what the universe had dictated to be her fate, and as a result, she suffered the consequences. To this day, I’ve always wondered if I could’ve stopped that from happening had I not tried to help her in the first place.

But even that was just a small example. Nothing in comparison to the most drastic thing I’d ever done.

I’d saved Chloe’s life. Back in that bathroom, I’d managed to distract Nathan Prescott long enough for Chloe to fight back and escape without getting hurt. But time and time again, Chloe just kept dying. No matter how many times I tried to protect her, no matter how many rewinds I subjected myself to in order to save her, the universe just kept taking her away from me.

My selfish desire to save her was what eventually caused a massive, supernatural tornado to bear down on Arcadia Bay with enough force to wipe it completely off the map. The ultimate payback for playing tug of war with destiny.

For nearly a whole week I tried to figure out how I could stop it, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing, of course, except…giving the universe exactly what it wanted: Chloe.

After saving her a countless number of times, I was finally forced to let Chloe die. Revert time back to the way it was and allow that stupid bullet to kill my best friend. Soon after that, I swore to never use my powers again. I even tore that stupid butterfly photo to shreds just so I wouldn’t be tempted to go back and change my mind.

I couldn’t chance something like that ever happening again. If Arcadia Bay was destroyed after everything I’d sacrificed, then Chloe’s death would’ve been for nothing.

With all that in mind, letting the brown haired woman die was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Allow fate to take one person in exchange for keeping an entire town filled with innocent people safe instead.

It’s not like I knew her or anything. Unlike Chloe, my best friend, I didn’t have any personal stake in that woman’s life.

So why did leaving her to die back on that cliff hurt so much? Why did it feel like I’d gotten my heart ripped right out of my chest for the second time in my life?

The anger and guilt that seeped into my core as I asked myself those questions made me wanna scream. I was so sick of not being able to answer them, and unfortunately, that sickness ended up haunting me for the entirety of my drive back home.

It was around 5PM when I finally got back.

As soon as I trudged inside, I immediately made a beeline for the stairs. I’d hoped to be discreet, sneak inside and avoid interacting with my parents so I wouldn’t risk warping their fates or something. Unfortunately for me though, the stupid wheels on my damn bag were so annoyingly loud and obnoxious that any chance I had at subtlety was thrown right out the window.

I could only hope that my parents were out on the town somewhere. I really didn’t wanna talk to them while I was still such a wreck.

Ten guesses on where I found them.

“Oh, hey sweetheart! You’re back early.” My dad mused. Both he and my mom were comfortably snuggled up on the couch of the living room, which just so happened to be right next to the kitchen I’d entered in from.

Figures. On any other day, I’d find my mom and dad cuddling together super cute. Today though? I really wished they’d just gone out to eat or stuck to their room instead.

Quickly, I turned my face to the side so I was looking directly at the stairs positioned next to me. There was no way I could let them see my face. If they saw how rattled I was, they’d get all worried and send a flurry of unanswerable questions my way.

“Yeah!” I noted, putting a lot of effort into keeping my voice steady. “I wasn’t all that tired when I got back to the hotel so I figured I’d get a step ahead this time and come back home.”

“Really? That isn’t like you, sweetie.” My mom queried. “You okay?”

Oh, crapbaskets. I should’ve expected that.

I almost never strayed away from my routines, and if I did, it would usually mess me up for a whole day afterward. So to my mom, seeing me go against my usual plans was already a little weird and out of character. Hearing me do it so casually though? That definitely made her suspicious.

Come on, Max! Deflect, deflect, deflect!

“Oh, I’m fine!” I said, lifting my bag onto the steps. “I’m- y’know- trying to step out of my comfort zone a little more.”

“Well, okay…” my mom said, her voice dripping with doubt.

For a split second, I thought I might actually be in the clear. But then, I heard the sound of something shuffling atop the couch, as if someone was trying to get up.

Double crap.

“Do you need any help with your bags?” My dad called. ”I can-”

“Nope!” I interrupted, hoping that he’d settle back down before he had the chance to walk into the kitchen and see me. “I’m just a little tired is all. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, honey. Sleep well.” He said, thankfully, sitting back down and putting an end to our conversation.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief that only I could hear, I urgently hoisted my bag up the stairs. When I made it to the top, I practically ran inside my room, shutting the door behind me and locking it tight.

Well, that was one crisis averted. Now…for all the rest.

I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. Now that I was finally alone and far, far away from Arcadia Bay, I felt my knees buckle under my own weight and slowly sank to the ground. Helplessly, I sat against my door, staring at nothing in particular while my body screamed at me in pain.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been overexerting myself for the last five hours, or if my powers had sapped all the strength I had left back on that cliff.

My powers…I had so many questions about them flowing through my mind that I was at risk of fainting from all the brain activity.

Why did they activate? Why today? Why had they changed so drastically? Did it have anything to do with the buzzing I felt in my hand a few days ago, and most importantly, had I accidentally changed something without meaning to?

What if I’d accidentally stepped on a different blade of grass while time was stopped? Would that discrepancy cause a supernatural earthquake or something?

Okay, calm down. I told myself. You haven’t lost it that badly yet…I hope.

But no, there was no way something that crazy would happen just because I’d stopped time for a few seconds. Besides, I feel like I’d know. Back when I first got my powers, I had a vision of the giant tornado that nearly destroyed Arcadia Bay four whole days before it happened. It almost felt like the universe itself had been warning me.

If something as bad as that tornado were to happen again, I’d hope whatever forces existed out there would at least tell me beforehand.

Even that was only a small hope, however. It wasn’t like I could just mess around with my powers all willy-nilly and hope I’d magically get a vision of the future. For all I knew, something drastic might’ve already changed and I wouldn’t know until it was too late, and not knowing for sure was what really set me on edge.

With weak hands, I reached into my bag and pulled out my camera. Thumbing over the different buttons while my eyes searched in vain for something out of the ordinary.

I was careful not to let that mysterious energy start flowing again. The last thing I needed was another accidental time stop right in the safety of my own home. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how something as beautifully simple as a camera could channel the power of time. It didn’t look any different, didn’t feel different in my hands; it was the same camera I’d owned for the last two years. Nothing more, nothing less.

Absent-mindedly, I turned it on and started flipping through the photos I’d taken in order to calm my mind, but of course, in another twist of cruelty, I couldn’t even have that.

For some reason, almost all of the photos I’d taken today were either deleted or corrupted. Black squares and dead pixels crowded what would otherwise be images of buildings, sand, and rocky waves.

That upset me way more than it probably should’ve. Out of all the crazy shit that’d happened today, I figured I could at least find some solace in the normalcy that photography provided. Now, even my photos weren’t safe.

Huffing in annoyance, I tossed my camera across the room and forced myself to stand up. My legs wobbled a little as I got my bearings, but I was eventually able to shuffle over to my bed.

I flopped onto that mattress like a dead fish. Face first, head buried in my pillow, not even bothering to get under the covers. I hoped that somehow, I could get at least a little sleep and clear my head, but that ended up being wishful thinking.

As the hours passed, it became increasingly more clear that I wasn’t going to get an ounce of rest. It wasn’t for lack of trying though.

Every single time I closed my eyes and tried to slip into unconsciousness, I always saw the distant image of that brown haired woman’s terrified face as she got run over.

No matter how many times I tossed and turned, it was never enough to knock me out for more than a few minutes at a time. When I finally decided that I’d had enough, I pulled out my phone and tried to keep myself occupied.

Instead of watching Tiktok videos or reading a book however, I spent the next few hours refreshing Google over and over again to see if any of the Tillamook news outlets had reported on the story yet.

Why did I do that, you ask? Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why.

And sure enough, around 3AM, I saw the first article on the disaster.

Tragedy Strikes Arcadia Bay: Fatal Car Crash Claims Innocent Life

In a devastating turn of events, the serene and quiet town of Arcadia Bay was rocked by a fatal car crash yesterday afternoon, leaving residents in shock. The incident occurred at approximately 11:58 a.m. local time, when a pickup truck careened out of control along Main Street, striking an innocent pedestrian who was walking along the sidewalk.

According to eyewitnesses, the driver of the truck was observed driving recklessly and erratically before the collision, exhibiting signs of impairment. Authorities later confirmed that the driver was under the influence of drugs at the time of the crash, further compounding the tragedy.

That was all I managed to read before I shut my phone off and tossed it across the room, pressing my palms to my eyes in order to save myself the despair of accidentally glancing back at the article.

I felt sick all over again, like I might puke on the carpet and scream if I wasn’t careful. Unfortunately, I had nothing left to throw up, and no vocal chords left to stretch. So instead, I did the only thing I could: cry.

I could sense the tears coming long before they started. I tried to keep them at bay, rubbing my eyes in a repetitive circular motion and watching as my vision grew staticy from all the pressure. Despite my best efforts to hold them back though, I still felt a steady stream of hot salty tears rushing down the sides of my face.

“You did that…” I whispered to myself. Even with my voice so agonizingly quiet, it still shook and shuddered with a painful sadness drenched in every syllable.

I don’t know how long I sat there and cried for, but at some point, I reasoned that it was probably best to try and distract myself. I knew that the longer I stayed holed up in my room like this, the worse my thoughts would get.

So with a grunt, I got up off the bed and changed into my running gear. It was a bit earlier than I would’ve liked, but fuck me if I didn’t need a nice long run to soothe my mind.

When I stepped outside I hoped I’d be out there for at least a few hours, maybe run the entire length of Queen Anne and back if I could.

It was just my luck that I barely made it past one.

While my muscles had since recovered from yesterday’s onslaught, having no food in my belly meant that I didn’t have the energy required to use them. While I forced myself to chug along as best I could, my legs threatened to give out completely by the time I got back home.

After I showered and brushed my teeth, I briefly contemplated making myself breakfast. I would’ve killed for a nice warm plate of waffles right about then, but…the moment I even thought about food, my stomach would grumble in anxious protest. So much for that.

Unsure of what else to do, I scuttled back into my room and decided to get on my laptop. I figured that with all the free time I suddenly had at five in the morning, I could at least use it productively and look over some of the submissions I’d gotten for Monday’s homework assignment. I normally didn’t get the bulk of them until the due date, but I still had a few go-getters that always sent me their work a couple days early that I could check. If nothing else, it’d be a nice distraction from swimming around in my own head.

All the shots I saw were pretty much exactly what I expected: lots and lots of photos showing everyday objects, places, or people, all captured in black and white. Some of them did a decent job at demonstrating one of the fundamentals I’d taught them on Thursday. Others though? They didn’t really have a clear vision or direction. Something like a hastily taken photo of a cat with no sense of purpose.

It was honestly…disappointing.

I knew I couldn't be too harsh. After all, they were just students and it was only one homework assignment in a 101 class. I didn’t expect them to go full Diane Arbus on me only a few weeks into the semester, but still, it would’ve been cool to see some of them actually try. Most of these submissions were so boring that my mind kept getting pulled back to that afternoon on the cliff.

Brief flashes of that brown haired woman’s broken legs kept striking my brain like a bolt of lightning. I was trying so hard to avoid thinking about it and focus on the work in front of me that I actually started biting my fingernails–an old habit that I swear I’d curbed a super long time ago.

I was just about ready to give up and look for something else to do, but right as I went to close my laptop, I spotted a photo that caught my eye.

It was the image of a little wooden soldier. It was standing on a table, its body turned slightly away from the camera to stare at something out of frame. It had tiny wooden hands that held a little toy trumpet, curling its arms to aim the instrument toward the sky. It was almost like it’d been sounding a bugle for its fallen comrades.

Not only was I intrigued by it, but I found myself genuinely impressed. It did a great job at highlighting form and placing a focus on the core elements of the subject – the pattern of the wood grain, the tiny imperfections in the paint…all of it was heavily exaggerated and put on display thanks to the lack of the color. It might’ve had issues with framing, focus, and composition, but it was by far the best submission I’d seen yet.

Curious, I checked to see who’d sent it.

Color me surprised when I found out that it belonged to Alice.

Since she was a new student and all, I had no idea what her strengths and weaknesses as a photographer might be. But if this photo was any indication of what I could expect to see from her, then Alice was exceptional at capturing form. Honestly, seeing it made me feel a little relieved. Maybe the job she had lined up this week was legit…or maybe, I was just being delusional.

Sadly, Alice’s photo was the last submission on the list, so I had nothing left to look at, and therefore, nothing left to keep my brain occupied.

I tried to zone out for the next few hours. Watched a few videos, walked around, looked through my window to stare at the waking city, but in spite of all my best efforts time seemed to pass so slowly.

Every time I tried to shut my brain off and relax, I’d feel an electrifying pang of guilt surge through my chest. It was an ever present reminder that my brain wasn’t gonna let me forget what I’d done any time soon. All I could hope for was that eventually, nine o’ clock would come around and I’d finally have a reason to get out of the house.

Ugh. I can control time yet I can’t make it go by any damn faster. Isn’t that the most amazing case of irony you’ve ever heard?

If nothing else, I was just glad I didn’t schedule my meetup with Victoria any later in the day.

When we found out a few weeks ago that we’d both be in town at around the same time, we decided to meet up at Kerry Park so we could catch up in person.

I’d been so excited to see her again, but with my power’s suddenly back out of the blue, I was scared that I’d accidentally do something crazy and hurt her.

However, I really needed the distraction. While I didn’t fully understand how my powers even worked now, I was confident that nothing would happen unless I had my camera.

So after spending the next couple of hours pacing around my room in nothing but a towel, I decided to get dressed and started rummaging through my suitcase in search of an outfit to wear.

I had to put on something nice. Hopefully, that would help offset how bleary and tired I probably looked. Plus, Victoria was an absolute stickler for fashion. If I didn’t show up looking at least a little stylish, she’d tear me a new one. Trust me.

I ended up settling on a pink off-shoulder blouse and a pair of high waisted jeans to match. I even put on a pair of ankle height boots that I’d packed for the trip too. Not an ensemble I’d normally wear unless it was a particularly special occasion.

Once all the stray, frizzy hairs I’d acquired from my restless night were brushed out, I fitted on a couple of bracelets and my golden doe necklace to complete the look. I suspected that I might not like what I saw if I took one quick glance at the mirror, so I decided I was all set and hoisted my camera bag over my shoulder, making my way toward the door.

Right before I could reach the knob however, I came to the sudden realization that I was carrying my camera. I’d grabbed it almost automatically. It’s how I always left the house…how I always left anywhere as a matter of fact. But now, knowing I could potentially activate my powers with it nearby, I wasn’t so sure that I should bring it along.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable and gross, but I couldn’t risk it. So with great pain, I slumped the bag off my shoulder and forced myself to step outside. Hoping that at least seeing one of my friends would help soothe my fretful mind.

The walk to the park ended up feeling like one massive blur. One moment, I was walking away from my parents’ house, the next, I was sitting on a bench positioned right in front of some weird metal sculpture of two shapes with holes in them. I think it was called “Shifting Forms” or something? I dunno, I never got into fine art.

The only reason I ever came here to begin with was the view. Far beyond the sleek metal fence that separated the park from the dropoff below, you could see the entire cityscape, beautifully captured in perfect harmony with the sea water surrounding it. In the morning, when blue hour hits, it’s one of the most beautiful views you can get in all of Seattle.

I’d probably captured it on my cameras dozens of times in the past, each shot somehow slightly different than the last. It’d been a long time since I’d last taken a photo up here, and that thought got me thinking…could I even take photos anymore?

With my powers now apparently tied to my camera, there was no telling what could happen if I tried to snap a picture. What if, while taking a photo for a client, I accidentally rewound? Or what if I tried to get a super zoomed in shot and accidentally went back by a couple of hours, or even days? There was no telling how far back I could go now, and honestly, I had no clue if my powers had changed other ways I hadn’t noticed yet. Would I ever be able to take a photo again without fear of losing control? Would it work with any camera, or was it just the one I used yesterday? What if-

“Hey! Caulfield!”

Without warning, I was forcibly yanked out of my thoughts by the sound of someone calling my name from behind. Hearing it almost immediately made my shoulders slack, removing a tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto until now.

It was for a good reason though. I’d know that condescending yet surprisingly sweet sounding voice anywhere. Feeling a twinge of excitement, I stood up off the bench and turned to look at none other than Victoria Maribeth Chase.

With a perfectly styled head of pixie cut blonde hair and strikingly green eyes, Victoria was as intimidating as she was beautiful. No matter where she went, she always exuded an aura of power and authority, made even more apparent by her choice of attire: A white button down blouse with rolled up sleeves, a pair of flawlessly pressed crimson colored slacks – she even had a pair of red heels on, which made her look way taller than she already was. And if that wasn’t enough already, she was carrying a crimson colored blazer over her shoulder, ensuring that anyone who might spot her would immediately understand that she was a big deal.

To anyone else, the prospect of merely walking up and talking to her might’ve seemed impossible. But me? I nearly knocked the poor girl over by dashing straight into her with open arms, slamming her into a hug that could rival my mom’s.

“Victoria!” I shouted happily.

“Woah!” she chuffed, letting out a small laugh before wrapping her lithe arms around me in return.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” I confessed.

“Missed you too, you big dork. Now come on, let me go before I have to start eating out of a tube.”

“Sorry…” I chuckled, pulling away from her with a smile. After how terrible my night had been, simply seeing Victoria was proving to be enough to help me wash some of those bad feelings away, even if it was only for a moment.

As soon as she was freed from my grasp, Victoria held her chin and proceeded to eye me up and down with that scrutinizing gaze of hers. When I heard her hum to herself in thought, I hoped it was in approval. “Hm, cute outfit. Glad to see all the fashion knowledge I hammered into you hasn’t completely gone to waste just yet.”

“And I’m glad to see that you’re just as humble as ever.” I sighed. “Seriously though, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Likewise.” she smirked. However, the smile on her face quickly transformed into a look of concern. Uh oh.

Before I could turn around to try and hide how weary I looked, she gently pushed my face to the side so she could get a better look at me. It only made her worry deepen. “You look tired…did you have trouble sleeping or something?”

There was no point in lying to her. Besides, even if I did, she’d be able to tell. “Uh – no. Not really. I’m fine though, I swear!”

She didn’t seem convinced. “You sure you’re good to walk around then? If you want, we can-”

“I’m fine.” I assured her. While she still seemed a little skeptical, she thankfully nodded in understanding, putting an end to that conversation before it could get started. I appreciated her concern, but I really didn’t wanna sit around any longer than I already had. It might’ve been tiring, but moving around helps me unwind.

“Alright, alright.” She acquiesced. “Where did you wanna go for brunch? Citizen’s open, I think.”

The idea of food made me wanna gag. You know that feeling you get when your stomach is so empty that you don’t wanna eat anything at all? Yeah, I was at that point by now, but I didn’t wanna stop Victoria from eating just because I was such a mess. So, reluctantly, I nodded in agreement and started our walk toward the cafe. “Sounds good to me.”

A long time ago, I would’ve considered Victoria Chase to be my worst enemy. These days though, she was my best friend. The one person in the whole world that I could talk to about anything…anything except time travel powers, of course.

If you were to tell my 18-year-old self that one day, Victoria would eventually become her greatest friend, she’d probably tell you that you’re insane and make a mad dash for her dorm room.

And I wouldn’t blame her. For the longest time, Victoria was an absolute asshole to just about everyone; especially me and another girl we went to highschool with named Kate Marsh. To say she was a bully would be the understatement of the century. She was more like a freaky tormentor specifically designed to make sure everybody’s lives were as miserable as possible.

After spending a few months with her at Blackwell, I was convinced that she’d never change. That she’d never grow up and start treating people with kindness. But during the week that never happened, I managed to catch a glimpse of her softer side. A few fleeting glances of a girl that was only just starting to care about the people around her.

I thought that version of her died the moment I reset the timeline, but as it turned out, she’d been there all along. Patiently waiting behind Victoria’s cashmere-coated shell for an excuse to finally appear. One that found itself in the form of a tragedy.

I wasn’t the only person affected by the shooting at Blackwell ten years ago. Victoria and Nathan had been pretty close, almost like brother and sister. From what I could gather at the time, Victoria was one of the only people that Nathan would ever confide in. While they were terrible to everyone else, they were at least nice to each other.

But after Nathan shot Chloe, and everyone on the west coast found out about what he and Mark Jefferson had been doing together, something inside of her snapped.

Don’t get me wrong, she was still an asshole, but after everything that happened, she started to act a little more…considerate.

One day, she’d been ruthlessly taunting Kate and making fun of me in the middle of class. The next, she was oddly silent. Shaken by the shooting so badly that she started keeping to herself instead of letting all her anger out on the first person that looked at her the wrong way.

She was still snippy and quick to anger, but not even a couple of hours after the news about Jefferson came out did I find her knocking on Kate’s door.

From what Kate told me, Victoria apologized for what she’d done to her. It must’ve been a damn good apology too, because Kate accepted it without much issue.

It was either that or the fact that Kate was quite possibly the sweetest person in the entire world.

On the very same day, Victoria actually knocked on the door to my room too. I don’t know how she found out I was friends with Chloe, but she offered her sympathies. Saying she was sorry for what had happened.

I like to think that day was the start of her transformation.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” she said, wrapping her blazer around her shoulders as we walked. “I only got out of the airport like 30 minutes ago.”

I blinked, turning my head to stare at her like she’d just murdered someone right in front of me. “What?! You’re not feeling any jet lag?”

“Not right now.” she shrugged. “It’ll probably hit me in a couple of hours though. I can deal.”

I sighed, suddenly feeling a little guilty for making Victoria walk all the way out here right after getting back from such a long trip. “You know, if it was gonna be like this you really didn’t have to come and see me.”

“And what? Miss out on spending some time with you?” she grinned, tapping my shoulder. “As if.”

I smiled appreciatively. “Well, now that you’re back, how did that big deal of yours go? Did you get what you wanted?”

“You bet your ass I did. You’ll be happy to hear that Chase Elegance is officially partnering up with the Sacai brand for next year’s fall collection.” she boasted, raising her head proudly toward the sky. Seeing her like that only made my smile grow wider.

“Wowser Victoria, that’s amazing! I was getting kinda worried things wouldn’t work out since it was taking so long…I still think you should’ve called your company ‘Chasing Fashion’, though.”

“Ugh, you’re never gonna let that go, are you?” She groaned. “But- yeah. There were definitely a couple of hiccups here and there. Miscommunication, incentives, creative differences…we eventually came to an agreement though. I think it’ll work out pretty well for us in the end. Abe-san said she ‘really liked my spirit’.”

“Hm…” I hummed. “By ‘spirit’ did she mean ‘annoyingly stubborn and relentless’ by any chance?”

“...no comment.” she added, which made me giggle. “Enough about me though. If I have to talk about any more business related shit I’ll collapse. What about you? Teacher’s life treating you well?”

“For the most part.” I shrugged. “I have some pretty talented students this year.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s this one girl, Alice. She’s really great at form, but…”

“But…she’s shit at color, lighting, focus, and pretty much everything else?”

I winced. “I wouldn’t say that, but she definitely has a long way to go.”

“Well, she’s lucky to have you teaching her then. You can’t really ask for a better mentor.”

I flushed at the compliment, not really sure how to respond in any other way than muttering a low mumble of thanks. It was so sad. Even after all these years, I was still terrible at taking compliments. “Thanks…y’know…she invited me to join her on a job. She said she had something lined up and was wondering if I could tag along with her and help her out.”

Suddenly, Victoria stopped walking and looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

Oh boy. She wasn’t gonna like this.

Trying to figure out what I could say, I pulled my lips into a thin line, making an effort to avoid contact. “Well…I thought it would be interesting at least…”

Victoria turned her whole body to face me now, crossing her arms and staring at me with a disappointed glare that seemed to silently say “really, Max?”

“What?”

She raised an eyebrow, still not speaking.

“Victoria, seriously, what?”

“She’s trying to scam you out of free work, Max.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the fact that I’d been thinking the exact same thing for the last few days. “I dunno, she didn’t really seem like the type…”

“They never do until it’s too late.” she pointed out. “Lemme guess, she walked up to you with a pair of sweet looking puppy eyes and said: ‘Oh please, Miss Caulfield! Would you help me with my first photography job! I’d oh so love your help!’”

Victoria can’t go back in time, but sometimes, her ability to guess events exactly as they happened really makes me wonder. “Well – it didn’t go exactly like that…”

“Sure…” she drawled sarcastically. “Seriously Max, you need to learn how to say no. I can’t be the only one reminding you to protect your talent.”

“Ugh…I know.” I groaned, suddenly remembering a few other times I’d gotten scammed by would be ‘photographers’ looking for advice. “Ok, look. If it turns out to be a sham, I’ll walk the other way. Okay?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Throughout the rest of our walk, Victoria and I continued to talk about random mundane shit pertaining to our everyday lives.

As you might imagine, there wasn’t really much to tell. We texted all the time, so we were both pretty well informed on how things were going. I, of course, decided not to reveal that I’d been having a moral dilemma for the last 24 hours thanks to my inexplicable time powers.

Somehow, I doubted that would go over well.

‘Hey Victoria! Did you know I can go back in time and if I do it causes death and destruction? Well guess what, I almost did it yesterday but decided not to at the last second and ended up letting an innocent woman die!’

If there was any surefire way to get sent to a psych ward, that was probably it.

When we eventually made it to the Citizen Collective, the two of us opted for outdoor seats. The place was pretty nice, although it wasn’t as fancy as some of the restaurants Victoria usually preferred. It seemed pretty small and cramped when you stepped inside the building, but the moment you got out back, you were greeted to a cute little yard-like area filled with tables, chairs, and outdoor heaters. It always reminded me of what some of the parks at Arcadia Bay looked like whenever there was a big 4th of July celebration.

“Okay…” Victoria huffed, sitting down in her seat. “Now that we’re finally here, let's get to the juicy stuff. How are you and Laura doing?”

I cringed, scratching the back of my neck in embarrassment. “We…uh…we broke up.”

“Again?” Victoria said, but her eyes widened the second she realized she’d just said something rude. “Shit! I’m sorry- I mean- you know-” she stopped, letting out a defeated sigh. “…my bad.”

“Seriously, it’s okay.”

“Still, I’m sorry. If you don’t mind me asking though…why’d you two split off?”

“We…wanted different things.” I said, which was admittedly a rehearsed response. It’d already been about two weeks since I’d broken up with Laura and I’d been dreading the moment I’d have to tell Victoria about it. It was pretty embarrassing; this breakup would mark the fourth girlfriend I’d gone through within the last three years. I’d rather not dwell on all the details.

“I see…” Victoria nodded, leaning back in her chair.

For the next few seconds, neither of us said much of anything. It was definitely a little awkward, but it’s not like I could blame Victoria for going silent. If someone told me what I just said to her, I wouldn’t know how to respond either.

Luckily, the silence didn’t last for very long. Before I could muster up something else to say, a waitress came to our table, pen in hand. “Hey ladies! My name’s Christie, I’ll be your server for today. Can I start you guys off with some drinks?”

“Oh, I’ll just get a water please.” I said. “No lemon or anything.”

“Okay,” she said, scribbling in her notepad. “And you, miss?”

“Ooh...could you get me a lemonade?”

“Sure thing. Are you two ready to order now or do you need more time?”

Victoria looked at me expectantly, but I raised my hands in refusal. “Nah, I’m not hungry.”

The blonde eyed me suspiciously, but decided not to say anything. Instead, she looked back at the waitress and pointed to a couple of items on her menu. “I’ll have this and that please.”

“You got it!” Christie said, writing a few more things down before taking our menus and walking off. I silently thanked her as I saw her disappear into the building. She’d bought enough time for this whole thing to feel a little less awkward.

“So- uh…” I stuttered. “How about you? Are you dating anyone right now?”

Victoria propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin inside the palm of her hand. “Nope. Haven’t really had the time for romance these days.”

I nodded. “The ever elusive Victoria Chase…I thought you were talking to someone though? What happened there?”

“We…wanted ‘different things’.” she said, mimicking my own words while making air quotes with her fingers. “Besides, I’m too busy. It wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I see…I guess that’s fair.”

I expected another bout of silence to pass between us, but instead, Victoria gave me a mischievous little smirk. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have any one night stands though.”

“Okay.” I chuckled.

“What? I have sex sometimes, sue me. While I was in Japan, there was this super cute girl I met at our hotel, and holy shit when I tell you she was-”

“Stop. TMI. Don’t pass go.” I sputtered, making an ‘x’ with my arms. “I don’t need all the details.”

Victoria giggled, shaking her head with a smile. “Fine, you dweeb. You can act like some kind of fair maiden all you want, but we both know how you are when-”

“Please!” I begged, covering my face, which I was certain had started turning bright red. By now, Victoria was in hysterics.

After a few more minutes passed, Christie finally came back to our table with our drinks and Victoria’s food. To my surprise, she got a pretty big and pretty juicy looking burger. Considering the blonde was usually a total health nut, a greasy slab of meat with fries was the last thing I expected her to order.

“Okay, here you are.” the waitress said, placing the plate in front of Victoria with a smile. She had one more dish in her arm too: a nice fresh basket of chicken tenders and fries. I had to admit they looked enticing, but unfortunately, I still wasn’t all that hungry. They were better off in someone else’s stomach than mine.

At least I thought they were.

Right as I guessed Christie was gonna leave, she placed the dish in front of me. That had to have been a mistake.

“Oh- I didn’t-”

“She’s all set.” Victoria interrupted. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course! If you two need anything, just call me over.”

As the waitress walked off, I leaned forward on the table, staring at Victoria in confusion. “Victoria, I seriously didn’t order these. We should’ve sent them back-”

“I ordered them.” She said, staring at me with a knowing look on her face.

“But- I’m not hungry.”

“You are.” she declared. “You look exhausted. Plus, you said you didn’t get much sleep, and to be honest? You’ve looked totally freaked out about something all morning long.”

I didn’t have a retort for that one, so I stayed silent.

“I know you. When you’re like this, you don’t eat anything, and when you don’t eat anything you pass out all over the place. You might not think you’re hungry, but you are. So eat. I’m not gonna take no for an answer.”

If I had any more energy, I probably would’ve fought back a little harder, but there was no point. She was right; I was exhausted, and I was starting to get hungry. I’d just felt too guilty to admit it. Besides, there was no point in arguing. Once Victoria Chase had her mind set on something, it was pretty much impossible to change it.

So, with reluctance, I nibbled on a couple fries…which eventually turned into me wolfing down a handful of them at a time…which eventually turned into me swallowing those chicken tenders whole like I was a great white shark.

“Told you.” Victoria smiled, finally grabbing hold of her burger and taking a nice big bite out its side. As soon as she started chewing, she practically moaned. “Mm…I love Japanese food, but after spending the last two weeks eating nothing but fish, veggies, and chicken…I really missed some good old fashioned American-made grease.”

My mouth was full, so all I could really do was hum in agreement while the two of us continued to eat our food in silence. By the time I was done, I was practically fit to burst. Eating so fast made me feel a little nauseous, but damn did it feel good to finally have some energy.

Victoria had just finished chewing on her last fry when she looked at me. She had a concerned twinkle in her eyes that looked all too similar to the one she had on earlier. “So…do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me anything.”

I’m scared because I don’t know what I’m gonna do about my powers and the guilt of what I did yesterday is eating me alive.

“It’s nothing. I just have a lot on my plate is all.” I said, looking off to the side and avoiding eye contact so I could act like one of the chairs a few tables over was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

It was then that I heard Victoria let out a long, weary sigh. In my peripheral, I could see her leaning back into her chair and crossing her arms. I didn’t even wanna imagine what kind of face she had on. “You’re a lot of things Max, but a good liar is definitely not one of them.”

Should’ve seen that one coming.

Victoria’s always been able to see right through me. Not like it was that hard in the first place, I’ve always been terrible at lying. I hate it, and I make it so obvious that pretty much anyone can tell as long as they’re paying attention. But even if I was caught out, there was no way I could tell Victoria the full truth. I couldn’t.

“I…don’t know what you mean…” I faltered. Way to make it even more obvious, Max.

“Dammit, Max,” Victoria huffed. “I know you lied to me about having a job to do in Seattle this weekend. I’ve known the whole time.”

I looked back at her shamefully, hiding my hands between my legs so I could feel smaller. When I texted Victoria a while ago to let her know I’d be in Seattle during the first week of October, I told her that I had a photoshoot with an old client. At the time, I thought she bought it. I guess I was wrong.

“I know you went to go see Chloe. It was the ten year anniversary yesterday, did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure that out?” she scolded.

I looked away from her again, frustration beginning to rise within my throat. It must’ve shown on my face too, because out of the corner of my eye I could see the blonde relax, sliding further into her chair.

“Look…I’m not trying to say you can’t mourn your friend, Max. That’s completely fine. It’s just…when you told me you were moving to New York a couple years ago, you said it was to get away from the past. Put all the shit that happened in Arcadia Bay behind you and start fresh. I remember feeling so happy for you, because in the last ten years that I’ve known you, I’ve had to watch those memories eat away at you from the inside out. And yet…here you are, still going back to that town every single year. Still letting that guilt hurt you.”

With every single word Victoria spoke, my frustration slowly morphed its way back to shame, and not long after, I felt that familiar tugging sensation pull against my gut.

Thinking about Chloe…her death…it always made the world around me grow dull and blurry. All the sounds surrounding me would start melding together, forming a staticy itch that tingled the back of my brain. The feeling of the sun, the breeze, and all the smells around me became numb and poisonous. A fervor that made me feel like I didn’t belong.

Was it normal to still feel this way after so much time had passed?

“You can’t let Chloe’s death continue to hurt you anymore.” she said, her voice growing gentler and softer.

I brought my hands back to the table, clenching my fists tightly while I struggled to look at the blonde straight on. “Vic…you know what happened between Chloe and I was-”

“I know. It’s your greatest regret, I get it. But it’s been ten years…you don’t think Chloe would’ve wanted you to move on?”

Once again, I fell completely silent. It hurt to admit, but Victoria was right: Chloe would’ve wanted me to move on…but I couldn’t.

It seemed so reasonable and conclusive when you said it aloud, right? ‘Just move on, it’s been ten years’, and maybe, if Chloe had died normally, I would’ve by now. Maybe, if I never got my powers, Chloe’s death would’ve been nothing more than a tragic end to a friend I’d all but forgotten.

But that’s not how it happened. Victoria didn’t understand what I went through, what I sacrificed. No one did. And for as long as I live, I’ll never truly be able to get over what happened.

Never.

When I didn’t say anything, Victoria bit her lip and placed a hand on mine. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but if you’re walking around without your camera bag then something’s definitely wrong. I won’t pry anymore, but…if you need to talk, I’m always here.”

I nodded appreciatively, thankful she decided to finally lay that topic to rest.

“Just don’t lie to me again, alright? You’re better than that.”

“Sorry…”

Seemingly satisfied, she pulled her hand away and paused, allowing some of the tension between us to dissipate before she next spoke. “So…do you have any jobs lined up?”

“No, not really.” I admitted, relaxing a little at the change of subject.

“What’s been stopping you?”

My usual response was ‘I’ve been too busy with teaching’, but I knew Victoria wouldn’t take that as an answer. I’d been teaching for long enough to where I had plenty of PTO saved up. If I really wanted to, I could easily tackle a few jobs here and there, but I haven’t.

It’s not like I didn’t want to, it’s just that lately, I’ve had pretty much zero motivation to take pictures for anyone…and by ‘lately’, I mean three years.

“I haven’t wanted to…I’ve just been missing that ‘spark’ of inspiration for a while now, I guess.”

“Bummer…I was actually wondering if you’d wanna take some photos for me.”

Now that got my attention. In an instant, the haze I’d been feeling cleared away, replaced with surprise and curiosity. “Wait, what?”

“I was gonna hire you for a job. Our Spring collection’s dropping soon and I was wondering if you’d wanna take the photos. We’d go to Florida, you’d do your thing, then bing bang boom we’re done. I’d pay you top shelf, of course.”

“Why me?” I said. “I’m sure you have someone in house that can take better pictures…”

Victoria scoffed. “Max, you are literally the best photographer I know. I swear, sometimes you forget that you’re basically a celebrity.”

I couldn’t help but hum with doubt. “Thanks, but…I dunno about ‘celebrity’.”

As soon as I said that she pressed her fingertips to her temples and groaned in annoyance. “Oh my god, do we really have to go over this again? Max, do you have any idea how often I had to hear about your work when I was still managing my parents’ gallery? Go to any photography conference or trade show in the country and guess whose name gets brought up all the damn time?”

“It can’t be that crazy.” I muttered, unsure if I was saying that more for Victoria or myself.

The blonde, definitely agitated now, flailed her arms into the air and let out one harsh breath of exasperation. “I’m never gonna understand how you can be so oblivious to your own fame. You’ve won like a gazillion awards, make a shit ton of money, and yeah, I’ve seen your email. I know for a fact that loads of people are lining up to offer you thousands for some commissioned work.”

I’d heard this whole spiel from Victoria about a thousand different times before, and while it was mostly true, it was a total exaggeration.

Yes, I did make decent money off my photos, and yes, I did have a lot of commissions to sift through; but it wasn’t so much that I’d call myself a ‘celebrity’. Still, I appreciated the vote of confidence.

A little embarrassed now, I looked off to the side and kept my voice at a low murmur. “If you say so. I just don’t think I’m the right girl for the job is all. I doubt you’d like the results anyway.”

The blonde huffed, shaking her head right as she finally decided to sit up straight. And unless I was hallucinating, I swear I heard her utter the words ‘every damn time…’ under her breath. “Look, just – think about it, okay? Is it so bad that I wanna show off my friend’s talent?”

When I raised an eyebrow, she doubled back and held her hands up defensively. “And show off my products too. Yeah, yeah...”

When I didn’t respond, her expression got a little softer, which was honestly a pretty rare sight to see. It made me feel bad. Like I was a shit friend. After everything Victoria had done to help me in the past, I was letting her down when she needed me.

It’s not that I was incapable of fashion photography or anything, but like I said, the magic of my work was long gone. I really didn’t think I could give her the pictures she wanted (given I could take them at all now).

“I don’t need an answer right away,” she said, cutting through my thoughts. “But I think it’ll be good for you. Just let me know by next Monday, okay?”

I nodded, although I was almost certain I’d be declining.

After we got the bill for our food, we split the check and parted ways outside. I needed to get ready for my trip back home, and Victoria needed to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Like every other time I’d seen her in the last few years, I gave her a nice big squeeze and promised that I’d text her to let her know I’d gotten home safe and sound.

It was always tough leaving her. Out of everything I had in Seattle, my friendship with Victoria was the only thing that’d managed to withstand the test of time. I really didn’t wanna tarnish that by saying no to her offer, but what else was I supposed to do? I had freaky camera fueled time-traveling powers, and even if I could get them under control in time to accept her offer…would I even be able to give Victoria the quality she deserved, the signature Max Caulfield ‘touch’? I didn’t think so.

While I felt a whole lot better now thanks to seeing her, my mind still felt heavy with trouble. By the time I said goodbye to my parents and got seated on the plane I had so many things twisting and turning inside my head. My powers, my guilt, Victoria’s offer…I wasn’t really sure I could handle any of it, but there was one thing I knew for certain: I had a very long week ahead of me.

Chapter Text

Wanna know how tired someone that just had an extremely stressful couple of days and about zero hours of sleep to show for it can be?

Well, when I boarded the plane, I’d hoped to pass the time by reading a book or two. Finish a couple of novels I’d been putting off for the last few weeks so I could try and soothe my mind on the way back home. However, the second I plopped my headphones atop of my head, I passed out. Like – instantly, completely passed out. Without any prior warning, my body had just decided to shut itself off. I didn’t even know that was possible.

I’d been so exhausted that I’d actually managed to sleep throughout the entire flight. It was kind of embarrassing, I’d only woken up when a flight attendant politely poked me in the shoulder to inform me that we’d landed in Rochester.

Despite getting around eight hours of sleep on the plane, I still felt so groggy and sluggish. And now, with my belly full and my brain a little rested, everything seemed to move in slow motion. It seriously felt like it took another eight hours before I finally saw my luggage pop out of the bag return.

After meandering around the parking lot for a little while like a total zombie, I eventually found my car and made the drive back home at about 8PM. While it felt nice to open that door and see Bongo come rushing toward me for some long awaited pets, I still felt a slight sense of unease lingering at the back of my head, a little stormcloud hovering high above that was just dying to let loose at any given moment. It was a grim reminder of the fact that things weren’t just going to go back to normal. That the weekend’s events were something I’d have to live with for a long time, and my mind was making sure that I wouldn’t soon forget it.

Fuck…I couldn’t even feel relaxed in my own damn apartment now.

“Hey, Bongo.” I grumbled, kicking the door closed behind me. He seemed really intent on getting some scratches, because he wouldn’t stop meowing at me until I finally gave in and rubbed the back of his ears.

Once he was satisfied I set my luggage down on the floor and let out a shaky, tired sigh. Usually, when I got back home I’d make a whole thing out of unpacking. After trips like this one, I liked having some kind of menial task to do. It helped me unwind.

This time around though, I didn’t even bother.

Without a shred of hesitation, I flopped onto my bed and passed out right then and there. Giving myself the chance to catch up on the sleep I’d missed out on as a result of yesterday’s horror show. For once, I was lucky enough not to have any dreams or nightmares. I think I was so tired that my body chose to focus all of its energy on recuperating instead of tormenting me with images of the brown haired woman and Arcadia Bay – not that I was complaining or anything.

What wasn’t so lucky however, was the fact that I woke up at around three in the morning instead of my usual five. One of the only thoughts that gave me any sort of comfort back at the airport in Seattle was the idea that I’d finally have the chance to get back to my normal routine once I was home.

It was good to know that little fantasy had already been thrown right out the window.

To my credit, I tried to at least catch a little more sleep while I could, shutting my eyes in hopes of waking up to the sound of my alarm so I could get back on track. But it turned out to be pointless in the end. With a combined 13 hours of sleep under my belt, my brain was outright refusing to let me get any more. It really pissed me off. After feeling like everything on the goddamn planet was suddenly conspiring against me, I would’ve hoped my own stupid body would at least listen to me for once.

So, grumpily, I huffed and got out of bed to start the day (a very early day, mind you), following the same routine I’d been adhering to for the last two years: I stretched, got into my running gear, ran around the city for about an hour, came back home, showered, made breakfast, and finished by scouring the internet for a little bit. It should’ve felt normal, even relaxing; like it was business as usual and absolutely nothing had changed. However, the entire time I was out and about, everything seemed so…wrong.

My stretches felt just a tad less limber than they usually did, and the air outside was just a little colder than I was used to. The shower water -the way it pelted against my skin- it felt overstimulating, like dozens of little needles were raining down on me from the faucet. To make matters even worse, I wasn’t even able to finish my plate of waffles.

I didn’t feel at all like myself, and that feeling persisted throughout the rest of the agonizing two hours I had to wait before I could drive to campus.

Just like the previous day, I left without my camera bag. I briefly thought about bringing it along before I left so I’d at least have something to curb the discomfort, but I knew that was way too risky. I still didn’t know how my powers worked and what might set them off. Besides, there was no chance in hell I’d ever allow myself to accidentally harm any of my students.

It made total sense, and it was definitely the safest, most reasonable option, but that didn’t make the change of pace any less unbearable.

Ugh, sometimes I really hate how my brain works. When I said going against my usual routine would mess me up, this was exactly what I meant.

I wished that would’ve been the end of it, because by the time I got to school, I was right back on schedule. Things should’ve mellowed out enough for me to teach class, and once I got through the lesson, I could have a meltdown in my office afterward. Easy peasy.

Unfortunately though. I had one more thing to worry about: the buzzing sensation I felt in my hand last week, and whether or not it would happen again.

That whole morning I’d been worrying about it, wondering what it would mean if I felt it again. I already had my suspicions about Alice being the cause, but if she wasn’t in class today and I still experienced that same tingle, I was gonna have to wrack my brain around in order to find the answer.

Thankfully, no one bothered me as I walked through the halls toward my classroom. I considered it a major blessing that I didn’t have to deal with Donna popping up out of nowhere this time around, thank dog.

I did my best to go through the motions; walked into the classroom, hooked up my laptop, opened my presentation for the day, paced around the stage so I could compose myself…all I had left to do was wait for the clock to strike 8:00, and thanks to my head being all out of whack this morning, It felt like the longest ten minutes of my life.

Again, it was really fucking stupid that my powers didn’t include the ability to speed up time.

I’d only just started to calm down when I heard the door open and saw a steady stream of students begin filtering into their seats. Since it was Monday, they all seemed more groggy and tired than usual. I would’ve been right there with them if it weren’t for the fact that I was silently losing my mind.

Regardless, I still gave each and every one of them the most gentle and welcoming smile I could manage. Hoping that I didn’t look as disheveled and unkempt as I felt.

With each passing second, my eyes darted through the crowd, hopping from person to person in search of Alice. Wondering that if she walked through that door, I’d start to feel that familiar throb begin pulsating inside my hand.

The closer we got to class starting, however, the more likely it seemed that she wasn’t coming at all. The steady stream of students from before had since died down into more of a trickle, and I still didn’t see that big head of red hair anywhere in the room.

When I heard the hourly bell ring its short little tune from somewhere outside, I knew that class had officially started, and the girl I was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Guess, we’ll have to worry about that later. I thought to myself. For now, you have a job to do, Max.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the projector and slowly reached forward to turn it on. Since my hand only started feeling weird after I powered it up last time, I half expected it to set something off. Maybe a big time bomb of some kind that would turn everybody into babies or something. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and for once, everything seemed to be…surprisingly normal.

Taking it as a good sign, I tentatively turned to my students and gave them all my best ‘I’m fine’ smile.

“Morning, guys. Hope you all had a nice weekend.” I said, walking forward so I could project my voice further into the crowd. “Before we start I just wanna remind you all that your black and white assignments are due by midnight today. I’ve gotten a few already, and I really like what I’m seeing so far, so, keep it up.”

Not entirely truthful, but it didn’t hurt to give them some positive reinforcement. I could give them all actual critiques and speak my mind later in the week.

“Lastly, class sign-ups start this week, so make sure you do that immediately. These photography classes fill up fast.” I added, moving back toward my laptop so I could start my slideshow. “And if nobody has any questions…we can officially start our next unit: color.”

The second I said that, I heard multiple people start scribbling inside their notebooks. A calming sound that made me feel a little more at ease.

Well – about as ‘at ease’ as you can get when you have stage fright like I do.

In spite of all that though, the lesson was doing a damn good job of distracting me from all the shit I’d been worrying about for the last few days, and for once, I almost wished my classes were longer. That way, I wouldn’t have to think about my powers, the brown haired woman, or any impending doom I might cause.

As debilitating as anxiety can be, I found comfort in the fact that it was at least something familiar. Something I already knew how to deal with and remedy. That alone made me prefer it to everything else.

When I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the first slide came into view, showcasing a carefully curated array of photos I’d compiled that made great use of color. Antelope Canyon by Peter Lik, Holi Festival by Steve McCurry, Children With Toys by Harry Gruyaert; each one caught the eye with their vibrant evocative hues. Hopefully, my students would be a little bit better at this than black and white.

“Ernst Haas once said: ‘Color is joy. One does not think joy. One is carried by it.’” I said. “And I think that quote perfectly describes what-”

My sentence was abruptly cut off by the unexpected sound of the classroom’s door suddenly bursting open. Both surprised and confused, me and the rest of my class all turned our heads to get a better look at who’d just made such an obnoxious entrance.

And to my astonishment, it was none other than Alice O’Connor herself.

The moment that girl entered the room, she let out a loud breath of exhaustion, panting like she’d just sprinted a whole mile. Her red hair looked all messy and frazzled, a sign that she hadn’t had the chance to brush it before getting to class. Her face was bright red too, I wasn’t sure if that was because of all the running she’d just done or if it was out of embarrassment. Maybe it was both.

Between heavy breaths, she managed to get out one single sentence. “Sorry…I’m…late…”

Briefly, she hunched forward and clutched her knees. When no one responded, she looked up and audibly gulped. If she wasn’t embarrassed before, she definitely was now. The way her eyes were shifting back and forth across the crowd made her look like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

This was getting a bit too awkward. Even for me. So, I decided that it was probably a good idea to try and save her.

“Thank you for joining us, Alice.” I said, clearing my throat so the whole class could hear. “Why don’t you take a seat, yeah?”

Once she heard my voice, she turned to look at me, her beet red face showcasing a mixture of gratitude and relief. “Uh – yeah. I’ll do that,” she replied, quickly straightening up and smoothing out her clothes.

Silently, all of us watched with rapt attention as Alice scurried to an open seat at the back leftmost corner of the room. Settling her bag on her desk and getting comfortable, probably trying to avoid thinking about all the judgemental eyes currently staring at her.

As she pulled out her notebook and started writing on the pages, I realized something. Her sudden entrance had been so jarring that I’d completely forgotten the whole reason I’d wanted to see her in the first place: to confirm whether or not all the weird sensations I felt on Thursday were caused by her. To my disappointment however, my hand wasn’t buzzing. It felt the same as it always did. There wasn’t even a light tingle…

While it was frustrating to know I’d have an even harder time figuring out what the hell happened to me, I was also pretty relieved. Glad to know one of my students hadn’t inadvertently re-awoken my powers or anything.

For now though, I had a class to teach.

“As I was saying…color.” I noted, getting back on my original train of thought. “When used effectively, color can evoke some extremely powerful emotions in your viewers. Sadness, happiness…even longing. It all depends on the combination of colors used, and your intent when using them.”

I went on to the next slide, which contained a few more pictures and a large diagram of the color wheel for everyone to see. “Now, can anyone tell me how a color wheel like this can help us understand the relationships between different colors?”

Immediately I saw multiple hands shoot up toward the ceiling, and as usual, it was a little hard for me to identify specific students in such a large crowd, but one of them stood out among the rest. Alice was off in the corner, reaching her hand high into the air. She seemed really eager to answer, because she was wiggling her fingers and sticking out her tongue in a desperate attempt to seem taller. I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued.

“Yes, Alice?”

“It lets us see how different colors interact with each other!” she said enthusiastically. “Colors on opposite sides of the wheel are complimentary, colors close together are analogous, and colors in the same hue are monochromatic. So, you can use that to coordinate color combinations that make your photos…pop!”

Practically a textbook answer (sans the ‘pop,’ of course). For that one, I had to give her a smile and a nod of approval.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

The moment I said that, Alice seemed to brighten up almost immediately. Clearly pleased with herself, she blushed and smiled sheepishly, ducking her head down so she could keep writing in her notebook while I continued the lesson.

The rest of that class went on without a hitch. It was a lot more manageable this time around thanks to me not having something weird and inexplicable going on the whole time. Isn’t that crazy? I can actually do my job when I’m not busy dealing with the supernatural.

Now that I was fully aware of Alice being in my class, I took a quick notice of how eager she was to answer every single one of my questions. While I still called on other people every now and again, Alice got two more chances to shine before the bell rang, and each time she did, she gave perfect answers.

I’ll admit it, I was pretty impressed. Hopefully, being able to show off her knowledge to the class helped curb some of the embarrassment that came from her dramatic entrance earlier too. I knew that if I’d done something even remotely similar, it would’ve become a core memory – one that would haunt my dreams for years. I could see it now…all those boggled faces staring at me like I was an alien from Star Wars…eugh.

Brushing that terrifying thought aside, I figured that since class was finally over I could head to my office and decompress at long last. It was perfect timing too. Now that my anxiety wasn’t around to smother my unease anymore, all those unsettling feelings were beginning to creep their way back up my spine like a slowly rising tide. It felt cold, sinister. A sensation I’d rather do without. Luckily, I knew exactly how to remedy that. All I needed was a door I could lock, an audiobook I could listen to, and a mindless task to complete.

AKA, grading assignments until lunchtime.

Relishing the idea of a couple relaxing hours amidst the storm of crazy I’d been dealing with, I turned off my laptop and began stuffing it into my bag. At that same time though, I heard the small sound of feet scuttling across the room to meet me before I could finish. I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew exactly who it was.

“Miss Caulfield, I am so, so, sorry I was late. I was trying to get ready to come to class but some weird guy knocked on my door and started talking to me! I think he was trying to sell me something but anyway, I ended up leaving superduperlateandbythetimeIgothereitwas-”

“Alice,” I interrupted. Stopping her before her words could get fast enough to power a car. “First of all, Max. Second, you don’t have to tell me why you were late. You’re an adult, it happens. You’re not in highschool anymore, you don’t need a doctor’s note or a phone call to excuse you.”

Alice, who was clutching her books like her life depended on it, relaxed. Shoulders slumping and expression softening.

“Sorry…” she mumbled. “And – thank you.”

“Of course,” I smiled. “And good job in class today, I really liked your responses.”

Once again, Alice’s face flushed with delight; it was cute to see. Up until now, she’d looked like a scared little puppy that was full of energy but afraid to use it. It was always nice to see my students looking proud of themselves. Everyone deserves to experience that feeling at some point or another.

I was just about to hoist my bag over my shoulder when Alice gave me a wide-eyed look, like she’d just had an epiphany or something. “Oh, by the way! Did you get my email?”

Oops…

“Uh, maybe?” I sputtered. “I haven’t had the chance to check Outlook just yet, I basically got home and passed out last night.”

“That’s fine! I uh- I just wanted to know if you were still planning on coming is all.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there, promise.” I assured her. “What time do you want me there?”

“We need to be there by 2:30 in the afternoon.” She remarked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Perfect. Until then, I’ll see you tomorrow in class? On time?”

She nodded vigorously, backing up towards the door. “Yep! On time! Thank you again Miss Caulfield!”

Right as she made it past the door frame, I shouted “Max!” to remind her of what I’d prefer to be called. For a second, I didn’t think she’d heard me, but barely a moment later I heard a distant voice shout “Sorry!” from down the hall. I couldn’t help but crack a slight grin.

As usual though, it didn’t last for very long. Now that I was finally alone in the classroom, I was able to shake my head and let out a small, tired sigh. My mind was still busy trying to fight off some of the weirdness that came from today’s start, not to mention, it was exhausting trying to remember all of the different things I had to think about. If nothing else I was at least happy to know I’d gotten through the worst of it. All in all I was really looking forward to a nice, normal, rest of my day. A small hint of calm before I’d be sent right back into another storm of madness.

Monday night, I had a nightmare, which was a surprise to absolutely no one.

I mean – I expected it to happen at some point. For once, I’d actually been lucky enough to have a nice long bout of dreamless sleep the day before, so it was only a matter of time before my brain decided to torment me.

However, I didn’t expect it to be nearly as bad as it was.

It started off as a dream, and a surprisingly normal one at that. For a while, I found myself staring at a 50-foot-tall Alice as she maniacally controlled a giant army of toy soldiers. They seemed to be marching somewhere, although I wasn’t sure what their destination could be. While she laughed her loud boisterous cackle of triumph, something told me that she was about to conquer whatever she was after.

Then, without warning, the dream suddenly shifted. The huge battlefield beneath my feet suddenly started to break away. All the biggest pieces fading out existence as the landscape around me transformed itself into something new. A place I was very familiar with: the lighthouse.

I was pretty used to seeing it in my dreams, so I wasn’t all that surprised when it happened. After that fateful week in 2013, nightmares of the lighthouse and the storm plagued my brain for years. While I didn’t get them as often as I used to, my mind liked to subject me to a twisted, fucked-up version of that final moment on the cliffside every now and again.

It usually went something like this: I’d find myself standing on the cliff’s edge, watching as the storm raged on across the shore. I would gape at it, gazing at the seemingly endless amount of water, sand, rock, and mud that got swept up into its powerful, greedy pull. Chloe would be standing right next me, blue hair billowing in the wind while she too stared at the storm with rapt attention. After a moment, she’d turn to me, a fiery rage booming in her voice as she spoke. What she said to me would usually change between dreams, but it was always the same sentiment.

“Why, Max?” she would say. “Why didn’t you choose me?!”

It always stung to hear her cry those words, to listen and be unable to do anything as her voice cracked from the strain she was putting on her throat. While it hurt to hear, nothing would ever hurt more than when she’d lower her voice and calmly say, “Why does no one ever choose me?”

No matter what I tried to tell her, she would always deflect with the cruelest, most angry response possible, shutting me down at each and every turn.

“I had to save everyone!” I’d argue. “There were so many people in that town that wanted to live too!”

“Of course you’d care about saving everybody but your supposed ‘best friend’.” she’d retort.

I think the worst part was that she’d always refuse to look me in the eye. No matter how much I tried to talk to her face to face, she’d never once look at me, never grace me with the sight of those beautifully blue eyes of hers. In those nightmares, she might as well have been faceless.

It felt like it would go on forever. An endless cycle of me desperately trying to catch a glimpse of her face, all while she turned away and relentlessly shouted curses and insults at me. It was my own personal hell. My punishment. One that would only subside when the sound of my alarm clock woke me up in the morning.

I’d been through it so many times by now that I knew exactly what to expect. So when I found myself suddenly standing next to the lighthouse high above Arcadia Bay, I knew that I was about to be subjected to another guilt-ridden nightmare of the moment that changed my life forever.

But this time, that didn’t happen.

When the scene finished shifting around, there was no storm looming over the town, no Chloe keeping her face hidden from view. Instead, I was greeted to the sight of a surprisingly peaceful afternoon. Rather than feeling the freezing rain tear away at my skin, I felt a cool gentle breeze. Where the sky was usually a cloudy sea of darkness, I saw a clear, blue ocean up above, a wonderful hue that endlessly spanned across the horizon. It was just like the Spring afternoons I’d spent with Chloe as a kid. The only thing out of the ordinary was the strange woman standing at the edge of the cliffside.

She looked about medium height, wearing some kind of black hoodie that made her stand out against the brightness of the sky.

Strangely, she had a camera pressing firmly against her face, the sounds of a whirring shutter signaling that she was snapping picture after picture of something far away.

Click, click, click.

Before I could even begin processing what was going on, my body began moving on its own, tugging me forward as if I were a puppet on a set of strings being controlled by some distant, unseen puppeteer. By this point, the panic had already started to set in.

Slowly but surely, my legs started walking towards the woman completely against my will, and as I got closer, I noticed her hair was brown. A detail that gave me a bad feeling, one that made me want to tear away from my dream and force myself to wake up as soon as possible, but my mind wouldn’t listen.

Click, click, click.

Again, completely against my will, my arm extended forward, fingers uncurling and reaching for what I knew to be the woman’s shoulder. I tried to stop it. Tried to fight back against my own body, but nothing I did would work.

Click, click-

She stopped taking pictures the moment we made contact. I wanted to pull my hand away, let her continue to do…whatever she was doing, and find a way to wake up, but it was far too late for that now.

Wordlessly, the mystery woman began to lower her camera, a movement that didn’t seem fully human. There were too many stops and snappy contractions of different muscles for it to look normal. It was like the person I was staring at was nothing more than a skinsuit for something worse, and that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I was going to make an attempt to speak, to ask who she was and figure out what was happening, but before I could even try I was silenced by the guttural sound of bones unnaturally crunching and grinding together as she turned to look at me.

Her head snapped around like an owl’s, the skin on her neck twisting and furling in order to account for the impossible angle of its turn. As I suspected, it was the brown haired woman, although she looked a little different than I remembered. Her brown eyes were large and bloodshot, and her mouth – it was seemingly stuck open, her lips eternally frozen in what looked like a scream.

I wanted to scream too, pull away from this figment of my mind before it had a chance to hurt me, but no matter how hard I tried, my mouth just wouldn’t obey my commands.

The rest of the woman’s body turned around now too, every movement she made accentuated by that horrifying crunching sound. Soon after, I could see her throat whirring and working in order to make some kind of noise, perhaps to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a soft gasp of air. It sounded like her lungs were being stripped of their oxygen, yet she didn’t react. She simply stared at me with those unnaturally big eyes.

I didn’t know what to do. What to say. My nightmare had locked me into a confrontation with whatever this woman had become, whatever creature that was now standing in front of me, and I had no way to escape.

Then suddenly, without warning and without sound, it leaped toward me, closing the already small distance between us and wrapping a set of freakishly long fingers around my neck.

Its grip tightened quickly, the pressure of its grasp causing my eyes to feel like they’d pop right out of their sockets at any moment.

I wanted to yell, to call for help and hope someone inside this hellish dreamscape would hear me. But even if someone could answer the call, it didn’t matter now that my throat was being squeezed for all it was worth. The only sounds I could make were stifled wheezes of desperation and little squeaks of pain.

Despite knowing it was all in my head, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was dying. Really, truly, dying. That my life was being stripped away from me bit by bit the longer this…thing kept its hold.

I kept telling myself that it wasn’t real, that this was all just a dream and I would wake up soon, but I could feel my beating heart mercilessly pounding against my chest with the force of a jackhammer; hear the blood rushing through my ears with a low rumbling hum.

It felt so real, and that intensity shot my instincts into overdrive. I had only one option: I had to fight.

As if on cue, my body finally relinquished control back to me, and at long last, I could move my arms and shuffle my legs. It wasn’t much, but I had a chance.

With fading strength, I gripped the creature’s wrists, trying and spectacularly failing to pry them apart. As I struggled against its iron grasp, I saw its jaw start unhinging; bones cracking and creaking while it metamorphosed into something greater. Before I knew it, Its eternal scream had been transformed into a giant gaping maw, one that I was certain could swallow me whole. If I wasn’t scared shitless already, I was practically petrified now.

Its mouth kept inching closer, cold acrid breath drenching my face in a sheet of disgusting moisture. With each passing second, it was becoming increasingly more clear that I didn’t have enough time to fight back. I needed to find another way to stop this thing, and fast.

What little strength I had left was quickly being sucked away though. My vision kept slipping in and out of darkness thanks to the lack of blood flow going to my head. It was becoming a struggle to even think, to work up some kind of plan before I was eaten by this stupid demogorgon knockoff my mind had made up. If I didn’t have the strength to beat it by myself, I needed to use something else. Something that would have the power to kill it for me.

That’s when I got quite possibly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Using every last drop of adrenaline and energy I had left, I slowly started trudging my legs forward, moving the creature and me back toward the edge of the cliff. If I couldn’t kill it using my own strength, I’d just have to let gravity do the work for me.

It seemed to understand what I was thinking, because It fought back. Hard. Its voiceless wheezes turned into shrieks of horror, the most foul noise I’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing. Unfortunately for it, however, it didn’t fight back hard enough. Despite all its writhing and struggling, it couldn’t push back as hard as I could (thank dog running so much gave me such strong legs), and soon, its heels were skimming off the edge, kicking loose dirt and rock down toward the water below.

In our scuffle, I felt its hands loosen their grip on my neck as it tried to find its footing, and eventually, the power I’d been missing returned to me in one fell swoop.

With all my might, I shouldered the creature forward and nudged it right off the cliff. Watching as it tumbled backwards through the air.

For a brief moment, I felt happy. Relieved as shit and tired as fuck, of course, but happy. I’d actually managed to beat it. For once, I’d bested my mind at its own game.

But then, I blinked.

In an instant, the ‘creature’ I’d just pushed off the cliff had transformed into someone else, someone I couldn’t believe: Chloe.

All of my relief evaporated instantly, turning into total abject horror. As she began her descent, I could see the look of betrayal, fear, and despair lining her gaze.

“CHLOE!” I shouted, reaching forward to grab her by the wrist so I’d have a chance to pull her up, but I just barely managed to miss her hand.

And then, she fell.

She fell, and fell, and fell, until I saw her body crash against the rocks at the bottom. Her blood stained the formation of stalagmites just as the tide moved to collect her bent and broken body. Swallowing her into the depths of the sea.

My heart stopped beating, and my mind went blank. Every single nerve I could feel in my lucid body was screaming at me in terror.

I’d just killed Chloe.

For the second time in my life, I’d killed her. My best friend. I’d pushed her right over the edge and allowed her to tumble toward her death.

While I stared, the breeze went still, and the sky suddenly darkened. The warm irradiating light of my imaginary sun had just been snuffed out – replaced with a darkness so total and so complete, that I could hardly see past my own two hands.

I wanted to scream so loudly that my throat would give out, beat at the ground until my knuckles were raw and bloody from the pain. All my useless head could work up though, was a blank stare directed at the darkness below. An endless pit of nothingness.

I was ready to let the silence envelop me. Consume me until, hopefully, I woke up from whatever shithole my rattled psyche had decided to concoct for me tonight.

But I guess the saying ‘there ain’t no rest for the wicked’ is all too true, because only a second after I resigned myself to watching the void in front of me did I hear a new sound overtake the emptiness. One that echoed and reverberated around my head like a bouncing bullet.

Clapping.

Slow, methodical, downright sarcastic clapping.

It was coming from behind me, and only a few feet away from what my ears could tell. The more logical part of my brain told me that it was probably best to ignore it; that I should just sit here and stay put for the remainder of my nightmare. That way, I wouldn’t have to deal with any more cannibalistic monsters and guilt-fueled illusions. But the other part of me – the stupid, idiotic, nosy, and curious part – just couldn’t resist.

Promising to chastise myself later, I turned around, breath shaking with every inch I moved. what I saw almost shook me more than seeing Chloe fall to her death. Something I’d hoped to never see again.

”Good job,” a voice I recognized all too well sneered from afar. “I loved the part when you screamed: ‘Chloe!’”

”You…” I breathed. Half in anger, half in petrifying disbelief. To my terrifying dismay, the person I was staring at was none other than…well – me. My doppelganger. Comfortably seated on the bench next to the lighthouse, legs crossed in nonchalance as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Aww, you remembered my name.” she jeered. “How cute.”

I didn’t respond. Both because I didn’t want to and because I was too busy staring, gawking at a painful memory I thought I’d left behind after Chloe’s death.

Unfortunately, that memory looked exactly like me. Or – exactly what I looked like ten years ago, that is.

Her hair was slightly longer than mine, messier and less cared for with a set of bangs I’d long since abandoned. Her face was a tad plumper too, filled with a sense of youth and hope I hadn’t felt in years. For her outfit, she wore a gray hoodie that was just barely too big for her, hiding a low-cut pink shirt beneath it that bore the silhouette of a doe next to the name ‘Jane’. I remembered that shirt. I used to love it.

Her jeans, also a bit big for her, were a little dirty yet devoid of any holes or tears. And for her shoes, she wore a pair of custom-made canvas sneakers with a skull and crossbones printed on the sides. I remembered throwing those old things out around eight years ago.

To the naked eye, the person sitting in front of me was undoubtedly, absolutely and assuredly, Max Caulfield. But I knew better. This version of me, this twisted and evil copy that my mind had put together at one its lowest points, she was anything but.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, what I was supposed to say or-

”Yeah, yeah, we get it.” she suddenly chided. “You’re freaked out. Jesus, do you seriously need to reiterate that five fucking times?”

I gulped. Apparently, she could read my mind too.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hating how small and fragile my voice sounded.

“Enjoying the show.” she smirked. “I’m honestly pretty impressed. After all this time, you finally found the decency to at least kill her with your own two hands. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

I must’ve glared at her then, because that smirk was quickly replaced by a glower of annoyance. “Oh, come on, don’t give me that look. You already know why I’m here.”

I despised the fact that she was right. Ever since I used my powers again on Saturday, there’d been a dark thought lurking in the back of my mind. It was tiny, evasive, barely noticeable amidst the slew of other worries and emotions I’d been dealing with since then. But it was there. Lying in wait, ready to pounce at me the moment something like this happened.

But even then, it still didn’t make any sense. The last time I’d seen this bizarro version of me, she’d confronted me with all the consequences of my rewinds. All the little things I’d changed, reversed, reworked, or prevented. I hadn’t done any of that…had I?

“I- I didn’t change anything.” I declared, albeit with less confidence than I would’ve liked. “I could've…but, I didn’t.”

The other me scoffed, looking off to the side as if staring at me wasn’t worth the energy. “Oh, please. Ten years and you’re still just as dumb as ever. You might not have changed anything yet…but you will. Eventually.”

“No.” I refuted, shaking my head in defiance. “I wouldn’t. I can’t. I know what happens if I do, you made sure to really hammer that point home last time.”

“Temptations’s one hell of a thing Maxine,” she smiled, turning her gaze back to me. “Sure, you might’ve stopped yourself from saving some random woman you know nothing about, but what will happen when someone you’re actually close to meets the same fate?”

“I-”

“What if…poor little Victoria starts traveling somewhere and one of the engines on the plane just goes…boom.” she interrupted, gesturing an explosion with her hands. “If that plane crashes and your precious little friend dies, will you be able to stop yourself then?”

I clenched my fists, steeling my nerves as best I could before quietly muttering: “Yes…”

For a moment there was silence, a small string of dead air in which my other self stared at me with a blank, indecipherable expression, but then, just as quickly, she exploded into hysterics, clutching her stomach like she might burst if she wasn’t careful.

“Do you have any idea how unsure you sound?!” she cackled, which only served to make me angrier. “Priceless!”

I grit my teeth, blood boiling as I motioned to bridge the gap between us. The moment I got close enough, I yanked her up by the collar, my voice brimming with fury. “Fuck you! You’ve made your fucking point, so get the hell out of my-”

It was instant. So fast I couldn’t even process it. Out of nowhere, before I’d gotten the chance to finish my little tirade, the scene changed once again.

Instead of feeling the soft and malleable hug of grass beneath my feet, I felt a hard tiled floor. The air was thick now too, dry and cold like I’d been transported into some kind of basement…

Basement…

Oh no.

Slowly relinquishing the grip I had on my doppelganger, I stared at my new surroundings. It ended up being a slow process; the sudden change of scenery shocked my eyes and ears so badly that they were still trying to catch up. The more information I processed though, the more my heart began to sink.

Sterile white walls, morbidly abstract pictures framed on every side, camera equipment, printers…I knew this place. I knew it so well that the antiseptic smell and low buzz of the overhead lights had been permanently burned into my memory.

Just seeing it made my skin crawl, a panic I hadn’t felt in years. I needed to get out of here, needed to run, needed to flee as fast as I could before I found myself strapped into that chair again.

It was only a matter of time before I was after all. No matter what I did, I always ended up right back in that stupid fucking chair.

Before I could even think about running however, the other me lifted her leg and kicked me in the chest with enough force to send me stumbling backwards in pain. Instead of a bench, she was now sitting on a plastic-covered couch. Her cackles of amusement slowly shifting into soft, sinister giggles. “What was that about running?”

The kick knocked the wind right out of me, forcing me to gasp for air in terrified desperation. I tried to find my footing, but I lost it the moment I bumped into something behind me.

The chair.

It was stiff, wooden; uncomfortably straight and splintered with nothing more than a thin cushion to sit on. A prison I could never escape.

No…no, no, no, no! I thought, still struggling to breathe. I made an attempt to get up, but the chair had other plans. Before I could move, it sprouted a pair of thick gray tendrils that wrapped around my wrists. Despite my best efforts to fight back, they pulled my hands downward until my arms were resting on the arms of the chair. I tried to struggle with my legs, get up and run, but the same thing happened. Two more gray tendrils coiled around my ankles, locking me in place.

My heart was caught in my throat. I couldn’t move. I was helpless, completely at the mercy of my own mind.

The worst part? I knew exactly how this dream was going to end now.

“L-let me go!” I begged. “Don’t do this!”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” my doppelganger clicked, standing up to approach me. “Think of this as a little reminder. A play by play of what happens when you fuck around with things you shouldn’t mess with.”

She was so close now, getting up in my face with that terrible smirk of hers. There was something so strangely uncanny about the way her face moved. The way her lips curled just a tad too much for a human, the way her eyes seemed to stutter and change in size. It wasn’t right.

“It’s simple. Don’t use your powers, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

”I- I won’t!” I shouted. “Just — please, please let me go!”

”You know, I wish I could believe you; really have faith that you’ll follow my advice…but I know you. I know you better than anyone, which means I know that it’s only a matter of time before you royally fuck everything up. I mean, come on, let’s face it: everything you touch tends to die a whole lot quicker than it should.”

”Fuck you.” I hissed, deciding to throw pleasantries to the wind. Unfortunately, that only made her smile widen.

”Ta ta for now,” she said, waving to me as she slowly backed away towards the exit of The Dark Room. “Remember: don’t fuck it up.”

”W-wait!” I pleaded, my anger quickly turning into horror as I watched her leave me behind. “Don’t leave me here! Please! Please don’t-“

“Why are you screaming, Max?”

The moment I heard that voice, my eyes went wide and my stomach filled with ice. I knew that voice. So cold, so terrible — fingernails on a chalkboard.

“No…” I whimpered.

“Don’t you know you’re right where you’re supposed to be?”

I felt the tears welling in my eyes long before I felt that cold gloved hand wrap around my neck. His touch was like having thousands of tiny hot knives searing my skin.

“This last dose won’t hurt. I promise.”

The last thing I remember feeling was the prodding sting of a needle against my neck, and then, I shot up in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs.

I was drenched in sweat, hyper-ventilating like you wouldn’t believe. To make sure I wasn’t still dreaming, I shakily plugged my nose with my fingers and tried to breathe. It was a technique I’d learned a long time ago to help me figure out if I was lucid or not after waking up. I had to do it a lot when I was still suffering from the really bad nightmares back in the day.

Thankfully, I couldn’t push any air out of my nose, which meant I was really here, finally back in reality.

The relief was so palpable that I nearly collapsed. If I wasn’t so freaked out, I might’ve fallen back asleep right then and there, but as you might imagine, I wasn’t looking to get trapped in yet another dream.

Burying my head in my hands, I focused my breathing and did what I could to reaffirm that I wasn’t where I thought I’d been. It was hard though. The spot on my neck I’d felt that needle prodding still felt sensitive and raw. The ghost of an injection that never happened.

It figured that after so long, tonight would be the night I had my first nightmare about The Dark Room in months. Just another lovely little footnote I could add to my rapidly growing list of troubles.

Once I’d finally gone through enough breathing exercises to calm myself down, I checked the time. 3:24 AM. Great. Looks like it was going to be another long day.

Tuesday ended up being pretty uneventful, which was honestly a very welcome change of pace after going through something like I did the night before.

Thanks to my nightmare, I didn’t go back to bed or even try catching up on the last couple hours of rest I’d missed. I mean, can you really blame me? After something like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t get another ounce of sleep for five whole years.

It sucked, having to go through my morning routine a little earlier than usual again, but the discomfort was a whole lot better than the alternative, which was risking another freaky monster encounter or getting a second visit from my evil twin.

I tried not to think about it too much, but it was pretty hard when I had some very fresh and very vivid images of my best friend falling to her death replaying in my head. Those feelings of pain and unease had even managed to permeate throughout the rest of my morning too, leaving my mind and body feeling shaken for hours after waking up. In fact, I was so rattled that when I got back from my run, I briefly entertained the idea of skipping breakfast. What convinced me otherwise was a little voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously similar to Victoria. It told me that if I didn’t eat, I’d just end up a fatigued, anxious mess by noon, and as upset as my stomach felt, I knew it would feel worse in the long run if I didn’t put anything in it.

Aside from my neighbors asking me if I was okay before I left the apartment, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Alice got to class on time, Donna didn’t bother me until lunch, there weren’t any crazy surprises, and most importantly, I still didn’t feel that buzz in my hand. The only thing I really had to worry about were the slew of texts I was getting from Victoria.

In typical Chase fashion (yes, that pun was intended), she was doing everything in her power to hype up the job offer she gave me on Sunday. According to her, if I accepted, she was going to cover all my expenses and even get me a nice penthouse suite to stay in for the few days I’d be spending there. I’d also be able to bring along a plus one, just in case I wanted to ‘treat someone special winky face’. Her words, not mine.

Seeing her so excited about the very idea of me taking pictures for her was so sweet, but it also made me feel like a total asshole. I still hadn’t given her my answer, nor had I really taken the time to actually consider it like I promised. On one hand, I still had no idea if I could even take pictures anymore, and if I could, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to give Victoria the photos she deserved. On the other hand though, I didn’t wanna let her down. After everything she’d done to help me over the years, I owed her at least this. No more flaking, no more backing out – just doing her a simple favor.

If only I wasn’t so indecisive. Even now, I was only making things worse by having her wait around for my answer. If I waited until the last minute and told her no at the end of the week, I would’ve wasted a week’s worth of time that she could've used to find someone else.

Ugh…I really am a shit friend, aren’t I?

Once I got home, I spent the rest of that night continuing to worry about my nightmare; mulling over all the things my doppelganger had said to me.

‘Don’t fuck it up’, she’d said…but – fuck up what? What did that even mean? Why did she have to be so annoyingly cryptic all the damn time?

The only thing I was sure of was that she seemed pretty confident I’d use my powers again…’eventually’. Is that what she was trying to warn me about? What I couldn’t ‘fuck up’? If so, that didn’t make any sense. If she was so certain I’d use my powers again, then it wouldn’t matter what she told me. So, why even bother?

I spent hours trying to wrap my head around it all to no avail, and by the time I got to bed, my skull was fit to burst. It felt like my life had been reduced to nothing more than pondering a gazillion unanswerable questions over the course of the last week, and yeah, I was hating every single second of it.

It might’ve been easier to think if I wasn’t so scared of having another bad dream though. Being back in that room the night before had left its mark on me, and throughout the day, I kept idly touching my neck, checking to make sure there wasn’t a needle hole there. Of all the things my other self could’ve done to prove her point, did she really have to take me back to that room?

Thankfully, I didn’t see her again when I went to sleep. Instead of any lucid nightmares, the dream I had that night was about the brown haired woman again. Instead of trying to kill me though, she just stared at me with a look of frigid disappointment, an expression that was frighteningly similar to the one I saw on Rachel sometimes.

The only saving grace was that I finally got back to my normal schedule the next morning.

You have no idea how amazing it felt to simply wake up at the correct hour after spending so much time fumbling around at 3AM for the last few days. For once, everything felt smooth and easy; a relief that made my body feel like it’d finally gotten the chance to take a cold shower after getting a really nasty burn. As I ate my breakfast, I relished in the thought that things were finally going back to business as usual.

That was until I remembered the job I had with Alice that day.

As soon as it crossed my mind, I realized that I had a decision to make before I left home. If I needed to be at the address by 2:30, then I’d have to start driving right after work. I wouldn’t have time to come back to my apartment and grab any necessary equipment, so I had to decide now: do I finally bring my camera, or do I leave it?

Initially, the idea of not bringing the singular quintessential piece of equipment that defined my entire career along for a job seemed like a stupid idea. On the other hand, I could practically hear the little Victoria on my shoulder yelling at me for even considering it.

“Don’t you dare bring that camera, Caulfield! I’m not letting you get tricked into snapping a couple photos for some scammer you don’t even know!”

…Maybe I should consider getting my head checked.

I couldn’t deny she had a point, though. If not because I was still afraid I might might accidentally use my powers, then because I wanted to give myself some insurance. If this job was legit (which I still wasn’t one hundred percent certain about) then I wouldn’t need a camera anyway. This was Alice’s job, not mine.

As much as it hurt my heart, it was only logical that I left without it. It might’ve felt wrong and kind of weird not to feel my camera bag constantly brushing against my forearm with every other step, but it was for the best. I hoped it was, at least.

The school day was pretty normal – barring the fact that Alice ran up to me after class to double check that I was in fact coming, and that the job was going to be, and I quote: ‘really cool and awesome’.

While that was all well and good, I couldn’t help but notice that she had a slight falter in her voice. Almost like she was nervous, but not in the same way I’d come to expect from her in our last few encounters. Her words seemed rehearsed, lacking any of the emotions I was already getting used to hearing. It gave me a bad feeling.

During lunch however, I ultimately decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and just assume she was experiencing a good old fashioned case of the pre-photoshoot jitters. Looking back on it now, that was a really stupid line of thought.

Before I knew it, my work day came to an end and In usual Max Caulfield fashion, I made the ingenious decision to procrastinate on checking the address until it was just about time to leave.

Luckily, the email wasn’t all that hard to find. What wasn’t so lucky was the location. According to Alice, her jobsite was at 4069 West Lake Road…which was in Geneva…which was almost a whole hour away from RIT. To make matters even worse, it was already two o’ clock, which meant I was guaranteed to be 20 minutes late at the very least.

Oh, crapbaskets!

The moment I saw how long the drive would be, I burst out of my office faster than you could say ‘fuck’! and rushed toward my car as quickly as I reasonably could. I didn’t even bother checking what the hell the place was even called. The only thing I had on my mind was trying not to seem like a total asshole that completely forgot – er – neglected to check her email for five days straight.

Either way, I rushed through traffic so fast I was certain I could give just about any Formula 1 driver a good run for their money. And somehow, against all odds, I managed to make it all the way there without getting a single speeding ticket. Unfortunately though, even with all that reckless driving, I still got there a whole 15 minutes later than I was supposed to.

I wanted to reprimand myself for being a total idiot and not checking my email any sooner, but when I stepped out of the car and saw the venue, my thoughts came to a complete halt, and my jaw dropped.

It turned out that Alice had brought me to a place called Belhurst Castle. An absolutely beautiful 1800s-style stone castle turned hotel and winery. I’d heard about it from a few of my students and coworkers, but I never expected it to look so…grand.

On one end, you had the castle itself: a stunning, brick-laid structure complete with a large turret, chimney, and green-tiled roof. On the other end, you could see a more modern-looking building. Instead of turrets or spires, it had a vast array of windows and balconies belonging to all the rooms you could book for a few nights. In front of that, there was a luscious green lawn that looked like it was really well kept. The brightly colored tulips and magnolias in the bushes surrounding it offered a nice contrast to the muted color of everything else on the property.

In short, the place was fucking gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact, that the mere sight of it stunned me into forgetting I was only there because a student had gotten hired for a job there.

And that’s when the cracks finally started to show.

After I finished gawking at the buildings, the first thing I noticed was that the lot was cluttered with people. The men all wore perfectly tailored suits and tuxedos, the women, vibrant and ornate dresses – every single person there looked like a million bucks…and to be honest, they were probably worth more than that. Each and every one of them had stepped out of cars that made my 2019 Honda Civic look like a damn jalopy. I wasn’t all that attuned to car brands, but I knew a Mercedes and a Ferrari when I saw them.

As Chloe would put it, these people had ‘fuck you’ money, and if I had to guess, I’d say this was a wedding. One for some pretty rich people at that.

There was absolutely no way in hell that the bride and groom of a wedding this crazy would hire a freshman photography student to take their photos, meaning Alice got this job based on one of three possibilities:

One, she was a family member or friend of someone here (ideally the bride or groom), and for whatever reason, they were allowing her to take their pictures. Possible, but not likely. I don’t think a couple rich enough to rent out a place like this would be willing to let an amateur photographer handle their big day unless they were super generous.

The second possibility was that, during planning, they decided to hire a low-profile photographer to save money and cut corners. However, that didn’t make much sense either. I seriously doubted these people were the kind that needed to save money.

So that left me with one last idea: Alice lied about her credentials and got hired for a job way bigger than she was able to handle on her own. Hence, why she needed me, and why she seemed so nervous earlier that day.

Oh yeah…that bad feeling I got after class was starting to get way worse.

I sensed a freak out coming, but I didn’t wanna lose it just yet. I had to remind myself that I drove almost an hour to get here, and until I talked to Alice, my assumption was just that: an assumption. Maybe I was stupid for constantly trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I was desperate to prove that she wasn’t as malicious as Victoria wanted me to believe.

Of course, I could only do that if she was actually here.

Slowly, I started scanning the crowd. I wasn’t exactly sure where she’d be, but I figured it’d be easy enough to spot her frizzy red hair in the crowd.

And sure enough, standing out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of suits and dresses filtering into the main building, was Alice. Nervously standing on the lawn wearing a very plain outfit consisting of a hoodie and some leggings.

She was fidgeting with her hands, eyes darting around like someone might kill her if she let her guard down for even a second. I really hoped the nervousness was because she didn’t do well with crowds and not because she was trying to cover up a lie or anything. I could only hope.

Almost as soon as I started walking toward her, she spotted me from across the lot. The moment she saw my face, she lit up like a Christmas tree and darted over with a relieved smile lining her face.

“Miss Caulfield!” she beamed. “You’re here! I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”

“Max,” I reminded her, “And yeah, I’m sorry. I completely forgot to check how far away this place was before I left work and had to zoom out of my office.”

“That’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here at all to be honest. I had no idea what I was gonna do if you hadn’t shown up.”

Oh no…

“Uh – yeah.” I quavered. I guessed it was as good a time as any to ask the big question. “So…this place is…amazing. How’d you manage to swing a job like this?”

Alice immediately went wide-eyed and started collapsing in on herself, almost like a turtle retreating into its shell. “Well – um – about that…”

Oh no…

“I may have…embellished my skills on the ad I posted a few months ago…and also, may have never gotten the nerve to call them up and cancel in time…”

I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath. I had to muster up every ounce of willpower I had just so I didn’t completely lose it on the spot. “So…you lied about your credentials?”

“Uh huh…” Alice muttered.

“And let me guess: you’re expecting me to bail you out of this.”

“Well – I wouldn’t put it like that, but-”

I held up a hand to stop her from continuing any further. “Save it. I- I don’t even know what to say. Alice, you lied to me.”

I should’ve left her right then and there. Told her that her actions have consequences, left her to handle this whole debacle on her own, and angrily driven back home to wait a few days before begrudgingly telling Victoria that she was right all along.

But when I spared her a glance, I saw a pair of desperate, guilty, and saddened looking green eyes staring right back at me. The way her head was slowly being buried into her hoodie made her seem so fragile and vulnerable. Even if this situation was about as shitty as shitty could get, something inside of me reasoned that there was no way Alice had done all this with bad intentions. Maybe–

Nope. Stop right there, brain. Now was not the time to be experiencing a crippling amount of empathy. She lied to you, plain and simple. The only reason she invited you along for this job in the first place was so she could guilt you into taking pictures for her. That might’ve worked on the old Max, but the current Max? She wasn’t gonna have any of it.

Still…the puppy-dog eyes she was giving me might as well be my kryptonite. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out just a little–

No. I needed to leave Alice to her own devices and have this become an important teaching moment for her career. Sure, a potentially bad review from a super rich, probably well known couple might tank her reputation forever – but that’s her own damn fault.

It was settled, I had to leave.

Making up my mind, I started to turn so I could walk back to my car. Before I could even get a few steps in though, Alice spoke up. Her voice soft and small, barely audible against the crowd chatting around us.

“I’m – I’m so sorry, Miss Caulfield. I should’ve been honest from the beginning and told you I was in trouble…but, I thought you’d hate my guts if I asked for help. I – I understand if you wanna leave, I’ll get this done myself and hope for the best, I guess. I really hope you have a safe drive home, and…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After she said that she turned around, slumped her shoulders, and started walking toward the main building up ahead.

Well, that serves her right. I thought. I guess now I’ll head home and try to decompress.

At least, that’s what I wanted to do, but strangely, my body didn’t move.

Just…gonna head back home now. Gonna leave Alice to do this all on her own. Just like she said.

Still, I didn’t move. Instead of shuffling over to my car, my legs were hellbent on keeping me glued in place, unable to do anything but stare at Alice’s sad, deflated movements as she walked away.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, right? If you were to ask anyone what they’d do in my position, they’d probably tell you the best course of action was to leave. It’s not like I owed Alice anything. I mean, hell — she was pretty much one step away from being a con artist for Christ’s sake…so, why did seeing her so mopey really make me wanna help her?

I could already feel the dominoes starting to fall. All the laughably frail apathetic barriers I’d set up to emotionally distance myself from my decision were quickly toppling over one by one. But I couldn’t give in.

I couldn’t.

…

Dammit.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuck…Victoria is seriously gonna kill me…

Painfully slowly, I turned back around and clenched my fists so tightly I was surprised my nails didn’t draw any blood. This was going to be so stupid, probably one of the most idiotic things I’d ever do…but damn does that girl know how to play on my emotions.

It was really infuriating, the fact that I could never bring out my inner Victoria. It would’ve been so nice to have the peace of mind required to simply leave Alice behind and never look back, but I couldn’t bear it. Seeing her go from being so elated that she was practically hopping up and down, to a depressed, red-haired potato sack meandering towards her certain doom really tugged at my most vulnerable heartstrings.

It was dumb, super dumb. A whole dumb-asaurus and a half. But I couldn’t just leave her here to do this all on her own. Still, there was no way I’d take pictures for her. Like I said before, this was her job, not mine…but, that gave me an idea.

Maybe, I could turn this into a teaching moment after all.

“Fine.” I said sharply. “I’ll help you, Alice. But only on two conditions.”

Alice’s head immediately popped out of her metaphorical turtle shell and snapped backward, green eyes staring at me in absolute awe. “Wait – really?! You’ll–”

“I said on two conditions.” I clarified. “One, I’m not gonna be taking a single photo. Consider this a lesson: you line up the shots, I tell you what you’re doing wrong and make sure you correct them. Two, you owe me a three-page essay by the end of the week explaining why lying on your ads is bad practice and how this whole debacle could’ve impacted your career as a photographer.”

“By the end of the week?! It’s already Wednesday, I–”

“Do you agree, yes or no? Because if you don’t, I’m walking right back to my car and leaving you to fend for yourself.” I pointed out.

Alice groaned, but thought better of arguing any further. “Yes, Miss Caulfield…”

“Good.” I said, crossing my arms. “Now, what shots did they ask you for when they hired you?”

She thought for a moment, holding up her hand and counting off each request on her fingers. “They wanted…a few shots of all the bridesmaids and groomsmen, a picture of when they kiss, a ton of photos during the reception: a cake cutting shot, a big crowd shot, photos with certain family members, and – oh! They also said I could take as many photos of all the dancing and celebrating as I wanted. ”

I nodded. Thankfully, that selection was pretty standard as far as weddings go. “Okay. What did you bring aside from a tripod and camera?”

Alice seemed stunned by that question. “Was I…supposed to bring anything else?”

Oh, boy…

Shaking my head, I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Great…okay, what did you bring?”

“Uh – a few lenses –”

“What kind?”

“A wide-angle and a prime.”

“Do you have stuff to clean them? Filters?”

“Yeah! I have a cleaning kit in my bag, and uh – I have a couple of UV filters. I have a polarizing one too, just in case.”

“Flashes?”

She nodded.

“Anything else?”

“Not really…”

I didn’t even try to hide my sigh. If that was all she brought, Alice was vastly underprepared. It was gonna be hard trying to make this work with such a small amount of equipment, but I supposed it was better than nothing.

“Okay, first lesson: things to bring to a wedding shoot. A backup camera; just in case your primary fails, some ND filters – you need to be able to control the exposure, a telephoto lens (those are better candid shots), a remote shutter release, light stands, modifiers, oh – and always make sure to bring a roll of gaffer tape with you. Bobby pins too. You never know when you might need them.”

Alice looked like she was about to explode from all the information I’d just shoved into her. Instead of saying anything, she just sort of muttered a small noise of understanding and continued nodding.

“I don’t have all of that on me but I have a telephoto in my car. ND filters, and a remote shutter too. Hopefully it’ll work with your camera.”

I started walking back to my car to scavenge for the spare lenses and filters, but when I noticed Alice wasn’t moving I turned back around and glanced at her curiously. The poor girl looked like her life was practically forfeit, her body stiff and her eyes wide with worry. If I had to guess, I’d say she was probably having trouble processing just how ill-equipped she was for this job. With any luck, that would get her to think twice before agreeing to a photoshoot way outside her purview.

“What are you waiting for?” I said. “Go get your stuff, we’re already late.”

Thankfully, that seemed to snap her out of it. Once we both grabbed everything we needed, the two of us finally made our way toward the main building. Now that I was suddenly helping, Alice seemed all too eager to start hustling around with a lot more enthusiasm and urgency than she showed before. Meanwhile, I was busy growing more and more anxious that this whole thing might end up being a complete disaster. I even contemplated giving the bride and groom a fake name so it wouldn’t hurt my reputation, but then I wondered if that would only make things worse.

The inside of Belhurst was just as beautiful as the outside. It had a nice classy look: dark, veneer-coated wood lined walls, warm lighting, beautiful antique tables, chairs, clocks, pictures – it even had this old looking fireplace with a pair of cute porcelain statues sitting atop the mantel. Just being there and knowing someone could rent the whole place out for the night made me feel about ten times poorer.

It wasn’t all that hard to find the bride. From the moment we entered the lobby, I could hear her angrily whining to someone about her dress. Apparently, the train was too short and the neckline wasn’t low enough. Two complaints that didn’t make much sense when we spotted her in the bridal suite. If the neckline was any lower, her boobs would be hanging out for everyone to see. And the train? I’m pretty sure it was about as long as a football field. Luckily, her tirade stopped the second she saw us, and to her helper’s surprise, she rushed forward in our direction without giving it a second thought. I felt pretty bad, the poor woman had to scramble around just to catch the train in time and stop it from dragging along the ground. I guessed she might’ve been in her 40s, but with how exhausted and fed up she looked, she easily could’ve passed for 60.

It really was gonna be a long night, wasn’t it?

The bride in question, despite her apparent lack of concern for the woman behind her, was beautiful. She was young, maybe in her early 20s, with long, perfectly straight dark hair and a pair of gray eyes that made her gaze strangely intimidating. She might’ve had complaints about her dress, but to me, it looked amazing. There was this intricate lace pattern along the neckline and sleeves that made it look like she was covered in flowers and vines. If I ever have a wedding of my own, be sure to remind me to get a dress just like that.

“Thank fuck you’re here.” she huffed, her heels clacking against the ground as she made her way over to us. “My girls and I have been waiting for like 20 minutes, what was the holdup?”

”Caught in some pretty nasty traffic.” I muttered. “Sorry about that. But we’re here now.”

She gave me a once over, confused and a little skeptical. Then, instead of addressing me like I was an actual person, she turned to Alice. ”Who’s this?”

Alice gulped. “She, uh – she’s my – well – “

Awesome. Hurdle number one had already decided to rear its ugly head. If Alice told the bride I was her teacher and she was just a student, I was pretty confident she might literally explode with anger. Not something I wanted to deal with and not a good look for either of us.

I had to save this and come up with an answer, fast; unfortunately, the only one I could think of would force me to swallow my pride.

I swear…Alice was seriously going to owe me after all this was over.

”I’m her assistant.” I blurted out, which made Alice snap to me in shock.

The bride regarded me for a moment, then looked back at Alice. Apparently, I wasn’t worth that much thought. “Whatever. Are you guys ready to take our pictures or what? The reception starts in 30 minutes.”

”Y-yeah! Just bring all the bridesmaids out back and we can take your photos.” Alice said, albeit with a voice that threatened to shatter at any given second. I could tell she was trying really hard not to crack under the pressure and start freaking out – mainly because I was in the same boat. The only difference was that I had a little bit more experience in riding by the seat of my pants.

“Good. Joann! Get the girls outside!”

The woman holding the train of her dress nodded nervously, but she didn’t move. After an incredibly awkward five seconds worth of silence passed, the bride turned around in utter bewilderment, looking like she might actually be willing to commit murder despite having two witnesses nearby.

I changed my mind about it being a long night. At this point, I’d consider us lucky if we managed to make it out of this place alive.

“Hello?! The fuck are you waiting for…go!”

”Sure, Monicka, but — your dress —“

”Oh my god, fine.” she whinged. “We’ll meet you outside.”

To our relief, Monicka turned around and angrily walked back into the bridal suite while staring daggers at poor Joann. Hopefully, we’d see her again, preferably in one piece.

“Lesson number two:” I shuddered. “Never give the bride a reason to be upset.”

”Yup. Got that.” Alice squeaked.

Once our nerves had finally managed to settle down, we made our way to the back of the building, and as expected, it was just as picturesque as the front. Almost unnaturally green grass spread out from one end to the other, surrounded by sparsely placed trees which acted as a natural barrier for the property. The smell of freshly cut grass was intermingling with the freshwater scent of the lake behind it, and off in the distance, about a gazillion chairs were set up in preparation for the main event.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time to admire the scenery though. The first thing we’d need to do is decide on a spot to take the pictures. My head was already whirring with ideas, but I had to remind myself that this was supposed to be an important lesson for Alice. I wasn’t gonna hold her hand through this if I could help it.

”Alright,” I began, turning to my supposed ‘photographer’. “Where do you think we should take the photos?”

“Uh – you’re asking me?” she stammered.

”Yes, you. You’re the photographer here, not me.”

Without saying another word, Alice began nervously flashing her eyes all over the yard in search of a spot that seemed fitting. I could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she tried to come up with an idea. It was kind of fascinating. It wasn’t often I got to see my students work through a problem on their own.

“How about there?” she said, pointing to an empty spot next to the treeline.

“Why there?”

“It’s nice and empty, the trees look cool, and the leaves will help diffuse the sunlight.”

I nodded. “Not bad, but…there’s a better spot somewhere else.”

”What?!” Alice yelped. “But it’s—“

”Time for lesson three.” I disputed. “Take a closer look at it: it is a nice empty space, but the treeline’s gonna be hella distracting. All those branches and leaves will just clutter up the shot; you want something with a lot less going on in the background. And while the leaves will diffuse the light, it’s not the only spot where that’ll happen.”

Alice looked at me with a defeated expression, her voice lowering to a soft, guilt-ridden mutter. “Oh…”

”Besides, you forgot about the most important thing.”

She looked up at me then, curious. “What’s that?”

”Look how far away it is. You think the bridesmaids wanna walk through all that grass in their dresses and heels? You always have to remember to make the location accessible. See if you can find another spot.”

”Got it.” she said.

I expected her to look even more defeated; after pointing out all the flaws in her thought process, you’d figure she curl right back up into her hoodie and make another frail attempt at guessing a new location. But instead, I saw something else: a fire, lighting up in her eyes. A determination I wouldn’t have dreamed she was capable of.

Instead of the nervous gaze she gave the yard earlier, she was staring at it with a newfound scrutiny. Every time her eyes landed on a spot, she’d give it a few seconds of thought before moving onto the next one she could think of. After about 30 seconds, she nodded to herself and turned to me, pointing at an empty area that overlooked the lake.

“How about there? The building’s shadow will help diffuse the sunlight, the background isn’t too distracting, and it’s not too far away.”

“Bingo.” I said, genuinely impressed. That was pretty much exactly where I thought to go. “Lead the way.”

When I told her she was right, she flashed me a big prideful smile. One that was so infectious it got me to start smiling too; and for a moment, I swear I felt a hint of pride flash through me.

Shit, I was supposed to be mad at her, not proud. Dammit Max, you’re never gonna learn at this rate.

Still, despite all the disappointment and anger I experienced earlier, I had a feeling that the rest of the night was going to be pretty interesting. That curious part of me couldn’t help but feel a strong twinge of excitement at that thought. I hadn’t felt like this at a photoshoot in years.

Maybe, choosing to help Alice wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Throughout the rest of the night, Alice and I got into a pretty tight rhythm. She’d set up a shot, I’d tell her what settings to adjust, and then, she’d snap a few photos.

It took a little bit longer than I (or Monicka) would’ve liked to finish the group shots of all the bridesmaids and groomsmen, but things went surprisingly smoothly. All the girls looked absolutely beautiful in their baby blue dresses, and all the boys looked handsomely prim in their matching burgundy suits. I’d almost forgotten how amazing everyone got to look on a wedding day. I hadn’t been to one in years, but it was always a pleasure to admire the intricacies of the outfits the wedding parties chose. They usually echoed the group’s personality.

Once we finished our first round of photos, Monicka, of course, wanted to quality check each and every single one before moving on to the ceremony. Thankfully, she seemed pleased with the results. With any luck, we wouldn’t get killed by an angry bride by the end of the night.

I was a little concerned Alice might mess up the shot of the kiss during the actual ceremony; maybe she’d snap a photo at the wrong time or get the white balance all messed up, but surprisingly, it turned out great. She was so nervous throughout the whole thing that she seemed about ready to disintegrate every time someone gave her a passing glance, but luckily, I was able to guide her through it.

Once the bride and groom were officially wed, we kicked off the reception with a big group shot of the whole crowd. There were so many people I had to commandeer a step-ladder for Alice to use (another thing I told her to always bring along on every photography job), but eventually, we got some great photos.

After that, it was smooth sailing: basic shots of the newlyweds and their families, group photos with friends, and of course, the usual traditions – the first dance, parent dance, toasts, speeches, cake cutting, the bouquet toss, the garter toss – the whole nine yards. Despite how extravagant the venue was, it was a very standard kind of wedding. The food though? That was amazing. It wasn’t the usual run-of-the-mill catering company you’d expect to see. Whoever this couple was, they’d pulled out all the stops when it came to the meal, and that meant hiring some top-rate cooks. I haven’t had mashed potatoes that good in like – ever.

Once all the requested photos were out of the way, we spent the rest of the day snapping pictures of various guests dancing, chatting, cheering or drinking to their heart’s content. And as much as I hated to admit it, my mood improved every single time Alice took a photo. There was just something so captivating about the way she managed to improve throughout the course of the night. It was like her progression was demanding my attention, egging me on as if to silently say: ‘is that all you can show her?’

And yeah, I showed her alright. I could tell from the very beginning that she had approximately zero practical experience. At first, she had no clue if anything she was doing was right and practically begged me to hold her hand when we started taking pictures. Luckily, I kept true to my word and forced her to take the lead on all the shots she took, regardless of whether or not I thought I could do better.

It was really gratifying to see. Every little bit of guidance I gave her was absorbed in an instant. I’d ask her if she thought anything with her framing was wrong, then gently nudge in the right direction until she got it herself. I’d ask her what filter she thought was best for the current photo, and she’d give me her best guess.

Guesses became educated guesses, and educated guesses became answers. Slowly but surely, I’d managed to carve away her nervousness and gave her a small fragment of confidence to use in her own abilities. Even with the relatively small amount of time we’d spent working together, I could already tell that she was way more attentive and cognizant of every little thing she was doing. The way her eyes locked onto her subjects was a lot more scrutinizing, and how quickly she was able to adapt to any changes was nothing short of impressive. You’d swear that the black and white photo of that toy soldier and the shots she took at this wedding were created by two completely different people. I wish I’d seen that much improvement when I was still learning; I didn’t know if it was because Alice was a good student or if I was a good teacher.

Eh…probably the former.

By the end of the night, the two of us were minding our own business, sitting next to each other at one of the dinner tables while we tried to recuperate from a long day’s work. By that point, all the huge celebratory hoots and hollers had finally started to die down, although that still didn’t stop the most tenacious party goers from enjoying their time in the slightest. Even in the low light provided by the bug-repelling torches and lamps, I could still see the shadowy movements of bodies swaying and gyrating on the big dance floor set up near the head table. It was honestly pretty hypnotic. All the drunken and hysterical movements made it seem like everyone was being pulled around by a bunch of thin, invisible strings. A puppeteer's ball so to speak.

I couldn’t deny that the sight of it made me feel the itch, but as usual, it wasn’t strong enough for me to act on it. Besides, I didn’t have my camera with me anyway.

It was hard for me to tell what Alice was looking at. Without any nearby lights to illuminate our table, all I could see was the vague outline of her silhouette blankly staring at some random spot off in the distance. I wish I’d known what she was feeling at the time, what thoughts and emotions were going through her head now that we were finally done with her first big job. We’d both been so laser focused on getting good pictures throughout the day that I was never able to get a good read on her – not that I was all that good at reading people, anyway.

I guessed that would have to be a mystery for another time.

“Well, I think we’re done here.” I said, checking the time on my phone. It was 10PM. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be getting home too late. “You should probably let them know we’re about to head out and that you’ll contact them once you’re finished editing all the photos.”

Through the darkness, I could just barely see Alice nodding in understanding.

“I’m probably gonna head home now too.” I declared, trying my best to cut through the silence. “Remember: three-page essay by Friday, okay? I’ll let you know what I think on Monday after class.”

I was just about to get up and be on my way when I heard Alice’s soft voice mutter: “Thank you, Miss Caulfield,” which was the first thing she’d said to me that wasn’t ‘uh huh’, ‘yes’, or ‘got it’ in the last seven hours.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome. Let’s try not to make a habit out of fraud, alright?”

“Oh – well –” she stammered. “I mean – yeah, of course! Thank you so much for helping me with all this. You really saved my skin and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for it, but…that’s not really what I meant.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to thank me for risking both our careers?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“What?! No, that’s not – I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean –”

“Relax,” I soothed. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Still…if you didn’t wanna thank me for my help tonight, then – what did you wanna thank me for?”

Alice began to shuffle in her seat, squishing her hands between her legs while she murmured a worried hum of consideration. “I wanted to thank you for…well – being here at all. Actually taking the time to listen and being considerate enough to come all the way out here just for me. I- I honestly didn’t think you were actually planning on coming. I figured you just said you would so I’d leave you alone…”

I felt my brow furrow. “Why would I do that to you? That’s so mean.”

“People tend to ignore me, or say things to make me stop bothering them.” she lamented. “It’s like they don’t really see me…they just spot a weird, annoying girl with big red hair and try not to pay her any mind. When I asked you to come to this job with me, and you agreed, I legitimately thought you were just saying that. It’s why I feel even worse about lying to you now. Like I said before, I thought you’d hate me if I told you the truth.”

Dog, what the hell had this girl been through to have that kind of mentality when asking for a favor?

“Well, I hope you understand now that lying only made things worse.” I said, ignoring the fact that Victoria chastised me for the exact same thing a few days ago.

In response, Alice nodded, bowing her head toward the ground.

There was another brief pause between us then. One that allowed me to really think on all of Alice’s words; the way she described how people saw her, how she thought the world saw her…it felt all too familiar. Too close to home.

“Still, I know how you feel.” I continued, which got Alice to look up at me again. “I’ve always felt more like an outsider to the world than an actual player. Like an observer: someone who’s better off staring at all the action through a camera lens than actually being a part of it. When I’m watching all the people around me, I don’t have to worry about being judged, and I don't have to deal with all the things I’d hate about myself if I were to see a photo of me. I’ve always preferred it that way, but sometimes, it makes me wonder if people–”

“Ever actually notice you’re there.” she finished.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Again, more silence. Despite already saying I was going to leave, for some reason, I didn’t move. Something was keeping me firmly attached to my chair, a feeling that started scratching at my insides, begging to take form.

Even now, as I watched Alice observing all the people dancing in front of us, her gaze reminded me so much of my own. Contentment mixed with longing. A desperate need to step forward and let the world know you exist, clashing with the familiar, comforting safety of obscurity. It made me want to reach forward, take her hand and guide her out into the open.

I’d been in that same position before. Trapped in my own mind while I watched the world spin around without me. The only reason I ever got out of it was because I had someone to help me, someone that would forcibly push me outside my shell and allow me to experience the world just a little bit differently. I needed that during my year at Blackwell, and I could tell that Alice needed it now.

Maybe I was too empathetic for my own good. Maybe, after lying to me, Alice didn’t deserve any more of my help. Maybe, with my powers back, it was best that I just stayed away from her entirely. Even now, I could hear my doppleganger’s words echoing inside my head:

“Let’s face it: everything you touch tends to die a whole lot quicker than it should.”

But what I was feeling right now preceded all of that. A desire to help her, a desire to help more than just one person now that I thought about it.

Besides, it was about time I proved to that damn look-alike that she was wrong about me.

“Say, Alice.” I said, watching as she turned to me with a curious look on her face.

“Yeah, Miss Caulfield?”

“You ever been to Florida?”

Chapter Text

Note to self: always keep a pair of earplugs handy when you’re around Victoria, just in case she gets especially excited again.

As soon as I got home from the wedding, I called Victoria to let her know that I was accepting her offer: I’d meet her down in Florida and take pictures for her magazine’s Spring issue. Then, without warning, she made a squeal of excitement so loud my ears are still ringing just thinking about it.

I had no idea she was even capable of making a noise like that. Honestly, if she really tried, I wholeheartedly believed her voice could be used as a weapon in the US military.

Still, in spite of the fact that she definitely gave me a case of tinnitus, I was honestly really happy to hear how elated she sounded when I told her the news. I even let her know that I wanted to bring along a plus one, although I didn’t tell her it was Alice just yet out of fear she might somehow crucify me with the sheer power of her voice alone. Trust me, you never wanna underestimate how scary an angry Victoria can be.

Speaking of Alice, I’m pretty sure she almost fainted from shock when I asked her if she wanted to come along with me on the trip. Thankfully, she didn’t, and after I got her to stop frantically rambling on and on about how she didn’t deserve it and that she ‘couldn’t possibly accept it’, she agreed without asking a single question. I had to admit, that kind of worried me. I hoped she wasn’t so high on excitement and crippled by guilt that she completely forgot about any personal or work-related obligations she might’ve had, but her eagerness was good enough for me.

It was so satisfying to listen to Victoria talk to me so happily for a change. I don’t think I’d ever heard her sound as thrilled as she did in that phone call in all my time knowing her. What was even crazier was that she insisted on chatting for a whole hour, boasting about how she was going to pay for the tickets, get me the best view in Miami, how much fun we’d have after the shoot – I wish we’d video called so I could’ve seen how animated her face must’ve been.

For once, I felt like I was doing something good. After spending so many years being hesitant, flaky, or unhelpful, I’d finally be able to give back to my best friend and help her out in one of the only ways I knew how.

And damn did it feel good.

The satisfaction, of course, didn’t last long however. By the time we were done talking, I remembered something really important that made me feel like I’d just gotten a huge slap to the face:

I still had no idea if I could use my camera anymore.

In the heat of the moment, it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Back at the wedding, when I was sitting down with Alice, I sort of just blurted my question out without thinking; consequences or potential problems be damned.

That wasn’t like me. Max Caulfield never made decisions this impulsive. It was basically what I was most known for outside of my photography work. I never took risks, spent way too much time mulling over something until it was way too late, was never sure of myself – the list was about a mile long. Hell, Victoria tried to get me into trading one time and I was so worried about losing money that I only ever put a single dollar into the market (which was now worth about ten cents last I checked).

For some reason though, I’d been so invigorated by the idea that I could somehow help Alice that I’d thrown caution right out the window, watched it get eaten by a pack of rabid dogs, then set on fire right in front of me.

Why did I do that?

Why the hell did I do that?!

By the time I’d finally set down my phone, any residual excitement or pride I’d been feeling was immediately erased and replaced by an anxiety so debilitating I could hardly think straight.

There was so much at stake, so much to worry about, and so much to account for that my head felt like it was gonna pop. If I really couldn’t use a camera again without also using my powers in the process, then what would I say to Victoria? To Alice? I’d just gotten both their hopes up, and now, there was a real chance I might have to bail. Again.

For what was probably the billionth time, I’d have to call up poor Victoria and listen to her voice grow increasingly more dejected and sympathetic as I told her I couldn’t come to yet another photoshoot. I hated disappointing her like that, to have her expect so little of me yet still fail to deliver every single time. I really wanted this trip to be the moment I finally stopped letting her down, but it didn’t look like I had much of a choice. If it came right down to it, I’d have to choose whether or not I wanted to fail my best friend again, or face the assured destruction of everything in my general vicinity.

And that’s not even accounting for how disappointed Alice would be. I’d stupidly made her a promise that guaranteed some more hands-on experience. Failing her like this would be just as bad if not worse than her lying about the specifics of her job. Plus (and it was probably pretty damn childish of me to think like this), I seriously didn’t want her to lose any respect for me. I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but there was something about her that really made me want to be someone she could look up to. If I couldn’t do this, then I might as well kiss that idea goodbye. How could she ever look up to someone who would build up all her hopes, only to destroy them a few days later?

I had to wonder if this was exactly what bizarro me had meant when she told me I’d eventually use my powers. Would I get careless and snap a photo without thinking? Accidentally send myself backwards in time while trying to pose a model?

All I could think to do to keep myself calm was pacing around my apartment for hours on end, rubbing my temples in some laughably bad attempt at forcing my brain to come up with a solution.

I had to think about this logically, which — if we’re being honest — was gonna be pretty hard for me to accomplish.

I had about a month until the shoot, which was good. That was plenty of time to get my stupid powers under control. Knowing me however, I’d probably spend the first week just working up the courage to touch one of my cameras in the first place, then, I’d likely spend another week trying to touch the buttons. Still, if I could at least get through that, it’d be smooth sailing until the day of the trip.

The only problem was that I still had to account for any potential roadblocks along the way. If I couldn’t hold a camera without feeling that energy creeping up my arm, then I’d have to spend even more time learning how to control it. If I couldn’t figure it out though, then what would I do? Maybe I could take the pictures remotely instead? Would a remote shutter even activate my powers?

Actually, now that I thought about it, how far did they extend? Would it do the same thing with my phone camera? An analog? One of those shitty 25-cent viewfinders you’d see at a state park? A fucking kaleidoscope? What was the limit to what I could channel my powers through, and how would they change in each case? There were still so many unanswered questions I had about them that I wasn’t sure I’d have the time to figure anything out by November.

By the time I finished running myself ragged with questions, I couldn’t help but sigh in discontent. It was so stupid, the fact that I had to think like this. If I didn’t have these powers, I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting the people I loved or irrevocably tearing a hole in spacetime. I could just be happy that for once, things were finally starting to look up for me instead of being deftly afraid that I’d cause another world-ending catastrophe like the storm.

Back in the early days following the week that never was, I often found myself missing the sweetly naive version of Max that used to think her ability was a gift. After so many years of being a socially awkward teenager with fuck-all for social skills, my prayers had finally been answered, and at long last, I had the power to always say or do the right thing. I had as many tries, redos, or repeats as I needed to get something exactly the way I wanted it to be. I wouldn’t have to be a small, creeping shadow that languidly followed the motions of the world around her anymore, wouldn’t have to be a fly on the wall that never got the chance to engage in life the same way everyone else did. I could’ve been more than I’d ever been, more than anyone ever thought I could be, I could’ve been…real.

Why couldn’t it have been that easy? Why couldn’t I have had that picture-perfect fantasy where I was the valiant hero who always managed to save everyone she loved? My entire world view had gotten flipped on its head and rearranged in several directions because I had superpowers…and yet, all they were good for was death and destruction in the end.

You have no idea how many times I reflexively tried to use them after Chloe died. Sometimes, I’d say something so stupid and mean-spirited to one of my friends without even realizing it, or, even worse, I’d freak out my classmates by screaming whenever I heard the crack of harmless thunder rolling through the sky. A small part of me desperately didn’t want the people I saved to hate me as much as I hated myself, to stare at me with eyes so accusatory and angry that I’d be forced back into my cage of obscurity; left to rot like I deserved.

So, on pure instinct, I’d flex my wrist and think about how I could fix everything that went wrong. It would’ve been so simple: I could rewind, retry, and do it all over again, but I always stopped before I could go through with it.

When I look back on it, one of the only things that really kept me going back then was the promise I’d made to ensure Chloe’s death wouldn’t be for nothing, and now here I was, right back at square fucking one.

To add even more sprinkles onto that miserable chocolate sunday of sobering thoughts, I stopped pacing around my apartment as soon as I realized I’d actually managed to exhaust myself silly. My legs felt all fiery and numb, something that was usually pretty hard for me to do unless I was running. That meant I’d been going at it for a while, and I really hoped that didn’t mean it was already past midnight.

But unfortunately, when I took a look at my phone, it was just as I expected: I’d been stuck in my own head for so long that I hadn’t even realized it was already two o’ clock in the morning.

Ugh…just when I was finally getting back on schedule too.

My Thursday ended up being pretty groggy, which was obviously in no small part thanks to my amazing brain deciding that it wanted to keep me awake for an extra three hours after I got back home. Thanks for that, jackass.

Continuing on with that trend, I think I spent another half hour debating whether or not I should just say ‘fuck it’ and pull an all-nighter. At 2:30 in the morning it just wouldn’t have been worth it to sleep when I needed to be up in less than three hours anyway, but sadly, my body had other plans.

Right as I decided that it was probably best to stay up until it was time for my morning run, I made a critical mistake: thinking I could sit down. I swear, it was like magic. Only a couple seconds after my butt hit the cushions of the couch, all the energy I had left in my body evaporated like water on a hot pan. I’d been trapped. Too tired to move, and too weak to do anything about it, so only a couple minutes afterward, I was out like a light, sleeping peacefully until I was woken up by the sound of my alarm a measly three hours later.

It honestly felt way worse to get up that early into my slumber than it would’ve been if I’d just stayed up. As a result, I had the most sluggish morning I’d experienced in years. I considered it lucky that I didn’t pass out at the wheel on the way to campus or fall to my death during that day’s lecture.

However, in spite of it all, I managed to get through it. And surprisingly, the rest of my day was otherwise astoundingly normal.

The only thing out of the ordinary came to me in the form of an excited looking girl with red hair bounding toward the stage at the end of class.

“Miss Caulfield!” she called, once again refusing to simply call me by my name. At this point, I’d pretty much given up hope that she’d ever call me anything other than ‘Miss Caulfield’, so I just decided to accept my fate as an old hag and let bygones be bygones.

“Hey, Alice. How did it go after I left? The bride give you any trouble?”

“Not at all.” she said, nervously twirling her hair while she watched me pack my laptop. “Actually, she said I did an amazing job and promised to refer me to some of her friends.”

Gee…I wonder why?

”That’s great and all, but I hope you don’t expect me to help you with another couple wedding jobs…” I grumbled.

“Oh! No, not at all!” she exclaimed quickly. “Honestly…I don’t think I’ll be taking on any jobs for a long time…”

It was easy to notice the timbre of her voice start to falter as she spoke that last sentence; her words were laced with a pitiful mixture of guilt and sadness so tangible I could almost touch it. While I was still a little upset at her for lying to me yesterday, I could at least tell that she deeply regretted what she’d done.

I could tell her off and say something mean like ‘good, glad you learned the hard way,’ but I didn’t see any point in chastising her further. Frankly, guilt would be a better teacher than I ever could in that regard. I knew that all too well. So, I did the only other thing that came to mind.

“Hey,” I comforted, hoisting my bookbag over my shoulder. “Don’t let something like this discourage you from putting yourself out there, alright? Yeah, you fucked up yesterday, but now you know what not to do. Just – try to take on some smaller jobs from here on out? It’s better for you to build your experience with something a little less…insane.”

Flushing pink, Alice gave me a shy smile and broke eye contact out of what I could only assume was embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Miss Caulfield.”

Flashing her a smile of my own, I nodded and motioned to start leaving the room. However, before I could make it very far I noticed that Alice’s expression suddenly changed. For some reason, she had this nervously expectant smile on her face, one that silently asked ‘well?’ without actually needing to say it. Adding on to that, she seemed to be positively brimming with energy. The way she was clutching all her books so tightly to her chest made it seem like they were the only thing keeping her from shooting across the room like an untied balloon.

At first, I had no idea why she was looking at me that way, but then it hit me: she still didn’t know that Victoria had agreed to let us both come to the shoot.

“And yes,” I added. “You’re good to come to Florida with me.”

If humans could glow, then Alice would be about as bright as the sun. Immediately, a wave of happiness seemed to wash over her, and the nervousness on her face slowly eroded in order to make room for pure, unbridled joy. In a flash, she squeaked a tiny noise of excitement and pumped her fist into the air. “Yes!”

I couldn’t help but giggle. She was like a little kid that had just gotten an Xbox for christmas.

“I’m excited too.” I admitted. “We’re gonna be going in about a month, Is that good for you?”

Immediately, she stood up straight and started nodding. The movements were so intense I was afraid she might accidentally give herself a concussion. “Yeah! I can totally go!”

“Awesome. Now, until then, make sure you’re keeping up with all your classes. If you start failing any of them, I’m gonna have to keep you here.”

“Of course!” she said, still nodding. “I’d never dream of it! Oh my gosh, thank you so much Miss Caulfield, you have no idea how much this-”

“That includes the essay I assigned you yesterday, by the way.” I interjected. What, did you really think I’d let her off the hook that easily?

“How’s that coming along?” I pressed.

Before I could even blink, all the enthusiasm in her body disappeared in a flash, and instantly, she went stiff. Welcome back, nervous Alice. “O-oh! Uh, yeah — that’s — that’s coming along just fine!”

Now, I’m not the best when it comes to reading social cues, but even I knew that Alice’s evasive tone was code for ‘I haven’t even started it yet and I’m probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it done’.

“I see…” I said, giving her a wry smile. “Well, I’m looking forward to reading it over the weekend.”

”Y-yep! Can’t — wait for you to see it!” she said, letting out an overcompensating laugh of confidence that definitely wasn’t fooling anyone. “Speaking of which, I should probably go! I gotta, y’know, get that finished for you!”

”Sounds perfect, Alice. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

”For sure! S-see ya, Miss Caulfield!”

Then, without skipping a beat, Alice made a mad dash out the door and into the hall, leaving me alone in the room to silently chuckle in delight.

It was funny, in the span of less than 24 hours, I’d gone from being painfully unsure about Alice, to being incredibly angry at her, to actually really starting to like her. That girl was wreathed in this infectious aura that made you wanna root for her and sing her praises against all odds. It was kind of like how you want the underdog to succeed in a sports movie, or want the main character in a TV show to beat the bad guy. To me, she was a student, and what I wanted was to see how far she’d go. She was already very talented as it was; she just needed an extra push to truly tap into that potential.

While I fully expected Victoria to be a little less than happy when I told her about the whole situation involving yesterday’s wedding, something told me that when she met Alice for real, she’d like her too.

At least, I hoped. There was still a very real possibility that she’d go full praying mantis on her and rip her head off for lying to me. With any luck though, Alice wouldn’t get chewed out too badly, but me? I was gonna be in for a really stern talking to the moment she found out I stayed and helped. That was definitely something I was more than happy to wait until the last minute to share with her.

I know you can’t hear me Victoria, but please don’t murder me?

And if you do, at least make it quick.

The next day, I was able to get back on my usual schedule again and as expected, Alice came into class looking like she hadn’t gotten a single ounce of sleep. Once all the other students had filtered out for the day, she shakily handed me a printed copy of her essay and promptly left the room right after. She didn’t say much other than an exhausted sounding “here you go, Miss Caulfield,” and “have a good day”, but I still thanked her and told her we’d talk about it on Monday.

That left me with a beautifully uneventful and boring weekend. After a week like that, I was more than happy to spend all 48 hours of it relaxing and lounging around like nothing was wrong. It was blissful, I didn’t do much of anything outside of reading Alice’s essay and engaging in a very intense staring contest with all my cameras.

Was it super pathetic to admit I didn’t even have the courage to touch one yet? Probably. Was I making progress though? Yeah! I almost grabbed one!

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly ‘progress’, but there was a very good reason for that. In all my endeavors of trying to use a camera again, I noticed something strange happen every single time I reached forward to grab one: the moment I’d start opening up my hand and wrapping my fingers around a body, I’d feel multiple surges of unnaturally powerful energy shooting down my arm in a series of waves, all collecting in the center of my palm. It was like my body — or my power — had an automatic response that just so happened to activate in the presence of a camera. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the outside forces that made my powers work were trying to taunt me, goad me into using this new ability I had in an unfairly cruel game of chicken.

Call that a pain in the ass. For all intents and purposes, my career was being held hostage, and until I could get it under control, I wouldn’t be taking pictures any time soon.

Alice’s essay was about a billion times less frustrating, thankfully. I gave it a once-over on Sunday afternoon, reading through all the text printed in size 12 Times New Roman font, double spaced just enough to make sure about a thousand words took up three full pages worth of content. The entire thing was a long continuous string of apologies, worst-case scenarios that would’ve occurred if I hadn’t helped, a list of things she didn’t consider, and examples of how her career and mine would’ve been affected if anything had gone wrong. Overall, it was a pretty fun read.

I could tell she’d written it on about two hours of sleep, given the dozens of grammatical errors and spelling mistakes riddled throughout the whole thing. I don’t think my name is ‘Mex Clayfield’, and I’m pretty sure ‘so sorry very sorry sorry’ wasn’t a complete sentence.

But to be honest, I didn’t care about any of that. I was the last person that had any right to correct someone on their writing ability, much less an academic essay like this one. Besides, it wasn’t the contents I was interested in, it was the fact that she took the time to actually do it and apologize in the first place. As far I was concerned, she’d learned her lesson and wasn’t going to be pulling any stunts like that ever again.

While I’d pretty much completely forgiven her halfway through that night at the wedding anyway, this essay just served as a little reminder of what not to do in the photography business.

So, when Monday rolled around and Alice walked up to me after class, nervously twirling her hair between her fingertips, I told her that I liked it and that from here on out, it was water under the bridge.

She practically melted into a big nervous puddle of sludge after I said that. The relief I saw wash over her was so intense that it seemed like she’d been on death row all this time and had only just gotten told her sentence was being revoked.

With that finally out of the way, I was fully prepared to spend the next month trying as hard as I could manage to control my powers while periodically checking in on Alice to make sure we were both ready to make our nearly week-long trip to Florida. The only times I’d ever been able to talk to her outside of that wedding job were the small grace periods we had between classes, so I figured I’d only get to see her in short bursts until the day of our flight.

Or so I thought.

That very same Monday, I’d been sitting in my office doing what I normally did on any school day afternoon: grading homework and listening to music. At least, I was trying to. Unfortunately, I had a little buzzing fly that went by the name of Donna constantly popping in to gossip about some crazy family matter she was dealing with.

Apparently, her sister in law, Anne, had gotten diagnosed with lymphoma a while back and was supposed to be getting chemotherapy for it. Strangely though, nearly 3 months had passed since her diagnosis and she still wasn’t getting treated. When Donna’s husband questioned her in their big family group chat they all shared, she started getting all defensive and refused to give them any clear-cut answers. So, taking matters into her own hands, Donna did some digging and contacted the hospital where she was supposedly diagnosed and promptly found out that her sister in law did not in fact have cancer, and that she’d been faking it this whole time. So right now, she and the rest of her family were getting ready to question her and oh my god she’s talked to me about it so many times I’ve actually committed that much of the story to memory.

Look, I’ll be the first to say that it’s a pretty crazy story. But I seriously didn’t need to hear every little detail 3000 times. Especially while I was working.

So it was needless to say that after I heard what was probably the 60th knock on my door that day, I’d finally had enough. Casually gossiping in normal conversation was one thing. Even though it was practically the only thing that Donna ever talked to me about, it was something I could handle given the right time of day. Barging into my office and preventing me from getting any work done however? That was another thing entirely, and I was just about fed up.

Huffing in annoyance, I quickly yanked off my earbuds and stood up out of my chair, marching toward the door with an angry stomp in my step. I wasn’t used to that. Normally, I never got mad like this, but after being subjected to so many months of Donna treating me like her own personal diary for drama, all the pent up emotions and comments I’d been holding back were finally starting to break through. Someone had actually managed to reach my limit, and it was about time I told that woman that enough was enough.

“Look Donna, I love you, I really do, but right now, I seriously need to get this work done so would you please stop barging in to–”

When I flung the door open, I was surprised to find that the woman I saw wasn’t Donna at all, it was Alice. A very scared looking Alice at that. The poor girl looked like she'd just had her life flash before her eyes.

“Miss Caulfield?” she squeaked, voice cracking in fear.

The second I saw her, all the annoyance I’d been feeling vanished without a trace, replaced with pure, utter confusion. “Alice? What are you doing here?”

She gulped, fearfully fidgeting with her hands while she fumbled around trying to form a coherent sentence. “Well — uh — I was wondering if I could…um, y’know…uh…”

“Is…everything okay?”

“C-canIeatlunchwithyou?”

She’d stammered that out so quickly that even I couldn’t understand it. “…what?”

Realizing she’d blurted out whatever she wanted to say way too fast, she made a small groan of embarrassment and closed her eyes, taking in a long deep breath to calm herself down. She must’ve been really worked up, because her shoulders started to slack as if she’d finally let out a sneeze she’d been holding in for a very long time. “Can…I eat lunch with you?”

Oh.

For a moment, I didn’t respond. If I was being completely honest here, I wasn’t really a big fan of that idea. Sharing my office, especially now after I’d just been about ready to explode on Donna for bothering me so much — it didn’t seem like it’d be all that enjoyable. The thought of having yet another distraction to deal with only added more fuel to the slowly growing fire in my chest, but at the same time, Alice had a really desperate and anxious look lining her face, and it was one I knew all too well: the way her eyes were searching for some hint of understanding, the way she was chewing on her lip like it was the only thing keeping her from blurting out even more words without thinking…that was the gaze of someone who’d spent a long time working up the courage to even come up here in the first place.

And you know me…I’m a total sucker for puppy eyes.

The only problem was that I still had work to do. Unless I wanted to be bogged down with grading all those assignments at home, I had to get this done now. It was unfortunate, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

So, mentally bracing myself for how much it would hurt to see Alice’s disappointment, I let out a guilt-ridden sigh and gave her a genuine look of apology. “I’m sorry, Alice. Maybe some other time? I really need to get this work done.”

”O-oh! I promise I won’t be a distraction.” she offered, reaching for her hair again. Twirling it must’ve been some kind of nervous tick, and realizing that only made me feel worse.

She was really making this hard on me, wasn’t she?

“I dunno…” I said. “I’ve had a lot to deal with today so I’m not sure if it’s the best idea that—“

Before I could finish, I heard a door open up from down the hall. A door I knew…

”Oh, Max!” Donna called, already making her way toward my office with her phone in hand.

On second thought, maybe having Alice over for lunch was a great idea.

”Sorry Donna, can’t talk right now!” I said quickly. “I have a meeting with a student!”

”But wait! You aren’t gonna believe what Anne just said-“

”Sorry! Maybe some other time!”

Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed Alice by the wrist and yanked her right into my office, slamming the door closed with both my hands.

For a second, I just stood there. Waiting in silence to see if Donna would still knock on my door in spite of knowing that I was supposedly ‘meeting with a student’. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Instead, I was graced with the amazingly beautiful sound of her old wooden door creaking as it closed down the hall.

Peace at last…

Slowly, all the tension I’d built up in the heat of the moment began to fade away bit by bit. My muscles started relaxing, my mood began to settle, and best of all, the headache I didn’t even know I had started to subside. It’s almost like I’d forgotten what not being under a constant source of stress was like.

Jeez…that woman wasn’t just bad for my sanity, she was bad for my physical health too.

“So, uh…” Alice murmured from behind me. “Is that a yes?”

Right. Alice is here now. I thought, which only made the stress start building itself right back up from the bottom again. I could feel it start to strain me from the inside out, applying pressure to my temples and twisting my stomach like it was a wet rag. It was nothing against her, really. I think that reaction was just the result of all the other less-than-amazing events I’d been through in the last week finally starting to catch up with me. It’s not like I’d had the time to fully process the death of that brown-haired woman yet with all the work I had to do. Combine that with the constantly growing fears I had about my powers and the plaguing worries I held about actually being able to go to this photoshoot — it was only a matter of time before I finally cracked.

That’s when it dawned on me…all of that stress must’ve been the reason I’d gotten so irrationally angry at Donna just a moment ago. It wasn’t her I was mad at, not really. I was simply being stretched too thin. Feeling like absolutely nothing was in my control was giving me a short fuse, and Donna’s constant yapping had only made it worse.

I was a bigger wreck than I thought, but I couldn’t afford to let that all show in front of Alice. Like I said, I wanted her to look up to me. I couldn’t do that if I looked like a haggard mess on the verge of having an aneurysm.

So I kept it in. Steeled myself and took a long deep breath. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Just like all those therapists taught me when I was a kid.

“Well,” I said, turning to face my unexpected guest. “You kind of saved me, so…I think it’s only fair.”

Immediately, Alice beamed at me with a big bright smile, and yeah, I’ll admit, it did make me feel a bit better. “Yes! Thank you so much Miss Caulfield, I promise I won’t talk or anything, I’ll just sit down and eat!”

I gave her an appreciative albeit weak smile. “Thanks, Alice, but…don’t worry about it. I don’t think I’m gonna be getting any work done at this point anyway.”

After pulling out one of the extra chairs I had stored near the far wall, I gestured for Alice to come take a seat near my desk and grabbed my lunchbag.

For a while, the two of us just sat down and ate without saying much of anything. Alice had some kind of loaded chicken salad and I, as usual, had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some apple slices. I couldn’t tell if Alice thought that was silly or not. I know my taste in food is basically the same as a toddler’s, but hey, I like it, give me a break.

Just when I was about to finish eating, Alice gave a weird look and flicked her eyes toward the door. “So…what was that back there?”

”That was Donna,” I groaned. “Let’s just say she likes gossip a little too much.”

”Oh…” Alice sounded. “Is that what you were so angry at?”

”Yeah. Sorry if I spooked you. I thought you were her coming to knock on my door again for the gazillionth time. She’s basically hit my limit three times over today.”

”Oh, thank god — uh, wait — not because she was bothering you or anything, but because I thought you were mad at me. I seriously felt like I was gonna die back there.”

I chuckled. “No, I’m not mad at you, don’t worry. I’m not too keen on murdering anyone just yet.”

”Well, that’s a relief. You know, you can be really scary when you’re mad, Miss Caulfield.”

I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment, an insult, or something else entirely. Either way, I decided to ignore it and move on to asking the question that’d been bubbling in the back of my head ever since we sat down. “So, I have to ask: why’d you wanna eat lunch with me? Don’t you have any friends you can eat with?”

I immediately understood that I must’ve said something wrong when Alice nearly choked on a bitefull of romaine she’d been chewing on. She made some kind of noise that sounded an awful lot like ‘GRCK’ and went wide eyed; forcing the food down a moment later by swallowing hard enough to make a cartoonish sounding gulp.

Way to go, Max. All this time and you still suck at talking to people.

“N-not that I don’t enjoy your company or anything!” I sputtered, raising my hands in apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s okay.” she said, pounding at her chest to make sure that big ball of lettuce went down her throat the right way. “You’re…right. I have a free hour for lunch and no one to eat with so I usually eat alone in my car. I figured that since you said the wedding was water under the bridge maybe I…could eat with you.”

Ouch. She sounded so defeated when she said that. Leave it to me to stir all those emotions up like I was the Wicked Witch of The West.

I knew how she felt though. I too was one of those kids who ate lunch alone growing up; always seated by my loathsome self at an otherwise empty table until someone came along to save me from the isolation. I always hated how being the odd one out made it so much easier for people to gawk at you. Being the only person at one of those tables made it seem more like a throne dedicated to making you stand out as an asocial weirdo than a place to socialize. It might as well have had a sign up above it that said ‘laugh at this loser’.

When I lived in Arcadia Bay, I thankfully never had to worry about that. I had Chloe. When I moved to Seattle, however, I didn’t have her around anymore so I was reduced to the lonely new girl that sat alone all the time. That was until I became friends with Kristen and Fernando. As much as the three of us had been drifting apart these last few years, I was still eternally grateful to both of them for being amazing and kind enough to actually sit down with me back then.

Ironically, when I went back to Arcadia Bay for Blackwell my senior year, I went straight into loner territory once again until I started talking to my friend Warren. It turns out that the throne is a lot easier to manage when you have someone to sit in it with you.

If I didn’t have so many awesome people in my life, I would’ve been the exact same way Alice was now, and like me, she needed someone to sit on that throne with her.

”Well…you’re always welcome here, Alice,” I uttered. It was only after I said that did I realize what I was saying, what I was committing to.

Dammit Max, you’re being impulsive again! What is it about this girl that makes you wanna say some seriously stupid things?

Alice gaped at me, her green eyes wide with hope. “Really? You mean that?”

Well, you can’t take it back now.

“Y-yeah.” I nodded, hoping this wouldn’t come back around to bite me in the ass later. “On days I’m working though you will have to be quiet, okay?”

“Deal!” she bubbled.

I thought our conversation would end there. By now, it was already five to one, which meant the bell would be sounding at any moment. However, just as I was about to tell Alice that we should probably go our separate ways for the day, I heard a loud ‘DING’ sound emanate from my computer. It was the ping Outlook gave you whenever you got an email.

I didn’t think much of it. Usually, it was just an automated message from the school detailing events or telling people to take some kind of survey. Alice though? She was intrigued, allowing her eyes to slowly drift over to my monitor so she could see what it was all about. At first, I didn’t really care, but what I failed to realize was that I still had Brightspace open and a student’s assignment grade was on full display for her to see. When she saw that, her curiosity suddenly got way more ravenous.

“Are those…the grades for our color assignment? Woah, this person did terrible!”

Shit

“Hey, you’re not supposed to see that!” I fretted, fumbling around in search of my mouse. As soon as I found it, I minimized the tab and gave Alice a weary look. “I don’t know if you saw who that was but, I trust you’ll keep it to yourself?”

Looking guilty, Alice nodded vigorously. “D-don’t worry, I didn’t!”

“Good…” I sighed, massaging my forehead.

“Um…what did I get on that assignment?”

I turned to her, smirking as I rested my elbow atop the desk. “I dunno, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Aww man…”

I really should’ve told her to go. The bell would be ringing any second now and if she didn’t leave, she’d be late for her next class. However, the mention of her assignment sparked a new question in the back of my mind. Just like her, my curiosity was getting the better of me, and while I knew it would only give her trouble, the Max Caulfield scale of nosiness versus consideration was, as usual, heavily tipping in the direction of nosiness.

“By the way, Alice, I wanted to ask you something.”

Alice looked up at me curiously, eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Are you…inviting me to another photoshoot?”

“No,” I giggled. “Do you remember your black and white assignment? The one where you took a picture of that wooden soldier?”

Her eyes lit up almost immediately. “Yeah?”

“Where’d you get that thing? It was really…unique.”

“Oh! You mean Lieutenant Cooper?”

“Lieutenant who?”

“Cooper.” she repeated, unzipping her bag and fishing around for something inside. When she found it, she lifted her hand to show me the little soldier she’d photographed for her assignment over a week ago. Without the black and white filter, the little thing looked a lot more colorful and vibrant than I ever would’ve imagined. That wasn’t to say it looked brand new, though. Even from a distance, I could tell the polished wood had seen better days. It looked rough around the edges, scratches marring whatever luster it might’ve had when it was first made. The paint wasn’t any better either. It looked all chipped and flaked, so you could only just barely see the remnants of what I assumed was supposed to be a military uniform. It was one of those objects that had a clear history. A life that you couldn’t even begin to guess until someone told you about it.

I’d felt the itch a few times this past week, but right now, it was stronger than it’d been in years. If I had one of my cameras on me, I might’ve actually gone through with taking a picture. Curse my stupid powers.

“Wowser…he looks pretty cool.”

“The coolest. My mom used to make them all the time when I was younger.” she continued. “She always loved whittling and making things out of old wooden scraps she’d find at hardware stores — this little guy was the first one she ever made for me.”

As she spoke, I noticed that she started looking more and more dejected with every word, like she was recalling a painful memory every time she uttered a new syllable. Not to mention – everything she just said was in past tense.

Awesome. I was already 0 for 2 on not making Alice feel bad today.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory.”

“No, it’s okay. My mom, she…” she seemed to get lost in her own thoughts for a moment, eyes staring at something far far away. “She disappeared when I was 13. When I got put into foster care, I wasn’t able to take all of her projects along with me, so…I decided to grab the Lieutenant. I carry him around with me pretty much everywhere I go.”

I felt myself freeze up. Alice was in foster care? Her mother had gone missing? That was way more than I thought I’d bargained for when I asked about something as innocuous as a tiny wooden toy.

That little soldier…from the way she made it sound, that was probably the last real piece of her mom she had left. Sure, she might still have some pictures of her framed up somewhere in her apartment, but those had a different kind of meaning to them. Photos were nice; they confirmed that at some point, the events and people they captured were real, tangible and true. But something made by the hands of a person you lost was a piece of their life you could carry around with you. It reminded me of the three-bullet necklace Chloe used to wear. The one I’d contemplated taking after her death. Letting Joyce keep it was probably the right thing to do at the time, but to this day, I still regret never asking for it. Having a piece of Chloe with me…it would’ve been nice to feel like she was still there. Still watching.

“Um…Miss Caulfield?” Alice asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was only after my mind came back into focus that I noticed I’d been clutching the doe pendant wrapped around my neck.

“Huh?”

“You kind of spaced out.”

“Oh. Sorry, I was just – thinking.”

“Been there…” she muttered.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom though.” I said. “At 13 years old too…”

“It’s alright.” she shrugged, turning her head so she wouldn’t have to look me in the eyes. The somber expression she had on made it pretty easy to tell that the topic of her mother was still a fresh wound. One that might’ve needed help in healing. “It’s been five years, so…I moved on.”

That didn’t convince me in the slightest, but still, I decided to play along, nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, I imagine. Just so you know…if you ever need to talk, you can always come to me.”

While she didn’t turn back to look at me directly, my words at least brought a small, grateful smile out of her.

Appreciative as it was, however, it was still embroidered in a deep, sour sadness. It seemed that it was all she could do to start twirling her hair between her fingers again, the thin red-orange strands coiling and curling around her nails as she spoke. “Thanks, Miss Caulfield, that- that actually means a lot. You know, while I’m here…there’s something I wanted to ask you-”

Whatever she was going to ask got cut off by the sound of the school bell ringing outside, and almost instantly, her melancholic look transformed into one of terrified surprise. “Oh, crap! I’m gonna be late for English Comp!”

As she scrambled to pack her things and run out of the room (somehow) at the same time, I gave her a wave; one last helping hand. “Wait, who do you have for English Comp?”

“Uh – Mr. Smith!”

“Let him know you were meeting with me and I kept you too long. That way, he’ll get mad at me and not you.”

“O-okay! Thank you, Miss Caulfield! See you later!”

I wanted to say goodbye too, but as usual, Alice zipped away before I could even begin uttering a single word.

It didn’t take long for Alice to become part of my daily routine.

After Monday, I figured she’d stop by to eat lunch with me every now and again, but what I didn’t expect was to see her at noon on the dot nearly every single day in the weeks leading up to the photoshoot.

She’d always come knocking on my door with a big, radiant smile on her face. Some days, we’d sit in silence while I worked and Alice ate her food. Other days, I’d get done early and we’d spend the next hour talking about our days or whatever came to mind.

I could tell that as time went on, she was quickly getting more and more comfortable around me. It only took a few days for it to get to the point where she started talking to me about all of her interests outside of photography. It turned out that she was super into anime, and as such, she kept encouraging me to watch some of her favorites. I used to watch a lot of it myself, but I stopped not too long after Chloe died. When we were kids, we used to watch shows like One Piece and Bleach together all the time, so unfortunately, that medium just became another sullen reminder of what I’d lost following that fateful week. Trying to get through a few episodes of a series like Attack On Titan wasn’t worth it when all I could think about was how much Chloe would’ve enjoyed it.

At first, Alice’s constant presence was a little disconcerting. As with everything else in my life, a change in routine really messed with my head. My lunch time wasn’t the quiet hour of peace I looked forward to after classes anymore; it was a small sliver of my day in which I was guaranteed to see one of my students. Simply knowing that someone was in the room while I worked made me feel a small, unnerving prickle on the back of my neck, but strangely, I didn’t mind it all that much. In fact it was kinda nice.

Plus, Alice being around all the time meant I didn’t have to deal with Donna bothering me during my lunch hour anymore. Between talking to Alice or getting bombarded with gossip, I’d choose Alice every single time.

Sure, it would’ve been nice to have some alone time every now and then, but talking to Alice was surprisingly fun. She got so animated and enthusiastic whenever she started rambling about something she enjoyed. Especially if it was about photography; believe me when I say the passion she had for it was really something else.

While I’m sure most, if not all of my students enjoyed taking photos, I wasn’t sure I could say a single one of them were nearly as devoted to the artform as she was. She loved talking about her inspirations all the time: Edward Weston, Imogen Cunningham, Karl Blossfeldt – all photographers that specialized in capturing the true essence of things that were otherwise pretty ordinary. I really liked that about her, she had a desire to take things no one would normally bat an eye at and make them seem so much more incredible with her photos. I wished that was something I was capable of.

With all that in mind, it only took about a week for me to get used to it. In fact, I actually started looking forward to seeing her. Crazy, right? It wasn’t too long ago that I was stressing over whether or not she caused my powers to come back, and now she was my lunch buddy. All it took was being lied to and getting incredibly angry at a coworker for that to happen. I guess sometimes, that’s just the kind of hand fate deals you.

While getting to know her better was pretty fun, trying to get my powers under control definitely wasn't. Nearly every single day, I spent most of my free time trying to stop myself from turning into a literal ticking time bomb. It didn’t help that Victoria kept blowing up my phone with more and more information about the shoot: the models, the possible locations, the schedule. What really got her excited was the fact that she decided to give me full creative control of the shot list and theme, which was normally pretty unheard of – and oh so very dangerous thing to ask of me.

I don’t think Victoria fully understood what she was getting herself into by allowing someone like me to have the roles of both photographer and creative director at the same time. By telling me that, she’d just opened a type of Pandora’s Box that you wouldn’t believe. I tried to warn her, told her that my head was already swimming with ideas I didn’t think she’d like, but she didn’t care. She said she trusted me.

And yeah, that only made my sense of urgency even worse.

I’d come a long way from the days I couldn’t even bring myself to touch a camera, at least. By week two, I was comfortable enough to grab hold of one without losing my mind. I didn’t dare look through the viewfinder though, because as long as a camera was in my hands, that annoying energy just kept bursting and crackling against my skin, begging to be released like some kind of caged animal.

I’d thankfully managed to calm it down enough so that simply reaching out for a camera didn’t set anything off, but the moment I had one in my hands, I immediately felt it start to surge up again.

I’ll admit, it got me pretty aggravated. Whenever I started practicing, Bongo would usually rush out of the room knowing full well I was about to spend the next few hours angrily muttering obscenities at an inanimate object. But during week three, I had a breakthrough.

That night, I’d been getting pretty tired of trying to force my powers down every time I went to grab a camera, so out of sheer frustration, I decided not to bother one day and begrudgingly grabbed one off my shelf. Very much annoyed, I flipped it around and inspected it like it was some kind of annoying alarm clock that wouldn’t stop beeping.

And that’s when it dawned on me.

The only way you could turn off an alarm clock was if you reached out to press the button. So, what if, instead of trying to suppress my power before I even had a camera in my hands, I tried to do the same thing while I was holding it

I assumed it’d be a longshot. I mean — It seemed so obvious that I doubted it would even work, but at that point, I didn’t have any other ideas and I’d gotten pretty tired of annoying myself with fruitless attempt after fruitless attempt. So, I thought, why not?

Bracing myself for disappointment, I let out a harsh breath and tried to relax. As I thumbed over the camera and closed my eyes, I did what I usually did and tried to visualize what I wanted to happen: I Imagined the energy in my arm receding back to its source, slowly moving inch by inch until it was completely gone. I don’t know how long it took exactly, but when I opened my eyes again, I was astonished to find that I didn’t feel it anymore. I couldn’t sense those tiny pulses and waves of energy now, couldn’t feel that big ball of unreleased power nestling in my palm. It was just — normal. Beautifully, unapologetically and incredibly normal.

I almost couldn’t believe it. I’d actually done it. I’d gotten my power under control.

As soon as that realization struck me, I felt compelled to hop out of bed and start jumping with joy, but I had to quickly remind myself that I couldn’t get too excited. As much as I wanted to start running around, happily screaming, I had to keep focusing. After all, being able to control my powers meant nothing in the end if I still couldn’t take a picture.

This was it, the big moment. The first time in weeks that I’d attempted taking a photo. If this worked, I’d be able to get through the photoshoot with (hopefully) fewer problems than I anticipated. If not…well, I just had to hope I could work up some kind of solution before then.

Steeling myself, I slowly began to raise the device toward my head. Listening as my doppelganger’s words began to echo inside my mind.

“Don’t fuck it up.”

That night at the wedding, I’d been so desperate to prove her wrong. I still was. I wanted to show her that she couldn’t scare me with a bunch of freaky dreams and ominous phrases. That her stupid predictions and hypotheticals meant nothing in the face of my resolve. If I could do this, it wouldn’t just be a victory for the longevity of my career; it would be a victory for me, and that only made my determination stronger.

The moment I pressed my eye against the viewfinder, I cautiously began to look around. Nothing seemed different so far, but I couldn’t be too sure until I captured something moving. If I’d somehow failed in suppressing my powers, then the world around me would look still and unmoving, frozen in time.

So, keeping the camera still and pretty much glued to my face, I walked out of my room in search of Bongo.

I’d known I’d succeeded as soon as I saw him staring at me atop his cat tree. He was looking at me all confused like I was some kind of crazy person, and honestly I couldn’t blame him. I was practically vibrating with excitement: legs shaking, hands twitching — the whole nine yards. I could only imagine how I must’ve looked while I was working to contain my elation. I wanted to release it; let loose and just blow up with the power of a huge triumphant nuclear bomb, but I couldn’t get too hasty. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Biting my lip in anticipation, I softly pressed the shutter release button and beamed with joy as the camera whirred to life. I’d accidentally forgotten that I left the flash on, so when Bongo’s image was captured and a bright white light blasted his cute little face, he got startled into frantically running back towards my room. I wanted to call out to him and apologize, but I could hardly work up the words thanks to the intense rush of happiness I was feeling.

I’d taken a picture! The sheer number of endorphins swimming through my head in that moment could’ve powered a city, and now, finally, I could let it all out with a big squeal of joy.

I probably sounded like a dying seal, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that it was possible. I could take pictures again without having to worry about ripping another hole through the universe! I wouldn’t have to bail, wouldn’t have to make up some shoddy, half-assed excuse as to why I canceled, or figure out an alternative before I went to Florida. I could do it. I could take photos for Victoria and finally help her, I could teach Alice along the way and show her my process too…

It almost didn’t feel real, and for a second, I thought it might not be. After so many years of clumsily pushing through everything life threw at me, I wasn’t used to something going my way like this. So, just to be sure, I pinched myself. Hoping and praying that my evening hadn’t been some super vivid dream; another figment of imagination.

When I felt the small sting of pain against my skin and saw that I didn’t immediately wake up in my bed, I smiled. I smiled so widely that my head threatened to snap in half. After spending the last few weeks being relentlessly blasted with questions, worries, and fears, I’d finally managed to do something right. It was so relieving, so amazing and fulfilling that my vision started to blur. Soon after, the hot, familiar sensation of dribbling tears ran down my cheeks. Soft, gentle rain trailing across my skin.

I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, so I settled for a silent message to a certain someone that was currently far far away.

I did it, Chlo…I can keep my promise.

After I finished spending around ten minutes blowing my nose and wiping my eyes clean, I decided to take a look at the photo I’d just snapped of Bongo. When I flipped to it though, something was off.

The picture had been mysteriously corrupted by a series of black boxes and dead pixels coming together to form some kind of stringy, veiny mass on the screen. I remembered seeing the same thing on the photos I’d taken of Arcadia Bay while I was at my parents' house in Seattle, but I could’ve sworn it wasn’t nearly this bad. To make matters worse, the edges of the photo were blurry and unfocused, indicating something was wrong with the lens too.

It had to have been some kind of weird glitch thanks to me dropping my camera while I was at the lighthouse, but still…the way the photo looked, it gave me the creeps. It was like some kind of malicious, unknown creature was slowly but surely clawing into the photo, making its presence known by superimposing itself atop an image of something I loved.

It had to have been a coincidence. I reasoned that it was just a classic case of my pattern seeking brain trying to make sense of something it didn’t understand. I had to focus on something I actually knew, and what I knew was that my camera was totally busted.

I really wasn’t looking forward to dishing out a couple hundred dollars for repairs.

Chapter Text

I spent the last few weeks before the shoot working to suppress my powers faster and faster than before. Thankfully, I’d been able to make a ton of progress ever since I had that rare stroke of luck back in week three.

For once, I was actually really proud of myself. By the time the trip was only a couple days away, I’d learned how to get that weird energy in my arm under control in about three seconds flat; basically nothing in comparison to the few minutes it took me at first.

But, as usual with me, the better I got at controlling my powers, the more my fear of accidentally using them got replaced by something else: a fear that I wouldn’t be able to give Victoria the photos she deserved.

I wanted to make this shoot as amazing as possible, give her the best of the best. Because of that, I spent a lot of my free time working on ideas for different shots using the locations we had available. I wasn’t sure she’d be totally on board with my thought process, but I was hoping to make up for that with the results.

I also had to account for the fact that I’d be using a different camera. Since my Alpha 7 was currently in the shop for repairs, I had to rely on my backup: a Canon EOS R6. It was a great camera, but it’d take some time for me to get used to. The menu systems on Canon cameras were totally different from Sony’s, not to mention, the layout of all the buttons was a little different too.

In a lot of ways, small differences like that annoy me the most. It can be so frustrating when something you’re using is so close to being familiar, but just barely different enough to mess you up. In order to make sure I wouldn’t get all confused by the time we were on set and ready to shoot, I spent a lot of time familiarizing myself with it. The only problem was that my Alpha 7 would probably be fixed by the time I finally got used to the R6. That was a headache I’d have to save for future Max.

Dog, look at me. So privileged I can complain about the differences between two very expensive and powerful cameras. I missed the days where I was jealous of Victoria for having so much fancy equipment when all I had was a dusty old polaroid.

Still, my worry wasn’t completely unfounded. This would be the first real photoshoot job I’d gone to in three years, and on top of that, it was for my best friend. Could you really blame me for wanting everything to be as perfect as possible?

So it goes without saying that when the morning of the trip finally came around, my anxiety was running at an all time high. It also didn’t help that Alice (bless her heart) was just as anxious as I was – albeit for an entirely different reason.

From the moment I picked her up at her apartment to the second we got past TSA, she was glued to me like some kind of freaky sci-fi parasite. The entire time, she was rife with worry, manically picking at her hangnails and flashing her eyes from one person to another as if someone might kill her at any given moment. At first, I didn’t wanna embarrass her by pressing the issue, but after seeing her practically sprinting toward me the second she got through the metal detectors, I had to ask.

”You okay, Alice? You’ve been on edge all morning.”

”Oh! Y-yeah I’m fine…I just – I’ve never been on a plane before. Also – the crowds. Let’s just say I don’t like crowds all that much.”

I gave her an empathetic look. While I’d learned to partially overcome my disdain for large crowds over the years, I still completely understood how she felt. Not to mention, it hadn’t been all that long ago since I rode my first plane and nearly passed out from anxiety while waiting to board.

“I get that,” I commiserated. “I promise you though, there’s nothing to worry about. I used to be scared of planes too, but honestly, the worst part about them is having to deal with all the people.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that, because as soon as I finished that sentence Alice started looking way more nervous.

“Just — stick with me, okay?” I said quickly, “Everything’ll be alright.”

”Okay…” she mumbled, but she didn’t sound very convinced.

At first, when we boarded our flight, Alice was even more of a nervous wreck than before. Knowing we’d be lifting off at any second made her jumpy enough to squeak at the mere sound of my seatbelt clicking into place. She even requested to hold my hand during take off. The moment we were in the air however, that fear started to melt away, slowly morphing into pure, wonderous awe. Seeing all the clouds and how the city looked from above brought out her own personal version of the itch, and before I knew it, she stopped worrying completely, snapping photos of the skyline with her phone.

It was so endearing to see, watching as those green eyes focused on the sky, looking so enraptured with every little detail. It made me feel a great sense of longing for the same sensation. That kind of eagerness and hunger to capture the world around me was something I hadn’t felt in years, and while it hurt to remember how much more passionate I used to be about my art when I was younger, seeing Alice look so captivated made me happy, hopeful. It made me feel like it was possible to get some of that spark back. With any luck, this photoshoot would end up being the catalyst for that.

I didn’t really know what to expect when we landed at Miami International. Weeks before, Victoria told me not to worry about transportation, but that only left me about as confused and anxious as Alice was at the airport. Not knowing how we’d get around implanted the idea in my head that we’d be stranded at the airport for hours until someone showed up to get us, but Victoria assured me that everything was taken care of.

If only she hadn’t been so strangely cryptic. All she’d said to me before we boarded was that I’d ‘know where to go when I saw it.’ I kept asking her what ‘it’ meant, but she refused to give me a concrete answer. That gave me a bad feeling.

I tried to mentally prepare myself for what Vic had in store for us while Alice and I waited for our bags, but I knew fully well that it was either going to be something super embarrassing or something super over the top: two things I absolutely hate. Was she going to have us travel in one of those obnoxiously long limos? Greet me with a ton of needless fanfare? She was always quick to be as extravagant as possible, so as far as I was concerned, pretty much anything was up in the air.

The only thing that managed to pop me out of my thoughts was the little nudge Alice suddenly gave me. When I looked at her, I immediately knew she was going to ask me something. Whenever she gets curious she makes this oddly cute pouty looking face and knits her eyebrows together, almost like she’s straining herself to wrap her head around a problem. The fact that I could read her expressions just goes to show how much time I’d been spending with her lately.

“Miss Caulfield?” she asked. “Now that I think about it, you never really told me who your client is…or, for that matter, what we’re taking pictures of.”

Whoops.

What can I say? I’d spent most of the month worrying about my powers. When you’re trying to prevent catastrophe, remembering to fill your student in on the most basic details about a job you asked her to come to sort of slips your mind.

”Oh! Sorry, I completely forgot, didn’t I?”

Alice gave me a sheepish little nod in response, one that said: ‘yeah, you totally did’.

“Well, she’s an old friend.” I explained. “She owns a fashion company. So, she hired me to take pictures of her upcoming Spring lineup.”

“Woah…” Alice breathed, sounding completely bewildered. “I didn’t know you did any fashion photography.”

“Eh, it’s been a pretty long time. But trust me, if you’re a photographer for long enough you get some experience with everything in one way or another.”

Once we spotted our bags, the two of us made our way out toward the exit. Since it was almost noon, we had the unfortunate task of walking and maneuvering around so many people that my head felt like it was spinning by the time we broke through the crowd. As soon as we got on our last set of escalators, Alice turned to me, that inquisitive look once again lining her face.

“So, what’s your friends’ company called?”

“It’s–“

Before I could finish, my eyes flashed toward the ground below. It was there that I finally saw ‘it’: waiting for us at the very bottom of the escalator, was a tall, sleek looking man in a black suit holding up a large sign that said ‘Max Caulfield’ in big bold letters.

Immediately, my cheeks flushed with heat. Out of all the things she could’ve done, getting one of her guys to do something this cliche was probably the worst.

Dammit, Vic. Guess it was the super embarrassing one after all…

As soon as we stepped off the escalator, I warily made my way over to him with Alice in tow. I have no clue what kind of face I was making, but it must’ve been sour, because he raised a confused eyebrow upon spotting me.

“Miss Caulfield?”

“That’d be me…” I grumbled.

”Pleased to meet you ma’am.” he said, his voice carrying about as much intonation as a robot. “My name’s Todd, and I’d like to welcome you both to Miami.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Todd!” Alice said, giving him a nervous smile. Did she use honorifics on everybody older than her?

“You too, miss. l’m gonna be your driver for today, so if you’d like me to take your bags, please, allow me.”

The idea of handing my bags (many of which contained some seriously expensive equipment) off to some random guy I’d just met sounded like a real sketchy idea. But if he was here on behalf of Victoria, and we were really gonna be doing this, I figured I might as well go all the way.

“Please.” I conceded, slowly handing off most of my luggage to him. The only thing I didn’t give him was my camera bag. That one was staying with me at all times. After spending nearly a month of not being able to carry it around, having that familiar strap wrapped across my shoulder again felt like I was getting a warm hug from an old friend. I really missed it.

After fumbling around for another few seconds, Todd somehow managed to find a way he could hold everything and led us both outside to an equally sleek-looking, matte-black SUV.

She was really trying to be on the nose with this whole Men In Black thing wasn’t she? If I didn’t know any better I’d say I was about to be neuralyzed.

And speaking of ‘she’, almost as soon as we left the building the passenger side door of the car shot open to reveal a frighteningly excited looking Victoria, who immediately bound over to me with her arms outstretched.

“Max!” she cheered, wrapping me in a hug so tight it rivaled my mom’s. At first, her speed took me by surprise, but then, I found myself laughing as she lifted me off the ground and spun me around with a happiness I hadn’t seen from her in years. I still had some lingering fears left over about how my photos would turn out at this shoot, but seeing her so cheery made all of that start melting away in an instant. “There’s my favorite photo nerd!”

“H-hey!” I said between laughs. “It’s so awesome to see you!”

“That’s my line!” she complained, placing me back down on the ground before all the spinning made me too dizzy to stand. “Hope you didn’t mind the whole government agent thing I had Todd pull for you. I wanted to make your arrival feel extra special.”

I scoffed. “Well, mission accomplished. For a second there, I thought you accidentally booked me a meeting with the president.”

“Oh no, you’re meeting with someone way more important than that.”

“Oh, cool! Where are they?” I teased, shading my eyes to look for whoever this ‘mystery person’ was.

“Never change, Max.” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Seriously though, I’m so glad you’re here. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Aaaand the fear was totally back in full swing. Great.

“I’m just glad I could help,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck in a foolishly sad attempt at forcing my worries down. Hopefully, my blush of embarrassment didn’t look that bad. “It’s been a long time coming, honestly. I promise I’ll try to make this shoot great, okay?”

“As if that’s even a question. Trust me Max, you’ll make this great without even breaking a sweat. I know you will.”

Oh man, this was just getting worse and worse. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated the compliment, but saying something like that only added onto the slowly growing pile of expectations currently sitting atop my shoulders. Any more pressure and I might get crushed to death.

“And who’s this?” she asked, locking her eyes on the girl who was standing just a few feet behind me.

“Oh! She’s one of my students, Victoria: meet–”

When I turned, Alice was staring at both of us in total awe. Her jaw was basically on the floor, and her eyes? So wide I was scared they’d fall out.

“Alice? What’s wrong, why are you staring at us like that?”

“You’re f-friend is–” she stammered. “Victoria Chase?!”

“Yeah…” I drawled, slowly growing more and more confused. “Wait, hold on, how do you know who she is?”

“I’m wearing one of her camisoles! She- she’s one of the youngest fashion company owners in the world – all over the news, and you – you just know her?!

“Hm,” Victoria smirked, that signature flare of smugness now present in her voice as she feigned a hair-flip. “At least someone recognizes how amazing I am. And on top of that, she’s got good taste. I think you and I are gonna get along juuust fine, Alice.”

I wanted to retort by saying something like “amazing at being a narcissist, maybe”, but Victoria, sensing I was about to say something snarky, spoke up before I could even try.

“Now then, let’s get going.” she winked. “We don’t wanna dilly dally around here for too long. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

When Victoria said she was going to get me the best view in Miami, I knew she meant it. When it came to stuff like this, she almost never cut corners; extravagance and spectacle were practically her middle names. Even so, despite knowing I was gonna be in for something fancy, I was still floored by what I saw when she brought us up to the penthouse she booked.

It was at some fancy place called the Faena Hotel, and the moment I stepped into the room I felt like I was on some kind of movie set, entering the supposed lair of the super-rich bad guy.

The place was certifiably massive, probably bigger than my own apartment (which honestly wasn’t saying much). There was a huge living area, comfy-looking couches, tiger-print pillows, weird statues of animals, a massive kitchen – and the beds? I swear it was like lying on a cloud. The crazy thing is that wasn’t even the best part. The view Alice and I got of the ocean as we stared out of the huge windows surrounding the place was to die for.

I tried asking Vic how much it cost to book the place, but she was super dismissive about all the details. Every time I tried prying the information out of her she just told me to ‘not to worry about it’, and to ‘enjoy the view, dummy’.

I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. I seriously didn’t deserve something like this, and I was most certainly not in my element. My only criterion for a good hotel room was if it didn’t have any bed bugs and looked relatively clean under a blacklight, now, I was in the kind of room that only the top one percent of the top one percent ever got to experience. It seriously felt like I was a stick figure suddenly being pulled into the third dimension – I had no idea what I was even supposed to do with all the space. Hell, I was too scared to even touch anything.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to ogle for very long. Almost as soon as we got settled in, Victoria rushed us outside back to the car so we could head over to the first location of the day.

Alice didn’t say much of anything on the drive over, in fact, it looked like she was slowly turning into a puddle of mush. From the way she seemed to be melting into her seat, I figured she was pretty shell-shocked. It made sense; the day she’d had up until that point was pretty crazy: flying on a plane for the first time, meeting the owner of the company who made some of her clothes, getting a view inside a crazy, lavish penthouse…if I was in her position, I’d turn into a pile of goo too.

The only thing that got her to snap her out of it was when Victoria and I started talking about the day’s plans.

“Alright, our first stop’s gonna be the museum,” the blonde noted. “We’re going there first thing tomorrow morning so I figure we get all the pre-pro done there first.”

“‘Pre-pro?’” Alice sounded, popping out of her stupor to give the two of us an intrigued look.

“Pre-production.” Victoria clarified. “This is your first time being on a job like this, right?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Well, when you’re doing something like this you don’t just jump in and take photos. There’s a whole process involved: this first day we’re pretty much only preparing for the actual shoot: test shots, lighting setups, dress and makeup rehearsals – you’re gonna meet a lot of people on the crew while you’re here, so try to pay attention to everything and soak it all in.”

I raised an eyebrow, glowering at Victoria through the rear-view mirror. “Way to steal my job, Vic.”

“Gotta be quicker than that, Caulfield.” she teased, giving me that shit-eating grin of hers as she peered through the glass.

Being the sore loser that I am, I stuck out my tongue and turned to look at Alice again, who seemed completely mystified. I could tell she still didn’t fully believe that she was really here, much less that Victoria was trying to teach her some things like I was. I didn’t expect to have any competition when it came to teaching my own student on this trip, but I guess it was pretty stupid of me to expect anything else. Vic was always super competitive like that, even more so if she got the chance to show off.

Thankfully, she still hadn’t made the connection that Alice was the student I talked to her about back in Seattle. I was planning on that encounter being a whole ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it’ kind of thing, but hopefully, we wouldn’t have to cross that bridge at all. I was pretty well acquainted with Murphy's law though, so I tried not to think about it too much.

The museum looked beautiful. Heavily Inspired by old Italian architecture, it was a massive villa complete with a tiled roof, limestone walls, coral walkways, and marble interiors. To make things even more gorgeous, it was surrounded by a series of immaculate and well-maintained looking gardens, all nestled right against the ocean. Most of the photos we’d be taking there were gonna be shots that had a good chance of showing off all that beauty, so yeah, I was pretty excited.

As we pulled in, Alice’s face was practically glued to her window. Even though I wasn’t talking to her, I could tell she was running about a bazillion different possibilities for compositions, angles, and subjects in her head; wondering what she could do with such an amazing venue. I used to do the exact same thing back in Seattle when I was still learning. Seeing it from the outside gave me a warm feeling that blossomed in the center of my chest.

As soon as we got out, I lugged my equipment over to our first location and had to stand there looking all awkward while Victoria announced my arrival to the crew.

They all seemed nice enough, but what weirded me out was the fact that everyone seemed to somehow know who I was. I wasn’t sure if that was because they’d actually seen my work or if it was because Victoria had told them all about me beforehand. Either way, once all the introductions were finally taken care of, we immediately got to work.

I had Alice working as my assistant, showing her my whole process while I took test shots of the area. Meanwhile, the models, makeup artists, stylists, and lighting technicians buzzed around us like a hive of busy worker bees. All the activity made Alice look a little overwhelmed, so I had to keep reminding her that the only thing she had to worry about was helping me.

After about two whole hours, we were finally finished and ready to move on to our next location: South Pointe Park.

However, I had other plans.

Right as everyone started packing up, I made my way over to Victoria with the intention of asking her a question I’d been dreading ever since we boarded the plane. I hope I looked calm, because my mind was racing at about a billion miles per hour in hopes that she wouldn’t completely freak out on me for what I was about to ask. Luckily, she didn’t notice me approaching at first because she was too busy talking to one of the fashion stylists. That made it a whole lot easier to close the distance without losing my nerve or getting last minute second thoughts.

”Look, Dina, I understand what you’re saying but it’s really not that hard. I want this blouse paired with these pants, got it?” she commanded, giving ‘Dina’ one of her death stares. Seeing it brought up memories that made me shiver; Victoria always got really scary whenever she went into ‘business mode’.

”Uh – Victoria?” I coughed. Deciding to save the poor girl from an early onset demise, courtesy of Miss Chase herself.

“Oh, Max!” she said, her expression brightening the moment she saw me. “What’s up?”

”Am I interrupting, or…?”

“Not at all. In fact, Dina was just about to get going, isn’t that right?” she added, once again staring dagger at the fashion stylist.

”Y-yes I was!” Dina sputtered, quickly grabbing some loose clothing and zipping away before Victoria could kill her with her laser eyes.

Sighing in annoyance, Victoria shook her head and turned to me. “What do you need? Everything okay?”

Here we go, Max…let’s hope she doesn’t kill you.

”Oh yeah, everything’s great! The shot tests went really well and I’m liking what we’ve got so far.”

”But…?” she asked, somehow sensing that something was on my mind. Was I seriously that easy to read?

Whatever, Max. Forget about it and keep going before you stop dead in your tracks.

”But, I actually wanted to get some extra shots somewhere else. Y’know, before we went to the park and all.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just figured…you know…there’s way more I could do — aside from the usual stuff, of course.”

Halfway through my sentence, Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Obviously understanding what I was getting at almost immediately. “Max, I love you, but now is seriously not the time for your experimental avant-garde bullshit okay? I’m hardly able to keep up with some of the incompetence in this crew as it is, if I add another headache to this whole thing I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.“

Believe it or not that was a much better response than I was expecting. Still, it was time I threw caution to the wind again. Whether Vic liked it or not, I had a vision, and she was the one who put me in charge of all the photos. So, somehow managing to keep my voice steady, I pressed on.

“Look, You wanted Max Caulfield photos, I’m gonna give you Max Caulfield photos. When you started this company, you told me that you wanted to create clothes that helped people stand out in a crowd, but not so much that it looked ridiculous. ‘Elegance and boldness combined,’ right? That was your original tagline. So…I want pictures of your clothes in a crowd. Show people where they really shine.”

As I spoke, her frustration slowly started to dissolve. Instead of rage or annoyance, she started showcasing a look of genuine consideration, but it didn’t last for long.

“I – look, that’s a great idea Max but I don’t know if there’s enough breathing room in our schedule to make it work.”

”I don’t need a whole lot. Just a model, your choice of clothing, and a few minutes to set up a good shot.”

Over the course of the next few seconds she didn’t say anything. First, she tightened her lips, then, she let out an aggravated grumble and started growling to herself like some kind of angry orc. It looked pretty silly, like she was going to war on her own mind and was somehow losing both sides.

“Fuck,” she finally breathed. “You’re lucky I trust you so much. I’ll have Todd take you to the spot you had in mind but please make it quick.”

“Got it, I promise this’ll work out!”

“It better,” she grumbled.

As I watched her walk away to go fetch Todd, I heard a certain someone scurry to my side from behind, her voice as inquisitive as ever. “Does…this kind of thing usually happen at photoshoots like this?”

“Not typically, no.” I answered. “You have to have a pretty good relationship with the producer to get away with something like this.”

“Ah, I see. You two do seem pretty close…”

When I looked at her, I could see that Alice had that usual curious expression plastered onto her face; the one that said she was trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning behind my actions and words. She was fitting all the different pieces of a puzzle together until they connected to form one big image inside her head. I couldn’t help but giggle, for the third time that day, I could tell exactly what she was thinking without even needing to ask.

“And in case you were wondering…” I started. “Yes, the two of us used to date.”

“WHAT?!” she squealed.

“Anyway, we should get going.” I smirked. “We don’t wanna keep everyone waiting.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave it at that! You have to tell me about this!”

“Story for another time, Alice.”

“But Miss Caulfield,” she groaned.

The rest of the day went surprisingly well.

Like I promised, my shot tests at the extra locations were quick and concise — or, at least about as quick and concise I could get them with the relatively short amount of time I had. Other than that, me, Alice, and the whole crew went from location to location without any more hiccups or setbacks.

And speaking of the crew, it didn’t take me very long to find out why Vic chose the people she did. Everyone worked really well together and got things done at a speed you wouldn't find at any other run-of-the-mill fashion shoot out there. It was like having a crazy drag-racing pit-crew that could switch out the tires of a car in less than three seconds. I wished I’d gotten the chance to work with the same people back when I was still freelancing. Would’ve saved me a ton of headaches.

Once we were done for the day, Victoria treated everyone to dinner by bringing us to some fancy sushi bar out in the inner city. She’ll never admit it, but I think she misses Japan way more than she lets on.

After spending the rest of the night overwhelming Alice by competing with Victoria to teach her some things, we all headed back to our hotels in preparation for the big day. As you might imagine, I had trouble sleeping that night. Not because it was an unfamiliar bed or the fact that I could hear Alice snoring from two rooms down the hall, no. I couldn’t sleep because I was deftly anxious about how the following day would go.

Tomorrow would mark the first time I’d be taking pictures at an actual photoshoot in over three whole years. What if I was too rusty and held everybody back? What if I accidentally messed up controlling my powers and went back in time when I tried to snap a photo? What if the crew hated the special shots I wanted to take, and most importantly, what if every picture I took felt just as lifeless and shallow as everything else I’d done lately? What I was most afraid of, was taking pictures that evoked absolutely no emotion at all, didn’t contain that longing feeling that used to make this career worth it.

Would I find my spark again? Would Alice being here loosen something within me and grant me the power to recreate that feeling?

I had no idea, and that was almost as crippling as the decision I made back at the lighthouse over a month ago.

Regardless, I was too far in to back out now. So, after getting around four hours of sleep and scaring Alice half to death by waltzing into our room following my morning run, we made our way back to the museum and started setting everything up for the first day of shooting. Now that everyone had some experience on location, preparations took barely an hour. By the time the first model was positioned on the grassy floor, ready to go, I felt all eyes land on me and my camera, everyone waiting expectantly for that first shot to sound amidst the silence.

Was I ready? Hell no. Would I ever be? Probably not, but it was either now or never. Everyone was watching, including Alice and Victoria. If I could do this, I could show both them and myself alike that I was capable of something more than simple photos of landscapes and harmless images of cats. I wanted them to believe in me, wanted to believe in myself, and the only way I could do that, was by simply pressing that button.

Just like I’d practiced, I grabbed hold of my camera and allowed the power in my arm to slowly wilt away. As soon as it was gone, I pressed my eye to the viewfinder and allowed my finger to inch its way toward the shutter release. Right before I pressed it, I inhaled a long, deep breath, and then, the world around me vanished, distorting into a swirling pool of nothingness.

Instantly, every single one of my senses shifted, hyper-fixating on nothing but the scene in front of me. It was like a show, an intricate theater production starring a beautiful actress, and me? I controlled the spotlight. The heat, the humidity, the sounds of the city, the feeling of the grass against my shoes — none of it mattered. The only thing that did was the subject, and how I could capture them in the best possible way. It wasn’t just a challenge; it was a puzzle, a complicated game of cat and mouse that begged me to find the perfect shot.

You know how athletes get into that state of mind called ‘the zone’? That’s exactly what I was feeling. My mind had entered a flow state in which I could hardly tell the passage of time. I knew I was issuing commands, knew that I waited and adjusted settings between models, knew that I moved along with the crew as we switched locations, but those moments were fleeting. Like the gentle chugs of a passing train or the desperate caws of flying seagulls, they were brief pauses I couldn’t help but forget. I didn’t care about the past or the future; all I could retain was the now, the present I was capturing and containing within my camera.

For those reasons, I didn’t really remember any of the conversations I had during that time. It all just melded together with everything else that wasn’t an object for my lens to focus on. Despite that however, I still vividly recalled overhearing a small exchange between Alice and Victoria while I waited for someone’s makeup to get finished.

“Miss Caulfield is so…different when she’s taking pictures.” Alice had whispered, her voice laden with awe.

”Damn right she is.” Victoria noted. “Photography is basically her domain. When she’s taking photos, all her usual filters and attitudes just sort of go – poof.”

If Alice said anything after that, I didn’t hear it. By the time their conversation had come to a close, the next model was already waiting for the go-ahead.

The only few moments of rest I ever got were the hours that passed between getting back to the hotel and the next day of shooting. Even then, my mind was still constantly running at lightspeed, endlessly thinking about the next day’s shots, or the day after that. Poor Alice tried to talk to me about a dozen different things, but being the way that I was, my brain was far too distracted to pay attention for very long.

The special shots only took a few minutes each. It was simple, really. All of them came down to the motion of the crowds and how easily I could fit the models into frame. The streets might’ve been filled with people, but they were nothing more than an empty husk in the face of my camera. All I needed to do was fill in the blank, place the missing piece in the center and show the world what it meant to stand out; guide their eyes until they fell right atop the focal point I wanted them to see. For a while it was going about as smoothly as it could, but at one point, I noticed one of the models just wasn’t giving me the confidence I wanted the shots to exhibit. She seemed nervous, too conscious of all the people walking and motioning around her.

That simply wouldn’t do.

“You,” I said, making my way over to her after another failed shot. She couldn’t have been older than 20. My guess was that she hadn’t been in the business for very long; didn’t know how I was going to react or what she could do to fix her mistakes. It was made even more apparent when she started curling in on herself in the face of my presence, not something I was used to, especially not from someone who knew what they were doing. “What’s your name?”

“It’s, uh — Alexis.”

I gave her a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Alexis. Wanna tell me what’s up? You seem tense.”

Her eyes began to dart around in every direction possible, her gaze hellbent on landing anywhere but my own. “I’m — I’m a little new to this. Not used to taking photos in the streets and being surrounded by people is all.”

Right on the money.

I nodded in understanding. I might not have known much about modeling itself, but I knew for a fact that if I was in her position, I’d be feeling the exact same thing. Probably worse. So, that left me with a small dilemma: what would help me get through something like this?

Well, hearing a certain pixie-cut blonde badgering another crew member made the idea pop into my head almost instantly.

”I get that,” I commiserated. “Crowds suck. Wanna know a little secret though?”

“Uh, sure?”

”More than half these people aren’t paying any attention to you.” I said, parroting something Victoria told me a long time ago. “They’re all on their way to work or moving toward some place they need to get to. Even if someone gives you a passing glance, they’ll probably forget about you just a few minutes later. Besides, you have nothing to be conscious about. I mean — look at you, you look amazing. Do you feel amazing?”

”I guess I do…” she murmured.

”You should. So, think of it this way, if these people are gonna forget about you in a few minutes, you might as well put on a show; let them see how amazing you are, right?”

”Yeah…” she agreed, her mood slowly beginning to improve.

Perfect.

”Now, for this shot, all I need you to do is I walk across that crosswalk.” I directed, pointing toward the area she was set to be framed in. “When you get to the middle, just do what I told you and and show the world how amazing you are. Can you do that?”

”Yeah…yeah, I think I can.”

”Perfect.” I smiled. “You’ve got this Alexis.”

She nodded. “I’ve got this.”

Once I felt she was ready, I made my way back over to the camera and got ready to activate my remote shutter. The second she crossed that halfway point, she held her head high and jutted her chest forward. I managed to time it just right so that the image would showcase her stride midstep, show the viewer the kind of confidence someone could have in clothes like those.

If Victoria, Alexis, or the crew liked the final product, I couldn’t tell. I was far too busy worrying about the next photo to care about their reactions. In fact, the second I stepped behind my camera again, my mind went back into its flowstate, and all I knew was that I had to keep moving until everything was done.

The rest of the shoot was like a continuous tapdance, a ceaseless show. Every little flick, click, and clap against the proverbial stage was yet another picture, another frame I could capture in my image. For five whole days it went on like that. It was only when I heard Victoria call out that we were about to take the final picture that I finally came back to my senses for the first time in what felt like eons.

We were on the Brickell Avenue Bridge, the model in front of me, who wore a colorful blazer and a pair of deeply blue denim jeans, was posing by leaning against the ledge, veering his face toward the horizon. The lighting technicians surrounding us were waiting with bated breath; holding their reflectors and portable lights in anticipation for the signal that would end the last day of shooting.

Once I took that picture, it would all be over. The five days I’d spent molding this city and its people into my own image – they’d be gone. Like Victoria had said, photography was my domain, and the moment I pressed that button, I’d be leaving it once again.

Over the last few years I always told myself that the jobs I took before teaching were boring and monotonous. That it wasn’t worth it to go back into the industry when I could feel more fulfilled every single time I taught someone my craft. And yet, even after spending the entire week working myself down to the marrow…I couldn’t help but feel like I kind of missed this. The feeling of purpose and movement that came with photography.

Imagine that.

On that thought, I slowly allowed my finger to inch its way toward the shutter release one last time. Right before I pressed it, I exhaled a long, tired breath, and then, the world came back into focus.

I barely had the time to process anything before I heard Victoria shout “And that’s a wrap, everyone!”

Hearing those final booming words echo across the bridge caused everyone to start clapping and cheering, whistling in celebration or hollering with joy. When I turned around to look at the rest of the crew, they were all high-fiving or hugging each other with glee.

Seeing so many happy faces all at once caused my lips to curl into a smile of my own. I’d nearly forgotten how awesome it felt to finally be done with a shoot. After five exhausting days of nonstop work, we could all finally rest.

“Now, let’s pack up and reconvene for dinner! We’re doing karaoke tonight!” Victoria continued. That got the cheers to grow even louder. Me, however? That made me more fearful than you can imagine. There was no doubt in my mind that a half-drunk Victoria would try getting me to sing tonight if we were going to some kind of karaoke bar to celebrate.

Count me out and then some. The very thought of singing in front of all these people was already making my stomach fit to burst.

Just as everyone started packing away their equipment or removing their makeup, Alice lazily walked up to me, looking like she was about to collapse from relief. “We did it, Miss Caulfield! That was…really tiring and stressful.”

”Welcome to the industry.” I giggled. “Did you have fun at least?”

”Oh my god it was amazing! You and Victoria taught me so much!”

I raised an eyebrow. ”Oh, so you call her by her name and not ‘Miss Chase’?”

Immediately, Alice went wide eyed and audibly gulped. It was so loud that you’d swear she swallowed a bowling ball. “Uh — well — you see, Victoria is —“

”Super scary?”

”Yeah…” she agreed, already starting to twirl her hair. “I called her Miss Chase at first, but when she told me to call her Victoria and I kept messing up I thought she’d throw me into the ocean…”

”Sounds like her,” I remarked. ”Anyway, Miss O’Connor, why don’t you go help the lighting techs pack up? We’ll talk on our way back to the hotel.”

”Got it!” she nodded, scurrying off once again.

For a brief moment, I simply watched as she started to help one of the lighting technicians. Without skipping a beat, she immediately started carrying some lights, packing reflectors, or taking apart diffusers, all at his request. Even from a distance, I could tell she was talking his ear off. Hopefully he didn’t mind all that much.

It was so nice to see her like that, to watch her as she began crawling out of that shell she always wore on campus. I didn’t notice it until the day after we started eating lunch together, but most of the other students in my class really did often see right past her. Unless she was around me, she was super quiet, reserved and shy. Being on this trip, being surrounded by a couple dozen like-minded people and the imposing presence of Victoria — it was just what she needed to start blossoming with confidence. If nothing else, I was happy about that.

Forcing myself to look away, I began packing up my own equipment: folding my tripod, storing my lenses, disassembling my flash...it was honestly pretty cathartic. Doing something like that at an actual job instead of Arcadia Bay made me feel like I was a real photographer for once. Something I hadn’t felt in over three years.

There was one thing I had left to do before I decided to call it a day though. The singular moment of truth I’d been waiting for since I agreed to this job well over a month ago.

Grabbing my camera, I moseyed over to the edge of the bridge and rested my elbows against the handrail. I was almost scared to start flipping through my gallery, afraid that what I’d see would be exactly as I predicted: a couple hundred photos with no emotion or power. Just more senseless documentation to add to the pile of meaningless pictures I’d accumulated over the years. I tried telling myself that I should be ready for disappointment, that I needed to set my expectations low, but a large part of me desperately wanted to be wrong. To see that I was still capable of taking photos that made me feel something.

But alas, when I checked them, I found that I was right.

None of the photos I saw, even the extra ones, conveyed that fabled sense of longing. There was no spark, no pizzazz, no flair…nothing. They all looked so lifeless and flat; even corporate, if I was being honest.

I didn’t know what I hated more: how the photos turned out, or how I’d allowed myself to have any hope that this shoot would somehow be any different. That magically, I’d do the impossible and capture that nostalgic feeling I so desperately wanted to see again. Sure, the photos had some artistic value to them. I’m sure my usage of color, composition, and framing would make them stand on their own as ‘good’ fashion pictures…but they weren’t ‘great,’ they weren’t ‘moving’. It was just some washed up artists’ attempt at control. A hopeless battle against herself that she could never hope to win.

I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to chuck my camera straight into the Miami River and never look back. Why did I seriously expect anything else?

“I know what you’re thinking…” Victoria suddenly called from behind. “And no, Max, you’re wrong. They’re fucking amazing.”

Damn that girl and her mind-reading. There was no sense in hiding it now, was there?

Figuring it was pointless to act like I was fine, I allowed myself to deflate as she approached, hoping that my sigh of discontent wasn’t so loud the rest of the crew heard it too. “At least one of us thinks so…”

“Not just me,” she added, resting her elbows on the ledge like I was. “The crew fucking loves you. I’ve worked with them a few times over the past couple of years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this pumped before. I know you probably didn’t notice because you were in your ‘Max is taking pictures so she’s unaware of everything going on around her’ mode, but I’ve been listening to them ranting and raving about you nonstop for the last five days. You should be proud.”

I wished that sentiment would’ve actually helped to make me feel better, but unfortunately, it didn’t. I know Victoria was trying to help, but it wasn’t the crew I was trying to impress. It was myself, and I failed at that spectacularly.

When I didn’t respond, Victoria sighed just about as loudly as I did and went completely silent, staring out towards the river. We probably stood there for about five minutes, saying nothing as we watched the water flow out toward the sea, our ears listening as the erratic web of waves crashed into each other, and cars sped past us.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you find that ‘spark’ you were looking for,” she finally said.

“Don’t be. It’s not really your fault, it’s mine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her perk up, the ghost of a grin forming on her face as she spoke. “Oh! Perfect, I won’t feel bad at all then, thanks!”

I scoffed. “You’re such an ass.”

“I try.”

Just then, the two of us heard the sound of scuffling from behind, followed by a loud bang and a ‘sorry!’ from Alice. When Victoria and I turned around, we saw her struggling to carry just about every last piece of lighting equipment all by her loathsome. The poor lighting techs were frantically fumbling around her in a circle trying to take a few things off her hands. It was such a ridiculous sight that we actually started to chuckle.

“You know, I really like her,” Victoria said. “She’s cute, quirky, kinda weird, artistic in her own special way…reminds me of someone I know.”

“Jeez, way to lay it on thick, Vic.”

“Sorry, but I can’t help it. I’m nothing if not an expert at laying things.”

I groaned. “Am I gonna have to listen to these quips the rest of the trip?”

“If you’re lucky,” she smiled. “By the way, it didn’t click for me until the first day of shooting, but Alice was the student you told me about in Seattle, right? I take it the fact that you invited her here means the photoshoot she asked you to come to went well?”

Oh no. Total. Panic. Mode. Initiated.

Okay, Max. No need to lose your marbles just yet. You’ve got this. Just say: “yeah!”

“Uh – yeah. Totally.”

Shit.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Victoria looked at me with slowly growing suspicion. “It went well. Right Max?”

For some reason my tongue felt like it was made of cotton. All I could muster up were a few uncertain noises that sounded an awful lot like “uhh”, “erm”, and “haha”.

“Max. What happened?” she said, her voice so firm and imposing it felt like I was being physically locked into place.

“Well – you see…she…” whatever story I was trying to come up with, it all fell flat in my mind. Of course the thing I specifically said would be something I ‘crossed when I got to it’ would actually get brought up on a literal bridge.

The jig was up. I couldn’t lie or work my way out of this one. Plus, if you’ve ever had the unfortunate fate of being on the receiving end of a famous Victoria Chase stare-down, you’d know exactly why I folded so quickly.

“She…lied on her ad and got mixed up in a job way outside her skillset.”

Victoria laughed in disbelief, her mouth agape and eyes a pair of fiery daggers that looked ready and willing to stab the first person she saw. “Oh, I’m gonna kill her.”

“Wait!” I pleaded. “I didn’t take any pictures for her, I swear. I kinda used the whole situation as a way to teach her. She took all the photos, I nudged her on the right track. Promise.”

Now, the daggers were aimed directly at me. “You didn’t take a single picture? Nothing at all?”

“I never even held a camera. Vic, Alice isn’t a scammer, she’s just – really nervous and had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. I felt bad, so…I helped her out.”

Slowly, the rage I saw festering in Victoria’s eyes began to fade away. Her expression shifted from one of unbridled anger into something more like pity. Finally, she let out a tired breath and shook her head. “You’re never gonna learn, are you?”

“Probably not.” I admitted.

“And that’s one of the things I like most about you, Max…in some ways, you’re way more stubborn than I’ll ever be.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply shrugged and gave her a sheepish looking smile.

“Honestly though, I’m pretty glad,” she continued. “I think she’s good for you. I can tell you’re trying to impress her.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Oh yeah.” she grinned. “But really, if she was able to give you enough hope to come all the way out here to do something like this again, then…she has to be doing something right. Who knows? Maybe she’s the spark you’re looking for.”

I looked back at Alice then, watching her, now a lot less encumbered as she placed a bunch of equipment into the many bags and boxes still lying around our makeshift set. The whole time, she was talking animatedly to a few of the crew members while they loaded everything into their vans. I wasn’t sure if Victoria was right about her being a ‘spark’, but one thing was for certain: seeing her look so happy was probably the best part about this whole trip.

“Now come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” she said. “I need plenty of time to peer pressure your ass into singing tonight.”

“Like hell you are.” I refuted.

“We’ll see about that.”

We spent the rest of that night celebrating to our heart’s content. While everyone, including Victoria, piled up bottle after bottle of cheap beer and created a mountain of shot glasses filled with various heavy handed combinations of alcohol, I decided to remain abstinent. I wasn’t all that comfortable drinking around my student – I mean, I did have to set a good example after all.

Despite the lack of drinking though, I still really enjoyed myself. As soon as Alice and I arrived, I got swarmed by a dozen technicians and stylists, each one asking me questions about my photos or talking about how cool it was to work with me. I’ll admit, a good ego stroke does tend to make me feel a little bit better from time to time, but sadly, it didn’t do much of anything to dispel my lingering doubts and disappointments.

Sometimes, my lack of self-esteem really feels more like a curse than a quirk of my personality. No matter how much praise or validation I received, it never truly mattered. The only person that could ever make me feel like I did a good job was myself, and conversely, I couldn’t feel like I did a good job if I always thought everything I did sucked ass. It was an infinite loop of self-deprecation that I hadn’t even begun to escape in all 28 years I’d been alive. If you have any idea of how the hell I’m supposed to get out of that cycle, please, let me know.

With the festivities in full swing, it was needless to say that Alice and I were completely out of our element. As a result, we stuck together like glue; gliding around the tables and various pockets of people until we found a nice comfortable spot to sit in. Victoria had helped make it easier for me to handle all the overstimulation that came from clubs and bars over the years, but not having the same kind of training, Alice wasn’t fairing nearly as well. While I talked shop with a few of the crew members that came to sit next to us, she idly sipped on whatever nonalcoholic drinks were on the menu, trying her hardest to keep her cool in the midst of all the noise and flashing lights.

For her own comfort, I planned on staying close by all night. The only problem was that I also had to deal with a seemingly fruitless battle in which everyone wanted me to go up on stage with Victoria to sing karaoke.

There was absolutely, positively, completely unequivocally, no chance in hell I was going to go up and sing in front of a bunch of strangers. Despite the bar eventually erupting into a hellstorm of people both in and outside our group chanting ‘Max, Max, Max!’ over and over again, I didn’t give in.

…

Okay, I totally gave in, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.

It was honestly one of the most horrific things I’ve ever experienced: a drunk Victoria wrapping her arm around me on stage while we both sang a terrible rendition of “Mama Mia” by ABBA? Dog…count that on the top ten list of most embarrassing things I’d ever done.

I seriously needed to work on how easily peer pressure could sway me. I was so suggestible it was kind of scary.

The only thing that made up for it was the fact that Alice couldn’t stop laughing after the fact, which in itself was music to my ears. I was glad that she was at least able to enjoy herself a little despite being surrounded by people much older than her.

As the night went on, I couldn’t help but find my eyes constantly being drawn toward the models. The moment they arrived, they all congregated close to the bar like a flock of geese and stayed there pretty much all night. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but no, I wasn’t ogling at them because I thought they were attractive. I mean – they were, but you know what I mean.

The real reason I was looking at them was because they reminded me of something, or, someone: Rachel Amber. Before she died, her biggest aspiration was to become a model. Chloe had told me about it once, how the two of them had planned to leave Arcadia Bay with Chloe’s truck and a fat wad of cash so they could seek out Rachel’s dream in L.A. Even after all these years, she was still such a mystery to me, but if I was being honest, she was a mystery to everyone. I’d asked Victoria and several others that knew her what she was like over the years, but I always got different responses.

Victoria said she was a total asshole who used everyone for her own benefit, Dana said she was extremely sweet and friendly, Joyce thought she was a likable yet dangerous troublemaker, and pretty much everyone else thought she was cool or amazing in a hundred different ways. She was like an angel whose wings were clipped far too soon. Someone that would’ve soared wherever she flew, but sadly, never got the chance.

I always wanted to believe she was a good person, that in the end, no one ever truly understood her. Sometimes though, it was hard to think that way, knowing how she lied to Chloe and did so many strange things behind her back. Having a fling with a drug dealer, hooking up with Jefferson…there was no telling how deep that rabbit hole went, and as much as I hated to admit it, I doubted I’d ever get answers to any of those questions.

I used to wonder what it would’ve been like to have her as a model for my pictures a lot back when I was still consistently working in what we in the business like to call ‘freelance hell’. I guess even after all this time I still hadn’t shaken that habit.

Eventually, after hours of drunken partying, everyone decided to call it a night and head back to their hotels. Thankfully, Alice and I had a later flight so we got the chance to sleep in. Honestly, even after factoring all that work into account, the hardest part of the trip came the following morning. Once we packed and got driven to the airport, the two of us finally had to say goodbye to Victoria.

The job still wasn’t over, of course. Not too long after we got back, I’d be put into contact with some of the people working in post to make sure the images came out exactly the way I wanted them to. However, for now, the hard part was finished, and I’d have to part ways with my best friend once again. I always hated saying goodbye.

A part of me felt pretty bad. After spending five whole days with her, I came to the realization that we didn’t talk all that much throughout the course of the trip. If we did, I didn’t really remember it because I was too engrossed in my photography to focus. We at least got the previous night to chat and simply be friends as opposed to temporary business partners, but I wish I’d made a greater effort to speak with her while we were there.

I tried to keep my cool, not show off how sad I really was to be leaving so soon, but even still, our farewell turned out to be super watery in the end. From the way she hugged me at the TSA line, I was almost scared the blonde wouldn’t let me leave. She kept whispering broken mutters of thanks into my ear, begging me to let her know I got home safely as soon as I was back. Even worse, she said a set of words that finally caused the dam to crack, forcing me to shed a few tears myself.

“I am so proud of you, Max,” she’d said. “Even if you don’t always see it yourself, you’re the most amazing person I know.”

“Come on, that’s so unfair…” I protested, my own voice starting to break from the oncoming tears. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I promise we’ll meet up again soon, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Once she let me go, she wiped her eyes and turned to Alice, giving her a wide, appreciative smile. “And you. If you ever need help making connections in the fashion industry, don’t hesitate to call me up.”

“Yeah, of course!” Alice nodded. “Thank you so much Miss – I mean, Victoria!”

My vision was still a little blurry thanks to the tears, but I could’ve sworn that right before she had the chance to call her “Miss”, Victoria gave Alice a deathly glare.

Waving one final goodbye, the two of us made our way back to Rochester at long last. As soon as we dropped in, I walked Alice to my car and drove her back home. Saying goodbye to her was pretty hard too. I’d gotten so used to her presence that honestly, it was going to be weird not having her living in the same space as me.

“You did a great job out there.” I said, giving Alice a nice long hug before she had the chance to leave. “Again, thanks for coming, seriously.”

“You’re thanking me?” she said, her voice dripping with incredulity. “Miss Caulfield, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever gotten to do!”

“I’m glad.” I beamed. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, right?”

“Totally! And – um –”

“Yeah?”

For some reason, Alice’s happy expression started to falter. The way her eyebrows scrunched up made it seem like she was weighing something in her mind; something to say. Whatever it was however, I didn’t get to hear it. Instead of speaking up, she shook her head, and put her smile back on as if nothing had happened.

“Nevermind. Anyway – bye, Miss Caulfield!”

“Bye, Alice! Stay safe.” I said, deciding not to question it.

After watching her safely walk inside, I drove back to my own place. As much as I hated saying goodbye to Victoria, it was so, so nice to be back home again. The moment I stepped inside, Bongo of course rushed me down in a feline ambush and started angrily meowing until I gave him pets. I think he was upset I left Donna to check up on him while I was gone. It wasn’t my first choice either, but as much as she drove me up a wall, Donna was at least reliable and kind enough to help me out when I needed it.

As I unpacked and got settled in for the night, a feeling washed over me, one of relief. After all this time, things were gonna be going back to normal. Come next morning, I’d be back on my usual routine. I didn’t have to worry about my powers, didn’t have to feel anxious about an upcoming job…I could finally get a much needed break from all the craziness. Well – most of it, anyway. I’d still have Alice around to eat lunch with all the time, but I wasn’t complaining. I had a sneaking suspicion that things were really starting to look up for the both of us.

With that, I finally went to bed and spent the next month finishing the rest of the semester.

Alice still ate lunch with me every single day, of course, and after the trip, she was a lot more open about herself (if that was even possible). She let me in on all the little facets of her life: the shows she was keeping up with, the photos she was taking, and the things she liked to collect. It gave us a couple hundred hours’ worth of things to talk about, and I really enjoyed it. Chatting with Alice was like a little escape for me, something I always looked forward to on the days she was around, and something I always missed on the days she wasn’t.

However, throughout that whole time, I could tell that something was really starting to bother her in the background. Every day, without fail, she would always bite her lip and nervously break eye contact with me just a few moments before the bell rang. And as the semester slowly came to a close, I noticed that look only got more and more dire with each passing day.

I knew that look all too well. It was the way I always acted whenever I had an unspoken set of words I really wanted to say – something so nerve wracking you could never get it out exactly the way you wanted to, so you spent months trying to figure out how…only to never say anything at all. Whatever Alice wanted to tell me was clearly weighing heavily on her, and all the stress she seemed to be experiencing was starting to make me a little worried.

The nosy part of me wanted to ask her what was up, but the empathetic part understood that she’d probably hate being pushed into talking about something she was still scared of. So, I kept to myself, hoping that eventually, she’d talk to me when the time came.

For a while though, I didn’t think it would. So when she stepped into my office for lunch during the last week of classes I didn’t expect it to be any different.

I’d been working on grading some final assignments while listening to my rock tunes. Standard procedure, really. The moment Alice stepped inside, I waved at her without looking and continued to type away on my keyboard. “Hey, Alice. Gotta finish these grades today so we might not get to chat.”

“Um…okay, but – Miss Caulfield?” she replied, a nervousness I didn’t immediately hear oozing from her voice. “Can I talk to you about something?”

I was so caught up in my work that at first, her edginess didn’t even register to me. I figured she simply wanted to talk about a new episode of an anime she watched or fill me in on the pictures she’d taken in her free time. While that would’ve been nice, I couldn’t exactly worry about that while I had a ton of final assignments to look over. “Sure, but it’ll have to wait, okay?”

“But, this – this is really important.”

I nodded. “Okay, wanna give me a few minutes and then we can talk?”

“N-no, it needs to be now!”

I huffed in frustration. “Alice, I understand but–”

“Max!” she objected, which immediately caught my ear. “It seriously needs to be now.”

I stopped typing. I almost couldn’t believe it…she’d actually used my name. My real, actual, very much preferred name. That went against like – everything she stood for. I’d gotten so used to her calling me Miss Caulfield that it didn’t really bother me anymore, but now, hearing her say ‘Max’ for the first time…if Alice was willing to do that, something must’ve been very wrong.

Without skipping a beat I turned to look at her, giving her a once over that instantly made my stomach drop off a cliff. She wasn’t just nervous, she was losing it. Her entire body was shaking, hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles were as white as a sheet. Her face looked pale too, coated in a thin layer of nervous sweat that seemed to be draining the color out of her lips.

Immediately, I went into my ‘protect Alice’ mode: standing up out of my chair and taking hold of her hands. Feeling how cold and clammy they were only scared me more.

“Alice?” I questioned, trying to keep my cool. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“I–” she started, again weighing something inside her head. I wished I could tell what she was thinking. If I could, I’d waltz right inside her brain and fix whatever was ailing her, but for now, I had to be patient.

After closing her eyes, she let out a harsh breath of air and nodded to herself, turning around and pulling away from me so she could lock the door. That didn’t bode well at all.

“Alice, seriously. You’re scaring me.” I said, feeling every rush of blood coursing through my body with the powerful cadence of a warbound drumbeat. “Did something happen?”

“N-no!” she assured me, “Well, kinda, but not really.”

That only made things worse. Hearing her uncertainty caused my mind to start racing toward a billion and one possible conclusions: did she get hurt? Did someone she know get hurt? Did someone hurt her?

Oh god, if something had happened to her…I could practically feel my vision turning red.

“Alice, come on, talk to me,” I pleaded.

“Listen, before I do anything you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t understand, what’s this about?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out, Max.”

Hearing my actual name come out of her mouth again still sounded so foreign to me. It only added to the urgency. “Okay, I- I won’t.”

“Promise!” she begged.

“Okay! I promise.”

She nodded in relief then, her body still shaking uncontrollably. I wanted to hound her down for answers, command her to tell me what happened and point me in the direction of the bastard who made her feel like this, but I held my tongue. Despite all my worries, I still understood that she needed to do this at her own pace. Scaring her would only make things worse.

After a few seconds of nearly unbearable silence, I noticed her eyes start frantically scanning around the room. “Um – do you – do you have anything you don’t care about all that much in here? Like – something you never use?”

This was getting even more confusing by the second. I didn’t understand why she’d ask that, but I also didn’t want to upset the poor girl any further, so without question, I looked around on my desk in search of something I could give her. It didn’t take long for my eyes to eventually lock in on a mug labeled ‘nerdy and dirty’. Mr. Smith had gotten it for me during last year’s faculty secret santa, and while I thought it was kind of silly, I never really had any reason to use it since I already had a preferred mug. I didn’t know what Alice planned to do, but if she was going to break something like I suspected she might, I’d rather it be that than anything else.

Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I held it up for her to see. “How’s this?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just – uh, set it down on the desk.”

I did as she asked, setting the mug down in front of her, albeit it was a little more difficult than I expected because my own hands were shaking now too. Alice’s behavior was freaking me the fuck out, and each moment that passed without answers only made the number of worries and questions I had grow larger. I wanted to put a stop to this, but before I could even start questioning what this was going on, she started muttering to herself. Something along the lines of “You can do this”, and “Don’t overdo it, Alice. Just like you practiced”. What that could mean, I had absolutely no idea. Regardless, my heart was racing so fast by this point that I thought I might pass out. I seriously wanted her to just spit it out already and let me help, but when I noticed her raising her right hand, my entire body came to a standstill.

It was slow, methodical. At first, Alice did nothing more than close her eyes and focus, allowing her palm to reach toward something imperceptible.

It was then that my hand started to buzz uncontrollably, like a thousand tiny needles had just been embedded deep within my skin. Exactly what I felt the first day I’d met her.

The sensation made me speechless, but even if I wasn’t feeling it, I definitely wouldn’t have had the will to speak anyway. As Alice focused, furrowing her brow, I felt a low rumble start vibrating within my bones. A shaking stir that felt almost like an earthquake.

Nothing was moving though. Nothing except the mug.

It wobbled around the desk, the ceramic bottom bouncing back and forth against the wood as if it was being jostled by a pair of invisible hands.

And just as quickly as it started rattling, the mug vanished without a trace.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing — or, I guess, “seen” would be the better word to describe it.

Alice, my student, close friend, and part-time assistant, had just made an inanimate object disappear; vanish like it was never even there to begin with.

That in of itself was already out-of-this-world insane, and yet, it was nothing in comparison to the all-encompassing shock I felt from seeing living proof that someone else aside from me had powers.

I always thought I was the only one. Figured that ten years ago, the universe had somehow glitched, and me, being as unlucky as I am, got forced to carry the brunt of that mistake. Sure, years ago a small fragment in the back of my mind had always theorized that there were others like me — that maybe, if I had somehow gotten powers, it stood to reason that there had to be someone else out there with abilities like mine. If not around the world, then maybe at some point in human history.

While I attended Blackwell, I remembered silently hoping that one day I’d find something — anything — that proved I wasn’t alone. There had to be someone in this world that understood what I’d gone through, someone who could commiserate with me about all the terrible shit that happened during the week that never was. But sadly, no matter how much I researched or how meticulously I scoured, I never found any evidence that pointed to the existence of someone else. Despite countless hours of scrolling across old books, biographies, and historical accounts, all signs pointed to me being the one singular person that had ever been burdened with something as ubiquitous as the very concept of time itself. And after years of finding nothing, I was eventually forced to accept that I was completely and utterly alone.

“…?”

In all of ten years, I’d never spoken to anyone about my powers. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but because I simply couldn’t.

I couldn’t prove that they existed without breaking my promise, and even better, I didn't have any information about events that might’ve occurred after that fateful week. When I went into that picture of the butterfly, I was forced to witness Chloe’s death and immediately got yanked forward five whole days after it happened. If I had the time — got the chance to live through that week again, I might’ve been able to prove to someone that I was a time traveler, but as soon as I re-emerged from that photo-jump, there was nothing I could do.

“…x?”

Dog, it hurt so much to keep my powers a secret. I might’ve had friends by my side to help me through my grief, but not being able to truly vent about all the guilt and regret I carried made me feel so isolated. A large part of my trauma had to be locked away, left alone in a deep dark corner at the back of my fucked up mind so I could hopefully push past it one day. I thought I could do it at first, thought I could leave it there and forget about it entirely so I could move on and start living my life like Chloe would’ve wanted…but, I guess you know how that turned out.

“…ax?!”

I could never let Victoria, Kate, Dana, Juliet, or Warren in on all the reasons I was so hurt. Couldn’t let them know the real reason I always screamed the second I got poked by something even slightly sharp, couldn’t let them know the reason I always had panic attacks during thunderstorms, couldn’t let them know why the sound of a camera’s shutter always made me cry so uncontrollably. I was always alone. Forced to keep everything Chloe and I had gone through a secret until it ate away at me from the inside out. There was no one else out there like me, no one in the world that could ever understand what I was going through.

“…Max?!”

But right now, at this very moment, things were different for the first time in over ten years. Alice had just made a mug inexplicably vanish into thin air. She had powers like me, and that changed everything. If she had an ability, then who's to say there weren’t more people out there like us? If so, what were theirs? Could someone else control time, make things disappear? By now, I was ready to believe just about anything. Mind control, telekinesis, healing — fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone that could shoot fire from their fingertips. Anything and everything was possible now. There was no limit to what might be hiding out there, what crazy shit people could do, but that only gave me more questions: how did we all connect, how did we get our powers in the first place, how did we—

“MAX!”

The sound of Alice’s frightened voice booming inside the room suddenly yanked me out of my own head with enough force to give me whiplash.

Slowly, each and every one of my senses started coming back to me. Little by little, I became cognizant of all the air touching my skin, privy to the low hum of music still blasting through my earbuds. The taste of my own saliva, the scent of the lavender air freshener I spritzed into my office — it was all returning in one slow, steady wave of stimulation; but as the world came back into focus, I noticed that my vision was strangely blurry.

It was only a second later that I realized why: my eyes were singeing, so dry and painful that it hurt just to move them. I’d gotten so lost in thought that my brain had completely forgotten blinking was a necessary bodily function.

Quickly fluttering my eyelids up and down, I shook my head and did what I could to make eye contact with the light-orange blob currently standing in front of me. I had to have been in shock, because I found that my whole body was trembling, and that my throat was only just barely able to make a sound. “H-huh?”

“You — you haven’t been saying anything.” Alice said, her terrified, sweating face slowly becoming clearer to my dried-out eyes. “Oh god…you’re shaking…you’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

I tried to say something, but my jaw wasn’t working right. No matter how hard I tried to move my lips or push air through my vocal chords, nothing came out.

Realizing what was happening, she started shaking her head in denial, her breath huffing way faster than before. “Oh fuck, you’re freaking out, you are totally freaking out! Max, you promised!”

I wanted to refute that, but again, my body refused to obey any of my commands. In fact, it seemed to be doing the exact opposite of what I asked. Instead of trying to call out to her again like I’d intended, all I managed to do was stumble backwards into my desk, knocking over the water bottle I’d been drinking from just a few moments earlier.

In a panic, Alice reached forward to try and grab it, but to my horror, she’d activated her power again and made that disappear too.

My own breathing was getting faster now. Shock fizzling out to make way for a single, petrifying realization: Alice had no control, and this whole situation was only getting worse by the second.

“Oh, no…” she breathed, staggering backwards until her back was pressed against the door. “No, no, no, no…Max – I’m – I’m so sorry! I didn’t – I didn’t mean –”

Once more, she raised her hand, likely trying to calm me down with some placating gesture of apology. Unfortunately however, that hand was moving towards me.

I didn’t give myself a chance to think. As soon as I saw it move, my fight or flight response kicked in and I side-stepped out of the way.

Just like I’d predicted, she’d activated her power again. This time, my computer monitor suddenly vanished without a trace.

I could hardly process what was happening. The only thing I knew for certain was that I’d been a measly three feet away from certain doom, and I’d dodged it by the skin of my teeth.

Try not to think about that, try not to think about that, try not to think about that!

Moving at least shook something loose inside me, because almost as soon as the monitor blipped out of existence, I was able to find my voice again – even if it was shaky and terrified to the core.

“Alice–”

“No, no, no!” she groaned, placing her hands atop her head in disbelief. The look of pure fear lining her face only grew deeper when she saw me flinch at the movement. “This is bad, this is so, so bad! I’m messing all this up I don’t – I don’t –”

Her breaths were starting to get way too fast. I had to find a way to stop this before she had the chance to hurt herself – or worse – made everything in this room including me disappear into nothingness. The only problem was that it felt damn near impossible to keep my own composure now. At the moment, I was in a small locked room with a girl who could potentially evaporate me without a second thought. It was taking everything I had not to start screaming.

“Alice!” I cried, my voice alarmingly tight with restraint. “You need to calm down!”

“No, no, no, no!” she whimpered. “You’re freaking out Miss Caulfield! You broke your promise and I – I messed all this up! You probably think I’m a monster!” As soon as she said that, she started bashing her hands into her head on repeat. Like she could somehow hammer the idea into her skull. “You have to hate me, hate me, hate me!”

Fuck, she’s having a meltdown. Think, Max! Try to fucking think so you can help her!

I tried to rack my brain for a solution, but the unfortunate reality was that she was right: I felt completely freaked-the-fuck out. Like, heart pounding so fast my vision kept fading and I was scared of having a heart attack kind of freaked out.

My head was only growing lighter with each passing second. If I didn’t force myself to breathe, I was bound to pass out too.

Wait a minute…

Like a bolt of lightning, an idea suddenly jolted me back to my senses.

In a flash, I raised my hands and tried to steady them. It was painfully difficult, but I managed to keep them under control enough so Alice wouldn’t completely lose it as she hyperventilated against the door. “Alice! Yes – yes I’m freaked out, but that’s only because you’re freaked out right now too. You need to calm down, so listen, we’re gonna do a breathing exercise, okay?”

Alice didn’t respond, but I knew she heard me. Between breaths, I could see her eyes flashing in recognition. The glazed over look they had however told me I didn’t have much time.

“Okay, I need you to follow along with me, alright? This is called square breathing. We’re gonna breathe in for four, hold for four, and out for four. Can you do that?”

Even in her current state, Alice still managed a light nod.

“Okay…breathe in…hold…breathe out…hold. Again – breathe in…hold…breathe out…hold. Good…”

It took multiple cycles, probably a couple dozen in total, but eventually, I managed to get both of us breathing normally again. No more shaky, broken gasps of air or heartbeats faster than race car engines.

Afterward, there was a long, wide pause between us. A heavy silence in which neither of us said a single word. Alice took to looking at me like she was some kind of sick puppy. All I could do in response was stare back, silently assuring her that I was here. I wasn’t going to run away.

“Feeling better?” I finally said, breaking the silence.

“Are you…still freaking out?” she asked, her voice so tiny I could barely hear it.

“No – no, I’m not freaking out anymore. Not at all.”

That was a total bald-faced lie, of course. It wasn’t because I was afraid of her or anything, but because there were so many things running through my mind. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said this – what Alice just did – it changed everything. The fact that someone else had powers – I felt like I was standing on the edge of a large, dark pit, ready to jump, but had no idea how deep it went.

I really wanted to address the big vanishing elephant in the room too, but I had no idea how to approach it. Despite calming myself down, my throat was still running dry and my legs felt like they were made of jello. I had to make sure none of that showed, however. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that right now, Alice was about as fragile as a bubble in a field of cacti. If I showed even a single sign that told her I was as shocked as I really was, she might flip out again and start zapping things away.

“I’m just…a little surprised, is all,” I decided, choosing my words carefully.

Once I said that, a pitiful amount of desperation slowly began to ebb across her face. Her eyes were so big and scared they made me want to reach out and hug her. “You’re…you’re not scared? Of me?”

”No. Never, Alice. I promise.”

”Okay…” she nodded. “Okay.”

I nodded right along with her, using the opportunity to let out a sharp inhale and point toward the spot on the desk my mug had just been sitting in.

“You…just made that mug disappear,” I stated. “And that water bottle…and the monitor…?”

”Mhm.”

”And — they’re completely gone? Like, off the face of the earth?”

”Mhm.”

”...how?”

“I — I don’t know, I just sort of hold out my hand and…push?”

Helpful. To be fair though it was pretty stupid of me to expect that Alice would somehow understand the rhyme and reason behind her powers any more than I did, but still, I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. For the briefest of moments, I’d allowed myself to hold onto a small glimmer of hope that she might’ve been able to shed some light on how my own powers worked too. Guess it was never that easy.

”Okay…” I nodded. “Have you always been able to do that or…?”

”Not always,” she admitted. “I found out I could do it when I was 12.”

I gulped.

That was so young. I guess I was lucky to get my powers not too long after I turned 18. I can’t even imagine how much I would’ve fucked up if I found out what I could do any earlier than that, how much more destruction I could’ve caused.

Putting a hold on that thought for now, reminiscing on when I got my powers had reminded me of the day I discovered them in the first place. I was never too sure, but I always assumed that seeing someone get shot had been a ‘trigger’ of some kind. An event so intense that something patiently waiting inside of me just — snapped. I wondered if Alice had experienced the same thing.

”How did you find out about it?” I queried. “What were you doing?”

Almost painfully, Alice broke eye contact with me and bowed her head to stare at the floor. Seeing her get so downcast, especially after witnessing how terrified she was just a few minutes ago, it hurt my heart. I really wished I knew when to keep my mouth shut. It seemed that all I was good for these days was stoking the flames of ashen memories.

“I’d just gotten home from school,” she began, her voice growing smaller with every consonant. “You know me, I was the weird kid. I’d get made fun of all the time behind my back…or, just get ignored instead. I remember it being a pretty bad day for me, so when I got back home, I just stuck to my room and started drawing like I always did.”

I gave her an assuring look, one that said she could stop telling the story if she really wanted to. Whatever information I might get about her powers, it wasn’t worth the trouble of causing her any more stress. Despite seeing that when she flashed me a small glance however, she continued on.

“My mom wasn’t very good with money. She…owed a lot of cash to a lot of bad people. So, that day, a man came knocking on our door to try and collect whatever money or valuables we had saved up. I remember hearing them get into a screaming match while I was in my room, and me, being stupid, went to see what was going on. When that man saw me, he started saying he’d take me away. I was so scared…and — and when he started getting closer, I — I just — I started thinking about how much I really wanted him to go away, to go somewhere else. Next thing I knew he was just…gone.“

I felt my heart get caught in my throat. Not only was it gut wrenching to have someone as sweet and gentle as Alice recount something so terrifying; knowing she could make living things disappear added an extra layer of fear to this whole ordeal…she really could have zapped me away back then.

“That’s – wow…” I breathed. “And you’ve been using that power ever since?”

Reflexively, Alice brought one of her hands to her hair and began to twirl it between her fingers. “No. I stopped using it years ago. Honestly, I thought I’d finally gotten rid of them after enough time had passed…I hoped.”

“But, a few months ago, the day I first met you, something happened to me. The hand I use to make things disappear, it – it got all buzzy.”

My eyes went as wide as saucers. “B-buzzy?”

She nodded. “Mhm. It felt like my hand was gonna explode or something. After that, my powers, they – they started acting up again. I accidentally made one of my pencil cases disappear when I got back home.”

I was stunned, unable to say a single word in response. I almost couldn’t believe this more than Alice’s power to make things vanish. My original assumption – one of the first things I thought of while I pondered what could’ve caused my hand to start acting up – it’d been true. If I wasn’t just losing my mind right now and silently going crazy, then Alice truly had been the reason my powers came back all along. The answer had quite literally been right in front of me the whole time…and I brushed that suspicion off only a few days after the incident in Arcadia Bay.

Did she know about me? My powers? Is that why she wanted to show me this? Why she’d gotten so scared earlier? Did she think I might hurt her? That I’d do something that would destroy another town or get someone killed? But how would she know?

How would she know, how would she know, how the fuck would she know?!

I felt dizzy. Like I was going to fall over. For some reason, every muscle in my body was screaming at me in desperation. They needed oxygen, needed air as soon as possible.

“Max?” Alice asked, her voice somehow sounding even more fragile than before. “Max, are you okay?”

Almost unconsciously I grabbed a hold of my chair and slumped into it without saying a word. If I hadn’t decided to sit down when I did, I might’ve fainted on the spot, which would’ve left Alice to start losing her collective shit again thinking I’d broken our promise.

Relax, Max. I kept telling myself. Relax. Please relax.

Through all the time I spent recuperating, Alice remained standing exactly where she was against the door, staring at me anxiously like she was about to get scolded the second I found the will to speak again.

Once I’d recovered, I took one final breath inward and turned to look at her again. “S-sorry. Just got lost in my own head there.”

“It’s okay…” she assured me, waiting patiently for me to continue.

Quickly, I sifted through all the information I’d just learned once again. And no, it wasn’t any easier to process than it was two seconds ago.

Alice had powers, she could make seemingly anything disappear at will, and on top of that, she found that they only started acting up again after she met me. Were we connected somehow? Was there something about our powers that made us feel that sensation whenever we were close?

Ugh…all the questions I’d been asking myself within the last few minutes could fill an entire Jeopardy board.

I had to keep pressing though. Figure out as much as I could while Alice was still here and willing to share. If I didn’t, I might never get any answers.

“So – so your powers started acting up when you met me?”

Alice shuffled nervously. “Yeah. That’s why I wanted to ask you about this. I – I had no idea how it happened, but I knew you had to be the reason for it, right? I’ve been trying to ask you about it for the last couple of months, but I didn’t know how you’d react…”

An anxious noise emanated from her throat, and as she continued, she began curling in on herself like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I – I’ve been so scared. Knowing my powers are back – not being able to control them – I wanted answers. Even if you had no idea what might be going on with me, I still felt like I had to tell you. I’ve kept this a secret for so long and you, you’re the best friend I have, I – I didn’t know what else to do.”

That last sentence…

Hearing Alice’s words, those open and honest words of confession, they wiped away almost every stray thought still lingering inside my head. It was sobering, a testament to the fact that I hadn’t been fully functional until this very moment.

I was so stupid…this whole time, I’d been worrying and wondering about a gazillion different questions I didn’t have the answer to, all while my student was looking to me for guidance. I’d actually allowed myself to entertain the idea that something malicious might’ve been going on, but as usual, Alice was being nothing more than apologetically honest and vulnerable with me.

All she wanted, the one thing she desired to get out of this conversation more than anything else aside from answers, was simply someone to talk to. Someone to confide in, someone who could share her burden and finally understand a secret that’d been weighing heavily on her shoulders for so long.

I didn’t spend any more time thinking about it. Without wasting a single movement, I quickly stood up out of my chair and pulled Alice into a tight, comforting hug. It was practically automatic, like my body had known what to do and decided it was best to act on its own.

As soon as my arms were wrapped around her, the thin fragile dam she’d set up to hold back any potential breakdowns fell apart in one swift, flooding, rush of emotions. In a flash, she grabbed hold of me for dear life and began to cry uncontrollably into my shoulder. Her voice hoarse and strained as she muttered through the tears.

”I’m so horrible, Max,” she blubbered. “I don’t wanna make anyone else disappear, I don’t wanna hurt more people!”

I tried shushing her, rubbing circles around her back and keeping her close. In spite of my best efforts, she continued to bawl, shake, and sputter endlessly on repeat until she could hardly breathe. There was an urgency in her voice that made it seem like she needed to speak. That if she didn’t, she may very well explode from all the stress and guilt.

I knew that feeling. Holding all of this back for so long must’ve really been killing her.

Even so, I could still tell there was something more. The way she was weeping about her powers made it seem like she’d done more with them than simply making some debt collector vanish without a trace. Between barely strung together sentences and guilt-laden cries, I could faintly hear the tiny whispers of admission, hints toward something she wasn’t telling me either out of fear, or a desire to keep yet another painful memory locked away. Whatever it was though, it didn’t matter. She didn’t need more questions. Right now, all she needed was to release the pressure.

Letting it all out, allowing someone to share the burden — that was exactly what I so desperately wished I could’ve done back then: tell someone about my secret and finally be free of all that pain. All the corrosive, aching guilt that threatened to tear me apart.

So it was only natural that as Alice cried, I did too.

After about five or so minutes of holding her together in my grasp, she finally began to calm down and breathe normally again. We both went quiet for a while, but eventually, after I knuckled away my own tears, I decided to break the silence.

”Feeling any better?”

She nodded into my shoulder. “Yeah. Thank you, Miss Caulfield.”

That’s more like it.

“Of course.”

Sniffling one last time, she pulled herself away from me and rubbed her nose with the back of her hoodie sleeve. Her eyes still looked so red and puffy, but at least now, they didn’t look nearly as scared.

”I’m sorry I dumped all this on you while you were working, I — I just knew that if I didn’t do it today…I’d never do it at all.”

“Trust me, I understand.” I said, thinking of the many unspoken words I’d left behind in Arcadia Bay. All the things I wanted to blurt out in hopes that I’d finally be set free.

“If you don’t mind, I seriously need to ask: do you know anything about this? Do you, I dunno, maybe have some kind of weird power too?”

My mind immediately went stiff. In all the years I’d kept my secret from the people closest to me, I’d always dreamt of being asked a question just like that. To get permission from someone to talk about my powers, to have an excuse that would finally allow me to tell someone — anyone — just how much I was hurting.

After all this time, I was being given the chance to do just that. To finally be rid of this secret once and for all.

What's more was that she wanted me to say it so badly. The way she was staring at me now — the desperation and hope still lingering behind her gaze — it reminded me so much of myself.

If there was anything I wished for back then, it was to have someone who understood. To know of a person that knew my pain, and had the power to help me work through it. Right now, I fit that bill for Alice perfectly.

I was probably the only person in the whole wide world that understood exactly what she was going through. The only person who had inadvertently hurt people because of her abilities, because she played around with something she didn’t fully understand. I knew of all the guilt she must’ve been feeling, the kind that claws away at your insides like a wild animal until there’s nothing of the old you left behind. The kind that makes everything remind you of what you lost and prevents you from ever truly forgiving yourself.

I was lucky to have my friends at Blackwell after Chloe died. If I didn’t have them around, there’s no telling how fucked up I would’ve become. I was honestly surprised Alice still seemed to be holding it together, if only barely.

Being alone — especially when you’re feeling like the world around you has completely crumbled to dust — it’s the worst thing you can do. Even if the people you know can never truly, fully understand what you've been through, having even one person around to support you is better than having no one at all.

And as far as I was aware, I was the only person Alice had. So, I had a decision to make: do I tell her about my powers, or do I keep them a secret?

The first choice seemed so obvious at first glance. If I told Alice about myself, my struggles and my story, she’d know there was someone out there just like her. That simple fact alone would do wonders — not to mention how much it would benefit both of us to vent about our superpower related struggles to each other. Just imagining the two of us talking about the various things we’d done with our abilities…having that kind of outlet with no strings attached and no impending doom to linger over our heads…I could practically feel the despair starting to wither away already.

On the other hand though, I couldn’t help but feel a little scared of what might happen if I did.

The only other person that’d ever known about my powers was currently buried six feet beneath the ground in the Arcadia Bay cemetery. Would simply telling Alice about the things I could do prove to be a hazard to her?

The idea made my doppelganger’s words start echoing inside my head, each one bouncing off the surface of my skull.

“Everything you touch tends to die a whole lot quicker than it should”.

I’d been so desperate to prove her wrong before, but now, the stakes were way higher. As much progress as I’d made in controlling my abilities these last few months, there were still way too many unknowns to account for. Just because they hadn’t acted up in a while didn’t mean they never would again. Just because I’d been reluctant to use them all this time didn’t mean I’d never accidentally fuck up somehow. As much as I hated to admit it, revealing my powers to someone might end up being the catalyst that allowed my doppleganger’s words to come true; that it would only be a matter of time before I used them again.

Was Alice worth that risk? Or — to put it more plainly — was it worth it to risk her? Was I willing to be so selfish that I’d chance risking my student’s life just so I could fulfill a need that’d been haunting me the last ten years?

Maybe it’d be best to tell her…maybe it’s what we both need. I thought. But almost as soon as it crossed my mind, a voice in the back of my head perked up in defiance, whispering its angered words of disapproval and branding them to my brain with the heat of scorching metal.

Don’t be so self-centered. You’d be doing it for yourself and you know it.

But Alice needs that kind of person right now. I argued.

What kind of person? An adult to talk to, or another freakshow that’ll burden her with even more bad luck?

Someone that knows what it’s like.

Oh, please. Save that mopey-dopey bullshit for when you look in the mirror. I doubt whatever Alice has done is nearly as shitty and downright stupid as you.

But—

You know what’ll happen if you do. I know you’re a fucking idiot but are you really this dumb?

I wanted to argue more — or better yet, start slamming my head against the wall for losing my damn mind. In the heat of the moment, it barely even registered that I’d just had an argument with myself, and still somehow lost. Great.

It was spectacular to know that even after all this time, I was still just as crazy and helpless as I’d ever been. No matter how much I tried to avoid it, I couldn’t escape the damage I’d done to myself after all these years. All I could do was ignore it until it inevitably reared its ugly head again in an attempt to haunt me.

Putting malicious inner voices and clearly psychotic gray matter aside for now though, I couldn’t deny she had a point. Telling Alice might put more at stake than I was willing to risk, but how could I possibly help her while also trying to keep my secret hidden at the same time? For people like us, small assurances like ‘sorry’ and ‘you’ll get through it’ didn’t mean much if the person saying it didn’t also understand what you were going through.

But maybe…I could meet her half-way. Even if I didn’t reveal my powers to her, I still understood how she felt. I could use that to my advantage.

“I…don’t.” I decided, turning my head ever so slightly as to not give away any of my usual lying tells. “Trust me, I think I’d know if I had superpowers.”

“Oh…” she mumbled, the disappointment in her voice practically clawing at my resolve. But, I did what I could to fight back the urge. As much as it pained me to lie to her so vehemently, I had to keep telling myself this was for the best. That this was to keep her safe.

“But…I do know what you’re feeling.” I continued. “When I was younger, I did a bunch of stupid things that ended up hurting a lot of people close to me. I fucked up, and because of that, I lost someone I really cared about.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now…but still, my point is that I understand what it’s like – to feel like you're responsible for a bunch of terrible shit.”

“How – how did you deal with it?” she asked, her voice was so small that it was barely above a whisper. Like a lifeline, she stared at me hopefully. Eyes wandering across my face as if I somehow, she could find a cheat code for dealing with all that guilt she carried.

If only...

“It’s a long process, but you learn to move past it…kind of. That feeling, you’re never really gonna get rid of it. It’s a part of who you are now, but you can make it hurt a little less.”

“How?”

“Doing something you love, being around people who support you – those help a lot. They can be an escape, something that distracts you and keeps you moving forward through all that hurt; a reason to keep going. So, think about it: what do you like to do the most? What’s your escape?”

“Photography.” she noted, something that really didn’t surprise me. “Now that you mention it, taking photos does help me a lot…I can’t erase something that exists in a picture, y’know? It’ll always be there no matter what I do.”

I nodded. “Then there you go. Keep doing photography. Keep moving toward your goals and – eventually – you’ll figure out how to move forward. One step at a time.”

For the first time since she got into my office, I saw the faintest hint of a smile run across her face. I wished she could stay like that forever; happy and hopeful.

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll try that. Thanks, Miss Caulfield.”

A long, heavy silence passed between us then. I almost let it linger, but strangely, without even thinking about it, I started muttering something.

I had virtually no control over it, the words just escaped my mouth in a rushing stream of consciousness; an overflowing pitcher of water that, for some unforeseen reason, needed to be emptied. Before I could even make out what I was saying, it was already way too late.

“Tell you what, after the semester ends and we’re done with all the holiday celebrations, why don’t you and I start going out for lunch every now and again? We could take pictures together while we’re out and about.”

Once again, me and big mouth were making promises to Alice without sparing them a second thought. The Max of a few months ago might’ve scolded me for being so blabbery, but honestly, I couldn’t find it within myself to care anymore.

Besides, seeing how the light poured into Alice’s eyes after I said that…it was incredible. They were so bright I could hardly stand to look. The overwhelming feeling of dread that had once been exuding off of her like a thick, stinking cloud was quickly being replaced by an aura of hopefulness so warm and comforting, that for the first time in forever, I felt like it might be possible to wade through the darkness.

“You really mean that?! You wanna take pictures with me during break?!”

I knew things were going to be different, that my routine was going to completely change the second I agreed to do this. It would take some time to get used to, even longer for my brain to adjust – but I knew it’d be worth it. That was a certainty.

So, instead of sighing in exasperation or shuffling around with uncertainty, I simply gave Alice a calm, intentful smile. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

After she finally left my office that day, I remember that I couldn’t help but feel like somehow, things might be okay after all. For the both of us.

Following Alice’s bombshell of a confession, the rest of the semester somehow managed to come to a close without a single hitch.

Well — unless you count me just barely handing in my final grades on time as a hitch. In that case, there was at least one.

Could you really blame me though? I had a whole lot on my mind those last few days, mostly thoughts about Alice’s powers. There were still so many questions I wanted to ask. Things like: what was the limit to the stuff she could ‘erase’? Were there any drawbacks to using her ability? Did they ever evolve or change like mine did?

Her answers were all short and simple: Apparently, she didn’t know her limits, hadn’t felt any downsides to using her power (so unfair by the way), and as far as she was aware, they’d remained the same since she discovered them a little over six years ago.

Obviously, questions like that were only the tip of the iceberg. I wanted to ask more, delve into what made them tick and why, but sadly, I learned pretty early on that it was a super delicate topic for her. She seriously didn’t like talking about her powers – so much so that I got the impression she thought of them as a curse more than anything else (yet another thing we had in common). So, after some shamefully relentless prodding I decided it was probably best to give the poor girl some time and space before I continued pestering her with any more questions. That at least freed my mind enough to finally finish grading.

I seriously cut it close. Like — only an hour or two before the due date close. Thank dog my procrastinating brain only understands how to work in overdrive when a deadline is rapidly approaching. Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be thankful for that.

Despite how stressful those final weeks of school can be however, I honestly really enjoyed that time of year. When I was younger, October used to be my favorite month. Halloween, pumpkin pie, candy, scary movies, costumes — what’s not to like? Unfortunately, the magic of the Fall kind of got lost on me thanks to that week back in 2013, so nowadays, early December was probably my favorite. The snow wasn’t too mushy or gross yet, all the stores had finalized their Christmas decorations, and now, everywhere I went smelled so wonderfully reminiscent of cinnamon and spice. On top of all that, the ambience that came from the combination of ugly, warm sweaters and a steaming cup of hot cocoa on a chilly night just couldn’t be matched.

Outside of holiday cheer though, December came with an extra, even more amazing bonus: final projects.

Since I was a teacher of the arts, I didn’t give my students a traditional final exam like the ones you’d find in Math or History (thank dog). Instead, at the end of every semester, I assigned my students one last photo project to undertake.

Some of the other photography professors liked giving their students extremely complicated and convoluted assignments. Things like a massive shot list, or a series of pictures that followed a very specific set of criteria. While I’m sure those students probably learned a lot by doing something that intense, I preferred a different approach.

My final assignment was laughably simple: all they had to do was pick and choose one photo they’d taken throughout the course of the semester. Once they figured out which one, I had them take it again, this time, being sure to use all the different techniques we’d learned in class.

Sometimes students would hand in something that was still painfully subpar, other times, they’d hand in a photo that was somehow worse thanks to the reshoot, but most often, I found that as long as everybody tried, there was a massive amount of improvement.

Of all my students, there were a few in particular that I was especially proud of this year: Jake Ramirez was so good with color I’m certain he’d give even the most famous color-based photographers a run for their money given enough time, and Julia Packard? Her eye for interesting shots was unparalleled in comparison to the rest of the class. I’m sure she’d go just as far.

But of course, there was one student who impressed me even more than they did.

The day I assigned that final project, I had a feeling I knew exactly what photo Alice would choose to retake, and, as expected, I was one hundred percent right.

She’d chosen to reshoot her photo of Lieutenant Cooper. The very first image she’d ever submitted to me.

When she finally decided to hand it in, the difference was like night and day. She was so much more aware of her composition, framing, angles — even her lighting was leagues better than before. I know I’m a total photo nerd, but if I were to show you both images side by side, you’d swear two different photographers had taken them.

And yeah, I was really proud of that. Not just because it was amazing to see how far she’d come since I first met her, but because I knew I’d played a huge role in her improvement. Even my own terrible sense of self-esteem couldn’t deny me that.

After all was said and done, Alice finished my class with a solid A. As for her other classes — well, let’s just say photography was definitely her best subject.

Despite how happy I was with her performance, however, submitting that final grade made me feel a sharp pang of sadness. The following semester, I’d be teaching a 101 class again, and I wasn’t planning on moving up to the higher level courses until at least the next school year. So, that unfortunately meant I wasn’t gonna be able to call myself Alice’s teacher any longer.

It didn’t really hit me until the last day of classes ended. Watching her leave the room that day was like being hit with the softest, most depressing and anticlimactic slap ever conceived.

It was funny. I never even realized how much I enjoyed teaching her until she was finally gone. I knew I’d be hanging out with her over break, but from here on out, it wasn’t going to be the same. I’m sort of a sentimental idiot, so I knew that not seeing her in the room every morning was really going to sting.

Regardless, once finals were over, I was more than happy to enjoy my month off. I’d already made plans to relax, relax, and — you guessed it — relax some more.

But of course, there was just one, teensy tiny little problem that stopped me: I needed a cat sitter.

When I first moved to Rochester, my parents and I came to an agreement concerning the holidays: Every year, we’d alternate who traveled to whom. Last year, my mom and dad came to visit me, so this year, I was visiting them.

There was just one, slightly furry issue with that however. I was gonna be gone for a whole week, and that was way too long to leave Bongo by his lonesome. I thought about asking Donna again, but with how crazy her life was becoming as a result of this big family mess she was tangled up in, I felt bad for even considering it. Aside from her though, I had no idea who else I could trust to take care of him.

Well…there was one person.

Of course, it wasn’t the easiest decision I'd ever made. There was the entirely real possibility that said person could, if she wanted to, effectively erase my cat from existence.

I’ll be the first to admit, the idea scared the shit out of me, but with the holiday break coming up so ridiculously quickly, I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way I could change my ticket to accommodate a pet so close to Christmas, not to mention how much flying would freak the fuck out of him. All I could do was rely on the fact that I trusted her. She hadn’t made me disappear (yet), so why should I be scared that she’d do it to Bongo?

Well – my missing water bottle and monitor might have disagreed, but I guessed Alice’s powers only became a problem when she was ridiculously stressed or confused. I seriously doubted watching a cat would make her feel that way.

She didn’t need a whole lot of convincing. In fact, the only thing I said to her over the phone was ‘hey, could you babysit my — ‘ before she cut me off by squealing a loud and excited ‘yes!’ at the top of her lungs.

With all that apparently settled, I invited her over the day I was supposed to leave so I could give her the rundown. In truth, Bongo was pretty low maintenance. All Alice really had to do was make sure he got fed every day and that his litterbox was cleaned out.

In preparation for her arrival, I went into a massive cleaning frenzy, making sure everything was spotless for when she came over. Looking back, it was kind of ridiculous to worry so much about tidiness in front of a girl who’d seen just how haphazardly disorganized my office was. Still, with the way my mind worked, I seriously didn’t want her to think of me as some kind of slob.

Ugh…I was turning into my mom more and more with each passing day, wasn’t I?

When Alice finally arrived, she took one look inside the apartment and began to light up in awe. It was like she’d transformed into some kind of starstruck cartoon character.

“Woah…” she breathed, her eyes immediately finding themselves drawn to all the photos I’d framed around the living room. “Your apartment’s so nice!”

”Thanks,” I uttered. “I try to keep the place as tidy as I can…”

And there goes another tally mark for the “Max lies” board.

”Anyway,” I continued, watching as Alice began looking over all my photos. “You don’t have to worry about much, Bongo—“

”Oh my god!” she interrupted. “Is this Bongo?!”

In the middle of my sentence, Bongo had hopped down from his cat tree to check out our new guest. All it took was one sniff and he was immediately all over her like a plate of hotcakes. That little rascal curled his tail, walked between her legs, purred like a needy little baby — basically everything a cat did to seduce a human into petting them. And Alice, in complete adoration, fell hook line and sinker for his tactics.

Her sparkly eyes grew about ten sizes the moment she saw him, and in a flash, she was hunched over on the ground rubbing and petting him with the gentlest amount of ferocity I’d ever seen.

“Oh my goodness you are just the cutest! Yes you are, yeshyeshyeshyeshyeshyesh-“

”Alice,” I called, which got her to snap out of Bongo’s spell almost immediately.

”Sorry…” she muttered, giving me an apologetic look of embarrassment. As much as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t hold back my smile.

”Just come over every day for a little bit to make sure he’s doing alright, got it? If he needs food, put it into the feeder, if he needs water, do the same thing with his bowl. I don’t think you’ll have to worry much about his litter box but if it gets pretty full I’d appreciate it if you emptied it out for me.”

”Got it,” she said, giving me a rigid salute.

“While you’re here you’re welcome to eat anything I’ve got in the pantry. If you wanna chill out in the living room — watch TV or just play with Bongo — I don’t mind that either.”

”Sweet!”

With that, I went back into my room to finish packing. As I went over my internal checklist one last time, I heard a faint sound that I figured must’ve been Alice opening the door to the pantry. I didn’t think much of it at first. Given what I told her I figured she was simply getting a quick snack. But when I spotted her on my way out the door, the suspicious look she was giving me caught me off guard. She looked confused, her eyes motioning between me and the cupboard like she was trying to piece something together.

“Do you…bake Miss Caulfield? There’s a ton of flour in here.”

I felt the heat ride up my cheeks in an instant. I didn’t really feel like delving into the topic of how many waffles I usually ate in a month, so I decided to just ignore the question entirely and nervously wave to her as I headed off to my car. “Thanks again, Alice! Bye!”

After checking my bags, boarding my flight, and experiencing an agonizing six-hour layover, I finally made it back home – where I was immediately doted on by mom as if I was some kind of newborn puppy.

As soon as we got back to the house, she had me wrapped in a warm blanket holding a hot cup of cocoa in what had to be record time. She might not have had any powers of her own, but the speed my mom could display whenever she wanted to baby me was definitely the stuff of magic.

My dad thankfully managed to free me from my threadbare prison so I could actually unpack, but that wasn’t without its own set of difficulties. The whole way up the stairs, he kept insisting that he helped me out. I swear, it’s like he’d never seen me carry a bag before.

As annoying as my mom and dad can be however, I did what I could to force all my frustrations down. I had to remind myself that I was lucky to have them, that despite all their ‘mom and dad-isms’ I was still happy and excited to be spending the holidays back home.

As soon as Christmas was over and out of the way, I was pretty surprised to learn it was only Tuesday. I didn’t have much planned for that week, so I figured I’d just lounge around and rot in bed while I watched the newly released Percy Jackson show. I’m a crazy PJO fan, so I’d been hyped about it since its announcement the previous year.

Unfortunately, that had to be put on hold however, because the very same day, I was surprised by the sight of a couple texts from Victoria asking if I was in town.

She ended up coming home for Christmas that year too, and according to her, she wanted to hang out with me while the stressful throes of work weren’t looming over both our heads.

The moment she asked, the slate of my mind was wiped clean and I forgot everything I wanted to do in an instant. It was perfect. I’d really been wanting to make up for all the time we’d lost during that photoshoot trip, and with luck seemingly being on my side for once, I’d get that chance way sooner than I’d thought. So, without a shred of hesitation, I accepted and got ready to meet up with her just a few hours later.

Then we did it again the next day…and the next day, and the day after that.

It was amazing. The whole week we went on long chilly walks, drank cocoa inside warm cafes, checked out some local art exhibitions, and above all else, simply enjoyed each other’s company.

It made me wish that she wasn’t so busy and that I didn’t live on the opposite side of the country. Spending so much time together made me realize just how much I'd missed hanging out with her at a moment’s notice like I used to.

But nothing great lasts forever, and as such, the few days I spent with her eventually came to a sudden close. Four days hadn’t felt like nearly enough time, and if I was being honest, even a couple years wouldn’t have sufficed. She’d been a much needed and well appreciated break from my parents, Alice’s powers, and my worries about how it all connected, so I made sure to relish my last day in Seattle as much as I could. Soaking in every detail to ensure it lasted just a little bit longer.

A few hours before my flight was set to take off, we enjoyed another cold walk on West Galer Street together. Both of us were trying really hard not to mention that I’d be leaving soon, so to fill in that ever growing void of inevitability, we tried to keep our conversations going without so much as a pause. If we stopped, we’d have to think about it, and then, we’d just get sad.

”So, how’s the magazine selling?” I asked, pressing my hands firmly into the pockets of my jacket. I don’t remember how, but the topic of the photoshoot had come up and I wasn’t about to let it go.

”Woah, slow down there miss speedy,” she joked. “We haven’t even started selling them yet. They go out on Monday, so we probably won’t have the final sales metrics until March.”

I nodded, finally working up the courage to ask a question that’d been scratching the back of my mind for the last few months. “Do you…think it’ll perform well?”

”Oh, it will. It’s gonna sell faster than an iPhone on launch day, guaranteed.”

”Tall order…how can you be so sure?”

”I dunno, maybe because it turned out fucking amazing?” she reminded me. “Besides, I have an intuition for these things, Max. Trust me.”

I flashed her a skeptical eyebrow. “‘Intuition’…is that the same intuition that lost you a couple thousand dollars on the Super Bowl last year?”

Without warning, she stopped walking and turned to give me an unimpressed look, her arms crossing in faux-annoyance. “Oh you’re just so darn cute aren’t you? Reminding me of all my blunders the second you see an opening.”

”Okay, first of all, who the fuck uses the word ‘blunder’ in casual conversation anymore? And second, someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

For a moment, Victoria did nothing else but stare at me in shock. Her incredulous expression was showing so much disbelief I thought she was legitimately going to be mad at me for a second. But then, suddenly, she burst into a fit of giggles. “Wow Caulfield, and you call me an ass.”

After the two of us shared a small laugh, we both went silent. The low rumble of the wind rushing through our ears was practically deafening. The reality that it wouldn’t be long until I had to leave again was finally starting to settle in, and I hated it. I couldn’t help but feel like Victoria was pure evil, making me give her three watery goodbyes in the span of just a few months.

”You know…” she muttered. “It really is like night and day.”

I stared at her, confused. “What is?”

”You. When I met up with you in October, I was scared that things were going back to the way they were after…well — y’know. You looked so hurt and terrified. I was afraid you’d fall back into those old habits of yours, but ever since the shoot, this week, it’s like you’re a totally new person.”

I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to most of that, so I settled on moving the conversation by asking another question. “How so?”

“I mean, look at you. You’re so much happier, funnier, full of life – I swear haven’t seen you like this in, well, forever. I miss hearing that laugh of yours, you know.”

Suddenly, I was finding it really hard to keep eye contact. With a comment like that, my cheeks started to feel all tingly and hot. “Am I really all that different?”

”Totally. And you know what, I bet it has something to do with Alice.”

”Maybe…” I shrugged.

“Max, I live for these I told you so moments, let me have this one.”

“Fine, fine. Yeah…I think Alice has helped me come out of my shell a little.” I admitted.

”Try ‘a lot’,” she stressed. “Seriously, keep that girl close. Like I said, she’s good for you, and to be honest, I think you’re good for each other too.”

‘I think you’re good for each other, too’…that sentence ran through my head over and over again, each time filling me with a palpable sense of joy that warmed my belly and cradled my mind. I really liked the sound of that.

After another sob-filled goodbye only an hour later, I went back home and had my parents drop me off at the airport again. By the time I got back, it was close to ten, but that apparently didn’t stop Alice from staying in my apartment all day so she could welcome me back home.

She was thrilled to see me. The second I stepped inside she smiled wide, talked to me animatedly, and eventually, wrapped me in a gentle, kind of nervous hug. Surprisingly though, Bongo didn’t seem nearly as interested in my return as she did. He wasn’t begging me for pets like the last few times I’d come back home from a trip, which kind of spooked me. It was only after Alice left that I finally found out why.

As soon as she was gone, Bongo sat himself in front of the door and waved his tail around as if waiting for her to return.

That little cheater…while I was gone for a week he’d totally fallen in love with Alice and now, he was all but ignoring me.

It did hurt a little if I was being honest. He didn’t even hop up onto my bed so he could sit on my chest while I slept that night. I never thought I’d be sad to say that, but nothing seemed to be too concrete these days.

Silently vowing to tell Alice that she ruined the relationship I had with my cat at some point, I spent the next few days unwinding before I’d inevitably have to deal with my next project.

Like I’d promised, Alice and I would be hanging out outside of school or work for the very first time soon, and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Our plan was to go out somewhere for lunch, then take pictures together in the city. I had a few spots in mind – downtown streets, a couple parks, various places that would work well for an impromptu photoshoot – but what I was most concerned about was how I’d help Alice get through all the pain she was going through. The pain that’d clearly been ailing her for years.

I’d seen it when I stepped back into my apartment. Behind those happy eyes of hers were the flickering embers of guilt and sadness dimly shimmering beneath the surface. I never noticed it before, but ever since Alice told me about her powers, I’d come to the realization that she’d always had that look: that somber-soaked gaze, rife with culpability. I was too bad at reading faces to notice it at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made me feel like I was staring into a mirror every time I looked at her.

Maybe something as simple as taking photos with a friend would be enough to give her some kind of comfort – or at least a healthy outlet to work with – but what if it wasn’t? I know I’m not the best at giving advice; I usually just parrot whatever I’ve heard other people say or mimic what I think they want to hear, so it was entirely possible my suggestion would end up being nothing more than a hollow promise that’d only serve to make her feel worse in the end.

I didn’t want that to happen.

So far, she’d only seen the academic and professional sides of me: Max Caulfield, the teacher and hotshot photographer that worked with the likes of industry giants such as Victoria Chase. She’d only ever gotten brief, fleeting glimpses of the person I was outside of that; even fewer of the little girl inside me that was still so haunted by her past mistakes.

In the end, all I could really do was hope and pray that when we met up, she wouldn’t come to loathe the version of me that was still having trouble learning how to move forward too. Just as much as Alice needed me, I needed her, and the thought of losing her only cemented that idea further.

There was something about the thought of brightening Alice’s future that made me feel a sense of hope I hadn’t mingled with in years. Maybe it was selfish, hell, maybe it was toxic – but, I really wanted to keep that feeling. Hold it close and cherish it for as long as the forces at work would allow me.

After putting me through the ringer so many times, the universe at least owed me that much.

When the day I was slated to meet up with Alice finally arrived, I went through my usual morning routine: I showered, got dressed, ate breakfast, then — in true Max Caulfield fashion — spent the next few hours worrying about the hundreds of different ways the day could go wrong.

Wondering if the candid shots I planned to take would come out looking like shit in front of my former student or if my powers would act up in her presence made the minutes tick by so much slower. But, after wasting a ton of energy pacing around my apartment nonstop, I eventually had no other choice but to sling my camera bag across my shoulder and make my way to the car.

As soon as I picked Alice up, we spent the first 15 minutes or so deciding on where to eat. After a surprisingly heated debate between Wendy’s and Chick-Fil-A, we eventually settled on Panera and indulged ourselves in a couple chicken sandwiches before finally making our way to the inner city.

For the past few days, I’d assumed that when Alice and I met up, I’d have to drag her around town in order to get some good photos. I expected her to be a bit nervous, maybe anxious of all the people walking along the sidewalks like I used to be. But surprisingly, the exact opposite thing happened.

Every time we finished one of our little photo ops, Alice would grab my hand and eagerly yank me toward some other destination she had in mind. Instead of stringing her along all day like I’d expected, I was the one being strung. It was weird, but I didn’t really mind.

We took dozens upon dozens of pictures together: snow-capped buildings, powder-coated parks, frozen murals, icicle formations, even some melancholic images of the old Kodak building at the heart of the city.

I hadn’t done snapshot photography like that in forever, but it felt great. What’s more was that Alice seemed to be enjoying herself way more than I’d ever seen before. The usual well-hidden sense of pain lurking beneath her gaze evaporated the second we took a look at our handiwork. The way she looked at those images — the bright, prideful smile that lined her face when we compared shots…dog, I hadn’t anticipated how happy seeing her like that would make me. The second I got home, I was brimming with energy and almost maniacally hopping around my apartment with joy. It must’ve made Bongo think I was going crazy again, because he mostly kept to himself that night.

That wasn’t all, though. When I looked over my own photos later that same day, I felt something else I hadn’t anticipated either…something that stirred a small storm inside my chest and tugged against my heart. It felt vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite make out why.

While I let that thought simmer for a while, we did the same thing a few days later. What at first was an anxiety-inducing get-together was quickly becoming my most beloved activity in years. Even when we weren’t taking photos, I was still enjoying myself enough by simply talking to Alice between shots.

I tried asking her about her powers every now and again, of course. Simple questions like, “did you ever feel them acting up until recently?”, or “when was the last time you used them before October?”

She tried giving me answers, but the way her mood immediately dampened the second I brought them up made me double back on my questions. I didn’t know how long I could keep that up. My curiosity was only getting more and more ravenous by the day, and it was only a matter of time before it all spilled over and turned into a full blown interrogation. For now though, I had to control myself, for Alice’s sake. One day, she’d tell me something, I just had to be patient.

For a few more weeks, we kept getting together and snapping photos like that. Every time we went out, I took as many opportunities as I could to teach her some new techniques or give her tips to keep in mind. I think it was my way of trying to hold on to the idea that I was still her teacher somehow. With the new semester rapidly approaching way faster than I’d like, it wasn’t going to be very long before Alice’s education would be completely out of my hands.

So it was laughably cruel that just as quickly as our break started, it ended only a couple weeks later in the middle of January. I made sure to wish her luck before I dropped her off on that last day, but I couldn’t deny that a large part of me hated seeing her walk back inside that apartment building. Realistically, not much would change between us with the start of the new semester, but I still couldn’t help but feel like I was losing my hold on something. Something important.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate goodbyes?

Just as I predicted, not seeing Alice in my lecture hall on the very first day of classes really stung. I was excited to meet all my new students, sure, but when I looked off to the corner Alice used to hide in and saw someone completely different sitting there, I felt like I’d gotten punched in the gut.

Thankfully, she came by my office to eat lunch with me that same afternoon. The moment she greeted me and started going back to our usual routine, I started feeling unbelievably stupid. I had no idea why I was so worried in the first place. With every minute that passed, it became increasingly more clear to me that nothing had changed in the slightest. Seeing our friendship go back to being business as usual seriously felt like getting welcomed back with a nice warm hug.

And of course, our little photoshoots didn’t stop either.

We did them every day we could manage it. Meeting up after school, sometimes getting food, sometimes not, then we’d go to whatever locations we could think of. Alice’s skills were quickly improving by the day, and as the months passed, I felt like I was getting a handle on that strange feeling I experienced over break.

With every picture I took and every snapshot I captured, I could tell that I was finally getting closer to experiencing that same feeling my old photos used to give me again. It was just barely out of reach – a melody or a tune you recognized but couldn’t quite place. As more time flew by, I could sense myself inching toward it ever so slowly, and every photo was another step in the right direction. I could practically taste it, feel it dancing along my tongue. I didn’t know for certain if I’d ever reach that point again, but I knew for a fact that I was closer to it than I’d been in a very long time

I guess all it took was an energetic girl with a borderline unhealthy interest in anime to help me get there.

Alice hadn’t just become a part of my routine, she’d become a part of my life as a whole. The days I didn’t see her, I felt weird and uneasy; like something was really wrong with the world. The days I did, I felt happy and practically invincible. By the time early February rolled around, she’d gone well beyond the role of my student — even my friend.

Against all odds she’d effectively become something like a little sister to me, someone I was willing to protect and care for with everything I had. Despite what my friend Kate had told me about sisters being generally pretty annoying and difficult to deal with sometimes, I’d secretly always wished I had some of my own. Having that kind of person in my life…well, let’s just say it would’ve been nice to have that back in the early days when I first started living in Seattle. Even if I had an annoying little sibling that bothered me until my head exploded in a fiery inferno, a connection like that would’ve saved me from a whole lot of pain and loneliness.

Besides, Alice wasn’t annoying or difficult in the slightest.

…

Okay, maybe she can be a lot to handle sometimes and maybe she has a knack for getting on my nerves every now and again, but that doesn’t mean I loved her any less.

I guess that’s what being a sibling’s all about after all, right? Having an unbreakable bond like that, one thick enough to withstand everything life throws at you; that’s what makes you sisters — or, so I’ve been told.

For a while, it seemed like our routine would go uninterrupted until the end of the semester. But one day, out of nowhere, I got an unexpected phone call in the middle of lunch.

Alice had been explaining the plot of some show to me when it happened. All I could remember of her explanation was that it seemed to be about a boy who eats the finger of a demon and because of that he gets possessed or something? I dunno, it sounded interesting enough but I wasn’t too keen on heeding Alice’s media recommendations ever since she told me to watch The Boys.

I mean seriously, would it have killed her to warn me about the egregious number of blood, guts, and penises in that show? The first episode alone had me so horrified my jaw was practically glued to the floor.

I was just about to voice all that skepticism and more when my phone suddenly started vibrating inside my pocket.

I was a little confused, I usually didn’t get any calls or messages in the middle of lunch unless it was Alice trying to tell me she couldn’t stop by. I figured it had to be some kind of scammer, but just to be sure, I pulled my phone out anyway.

Color me surprised when I saw that the person calling was actually Victoria.

Alice must’ve seen the surprise forming on my face, because she suddenly got all nosy; leaning forward in her chair to view the caller ID. “Who is it?”

”Victoria…” I sounded. “But, why would she be—“

That’s when it hit me.

I felt like I’d just been slammed in the face with a soccer ball. Being all wrapped up in my work at school and my outings with Alice, I’d completely forgotten that it was already the middle of March. That meant Victoria had the final numbers for the magazine we worked on back in November. Which also meant she was calling me to tell me the news of our success…or more likely, to let me down gently on our failure.

Immediately, I found my stomach twisting into knots. It was as if someone had just dumped a vat of ice straight into my gut, and before I knew it, the sweat on my skin felt like a thousand tiny droplets of freezing rain.

This was it — the news I’d been waiting on for months. The results I’d only forgotten about thanks to the red-haired girl currently sitting in the room with me. The girl I thought of as a little sister…the girl I desperately wanted to impress.

Oh, dog…if things had gone as badly as I think they did, Alice was going to be so disappointed. She was just as invested in all this as I was considering she worked as a full-blown member of the crew that week. I could only imagine how terrible some bad news about our work would make her feel.

Fuck. Just thinking about the saddened look she’d give me when I told her things didn’t go as well as we’d hoped – it made my heart start climbing up the back of my throat.

When I didn’t finish my sentence, Alice’s curiosity started turning into confusion. “What? Why’s she calling, is she okay?”

Without answering her I accepted the call and pressed the phone up to my ear. She wasn’t happy with that response of course, so she resorted to pouting at me in faux-irritation while I unconsciously bit at my fingernails.

”Hey! Max!” Victoria shouted. “Thank god you picked up.”

The excitement in her voice made me feel a small sense of relief, but it didn’t last very long. If Victoria was really calling to let me know the magazine had been a total flop, it was probably in her best interest to keep the dejectedness to an absolute minimum.

Clearing my throat, I brute forced my voice into working again so I could give her a terribly pathetic sounding, ”Hey, Victoria. Um — what’s up?”

Instantly, her tone got all steely and dire. Definitely not a good sign. “About that…is Alice with you?”

I flashed my eyes over to the girl in question, her eyebrows still scrunched in uncertainty. “Y-yeah, she’s here.”

”Put me on speaker, would you?”

Doing as I was told, I pulled the phone away and pressed the speaker button. Or — tried to. Properly aiming my finger took a few attempts because my hands were shaking like crazy.

”Okay,” I breathed. “Both of us can hear you now.”

“Hi, Victoria!” Alice called.

”Hey Alice,” she started, her voice’s tone unchanging. “So, I think you both know why I’m calling, right?”

”For — for the magazine, yeah?”

”Exactly. Well, we’ve just finished compiling all the sales numbers for our first quarter. I asked my best guy in finance to single out the final results for our Spring magazine, and…”

“And?” I pressed. If her plan was to kill me with all the extra info and stalling, she was succeeding spectacularly.

”And…from what I’m seeing here…” she continued, her voice only growing softer with every word she spoke. “The magazine was…OUR BEST SELLING ISSUE EVER!”

Like a pair of trains releasing steam, Alice and I both gasped in unison and sank deep into our chairs. The feeling of relief was so powerful I’d swear someone had just lifted a ten ton weight off my chest.

Ugh, that bitch. She knew exactly what she was doing by sounding all serious and ‘business-like’ at first.

I was so going to wring her neck the next time I saw her.

Despite all the anger I felt for that little prank however, it was quickly superseded by a rushing sensation of pure joy and disbelief.

”You little — ugh, I —“ I stuttered, trying to string words into a somewhat coherent sentence. It was way harder than it should’ve been. The amount of energy I suddenly had was overwhelming, and it made speaking a whole lot more difficult than it had any right to be. “I can’t believe you just pulled that on us!”

Hearing me stumble over my words like a toddler made Victoria laugh with excitement, one so exaggerated and manic that I could tell that she was high as a kite on adrenaline. If nothing else, it was at least good to know she was just as pumped as we were — if not more.

”I wish I could’ve seen your fucking faces!” she chittered. “I’m being serious though Max, you broke records! What’d I tell you, huh? Tell me I was right, I wanna hear it.”

I sighed, despite my flush of embarrassment I couldn’t do anything to stifle my smile. “Okay, okay…yes Victoria, you were right: the magazine came out great.”

”Nope, it came out fucking amazing,” she corrected.

My blush only grew deeper. I didn't have a mirror nearby but I was willing to bet all the fanfare was starting to turn me into a tomato. I was so flustered in fact that without even thinking about it, I started scratching at the back of my neck. “You were right: it came out ‘amazing’…”

”Oh, I know that tone. Alice help me out here, did she do that thing where she gets all embarrassed and starts rubbing the back of her neck?”

The accuracy of her statement made Alice start giggling with uncontrollable glee. “Yeah, she totally did!”

“Come on…” I groaned. “Halfway across the country and you’re still making fun of me, not fair.”

”Part of the job description, Max,” she joked. “But seriously, this is incredible. I’ve been trying to keep it under wraps so I could surprise you, but all the photos you took have been getting praised to high heaven. I’m guessing you’ve gotten a couple thousand emails in the last few months, right?”

Confused, I turned to my monitor and opened up my mail tabs to make sure I hadn’t secretly gotten ‘a couple thousand emails’ in the last five minutes or something. Over the last few months, nothing had really been out of the ordinary. “Um…are you sure? I don’t see anything…”

”Not even in your business account?”

I wanted to slap myself.

Of course…the only email anybody would have for me if I didn’t know them was the business email I set up for my website years ago (and yes, I have a website). Ever since I stopped taking jobs though, I turned off the notifications for it. Seeing business emails I’d likely never answer just made me feel sad.

So reluctantly, I logged into it for the first time in a while to see if Victoria’s claims were true. And sure enough, the second I pressed the enter key, I got floored by a gazillion notifications detailing messages and inquiries that’d all gotten sent within the last three months; just like she said.

”Holy shit,” Alice and I said in unison.

”That’s more like it,” she mused. “I’m not exaggerating when I say you’re hot shit right now, Max,” It was then that her voice suddenly became a lot less smug and started leaning toward the guilty side.

Uh oh.

“As soon as I saw how good the magazine was doing I…may or may not have checked in with some of my connections to see if I could get you considered for any awards.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself!” she admitted. “Besides, I knew your timid ass would tell me not to. For now, let’s just say that it’s very possible someone by the name of Maxine Caulfield could potentially, maybe, have an Isabella Blow under their belt in the near future…”

”WHAT?!” Alice and I shouted in unison.

Our surprise was understandable. The Isabella Blow Award was a super high profile prize given out by the BFC. Basically, if you’ve contributed to the fashion industry and made a real impact with your work, you’re eligible for the title. Having an award like that is basically a one-way ticket to becoming a fashion legend.

If she was saying I actually had a real shot at getting that award…

Again, and I seriously can’t stress this enough, holy shit.

“Okay, are you two gonna keep up the whole Fred and George routine for the rest of the day or are you actually gonna say something coherent?”

I shook my head, sloshing away all the surprise and shock in favor of some actual words I could enunciate. ”I — Victoria, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m kind of pissed that you didn’t tell me anything, but I’m also just — wowser…you seriously think I have a shot?”

”I wouldn’t have tossed your name into the pile if I didn’t think so, Max. Remember, intuition.”

“You know that doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence, right?”

”Oh, shut up.” she giggled. “Anyway, with everything going so well I think you and I both know this calls for some celebration.”

Okay, forget about before – now I was really nervous. When it came to celebrating, Victoria, as usual, pulled out all the stops. If she had something in mind, I knew it’d be crazy; I just hoped it wouldn’t be like that one party from a few years ago when she was celebrating her company’s first successful quarter.

Oh dog…I swear sometimes I can still hear police sirens sounding outside the venue, even now. If we had another ‘gunfire incident’, I just hoped she wouldn’t rope Alice into it.

“What…did you have in mind?”

“Well, someone’s planning on coming up to Rochester with a few of her coworkers in about two days to enjoy a couple nights out. Might have something to do with that.”

I did a double take. “Wait — you’re coming up here?”

“Of course I am, dummy. Last two times I saw you in person, you flew out to meet me. I’m just returning the favor.”

”O-okay,” I remarked, still cautious. “What do you have planned, exactly?”

”Don’t worry, it’s nothing crazy I promise. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson since the gunfire incident of 2019.”

”The what now?” Alice asked.

”Nothing,” she dismissed. “Anyway, we’ll try to keep it casual: eat some good food, go to a few clubs, dance until we can hardly stand, and of course, drink to our hearts’ content. You’re more than welcome to tag along by the way, Alice. You’re part of the crew, after all.”

”But, I’m too young to drink…”

”Ugh, you are just like Max. Don’t worry, I’ll kick the straight-edge out of you before she has time to burrow her moral compass any deeper into your brain.”

I rolled my eyes. “Way to set a good example, Vic.”

“You know it. Anyway, I need to head out for now, I’ll catch you both on Friday, got it?”

”Y-yeah, of course. Bye, Victoria.”

”Bye!”

As soon as she hung up, Alice and I stared at each other with looks of utter uncertainty and dazed bewilderment. That entire exchange was basically a verbal flashbang from start to finish. The magazine had done well, I was being considered for a prestigious award, Victoria was coming up here in a couple of days…jeez. So much was happening so quickly that I felt like I’d gotten hit with a bad case of vertigo. Too dizzy to think properly though all the awe.

After what felt like around five minutes, Alice finally turned her gaze away from me so she could stare at some nonexistent point on the wall. Slowly, I watched as her face shifted from deer-in-the-headlights shock, to bubbling excitement in the span of just a few seconds.

“So,” I started, my own voice sounding foreign to me after not talking for so long. “I guess we did a good—“

Without warning or even giving me a chance to finish my sentence, Alice suddenly jumped out of her seat and started squealing in excitement.

If you’ve never had the displeasure of hearing Alice make that noise before, the best way I can describe it is that it’s sort of like a dog-whistle on steroids. Super high-pitched, super loud, and super effective at shutting me the hell up.

”Miss Caulfield, this is amazing! We — we actually did that! Well — you did that, I was just a helper but oh my gosh can you believe it?! It’sthebestsellingmagazineeverandyou’regettinganawardandVictoria’scomingtotownand—“

”Alice,” I begged. “Slow down or you’re gonna blow a gasket.”

”Sorry, I can’t help it.” she flushed, still brimming with energy. “I mean — Miss Caulfield, aren't you excited? This is — this is so awesome!”

”Of course, I am. It’s just —“

Interrupting me once again, she grabbed my hands and unceremoniously pulled me out of my chair, doing a little happy dance that mostly involved swinging my arms in various directions.

“It’s just what? The coolest thing ever?” she finished. “And Victoria’s coming up here too! We’re gonna have so much fun!”

With how happy Alice seemed to be, I couldn’t help but smile. If her plan was to get me just as excited as she was, it was working.

It hadn’t really hit me yet if I was being honest. I was still processing that some work I’d thought to be mediocre at the time was now being received so well it was worthy of praise. The photos might not have made me feel the way I wanted them to, but I guess in my search for an impossible feeling I couldn’t reach anymore, I’d forgotten that art can be interpreted and enjoyed by more than just the artist themself.

It’d been so long since I’d truly taken a photo for someone else. Sure, I did jobs for people and captured what they wanted me to, but deep down, all that work was more for me than the clients. I guess my selfish ass couldn’t help herself.

Seeing how happy this made Victoria and Alice alike…it was nice to see how a photo can truly affect someone again.

Besides, Victoria coming up here for the first time since I moved was like getting to celebrate Christmas in July — except, well, it was March — but you get what I mean.

“Okay, okay…” I admitted. “It is cool. For once I’m…actually super excited, even if I don’t sound like it.”

”I knew it!” she chirped. “Where do you think we’re gonna go to celebrate?”

”No idea, but there’s no way I’m letting you have any alcohol.”

”But Miss Caulfield, Victoria said —“

”Don’t care. Whatever Victoria says, I'm not gonna break the law and be a bad role model all on the same night.”

“Ugh…fine.”

Friday came by a lot slower than I would’ve wanted.

It’s so stupid how time always seems to slow down where you’re actually looking forward to something. Honestly, it feels like it works in the way most inconvenient to you at any given time. When you’re actually having fun and enjoying yourself, the hours tick by in a flash. When you’re bored, angry, or annoyed, it comes to a grinding halt. The moments you want to last forever always manage to slip away in a matter of seconds, and the days you’d rather forget stay with you for years to come.

Time…what a scam, am I right?

The thing about time though is that no matter what you do, it always moves forward. That work meeting you had that felt like it’d last for an eternity? Well — it came to an end eventually, didn’t it? That day out with your friends? Even if you didn’t want it to, there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it from inevitably coming to a close.

Because of that, the two days I spent waiting for Friday to come felt like they lasted forever and a day. Classes moved at a snail’s pace, the nights at home dragged on for hours — I almost couldn’t believe it when the bell rang that day to signal my shift was over and I could finally go home.

The plan was simple: I’d drive over to Alice’s apartment and pick her up at around six o’ clock. Then, the two of us would make our way over to the airport to grab Victoria’s entourage (who were all apparently really excited to meet me).

I told Alice to wear something nice, lest Victoria murder her for crimes against fashion. Ideally, something Chase Elegance branded to add that extra layer of protection.

The two of us had about four hours to prepare, and shamefully, it took me almost that entire time to finally decide on an outfit.

I knew I wanted something that’d stand out a little more than my usual getups, but I also didn’t wanna strut around wearing something crazy like a tiny, revealing corset. I needed something casual that wouldn’t make Victoria give me her infamous stink-eye of disapproval.

It might’ve taken me an embarrassingly long amount of time, but I eventually decided on the simple combination of a backless top and my best pair of jeans.

I even made the borderline suicidal choice of wearing high heels. Normally, I wouldn’t even bother with them. Since I’m a total klutz, it was usually in my best interest not to risk snapping my ankles or falling head first into a block of pavement every time I went out. But for tonight, I told myself I’d at least try it for the sake of completing the outfit.

How anybody managed to walk around in those things for more than an hour at any given time was a complete and utter mystery to me. I had them on for barely 20 minutes before I started feeling my ankles burning like the deepest pits of hell. Victoria’s legs seriously had to be something else if she chose to wear stuff like this so often…

It took me a while, but as soon as I was ready (which was cutting it way closer than I’m willing to admit), I shot Alice a quick text to let her know I was on my way.

5:52 PM - March 15th, 2024

Max: I’m about to drive over now! Hope you’re ready >:)

It didn’t take long for her to respond – Alice was usually pretty quick to reply…sometimes suspiciously quick.

Alice: Got it! I’ll be ready by the time you get here

Alice: Promise :3

Even though she couldn’t see me, I still arched an eyebrow in skepticism.

Max: Are you sure? You and I both know it takes you about 3-5 business days to get ready whenever I come to pick you up.

Alice: YES!! I SWEAR!! ToT

I scoffed, a soft smile creeping its way to my lips.

Max: I’ll believe it when I see it :)

Alice: You’re killing me here Miss Caulfield!!! (⋟﹏⋞)

Alice: If you want you can come in and wait for me to finish up! Just knock and I’ll let you in :)))

Alice: My apartment number is 315!

Now that was new. In all the time I’d known her, I’d never actually been inside her apartment before…

Oh boy, she had no idea what she’d just unleashed by saying that. The nosy version of Max I’d been holding back all this time was practically boiling over with excitement. Just thinking about all the things I could see inside her apartment – the various decorations, items, collectibles, and photos strewn about – it was enough to make me vibrate with intrigue.

You can learn a lot about someone simply by seeing what their home is like, and there were some things about Alice I still wanted to know.

That poor girl…if only she knew…

Max: Sounds good!

Max: Be warned: you might regret having me over. I’m gonna be picking and prodding every little thing I see >:)

Alice: (゜-゜) uh oh

Uh oh indeed, Alice. Uh oh indeed.

Giggling to myself, I grabbed my camera bag, carefully strutted over to the car in my heels, and drove off to Alice’s place without wasting any more time.

She lived in this apartment complex called Winton Garden Towers, a housing building on East Main Street that was…well, let’s just say it wasn’t the best neighborhood to be in.

The complex itself consisted of two circular towers loosely connected by a central greenery in the middle. Each one was lined with rows and rows of windows – some open, some closed, some covered by huge air conditioners. It was pretty much exactly what you’d expect for an apartment building located in the middle of a neighborhood like that. All I really knew about it was that it was affordable. On one hand, I was glad Alice had a somewhat decent place to stay. But as much as my privileged ass wasn’t one to judge, the incessant thrum of music you could always hear reverberating around the area would’ve made me completely lose my mind by day two.

Another thing that bothered me was that I also wasn’t sure how safe the place was. Maybe it was just my paranoia, or maybe I was mother-henning too much, but I wasn’t entirely convinced the buildings were all that secure. That definitely scared me a bit. Remind me to ask her if I can help get her into a better place soon.

Anyway, after making an extremely clumsy walk over to her building and having an equally awkward encounter with some big, burly looking guy who was leaving the building just as I arrived, I eventually made it inside and started moving toward Alice’s floor.

The walk was slow and steady thanks to my lack of experience in heels, but that at least gave me some time to think.

What exactly was I going to see inside her apartment? What mysteries would I uncover? What answers would I find? I felt kind of bad about it, but knowing I’d have the chance to learn a little more about my star pupil was making me giddy with anticipation. It went beyond just learning more about her past; I wanted to see how she arranged everything, what kind of state she lived in, and how that reflected on her as a person. She was a little clumsy and had her head in the clouds sometimes, but what if in spite of that she was super organized? The more likely answer was that she was super messy, but I still wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to know.

My train of thought was unfortunately cut short when I made it to Alice’s floor and found some old guy angrily banging against her door.

He couldn’t have been any younger than 40. His hair might’ve been turning gray, but there wasn’t much left of it on his head — which was pretty ironic considering he had some of the hairiest shoulders I’d ever seen in my life. Like, seriously, this guy had to have been half gorilla or something.

He certainly wasn’t dressed to impress either. All he had on was a dusty looking wife-beater and a pair of gray sweatpants that bore a couple grease stains — at least — I hoped they were grease stains.

And as if the look couldn’t get any more cliché, he even had some musty looking slides on his feet. Basically, the guy was pretty much a near perfect replica of Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

I was really hoping that maybe, I’d somehow found the wrong apartment, but the numbers attached to the wood didn’t lie.

I could already feel my social battery draining by the second…

Ugh, this is gonna be so awkward.

Halfway through another round of banging, I raised a hand and timidly asked, “Um, can I help you?”

With way more speed than should’ve been humanly possible, he snapped around and gave me a deathly glare filled with anger and annoyance. “Who the hell are you?”

And yes, he did in fact have the Italian-American accent you would’ve expected.

“I’m uh — I’m visiting a friend.” I clarified, making sure my throat was clear. Despite how weird and uncomfortable this conversation was going to be, I needed to stand my ground and be firm so this jackass would leave Alice (and me) alone.

“You know this girl?”

”Yeah…why? Who are you?” I acknowledged, albeit with a bit more bite than I meant.

”I’m her fuckin’ downstairs neighbor. Came up here to tell her that she needs to quiet the hell down,” he spat. “Some us get home from work right about now and the last thing we need to fuckin’ hear is a bunch a bangin’ from people upstairs.”

Honestly, I was kind of surprised he didn’t use the word ‘fucking’ more than twice. Still, as valid of a complaint as that may be, it didn’t excuse being an asshole that bangs on a young girl’s door and starts cussing like a sailor. I could only assume Alice wasn’t answering him out of fear, and that made my blood boil.

I tried to keep it down, but when Alice was concerned, I had no mercy. I didn’t wanna give the poor girl any more issues with this guy if I could help it, but I also couldn’t stand him. I knew Alice better than anyone, which meant I also knew that the only thing he needed to do was give her a gentle reminder and she would’ve acted like a total angel about it. Instead, he decided to go the angry gorilla-man route and jumped straight to harassment.

Maybe my overprotectiveness was getting in the way of judgment, but I didn’t care. No one messes with one of my students.

It took everything I had not to lose it completely right then and there. But, as composed as I could keep myself, I managed to push out one last sentence. “Well, she clearly got the message so you can be on your way now.”

“Fine. Fuckin’ whatever. Just tell her to make sure it doesn’t happen again, or I’m gettin’ the fuckin’ landlord over here.”

Thankfully, he started walking off without much of a fight. Well, sort of walked. The way he hobbled over to the elevator made him look like a cross between a penguin and chimpanzee.

I was so going to have Alice tell me if he bothered her again.

Flushing the thought away for now, I puffed out a relieved huff of air and lightly rapped against the door. “Alice?! You can let me in now, he’s gone!”

Strangely though, there was no response.

Instead of hearing the clattering and clambering of a frightened-sounding Alice rushing forward to open the door like I expected, all I got was deafening silence.

There was no greeting, no thumping — not even the hushed sounds of muffled footsteps shuffling around behind the wall. For some reason, everything was quiet. Painfully quiet.

With no other sounds to drown them out now, the low buzz of the ceiling lights above me started to sound a lot more encompassing. Their hum tingled my ears, amplifying the silence more and more with each passing second.

Something began to churn within my stomach right about then. It was small, the faintest little hint of unease slithering out, creeping toward the better half of my mind. It wasn’t strong enough to tug at my senses just yet or yank me into a panic, but it was there. It had chosen to make itself known.

Seeing that I was practically alone with my thoughts, I had to wonder…why wouldn’t Alice respond to both me and that weird old guy? After so much pounding and banging, you’d figure she had to have heard one of us, right? It wasn’t like her to give someone the silent treatment.

She was…okay, right?

Don’t get all paranoid now, Max. I thought, shaking my head to will an imminent spiral back to the ether of my mind where it belonged. She probably just didn’t hear you.

Yeah, that had to be it. It wasn’t anything crazy, she just didn’t hear me. So, once again I knocked on the door. This time however, it was quicker, more urgent and desperate than I intended.

…

Still, nothing.

…The ceiling lights were getting louder.

With my concern quickly swelling up to critical mass, I chose to let my nosiness get the better of me and pressed my ear against the door. I didn’t know exactly what I was hoping to hear, but if there was anything inside the apartment that’d help me figure out what she was up to, I’d find it.

It all seemed pretty quiet at first. Honestly all I really heard was the soft sound of my own blood pumping through my ears. After about a minute of listening though, I started to detect the almost imperceptible sound of…sizzling? No, it was water. Water rushing out a faucet.

Immediately, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Thank dog. Alice was just showering, it was no wonder she hadn’t heard either me or that Tony Soprano wannabe. Still, if she was only washing up now I had no idea how she’d ever hope to be ready in time. I already knew how long it took for her to simply wake up and cobble together a loose outfit consisting of hoodies, shorts, and leggings. There was no telling how much time she’d spend fitting on some nicer clothing and applying makeup.

I didn’t wanna leave her here, but if worse came to worst, I’d have no other choice but to go grab Vic alone and meet back up with her later.

That was still waiting to be seen, though. Thankfully It was only 6:15, so there was still time for Alice to hop out and get ready. Wanting to give her a chance, I backed up against the wall and tried passing the time by playing the daily Wordle.

After solving it (the word was ‘erupt’), I spent another five minutes idly scrolling through my social media feeds. In all that time, I still didn’t see her walk out the door, and with our time limit rapidly approaching, my anxiety had already started to dig its meaty claws right back into me. Victoria would be texting at any moment, and Alice still hadn’t bothered responding to any of my messages.

So by now, my unease had turned into apprehension, and slowly, that was starting to transform into annoyance.

If she planned on taking forever, she could’ve at least told me. That’ll be the last time I believe her when she says, ‘I’ll be ready when you get here’.

I couldn’t deny my disappointment either. If I really had to leave without her, then I wouldn’t get to see inside her apartment like I’d hoped.

As of right now, she was both denying my curiosity and making me wait at the same time.

Oh yeah, this girl is definitely playing with fire.

It only took another minute or two for me to decide I wasn’t going to stand around any longer. When I marched back up to the door and started knocking again, my pounding was a lot more aggressive, but believe me it was totally justified – bruised knuckles be damned.

“Alice?!” I called. “Come on, I’m gonna have to go without you if you don’t get out here soon!”

…

Nothing.

Even after so much time had passed, she still wasn’t giving me a response.

In the bubbling stew of my brain, anger and annoyance were slowly starting to mix with worry; swirling together in a complicated mess of emotions that made the wait feel a lot more unbearable.

I absolutely hated it when schedules changed or plans didn’t fall through the way I expected them to. Being the way that I was, having two whole days to mentally prepare wasn’t nearly enough time to calm my paranoid and apprehensive nerves. I was still a little nervous – nervous about my outfit, nervous about first impressions with Victoria’s friends, nervous about all the bar hopping we were bound to do around the city tonight. Having some kind of structure or plan made me feel safe, secure. And Alice knew that.

Which is why her silence was beginning to make me think that something really was wrong. And that worried me.

Had she gotten nervous too? I mean, the two of us were so alike after all; I should know. If I was anxious, self-conscious and overwhelmed by the mere thought of everything we might do tonight, I could be rest assured that Alice was probably in the same boat.

Maybe she’d put on her outfit and gotten scared, worried about the reactions she’d receive. Maybe, the thought of stumbling over her words like she usually did terrified her into silence when Victoria was involved. Maybe, the idea of being around a lot of people, especially ones she didn’t know, frightened her enough to make her hole up inside her room.

Those were all assumptions of course, but they weren’t completely unfounded ones.

I knew a thing or two about fear. That feeling you get when something’s gnawing at the back of your skull. The way you start to have a thousand and one terrible scenarios playing out in your head all at once, the feeling of all those unknowns weighing you down the second you try to breathe. If one thing could go wrong, then it stood to reason that everything could go wrong. The more you wanted a night to be absolutely perfect, the worse the fear that something terrible might happen kept you from leaving in the first place. I could write a one million page book detailing every time I felt that way back when I was younger; all the times I’d stayed inside my room instead of partying or living my life like I should’ve – like Chloe would’ve wanted me to.

Like I said before: being alone when you feel like the world around you is crumbling to dust — it’s the worst thing you could do.

If a certain blonde-haired bitch hadn’t barged into my dorm room and dragged me out of it while I was at my lowest, there was a pretty good chance I never would’ve left.

Right now, I needed to be that kind of person for Alice. Someone that’d drag her out into the night and show her that the world wasn’t as scary as she might think.

So, one last time, I rapped against the door, making sure to keep both the sound of my knocking and the hum of my own voice as gentle as possible.

“Alice, please. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but if you need some help, well — at least let me come in there and try.”

When I waited another 30 seconds and got no response, I felt another wave of anger and sadness wash over me. I wasn’t as mad at Alice as I was at myself, truthfully. Being forced to wait around when I was on a set schedule was already bad enough; failing to help someone I wanted so desperately to succeed? That was way worse.

I guessed at this point, the only thing I could really do was get back to my car and grab Victoria. It was probably best to let her take the reins when she got here. If anyone could force Alice out, it was her. It seemed all I was good for was pointlessly standing around and annoying the neighbors.

Some role-model you are, Max…

I don’t exactly know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was out of frustration, maybe my anxiety just needed my hands to do something, or maybe, it was nothing more than an instinctual thing. Something anyone in my position would do just because. It was kind of like how you feel compelled to start clapping when you hear the intro to Friends; it just felt right.

With one last huff of exasperation, I almost subconsciously wrapped my fingers around the knob of Alice’s door and started rattling it. I expected to feel some resistance, an immediate halt that signaled the door was locked and I wouldn’t be allowed to open it.

But surprisingly, it turned freely. All this time, the door had been opened and I hadn’t even noticed.

In that moment, it didn’t fully register to me that Alice keeping her door unlocked might’ve been weird. I was simply too surprised for my intuition to start sounding any alarm bells. All I could think about was the fact that it might be possible to help her after all.

I didn’t know if she’d left it open on purpose, forgotten about it, or if the door’s lock was just broken. But, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t going to leave here without at least trying to persuade Alice into coming outside.

”Alice?” I sounded, steeling myself to talk her down. “I’m gonna come in now, okay?”

This time, I didn’t wait for a response. In one swift motion, I turned the knob, and shoved the door open, finally revealing Alice’s apartment to me.

It was about what I expected from a nearly broke college student.

It was small, the whole space nothing more than a single thin hallway that broke off into different rooms. The lights were on, but they were eerily yellow and dim. I couldn’t imagine the kind of eye strain Alice must’ve been experiencing trying to do her homework in conditions like this…

The second I stepped inside and really started looking around, however, my worry was shoved away by something I liked to call ‘total nosy mode’. Now that I was finally inside, I felt a quick jolt of curiosity overtake my senses, my eyes suddenly shifting around to inspect every little thing I could see. Within this apartment, there were secrets I could uncover, mysteries I could unravel, things I could –

Stay focused, Max! You’re here to help Alice not ogle at all her stuff.

Despite telling myself that, it was still hard not to observe. The first thing I noticed was that the hallway was clean, albeit streaked with a few faint scuff marks. I figured that Alice, in all her clumsy glory, had tripped on more than one occasion while trying to rush outside.

The walls were lined with a few small, framed pictures too. Each one bearing an image of Alice and a woman I could only assume to be her mother. They shared the same hair color, but that was where their similarities ended. Her mom’s hair was shiny and straight, her face practically flawless in comparison to Alice’s freckle coated features. It seemed that she took after whoever her father was more than anything else, someone I knew absolutely nothing about. I’d have to remind myself to ask Alice about him later.

Continuing my walk, the next thing I noticed was the living space. Sitting atop a small entertainment center was an even smaller TV playing some show I didn’t recognize. It had to have been one of those anime Alice kept asking me to watch, but the fight currently happening on screen wasn’t what caught my attention. Spread out across the rug was a mountain of books; some were open, some were stacked on top of others, some were closed yet laid out in a half circle formation on the ground. From what I could tell, all of them were for school. I could only assume Alice liked to read them on the ground for...whatever reason.

Admittedly, the mental image of Alice lying on the floor and kicking her feet while she studied made me smile. But I had to wonder why she didn’t use her couch.

Off to my left was the kitchen. Inside, I could see a laundry basket sitting atop the table, but any other curiosities I might’ve had were quickly washed away when I noticed the sink.

It was overflowing. As the water rushed out of the faucet, the liquid kept pouring out onto the floor, leaving a massive puddle in its wake.

“What the?!” I thought aloud.

Quickly, I rushed over and turned it off, staring at all the water now coating the bottom of my shoes.

That was…definitely weird…why the hell had Alice forgotten about that?

It was only after I had that thought that I realized the rest of the apartment had suddenly gotten quiet…scarily quiet.

My mind might not have immediately registered that something was wrong, but my body certainly did. Almost as soon as I noticed the silence, I started to feel a slow, creeping sensation crawling against my nerves; goosebumps rising beneath my skin. It was a thick miasma, a dark, unsettling feeling that only the most simple of my baser instincts could pick up.

The faucet sound had been what I heard earlier when I pressed my ear against the door, and from the kitchen, I could clearly see that the bathroom light was off.

Alice hadn’t been taking a shower at all.

Realizing she’d been silent all this time finally made the panic start rushing through me with the force of a wrecking ball. That feeling of unease I’d experienced earlier was back, and it was louder than ever.

Immediately I started searching around, my eyes darting in every possible direction. I don’t know what I expected to find on the ground or the ceiling, but my rapidly panicking mind felt the desire to peer at them anyway.

It was pointless of course, she wasn’t anywhere to be found. She wasn’t hiding in the living room, sitting under the table, hell – she wasn’t even curled up in the bathtub like I’d suspected.

That only left one spot…the only place she could possibly be. There had only been one room I hadn’t checked yet, and that was the bedroom.

I tried to calm myself. If Alice was in there, she was probably in a fragile state and the last thing I wanted was to scare her. So, slowly, I made my way toward the singular door standing at the very end of the hallway. For whatever reason, it was slightly ajar.

Every step toward the room made my heart thump faster and faster, thousands of questions blazing through my mind in a matter of seconds: Was Alice okay? Had she gotten a particularly nasty attack before I arrived? Was she just having a meltdown? Was there a way I could help her? How long would it take? Would Victoria mind? Could she help me too?

“Alice?” I called again, my voice now wavering slightly. This time, the lack of response only made the lump in my throat grow bigger.

As soon as I reached the door, I gently pushed it all the way open before passing a quick glance at everything inside. I couldn’t see the full room yet, but In my immediate view, I was greeted by the sight of a light blue bed covered from head to toe in various plushies and pillows. The gray colored walls surrounding it were nearly completely plastered with various posters of anime characters, bands, and famous photographers I recognized to be some of her favorites.

It was cute, comfy looking, and so very ‘Alice’, but the sheer amount of worry I felt was making it kind of hard to appreciate.

”Alice? I’m coming in now, okay?”

There was no other spot she could be. If Alice was anywhere, it was in there – just barely out of sight. I knew I wouldn’t like what I saw. Honestly, the very thought of seeing Alice curled up in an anxious little ball on the floor made me want to cry, but nevertheless, I had to push on. I had to do this.

For her.

As soon as I moved forward and my feet made it past the threshold, I sensed something. A presence — a figure. Dark and shadowy, positioned just outside of my peripheral. In that split second, I felt a small flicker of relief. I’d found my student, now, I could talk to her and figure out what was wrong.

But when I turned my head, the world went still.

Sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, was a bloodied, lifeless corpse

The lifeless corpse, of Alice

Chapter Text

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen a dead body. Hell, it wasn’t the second, third, fourth or even the fifth.

Thanks to my powers, I’d seen enough death to last a couple dozen lifetimes.

I’d watched Chloe die over and over again, witnessed a drug dealer and his dog get gunned down right in front of me, looked on helplessly as innocent bystanders lost their lives to flying debris and falling objects — I’d even uncovered the body of a girl who’d been buried beneath a shallow grave for well over six months.

On all accounts, the sight of a corpse shouldn’t have affected me all that much. The innocent version of Max that would’ve reeled over and screamed at the sight of death had died a long time ago herself.

But even still, seeing this body. Alice’s body…

My knees gave out before I even had the chance to think.

The way she looked…the sight of her head limply pointing towards the ground, the uncanny lack of movement in her limbs…

Immediately I felt my breath seize, but I was only vaguely aware of it. The useless gray matter inside my head was hardly able to process the feeling of my own brain slowly crawling to a standstill. There was something unsettling about this…something so terribly wrong. Seeing such an energetic girl look so inanimate and lifeless – It shook something loose – a section of mind that should’ve stayed buried and hidden beneath the muck.

It felt like an abrupt spark. A sudden flash of light in the dark that made faded memories lash out and coil around my throat. They threatened to squeeze the life out of my very being, threatened to drag me face-first into a downward spiral I couldn’t escape.

The way she looked…I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that she looked so much like…

So much like…

Blood pooled against the tiled floor, marring the otherwise sleek, white surface in a slowly growing abyss of crimson. The cracks and crevices between each tile were quickly filled to the brim, irrigating the room in a horrific stream of red.

No…

The shock was permanently etched to her face. It was the last expression she’d ever have. Her mouth had been agape, stained with blood.

I clutched my head. This isn’t happening…

And those eyes…those beautiful blue eyes I’d seen so full of life just a few moments ago, they were dull and lightless. A shadow in the murk of the sea.

I grabbed at my hair, ears ringing with the infinite echo of a distant toll bell. I didn’t care how hard I was tugging or how dangerously close I was to scalping myself. All I knew was that this couldn’t be real.

My eyes were starting to hurt like they’d been doused in bleach, but I didn’t dare look away or blink for even a second. I had to keep staring. There had to be something — anything, that would tell me all of this was just another one of my fucked-up nightmares. Any second now, my other self would walk around the corner and start taunting me, saying that she’d set this whole thing up as some kind of shitty cautionary tale.

Maybe a freckle was just barely out of place, maybe something was off with her hair — fuck, maybe her proportions were wrong — there had to be something.

But the more I looked, the more my eyes threatened to burn up in flames or fall out of their sockets, the more I realized I couldn’t spot a single thing that hinted towards any of this being anything less than real.

But it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

Alice wasn’t dead; she was still waiting for me to come pick her up. She had to have been all dressed up by now, worried about where I was. I'd probably just waltzed into the wrong apartment…

Yeah, that had to be it, she was still waiting for me. This wasn’t her place. All of this was just some silly, fucked-up prank set up by…

Set up by…

Immediately I let go of my head, doubling over and hurling straight onto the carpeted floor as if emptying my stomach would somehow free me from my horror. I wanted to scream, use every last ounce of air I had left in my lungs to fuel one powerful blast of agonizing despair.

But nothing came. No matter how much I tried to force something out, all I could manage were dry gasps of shock and squeaked whimpers of disbelief. It was just my luck, being born in a body so pathetic it couldn’t even find the will to scream. Even after all this time, I was just as useless as ever.

My mind was numb, ears still ringing in a harsh reminder that this was my reality.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t formulate a single string of thoughts inside my head except for one singular phrase. It played on repeat across the surface of my skull, a mantra that only got louder and louder with each repetition.

Not again…

It didn’t stop. The more I heard those words —‘not again, not again, not again’— the more they overtook my senses, consuming me whole. Slowly but surely, they formed a blackened pit of emptiness at the base of my stomach, an infinite void that threatened to eat away every last bit of hope I still had left inside of me — and it was only getting larger.

I don’t know how long I stayed hunched over on the ground like that, but through ragged breaths and desperate blinks, I continued to keep my eyes fixed on the sight in front of me. It wasn’t out of morbid curiosity or a sense of disbelief, but fear. Fear that the moment I looked away, Alice would disappear for good.

Even from this distance, I could see that her cheeks still had a little bit of color in them. The tiniest hint of rosy red amidst pallid-paper gray.

I could see she’d been wearing a leather jacket and a white tanktop simple t-shirt. Green, to match her eyes. The design looked like it was supposed to be some kind of skull anime character she might’ve enjoyed — but it was hard to tell thanks to the gunshot wound red-stained slits torn into her clothing.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had caused those. Alice…she’d been stabbed. Multiple times by the looks of it.

How long ago was it that she’d last texted me? An hour? No, not even. It’d barely been 45 minutes since I’d gotten here.

Suddenly, a sickening chill ran down my spine.

How long had she been like this? How long had she been forced to suffer before the bloodloss killed her? How long had it been since the monster who did this left the building?

And that only begged another question: If Alice hadn’t been dead for very long, had I been…banging on her door while she was bleeding out?

My heart stopped beating, and me, powerless to stop my own mind from spiraling any further, continued to travel down that train of thought with all the self-preservation of an angered honeybee.

Had I been calling out to her angrily the whole time she’d been trying to survive? Had I been playing a stupid fucking phone game while my student called for help? When the door was fucking open?

I grit my teeth, more tears flowing down the sides of my cheeks in a steady, salty stream.

I could’ve saved her.

If I had just entered the apartment sooner, I could’ve saved her.

But you didn’t

You let her die. Just like Chloe.

From some far-off corner at the edge of my psyche, I felt that inner voice murmuring inside my head, mocking me and berating me just like it always did.

“Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it should.”

Those words…they were the same ones my other self had said to me so many months ago now. The same words I’d so desperately tried to fight back against. The ones I thought I’d overcome after so many months of precious, fleeting joy.

Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it should.

How stupid was I? For a while, I’d actually allowed myself to believe that I’d somehow bested her; that I’d proved her wrong. I’d invited Alice to that photoshoot and pumped my fist in triumph when nothing came of it. I’d spent every single day with her as if she was my little sister, and nothing had happened.

But as it turns out, all I’d been doing was delaying the inevitable.

Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it should.

There was no point in pondering on the how or why. What mattered was that Alice had been close to me…and look what that got her.

It turned out that the fear I’d harbored these last ten years had been true after all. The fear that I was nothing more than a black hole who swallowed everything that got too close. A magnet for death and destruction that couldn’t be trusted with something as simple as a mutual bond.

Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it should.

I’d been cursed, unwillingly given a power I didn’t fully understand, and because of that, my very existence had become nothing more than a hazard for the things I loved.

As I watched the last traces of color draining from the brightest parts of Alice’s face, I bent forward, a pained, stifled cry escaping my lips.

My tears plopped onto the carpet with an almost inaudible patter; salty water mixing in tune with the putrid vomit still staining the dusty, dirtied floor.

My powers…my curse…they’d taken everything from me: they’d taken Chloe, my best friend and the first girl I’d ever loved. They’d taken my friendships, destroyed what little I had left with the few people I could still call friends. They’d nearly taken Arcadia Bay, the only place that’d ever truly felt like home to me.

Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it should.

And now, as if forcing me to make an impossible choice all those years ago wasn’t bad enough, they’d decided to take Alice away from me too.

What kind of world does this? What kind of universe forces one person to bear the brunt of so many mistakes?

Just once…for all they’ve taken…I wish they could’ve given something back.

Everything you touch tends to die a lot quicker than it–

Wait…’give something back’…

Within the darkened pool of my mind, an idea began shimmering beneath the surface. A dim light rising against the suffocating pressure of the depths.

I turned my head, watery eyes focusing on the object still pressed against my side and wrapped around my shoulder. Nestled neatly inside my bag, hiding beneath an old weathered flap covered from head-to-toe in various patches and buttons, was the very power that could grant me the ability to get something back.

The realization made me feel heavy. Even without touching it, I could sense my camera’s heft weighing me down, anchoring me to the floor. So much potential, so much power was currently tucked away inside the folds of my old, beaten messenger bag, and if I used it, I could save Alice.

If I wanted to, I could travel back in time and stop the killer before he had the chance to hurt her. If not by killing them in return, I could at least warn Alice and get her the fuck out of here before they got too close.

All it would require was my camera, and the strange energy pulsing inside my body.

It would be so simple – laughably easy in comparison to before.

With how my powers worked now, I could rewind an hour’s worth of time with about as much effort as it takes to snap a simple photo.

But…I couldn’t do that, right? After so many years of keeping my promise, I couldn’t betray Chloe and make another attempt at saving someone’s life again.

I couldn’t.

But…Alice…

I turned to look at her once more, drinking in the shock still plastered to her face. Her eyes were dry. Those green irises, once full of anxious happiness, were now glazed over, devoid of life. The blood staining her fingers was drying too. Every crack and crevice of her skin was slowly being marked by a thin layer of red settling between the gaps.

There was something so uncanny about dead bodies — something cruel, even. The more you stared at them, the more your brain tried to make sense of what it knew to be so terribly wrong. It made your eyes trick you into believing there was movement somewhere, made your mind play around with the idea that they’d wake up any second, flashing you a winning smile.

The more I stared at Alice’s body, the more I realized just how much I wanted that fantasy to be true. I wanted to watch the light return to her eyes, to see her happily bounding towards me with that bright, adorable smile of hers.

I could make that a reality. I could bring her back and it’d be like nothing ever happened.

The two of us could go on with our lives. I could watch her grow into a great photographer someday, get front row seats to her rising fame. I’d get to see her finally come into her own, witness her confidence and self-esteem blossom like a beautiful sunflower — and I’d be there with her each and every step of the way.

She deserved that. She deserved to live — to have that chance. And I had the power to give it to her.

Somewhere far away inside my mind, a long forgotten piece of the Max that I used to be decided to speak up. Sharing a thought I hadn’t considered for years: what if I had these powers for a reason? What if all this time, I was meant to save people with them?

Just once, I wanted to believe that was true.

Slowly, I began moving my hand towards the edge of my bag, fingers crackling and sparking with power. The closer I got to the metal clip keeping it shut, the more intense the sensation became. It was like my body knew what I was about to do, and it was encouraging me — egging me on.

I could do this…just this once, I could use my stupid powers for something good. I wouldn’t have to cause any more pain if I could help it, and at long last, I could finally feel like I wasn’t a curse to the people I loved anymore.

At least, that was the plan.

For some reason, before I could reach the flap of my bag, I started to feel something inside me fighting back. An invisible set of threads, tugging at my fingertips with opposing force.

I knew what it was without even needing to think about it. The more fearful side of me, the part of myself that’d been too afraid to use her powers for so long, was screaming in protest, begging me to stop before I did something I’d regret.

And she was only getting louder.

But I had to ignore it — force myself to keep pushing until I reached my destination. It might’ve felt like I was wading my hand through a large pocket of clay, but that didn’t matter. As difficult as it was, I could still feel my fingers inching closer and closer.

I was almost there now, just barely above my bag’s clip. All I’d need to do was reach down, unhook it, and grab my camera. From there, I could do the rest.

My hands felt like they were on fire, the energy coursing through them mixing with the overwhelming desire to stop myself before I could do this. It was tempting, but the more I thought about Alice and the way her body looked, the more I pushed back with equal struggle. It was a depressing game of tug of war, but I was winning.

Don’t worry, Alice. I thought. I’m almost—

The second I touched the clip, something happened.

It started off as a small reverberation, the tiniest noise emanating from somewhere that seemed far away. I couldn’t hear what it wanted, but something about its hum seemed oddly familiar.

I figured I was just hearing things. That my mind – rattled and on edge, had concocted some kind of auditory disturbance.

But then it came closer.

The familiarity made a lot more sense the second I heard it again: it was that voice. That strange, inner voice of mine that’d been haunting my head without relent for the last ten years.

This was the voice that mocked me for my mistakes, the voice that berated my decisions, the one that’d been strangely more talkative these last few months than ever before.

Except it seemed to be different somehow. It didn’t sound like some far-off, disembodied set of words echoing from a dark corner inside my brain. It was loud. Louder than ever before, and strangely, so much closer.

When it spoke, it sounded like the most powerful whisper I’d ever heard. Like someone was speaking in a hushed tone, directly into my ears.

“Y’know, I knew it was only a matter of time,” it taunted. “I had a feeling that eventually, you’d fuck up somehow and try to play the hero again.”

Its words bounced around my skull like a ricocheting bullet, each collision picking away at my resolve — flooding me with doubt.

I couldn’t let it win.

“You just can’t help yourself can you? No matter what I say, you always find a way to be the most idiotic piece of shit you can possibly be.”

“I…” I began, not bothering to take notice of the fact that I was speaking aloud. “I — I have to do this. I have to save her. This is — this is Alice we’re talking about, I —“

“Oh. So…because you know her, she gets a pass? I wonder how that brown-haired woman you killed in Arcadia Bay would feel about that.”

I gulped, shutting my eyes in a desperate attempt to will the voice — as well as the image of that brown-haired woman’s demise — away from me. “She — she was only 18, I —“

“Chloe was 19. Does that one year in between really determine whether or not somebody lives or dies to you?”

I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that I didn’t have a response or that I felt myself starting to agree with her.

I let Chloe get shot all those years ago because I understood it was the only way I could save Arcadia Bay from my own shitty mistakes. A few months ago, I stood by and let that brown-haired woman get run over by a truck because I knew all too well what would happen if I didn’t.

For ten years, October 7th had served as a reminder of just how catastrophic my fuck-ups could be. How much I’d risk if I ever allowed myself to be that selfish again. If I brought Alice back, it’d go against everything I’d tried so hard to stand for, everything I’d promised Chloe…

I mean – who did I think I was? Trying to play God like this. Ignoring the misery of one person just to resurrect another a few months later – that’s about as hypocritical as it gets.

How was any of that fair? How could I say I was doing right by anyone – much less Alice – if I only chose to help the people closest to me?

And the worst part about all this? I wasn’t sure if that’s what I actually believed anymore, or if that was simply my inner voice speaking through me.

At this point, how could I be truly sure of anything?

I sniffled, my shaking breath faltering as I opened my eyes to stare at Alice one last time. Seeing her like that again, dead and forever scared, it made me feel like a knife was being jammed straight into my stomach. I’d half hoped that her body would vanish the second I looked; that somehow, this was still nothing more than another one of my terrible dreams.

But I was never that lucky.

It’s so terrible, the way your brain desperately latches itself onto any form of hope it can muster. No matter how real something seems, there’s always that tiny sliver of ‘what if?’ lingering somewhere in the background. The vague idea that nothing you saw was actually real.

And then it finally hits you, and you’re suffocated under the weight of reality.

…but, ‘what if’?

What if I did do this?

After all, I had a reason to hope, didn’t I? Out of everyone in the whole world, I was probably the only person with the luxury to have this kind of dilemma. To weigh the consequences of bringing someone I loved back to life. To have hope that it was possible to fight against whatever the universe threw at you, and come out on top.

I’d only ever had that kind of hope when Alice was around. For the half-year that I’d known her, she’d been the sole reason I could even entertain the idea of moving forward after all these years.

Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was idiotic, but maybe, I deserved that kind of hope.

It might’ve been far away, but I could still see it. The brightest little glimmer of optimism, just waiting to be given form.

I gripped at the carpet, steadying my voice as I spoke. “Maybe it is stupid, maybe it is hypocritical of me to bring her back, but…I – I have to do this. She’s all I have left.”

The voice scoffed. “Even with all that dedication, you still sound so scared. No matter how much you try to force yourself into believing it’s possible, you can’t deny how terrified you are of causing another storm…but wait — that’s not really it, is it?”

I loosened my grip, the tiny light I’d felt inside my chest disappearing like a match in the wind. “What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re not scared something terrible will happen if you bring her back, are you? No…you’re scared nothing will.”

I shook my head. “Stop.”

“Deep down, there’s nothing you fear more than realizing you were wrong, is there? You’re scared that all your baseless hypotheticals and shitty ‘rules’ about how the universe works aren’t true in the slightest. Because if that were true…then you could’ve saved Chloe, couldn’t you?”

“Stop it!”

“You’re scared that you’ve spent all this time wallowing in your own self-pity when really, you could’ve used that time to find another way.”

“I said stop!” I commanded, shaking uncontrollably. But it was useless.

“So go ahead, be my guest. Bring Alice back and see what happens. But you won’t. You and I both know that.”

“SHUT! UP!” I shouted, slamming my fist to the ground with so much force I’d almost certainly broken something — either that or I’d upset Alice’s annoying downstairs neighbor again.

None of that mattered, though. Even as I felt wave after wave of radiating pain surging through my hand, I didn’t do so much as wince.

Broken bones, aggressive neighbors, pain – all of that was pointless. What mattered was the deafening silence that followed my angered cry of defiance. A silence that signaled the voice was finally gone.

I didn’t fully understand how I knew exactly, but I could tell. For whatever reason, that twisted voice had finally left my head. She wasn’t listening in anymore, wasn’t lurking around in the dark, waiting in silence to pounce on top of me the second I made another mistake.

She was gone, which meant for now, I was finally alone.

Normally, I would’ve used that newfound silence to reflect, probably ‘wallow in my own self-pity’ as the voice had put it.

I should’ve been filled with sadness, too distraught to do much of anything outside of crying until my sinuses caved in.

But surprisingly, I wasn’t sad. Or, to put it more plainly, I didn’t have the capacity for sadness. Whatever chemicals my brain had needed to feel that emotion, they weren’t there. Perhaps delayed or missing in action.

In that moment, all I could feel was an endless, unyielding rush of anger flowing through every single cell in my body. Some of it was directed at myself, some toward my powers or the person who did this; but through it all, the loudest, most tempestuous thoughts ringing inside my body, were the departing words of that voice.

“You won’t. You and I both know that.”

Oh, I’d show her who wouldn’t. I’d show her exactly, who was too scared to do the impossible.

Without giving myself a chance to think, I rushed my hand towards the clip of my bag again; this time, fueled by rage. The sensation of my power crackling throughout the tips of my fingers was so much more vivid and powerful than ever before. I didn’t know if that was because of my anger or simply because I was finally getting close. Either way, I didn’t bother wasting a single nanosecond thinking about it.

All I’d need to do was open that damned bag, pull out my camera, look through the viewfinder, and turn back the clock. Once I’d brought Alice back, this nightmare would finally be over and the two of us could enjoy our big night out with Victoria. Who knows? Maybe I’d drink myself silly for once. Maybe I’d let Alice do the same. It only seemed fair, considering she’d died and all.

But I wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. Neither of us would.

My movements were quick. In one fluid motion, I unlatched my bag, grabbed my camera, took a peak at the viewfinder, and—

…I stopped.

Why had I stopped?

My fingers were gripping at the lens for all they were worth. I could feel the tendons straining, groaning from all the pain of my broken hand and creaking from the pressure I was exerting to make them bend to my will. All I had to do was turn them, so…why wasn’t I?

I grit my teeth, flexing every single muscle in my body in some vain attempt to make them move along with me. But I couldn’t do it.

No matter how much I tried to twist and turn so the camera lens would reverse the flow of time, nothing happened. No matter how many times I huffed, grimaced and groaned, there was nothing I could do to make myself move.

And just as quickly as the anger came, it vanished without a trace. Leaving me to face one, single, horrifying realization:

The voice was right. I couldn’t do this. Even if I wanted to, even if I kept telling myself that this was something I needed to do; there was still something deeply instinctual inside my soul. A deep-seated fear that would always work to stop me from ever making that decision again.

I tried to deny it. Force myself to move, to make that leap, to do anything but sit there and cry. But it was pointless.

All of it was pointless. Because when it came right down to it, I was nothing.

I wasn’t a savior. I wasn't a hero, a teacher, a mentor, or a sister. At the end of the day, all I’d ever been was useless, cowardly Max Caulfield; a sad, pathetic woman whose only two skills were letting down the people she loves, and feeling sorry for herself.

Barely a moment later, I dropped my camera straight to the floor. As it landed on the ground with a heavy thud, it became dirtied, covered in muck just like the rest of the carpet. My hands were fixed in place, uselessly frozen in their position. No matter how much I willed it, I still couldn’t make them move.

As the swirling miasma of guilt began tugging against my lungs, my eyes shifted over to Alice’s body, now completely dull and devoid of color. Then, I turned my gaze to the camera, the reflective lens staring back at me from the ground, showing me the terrified image of my own colorless face. My entire being shook, hundreds upon thousands of barely contained emotions swelling up inside my core. Each one was more intense and violent than the last. They kept pushing with impunity, rising high in an endless flood of unrelenting pressure building and building until I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

The dam had finally broken, and immediately, I let out one terrible, all-encompassing scream.

My ears started ringing again, so I couldn’t hear it, but I could definitely feel it. I felt it tearing at my throat, applying pressure to my eyeballs, siphoning the oxygen from my body – no matter how much it damaged me though, nothing it made me feel ever quite captured all the pain I truly felt.

I don’t remember leaving the building.

At some point in the midst of all my screams, I felt a pair of hands grabbing at my limbs, ushering me to move. I remembered trying to fight back too, using what little energy I had left to try and stay with Alice for as long as I possibly could. But eventually, I lost the battle.

After that, the rest was a blur.

When I finally came to, I found myself seated in front of a table inside a large, windowed room, a warm, shiny blanket draped over my shoulders. Even with the door closed, I could still hear the shuffling of heavy boots and the grumbles of hurried calls coming from the outside.

It didn't take long for me to suss out where I was: the police station. The hands I felt must’ve been an officer trying to pry me from the scene. I guessed that after they finally managed to calm me down (however long that took), they decided to throw me into one of their interrogation rooms for questioning. I could already see the report papers on the opposite side of the table. Wherever my would-be questioner was however, I had no idea.

I figured I’d be sitting here for a while, so I decided to settle in and get comfortable – or – about as comfortable as I could get in my sorry state. My eyes ached, my sinuses hurt, and my throat, it felt like I’d just swallowed a boiling cup of hot lava.

There wasn’t really much I could do about that however, so I simply pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and sank deep into my seat.

As the overhead clock ticked away minute after minute, I couldn’t help but take notice of the fact that I was all alone with my thoughts again.

A part of me was still hoping that none of this was real. That this whole night had been nothing more than a crazy, yet long-overdue psychotic break. Perhaps, I’d just hallucinated Alice’s body inside that apartment.

But even I wasn’t that stupid.

Remembering the image of her corpse – it still made me feel a large gaping hole on the inside of my stomach, but other than that, I didn’t know what to feel. Everything had become so…numb. Empty. It’s similar to that long, drawn-out emptiness you feel when the AC suddenly shuts off. Your ears get so used to the low rumble of all that air, that the second it stops, you’re left with a deafening silence far greater than you ever expected.

It was like you’d lost something that you never realized was even there in the first place.

Before I could reminisce on that thought any further, I felt my phone buzzing inside my pocket. I moved to grab it, but just as I freed my hand from the blanket, I felt it buzz again…then again. And again.

I had a feeling I knew who it was: Victoria.

Knowing she’d likely been waiting at the airport for more than a few hours made me feel a sharp pang of guilt. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that she might’ve been wondering where the hell I’d been all this time. I could only hope that she’d eventually said enough was enough and called an Uber to her hotel.

I wanted to pull my phone out and answer her, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not now.

If I saw the messages, I’d feel compelled to answer them, and if I did that I’d have to explain to Victoria what had happened, and I couldn’t do that because if I did then that would mean all of this was real and Alice was really–

Dead.

Alice was really, truly, dead.

Realizing that made me feel like I was back in that apartment all over again.

Suddenly, the door clicked open, practically startling me out of my seat.

“Okay, miss…” a deep voice called, almost in a whisper. “I’m happy to say we had that tea you wanted.”

The voice, of course, belonged to an officer. He looked older, probably in his late 40s or early 50s, and while he was in full uniform, he wasn’t carrying any of his gear. As a result, he looked way smaller and less intimidating than he probably did on a daily basis. Especially so considering he was currently holding a steaming mug with some floral pattern printed on it.

It was stupid, but now that a cop was actually here, I couldn’t help feeling a small sense of resentment. I knew it was irrational to think this way, but inside my head, I wondered where the hell he’d been while Alice was getting her torso gutted out like a fish. If he or some other officer had just been around at the time…

I shook my head. It was pointless to think about that now. Besides, something confused me. When the hell had I asked for tea?

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, my voice still painfully hoarse. Merely talking made my throat feel all scratchy and irritated.

“Your tea. You asked for some chamomile when we got here. I, uh, added a bit of honey to it. Helps soothe the throat.”

As soon as he set the mug down in front of me, I gave it a long, blank stare. At this point, it seemed like a hundred years had passed since Alice first told me about her powers. Even now, I could sense the ghost of that hug we shared still coiling around my waist. How comfy and warm it felt…

How ironic was it that I hadn’t told her about my powers that day? Back then, I’d simply been trying to protect her, but I guess it didn’t matter in the end.

The memory ruined whatever appetite or thirst I might’ve had. My stomach was busy as it was getting all twisted up in knots. It didn’t need to make it worse by giving it food or drink to process.

Still, my throat was on fire. If I had to answer any questions, it was gonna be a pretty miserable experience unless I did something to help dull the pain.

So, with great reluctance, I held the cup between my hands and took a sip. I should’ve been overjoyed that the hot liquid immediately started to soothe me. The second it went down, it healed my throat and warmed up my insides until I was nice and cozy.

At the moment however, I just couldn’t find the will to care.

“Like it? If you need any extra sugar or honey I can go grab some no problem.”

I nodded.

“Awesome. So…” he began, sitting down in the chair across from me. “First thing’s first: my name is Officer Harold Truman, but please, call me Harry. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but I guess I was already here. It was probably best to get it out of the way now while I could, lest I lose any sleep worrying about it later.

“That’s fine.”

“Alright, can you tell me your name, ma’am?”

“Max Caulfield.” I heaved, my voice about as gentle and smooth as a strip of 20 grit sandpaper.

“And how do you know the victim?”

“She’s–” I caught myself. “She was one of my students.”

“I see,” he said, making sure to place a sympathetic drawl on that last inflection. Without another word, he started jotting something down on his papers. “Were you two close?”

Close? She was like a sister to me. We spent every single day together for the last six months. Spent time outside of school working on our art and helping each other improve. Yeah, I think we were pretty close.

“...yes,” was just about the only thing that managed to slip out. Logically, I knew that was the best response, but something inside my mind had wished I’d blurted every single word out with what little power my voice still had – let it burn free. But of course, I chose not to. Just another demonstration of the great Maxine Caulfield’s cowardice.

“Do you remember the last time you saw or spoke to her?”

“She was at school,” excited as can be. Jumping up and down with pure joy the second we met up for lunch. She told me she’d pick out her best outfit for the night. That it’d even knock the pants off of someone like Victoria. “After that, I didn’t see her again in person. The last time she texted me was sometime around six o’ clock, I think.”

“I see…” he said again, more scribbles scratching at the paper. “So, can you tell me what happened when you got to the apartment? Try to be specific.”

I did what I could to recount the events using as many details as possible. Entering the building, seeing that greasy looking man at the door, waiting for Alice – everything. The entire time, Officer Truman simply nodded along with my responses and continued to jot things down like it was yet another measly cog in his routine.

“Now, I know this might be difficult, but do you remember what you saw when you found her? Any important details that stood out? Did you…I dunno, move anything around?”

‘Difficult’. What a shitty word to describe reliving the moment you found your friend’s corpse. What was there to ‘point out’ that they hadn’t noticed already? The fact that she was stabbed to death? The way her body was placed against the wall without a shred of caution or care?

The color of…

“Her face,” I mumbled. “It still had some color in it when I found her, so – she couldn’t have been dead long.”

Officer Truman gave me a sympathetic look then. It seemed so…artificial, rehearsed. As terrible as I was on picking up tone, even I could sense this guy had done something just like this a thousand times before. “Thank you very much, Max. I promise, you’ve been a big help. Bigger than you think”

As if.

Once he was finished writing a few more notes down, he shuffled around in his seat, reaching behind him for something I couldn’t see. “Before we let you go I have two more things I need to ask you.”

“Like?” I huffed. It came out a lot more rude and passive-aggressive than I meant it to, but by now, I was just about ready to get the fuck back home so I could do what I did best: cry myself to sleep.

“First thing is this,” he clarified, sliding me a photo that looked like it’d been printed pretty recently. It was blurry, grainy, streaky; All the hallmarks of a security camera still using one of those ancient CCD sensors. Despite the terrible image quality however, I could still tell that the photo was a captured image of the apartment’s lobby. Timestamped to just a few hours ago. Nothing looked entirely out of the ordinary except for one thing at the very center of the frame: a large man, wearing all black, caught mid-gait on his way towards the exit.

“What — what is this?” I asked, a little confused.

”Earlier, while we were securing the building, we had one the owners show us all the CCTV footage captured throughout the day. That man in the center? He arrived at around 5:55 tonight.”

I felt my breath quicken, a chill of cold sweat creeping up my back like a rising snake. “And…according to this, he left barely ten minutes later. Are you saying—“

”Yes, Miss Caulfield. I wanted to show you that photo just in case you recognized him. We found him suspicious, but we’ve been waiting for forensics to determine the approximate time of death to be sure. If what you said is true, and Miss O’Connor wasn’t dead for very long by the time you found her, that would make this man our primary suspect in this case.”

My body froze, eyes scanning over each and every one of the black-gray pixels currently making up the human shaped blob at the photo’s center. I wasn’t sure if Officer Truman could tell, but I was practically vibrating with shock. Heart pounding so intensely the sound thumped over and over again inside my ears.

”Do you…recognize him, Miss Caulfield? At all?” he urged. Already, his voice sounded desperate and eager. I silently hoped that didn’t mean he was banking on me being able to provide him with more information. Because if he was, and he had no idea who this guy could be…

I tore my eyes away from the photo in an instant, shoving it back to his side with a heavy, shaking breath.

Officer Truman was right – I did know that man. In a manner of speaking, anyway. He was the person I’d seen leaving the building the moment I was making my way inside.

It’d been such a quick encounter too. One of those everyday moments you forget about within the span of just a few hours. Case in point: I’d already forgotten about it until just now myself.

I’d been waddling on my heels toward the entrance, slowly but surely making my way across the parking lot. I remember feeling a little proud of myself for making it so far without tripping, and then, right as I reached to push the door open, someone pulled it from the inside.

He was large, stocky looking. Probably somewhere around six feet tall, maybe more. Just like the picture showed, he’d been wearing all black: a black trench coat, black slacks, black shoes – he even had a black baseball cap on his head.

Right as he saw me, he nodded and stepped back, holding the door open so I could walk inside. As I made my way in, I’d given him an awkward smile and a light nod of gratitude. I even said “thanks” the moment I passed him. Then, right after that, he waltzed outside like nothing was out of the ordinary.

My mouth went dry as I recalled the sequence of events. He was right there. He’d been right in front of me and I never even knew. Like the fucking idiot that I am, I let him walk right past me and out that door without giving it so much as a second thought. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that his outfit was weird, that he was trying to seem less conspicuous, and all of this happened mere minutes after he’d killed Alice.

“Miss Caulfield?” Officer Truman asked. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

I clutched the blanket more tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart into a million pieces. “Y-yeah, he – he was leaving the building the same time I came in.”

He nodded. “Can you recall anything that stood out to you? Tattoos, birthmarks, eye color…”

Recall what he looked like…

I swallowed hard, shoving back all the bile slowly rising inside my throat. If he was asking me that, and the picture Officer Truman just showed me was the only photo he had, then he really was relying on me to give him a lead after all.

Dammit.

Fuck.

Of all the ways I could’ve done to help find Alice’s murderer…why did it have to come down to remembering a face? I had trouble recalling what most of my students looked like on any given day. Trying to recount the features of a man I spotted in a random, five second encounter? There was no chance in hell.

You have to at least try. I told myself. For Alice.

Steeling myself, I shut my eyes and tried piecing together exactly what that man had looked like inside my head. His skin tone, his features, his eye color, facial hair, birthmarks – anything. I kept recounting the scene over and over again, doing everything I could to force my mind’s eye into telling me what might’ve stood out. I knew he was white, but the more I tried, the less sense I could make of anything else. Was his nose big? Did he have blue eyes – or was it brown – purple? Any stubble? Hair color? Was he bald? Wait, fuck, did he even have a nose?

…

I had no idea.

No matter how hard I tried to see it, I couldn’t remember.

To me, recalling a face was like trying to carve a statue out of rock without a reference. Every time I tried it, I’d have to use the hammer and chisel of my imagination to cut out the best approximation I could manage. Trying to remember a face I’d barely seen for more than a few seconds, however? I might as well have been trying to sculpt a marble bust with a pair of pool noodles. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have been faceless.

“I…no. I can’t remember anything,” I admitted. “I – I wasn’t paying enough attention. He was…I dunno, maybe six feet tall? White?”

The look of dejection Officer Truman gave me as I said that was clear as day. It made me want to slap myself. I was likely the only person who’d seen that man up close, and all I could manage for a description was that he’d been six feet tall, and white…roughly half of the entire male population.

“I see. Well, thank you Miss Caulfield,” without saying much else, he grabbed the photo and started shuffling around like before. “And here’s the last thing.”

This time, he held up a clear plastic bag, one labeled ‘EVIDENCE’ in big black lettering. “We found this in one of Miss O’Connor’s hands. I was wondering if you recognized the handwriting or had any idea what it could mean.”

My brow furrowed. Something had been in Alice’s hand? I hadn’t seen that…

When he slid it over, I picked it up gingerly and eyed the contents. Inside, there was a single strip of white paper, ripped from a larger piece, folded in half. When I flattened it out, I was greeted to the sight of two words that made my heart stop beating.

‘I know’

Okay, now, this had to be a nightmare because what. The. Fuck.

Instantly, as if caffeine had just been pumped straight into my veins, my mind started racing at about a thousand miles an hour.

The first thing was that this definitely wasn’t Alice’s handwriting. I knew her well enough by now to know. Hers had been cute, uneven, and slightly messy – but this? This was way too small and refined. The almost calligraphic look of it reminded me of how my mom or dad would usually write out grocery lists with that half-cursive half-print script of theirs.

And that wasn’t even thinking about what the fuck this message could mean. ‘I know’? Know what? Did this have something to do with Alice? Because, if not then–

My eyes went wide as saucers, puzzle pieces clicking into place one by one as I pored over the message.

This note had been left in Alice’s hand, and if she hadn’t written it, then it had to have been placed there by the killer. If he’d really gone out of his way to plant it on Alice’s body, then he’d been hoping for someone to find it.

It was a message addressed to whoever the killer had in mind. Someone that he knew would be around to see it.

None of the police officers made any sense. If he wanted somebody on the force to find it, then why had he chosen such a specific victim? Alice wasn’t related to any of the police as far as I was aware, and if he was just some crazy serial killer, he could’ve picked out any of the other dozen targets inside the same apartment building. No…he’d spent less than ten minutes there — went straight to her apartment with a plan in mind. If she’d been the target the moment he stepped inside, then he’d left that note for somebody he’d guessed would find her body.

Alice had told me on multiple occasions that she didn’t have any friends to hang out with outside of school. I’d been the only one.

And tonight, only one person had made plans to visit her:

Me.

My already shaking fingers started to tremble. I felt like I’d been zapped with a taser, the motions threatening to tear the paper apart if I wasn’t careful.

“Miss Caulfield?”

If this message had been left for me, then the killer ‘knew’ something. A secret, some kind of hidden fact that I’d suss out the moment I saw the paper. Something so obvious that all he’d need to write for me to understand it were two simple words.

And there was only one secret he could’ve been referring to:

My powers.

“Max, are you alright?”

My unblinking eyes burned with pain, hands clenching the bag with a grip so tight it just barely stopped me from screaming at the top of my lungs again.

Whoever this killer was, he knew about my powers. But not just that, he’d known I’d been close to Alice.

“Miss Caulfield, you need to breathe.”

She’d been targeted as a means of sending a message. But why? Why would someone do something like this? What was he trying to say? Had he known about Alice’s powers too? Was I next? Was somebody close to me going to be next? Would this continue until everyone I cared about was dead? There were too many impossible questions to ask, too many reasons for my mind to continue spiraling. All I could think was, what the fuck did any of this mean?!

I felt queasy, terrified. I must not have been breathing, because my lungs felt like they were on fire — fit to burst.

I don’t remember when, but at some point, Officer Truman had gotten out of his seat to try and help me. If you could even call grabbing my shoulders and shaking me relentlessly ‘help’, that is. He kept trying to reassure me I think, but his words simply blended together with the slowly hazing edges of the world around me.

So much was still running through my mind by the time I lost consciousness, but one thing was for certain; a single thought so terrible it burned hotter than the rest, searing its painful brand deep inside my skull.

No matter what I might’ve thought before, there was no doubt about it now.

This was all my fault.

Alice had died because of me.

1 Month Later

A month.

Relatively speaking, that’s such a short amount of time in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it?

In a month, the moon goes through all of its phases. In a month, you’re back to paying those bills you swore you’d sent in a week ago. In a month, the seasons change. And in a month, time seems to slip through the gaps of your fingers like tiny grains of sand.

There’d been a time when a single month felt like a thousand years to me – a version of Max Caulfield that thought 31 days might as well lead to the heat death of the universe.

But I got older, and like everything else, time is relative. The more of it you’ve spent alive, the more quickly it seems to pass. When I was 18, the months seemed to go by so slowly. Problem after problem festered day by day until the first of a new month came along to remind me it was finally over.

Nowadays, a month feels like nothing more than a blip in the wind.

With how fast our world seems to move, it can be laughably easy to forget just how much can change in such a short amount of time.

The only things that ever served to remind you of that fact were life’s halting moments – events that forced you to stop moving and perceive the world a little more slowly. They’re never expected, and almost always unpleasant, but when they do happen, there’s no stopping that terrible sense of moving at half-speed while the world around you races on.

It only took two days for my first ‘halting moment’ to rear its ugly head: Alice never got a funeral.

I’d been at the coroner’s office that day, crying quietly inside the morgue while I gave Alice my final goodbyes. The medical examiner had told me not to look, that it was best to remember her as she was – not as she is. But I looked anyway, pulled back the sheet to see her face one last time. I felt that I at least owed it to her after what I’d done.

You killed her. It’s only right for you to see what you did.

When I finally stepped out, I bumped into a pair of people I never thought I’d get the chance to meet: Alice’s foster parents. I’d always assumed she had some considering she’d been in the system, but she neglected to ever mention them to me. Not only that, I didn’t remember seeing a single picture of them anywhere inside her apartment.

One was a tall, bald looking guy with a mustache so thick it could cut through diamonds. The other, a graying, wrinkly woman with jowls so saggy you could’ve mistaken her for a bloodhound.

I tried introducing myself to them, explaining that I was Alice’s teacher and close friend, but neither of them seemed to care. In fact, they didn’t seem to care much about Alice’s death either. Their expressions were steely the entire time I spoke, unchanging and unwavering. When they went into the morgue, they came out only a few minutes later looking exactly the same.

I asked them what they planned to do with Alice’s body. I even offered to help pay for any necessary funeral preparations, but they simply looked at me in confusion, silently saying, ‘who does this girl think she is?’

That’s when they told me they wouldn’t be having a funeral. All they were going to do was cremate her and bring her back home.

I didn’t think they were serious at first. Figured that surely, the two of them were pulling some kind of sick joke, as inappropriate as it was. But when they didn’t laugh or double back on what they said, I felt all my pent up anger rise to the surface like rotting wood in a river.

I yelled at them in protest, said some unpleasant things to make them feel as terrible as they deserved. All they did was stare at me blankly, their faces still stuck in those steely expressions like it was the only emotion they could convey. In the end, all I managed to do was get myself escorted out of the building by security, crying and screaming like a toddler.

Alice wouldn't be getting a wake or a procession. She was going to be burned into a pile of ash and stuffed inside a metal urn, doomed to be forgotten about on a shelf neither of those people would care to clean.

Then, just a few days later, the next halting moment happened when I quit my job as a teacher.

The moment I announced I was leaving, all the other professors started clambering in protest, telling me I could take an extended leave for as long as I wanted instead. I could come back whenever I was ready, and I’d be welcomed back with open arms.

But there was no chance in hell I’d ever allow myself to step foot inside a classroom again. Not when my presence alone would put every single one of my students at risk. I wasn’t going to let myself hurt anyone else. Not anymore.

So even as Donna begged me to stay, even as she pleaded that everything would be okay and that I shouldn’t leave my ‘work wife’ behind, I simply said “no.” Cruel and cold like I felt.

I asked her for one last favor though. One final act of cruelty to bestow upon her before I left for good: I told her to take care of Bongo for me.

It hurt just as much to put him inside that kennel and drive away from Donna’s house, but it had to be done. If I couldn’t protect Alice or keep her safe, what chance did I have at taking care of a cat?

Once he was gone, that’s when everything really started to slow down. The world had decided it was time for me to move in slow motion; where the days suddenly felt like years, and the hours felt like weeks.

I cut myself off from the world, spent every waking moment of eternity sitting alone in silence, allowing the darkest of my thoughts to fester into a thick, murky swamp of guilt and regret. Every second seemed to blend together with the rest, all my emotions swirling and pooling together until they formed a large dark mass that loomed over my head like a heavy storm cloud. It weighed me down, cast me in shadow, made getting up every morning ten times harder. It even screamed at me. Its incessant, never-ending cry a constant echo of reminder towards my fate:

“You don’t deserve to be out in the world, around others,” it said. “All you deserve is to hole yourself up in the shadows and wallow in your own tears. At least that way, you’ll be far, far away from all the people you could hurt. Far away from the light you don’t deserve.”

Light…that was a reward. Something I wasn’t worthy of seeing after everything I’d done.

Inside my apartment, I kept the shades closed and the lights turned off. Even the faintest glimmer of sunlight, or the tiniest glow of a fluorescent bulb was nothing more than a distraction for me. A gleam of hope that’d only serve to stop me from completing my only goal: tracking down Alice’s killer.

Weeks after her death, the police still hadn’t turned up any leads on who the man in the black jacket could possibly be. There was no DNA to be found at the crime scene, no clues left behind to infer even a single thing about his history. The only evidence of his existence was the security camera of footage of Winton Garden. The same footage I’d seen the night Alice died.

For a while, it seemed like he’d actually get away with murder, that he’d disappear like a ghost in the night until he decided to come knocking on my door. I wasn’t going to let that happen, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Finding him became my only purpose. Using my laptop, I’d spend every second of every day scouring through criminal databases and online registries. He had to be out there somewhere, and I wasn’t going to let him walk free if I could help it. My only hope was that I’d eventually recognize him when I saw him — if I saw him — but even that was small and frail.

I spent so much time staring at screens that the headaches felt like jagged roots stabbing and boring into every nerve of my skull. I went so long without eating that my stomach became a deep hollow pit at the center of my gut, threatening to swallow me whole if I let my guard down.

But still, I kept going, forced myself to eat, drink, and sleep out of necessity. None of it did anything to ease the pain or soothe my mind of course, but I had to do it – I had to keep searching.

I wasn’t going to die without giving Alice her due justice.

Whenever things got really miserable, when the dense fog of guilt surrounding me grew too large and too suffocating to bear, I always pulled out that first photo Alice ever sent me — the shot of Lieutenant Cooper. It reminded me of why I was here; of my failure, my guilt, the whole reason I was still going in the first place. It was the only thing that gave me any kind of resolve or a reason to keep pushing. If I ever started to think, this is pointless…I’m never going to find him. You’re nothing, I’d grab the image and pore over every detail with my tired, sallow eyes: I’d trace the form, the details, the shadows, everything that made the shot so distinctly Alice, and then, I’d get right back to work.

The only piece of her I had left was a single black and white photo, and it was the only thing that kept me going.

The world started to look like that too, black and white. Every time I stared at the photo, each shadow and shade of that toy soldier leaked out of my vision, permeating until everything seemed so colorless and dull. Life had been brought down the barest of essentials, none of the vibrance of emotion that made it worthwhile.

A world without Alice in it? That might as well have been nothing more than a monochrome photograph.

I don’t remember how much time I spent scouring in total. In the darkness of my apartment, it was impossible to tell. Even with the clock of my laptop always visible to me, I hardly paid attention to it.

Time is a distraction. I told myself. Something you aren’t allowed to worry about.

It figured that after all was said and done, I’d simply traded one cycle for another. I’d finally broken free of the monotony I'd been plagued with for years, only to end up throwing myself into the arms of yet another inescapable loop.

One that was only broken when I heard a couple of knocks on my door a month later.

It caught me off guard. I hadn’t had a single visitor in all the time I’d decided to coop myself up inside my apartment, and for a split second, I had the small, terrifying thought that the man in the black jacket had finally come for me. He knew about me, didn’t he? I could be rest assured that it was only a matter of time before he came to murder me like he did Alice.

Slowly, I rose out of my seat in the kitchen and inched toward the door. I tried to remain as quiet as possible, to not hint that anyone was actually home, but when I peered through the tiny peephole, my fear was replaced with confusion.

Outside the door stood Victoria, and…

Kate Beverly Marsh. A friend of mine from my Blackwell days.

Victoria had this furious expression etched onto her face, and for some reason, she was carrying a plastic bag.

Kate on the other hand? She looked nervous, her hands clasped together and fidgety as if anticipating something terrible. Aside from that however, she looked just as pretty and prim as ever. Ten years and the only major difference was that she chose to wear her dirty blonde hair down these days. She’d always kept in a bun back when she was a teenager, but now, those beautifully golden locks were on full display for everyone to see. Her sense of style hadn’t changed much though. Today, she was wearing a sleek white blouse and a modest knee-length skirt to match. As usual, she had a golden cross wrapped around her neck.

I had no idea why either of them were here. Sure, I’d been ghosting Victoria for the last month and I hadn’t returned any of her calls…but, why would she take the time to come all the way out here to see me in person?

Before I got the chance to ponder any further, Victoria started pounding on the door again. “Open up, Max. We both know you’re in there.”

There was no way I was getting out of this was there?

Reluctantly, I unlatched the door and cracked it open. I was hesitant, but I still peered my head outside to greet them. The light was practically blinding.

“Victoria? Kate? What are you two doing here?”

“Why are we—“ she scoffed, frustration dripping from her voice. “To crown you as the new queen of fucking England, Max.”

”Victoria…” Kate chided.

She rolled her eyes. “We’re here to check in on you. Why else would we be here?”

My heart sank. I knew it should’ve been obvious from the beginning, but up until now I’d secretly been hoping it wasn’t true.

The very thought of letting them inside the apartment made my insides churn. I couldn’t let them see it, much less see me in my current state. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement. I hadn’t shaved my legs in weeks, hadn’t brushed my hair, taken out the trash, done the laundry, or cleaned up the ever growing pile of dirty dishes I’d accumulated. The only things I still did to maintain any sense of hygiene were taking a shower and brushing my teeth, but even those were starting to feel like pointless chores.

”Well, you’ve checked in, and I’m fine. You can go now.” I grumbled, moving to close the door. Unfortunately for me, Victoria grabbed it before I could and slammed it right back open.

“Hey!” I protested, but in spite of my complaints, the two of them walked inside without saying a single word.

Now self-conscious as all hell, I turned around to stare at them as they took in the sorry state of my apartment. Victoria muttered a quiet ‘Jesus…’ under her breath, Kate simply held onto her cross and let out a heavy sigh.

This was seriously the last thing I’d wanted.

The much angrier looking blonde placed the plastic bag atop the kitchen table, addressing Kate with a commanding tone in her voice. “I’ll get the laundry and start cleaning up. Katie, you wanna get the dishes?”

”Of course,” Kate said, moving into the kitchen without question.

As the sound of the running faucet tingled my ears, Victoria chose to glower at me. Her gaze was piercing, powerful enough to turn anyone to stone if they were unfortunate enough to get caught in it. From how she looked, I thought she might start yelling at me or berating me for ignoring her all this time, but instead, she simply waltzed over to the shades and began aggressively pulling each of them open one by one. I had to cover my eyes, so much light so soon was way too intense for me to handle.

Once all the white spots in my vision faded out of existence, I was greeted by the sight of Kate scrubbing the dishes and Victoria picking up various articles of clothing off the ground. All I could do was stare uselessly as the two of them worked to clean my apartment.

It made me feel even more useless than I already did. The discomfort was so palpable I felt like curling up into a ball and hiding away. They must’ve thought I was so pathetic…

For a few minutes, everything was silent. The only sounds I could hear were the clattering of ceramic dishes and the soft thumping of clothes being tossed into a laundry basket. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know what to do. Would Victoria be mad at me if I did? Would Kate just dismiss me? How much would they expect me to help if I couldn’t even look them in the eyes? I was wrong when I said this was embarrassing, it was more humiliating, degrading, shameful. It made me do something I hadn’t done in a long time: hold onto my elbow for dear life. It was an old nervous tick I thought I’d shaken years ago, but old habits die hard I guess.

A sudden sound cut through all the awkwardness. My phone’s alarm going off, signaling it was around five o’ clock. I’d been using it as a reminder to eat.

As soon as they heard it, both of them turned to stare at me with knowing looks on their faces. I gave it a couple nervous glances, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I should silence it or let it play out.

Victoria ended up answering for me. “Go ahead, turn it off. Glad to see it still works though…could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t give her a hard time, Tori,” Kate said, which made Victoria mutter a few frustrated grumbles I couldn’t quite make out.

Wordlessly, I shuffled over to the table and shut it off, which prompted Kate to come greet me, opening the plastic bag Victoria had brought in earlier. Inside was a cardboard to-go box with some food. Even without opening it I knew it was something fried.

“Food alarm? We got you some tenders and fries on the way over. Your favorite,” she smiled. I didn’t deserve it.

While I appreciated the gesture, I wasn’t all that hungry. Or – maybe I was and I just didn’t recognize it anymore. My stomach had felt like a huge chasm for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if that was from starvation or depression.

“Thanks, but…I–”

“Eat.” Victoria ordered. “Not taking no for an answer.”

Kate looked at me with an obviously exasperated smile, imploring me to do what she said. I didn’t really have much of a choice, so I simply decided to dig in without complaint.

The two of them didn’t say anything else as I ate. I had no idea if that was because they didn’t know what to say, or if they were too afraid of addressing the obvious elephant in the room and potentially making me lose my already dwindling appetite.

When they finally finished cleaning, they both took seats at the table and patiently waited for me to finish. Somehow, I managed to eat the whole thing.

After Kate grabbed the box and tossed it in the trash for me. Everything went painfully silent again. Just as she did when she got here, Victoria stared at me in anger.

I knew that look all too well by now. There was this impatient, frustrated flare to her eyebrows that she only ever got when she was really pissed off. She was waiting for me to say something, to make my first move so she could rail into me as soon as I was done.

Might as well get this over with now, I guess…

“Victoria…I’m sorry I didn’t message you this last month. I–”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” she interrupted, taking a deep breath and sliding further into her chair. It was only now that I realized how tired she looked. Without the signature Victoria glare, I was able to see the tiniest hints of slowly forming eyebags. “Look, Max – I’m not mad at you. I’m just…frustrated. The night you left me stranded at the airport, I went from being annoyed as fuck to scared as shit because I couldn’t reach you. Then, when I finally call an Uber and get to the hotel, I find out Alice was fucking murdered and start losing my goddamn mind. You didn’t think to respond or call me even once?”

The shame of it all made me break eye contact and look down at the floor. I’d already felt so terrible for leaving Victoria hanging that night, but being reminded of it now in such excruciating detail – it made me feel even worse.

“So for the last month I’ve been worried sick about you. I mean, the last time something like this happened –” she caught herself. “I – I knew things would be bad…but Jesus Christ Max, do you see yourself right now? I thought you trusted me, I – I thought after everything we went through you’d let me help you through this.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. The honest truth was that I did want her help. Deep down, a part of me had wanted anyone’s help or reassurance over the last 30 days. But still, as much as I wanted it, as much as I needed it, that wasn’t something I deserved. Not something an actually good person like Victoria deserved either.

“I do trust you,” I admitted. “But Victoria, this…this isn’t something you can help me with.”

Even without looking at her, I could sense her bewilderment and irritation from across the table. “Why? Why is this any more different than before? You at least owe me an explanation for that, because I’d really like to fucking know why–”

“Tori…” Kate soothed, placing a hand on one of Victoria’s to calm her down. I was pretty surprised to see that it actually worked.

“Victoria’s just been super worried, Max,” she said. “I have too. When I heard about what happened to your student, I knew I needed to find the time to come out here and help.”

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it,” I muttered, still refusing to look at either of them. However, I couldn’t help but feel intrigued by Kate’s words…

At first, I’d assumed it was just my newfound sense of paranoia making me feel uneasy, but ever since they’d gotten here, something about all this felt…off. Like things weren’t adding up to form a clear picture. And somehow, it had everything to do with Kate.

Kate was one of my closest friends, but in a similar way to Kristen and Fernando, the two of us didn’t talk as much as we used to. She’d helped me a lot after Chloe died, so every time I spoke to her, I felt like I was being dragged right back to that last year at Blackwell. The only way she would’ve known about Alice dying or – for that matter – who Alice even was, was Victoria. If the two of them had been talking over the course of the last month, it was safe to assume Victoria had orchestrated this whole visit too.

The problem was that Kate was a busy woman. Like – really busy. She was the author and illustrator of multiple best-selling children’s books. As a result, she was constantly on the move, going across the country, reading her stories to kids at different schools or taking interviews from various news outlets. When she wasn’t traveling, she was busy helping Arcadia Bay’s local church or spending time working with the various youth groups around town. Getting her to come out here had to have taken some serious planning and string-pulling, which was the part I didn’t get. If Victoria was really that concerned about me, why did she spend so much time ensuring Kate could come out here instead of simply stopping by herself?

No…Kate was here for a reason. I just didn’t know what it was.

“Look…this is gonna sound weird – and I seriously mean no offense – but, Kate: why are you here?”

Almost immediately, Victoria shot me a look of dumbfounded outrage, like she’d just witnessed me kill someone in cold blood. “Excuse you? What – is she not allowed to come visit her fucking friend when she’s going through something?” I waved my hands defensively. “No! I mean – that’s not what I meant. I –”

“Then what do you mean, Max? What has any of this meant?!”

“I just don’t get it!” I shouted, cutting through Victoria’s words. “It doesn’t make any sense to me…if you were really that worried, why waste so much time setting all this up?”

My eyes flashed between both of them on repeat, looking for some silent explanation I wasn’t seeing. Victoria still seemed visibly angry, but Kate, she just looked sad. Her face was drooping with a pity so tangible I could practically taste it, and her eyes were fixed on me like I was a wounded animal that needed to be put out of its misery. I hated that look. It just affirmed what I was already feeling, what I’d always felt.

“I love you, Kate. I do,” I explained. “But Victoria, I don’t understand why you’d go so far as to bring her out here when you could’ve just visited me yourself.”

I half-expected Victoria to start going on another tirade, but instead, I was surprised to see every last ounce of her anger fade away like dust in the wind. Her features softened, and for the first time since she’d gotten here, I heard her take a breath.

“You wanna play it this way? Fine.”

At that, Kate jolted back to life, her hand darting to Victoria’s arm. When she spoke, her words were laced with worry. “Wait, Victoria, maybe we should hold off on that for a little bit.”

“No.” she said, standing up from her seat. “We were gonna bring this up anyway, right? Might as well be now. Besides, I’d rather she hear it from us than some shitty news article while she’s sitting in here all alone.”

The way she said that terrified me. Without warning, her voice started carrying a certain grimness to it that only got worse with each syllable and consonant that passed between her teeth. Hearing it made my heart race, an ever familiar thump pounding inside my chest.

“What?” I asked, not trying to hide my apprehension.

All Victoria did in response was pace back and forth on the kitchen floor. Even worse, she actually started nibbling on one of her thumbnails – something I hadn’t seen her do in years. She was usually so composed, collected and cool. But for some reason, she seemed genuinely shaken, and that only scared me more.

“Fuck, I was really hoping to ease into this…” she mumbled.

“Victoria. What?” I said, much louder this time.

“There’s a guy on my legal team,” she finally answered. “He has some pretty decent connections, so I’ve been having him keep tabs on something for me. It’s –” she sighed, finally choosing to look me in the eyes. “Max: it’s Jefferson. His petition got accepted. He’s getting a retrial.”

Victoria continued on to say something else, but I couldn’t hear it. I could see her lips moving, her face shifting expressions, but it was all drowned out by the claustrophobic feeling of my apartment walls slowly closing in around me.

Mark Jefferson was getting a retrial. I could process what each of those individual words meant on their own, but placing them all together in a complete sentence – it made my skin crawl; thousands of bugs running up my arms and legs.

If I was being honest, I had a feeling something like this would happen eventually. Ever since all that information came out about the Prescott’s and their evidence tampering in the Jefferson trial, I knew it was only a matter of time. That monster had filed for an appeal two years ago, and of course, his appellate review was granted – god forbid this country ever keep an actual murderer like him locked up for very long. After I heard about it, I tried to keep track of any news concerning him or his appeal for a long time. I’d wake up every single morning to scour news websites and law journals in search of anything that would tell me what his whereabouts might be. For months, I’d found nothing, but I’d only stopped looking shortly after Alice died.

Of course something like this would happen the month I stopped paying attention. It wasn’t enough that I’d lost someone close to me again, as if my life being reduced to a pathetic search for an invisible man wasn’t punishment already – the universe seemed to be dead-set on tearing my whole world apart piece by piece, and it was succeeding spectacularly. Everything was crumbling away, all the securities and safeties I’d clung on to for so long were being ripped away from me, leaving me to sink helplessly in my lonesome.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why is it that everything I work for just ends up being destroyed in the end?

“Max?!”

I blinked, the sound of my name being called instantly pulling me away from my thoughts. Victoria was staring at me with worry, her face suddenly much closer to mine. When had that happened?

Kate was at my side now too, I don’t remember when she moved, but she was kneeling on the ground, gently rubbing my arm in a slow, comforting manner.

I wanted to ask what happened, but my voice got stunted by the huge lump inside my throat. All that came out when I tried to speak was a shaky gulp of concern.

“Jesus, I haven’t seen you space out like that in years…” Victoria breathed.

“Are you okay, Max?” Kate asked, clutching my wrist with that loving, gentle grip of hers.

”Are you okay?” The words echoed inside my mind.

No.

I was the farthest thing from ‘okay’. I hadn’t been ‘okay’ for ten long years, and maybe, that was fate. Maybe I never deserved to be ‘okay’ again. Maybe I’d have to live with failure for the rest of my miserable life.

But still, despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel like something just wasn’t adding up.

Why had Victoria mentioned Jefferson to me as if this news was some kind of bombshell? I had no connection to him in this timeline outside of being one of his former students. As far as anyone was concerned, the only person who had wronged me was Nathan — and he’d been dead for years.

So what were Kate and Victoria hiding from me?

Swallowing, I cleared my throat as best I could. It helped to get my mouth working again, but it didn’t do much to steady the tremor of fear inside my voice. “You — you still haven’t answered my question.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, agitation finding its back to her gaze again. “You’re really gonna make me say it?” when I didn’t respond, she slumped and let out another tired sigh. ”Fine…Max, I know Jefferson hurt you.”

My eyes went wide.

There was no way. That simply wasn’t possible.

What had happened to me in The Dark Room was a secret I’d kept even from Chloe. That was my own personal nightmare to keep until I died. A piece of time that didn’t exist anymore because I’d erased it. Even if I’d told someone they wouldn’t have believed me anyway. There was no evidence of my being there and nothing to prove Jefferson had been planning to take me like he did Victoria.

So, how could she know? It wasn’t possible, it didn’t make any sense.

No, she had to be bluffing.

Deny it. I thought. Deny it, deny it, deny it.

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about—“

”I told you not to lie to me Max!” the blonde shouted. The sudden change in volume had nearly sent me flying out of my seat.

Kate didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was giving Victoria a glare of disapproval. The second she saw it, the blonde relaxed, showcasing that terrible sense of sadness once again.

“I told you not to lie to me,” she repeated, calmer this time. “Like I said before, you’re better than that. Honestly, I’ve been secretly hoping all this time it wasn’t true, that maybe I’m wrong and fuck, I hope I am…but it is true, isn’t it? So please, just tell me. Don’t lie to me like you always do. Tell me what the answer is. This has been fucking with me for so long and I need to know. I need to hear it from you.”

I bit my lip. There was no lying or wriggling my way out of this one was there? Somehow, Victoria knew, and there was nothing I could do to make her think otherwise. I’ve always been such a terrible liar.

Remaining silent, I bowed my head. Nodding ever so slowly.

Victoria stifled a gasp, shaking her head in horror. Immediately, Kate clutched my arm way more tightly, the force strong enough to cut off circulation.

”Fuck…”

“Max, I’m so sorry,” Kate lamented.

In another universe, I might’ve felt relieved to hear that. After all this time, I’d finally gotten it off my chest. I’d spent so many years suffering in silence while the women around me got comfort or validation for their stories, and now, I was finally being granted the same thing.

But I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve any of this. In that moment, All I could think about was the simple question of how?

”How did you know?” I asked. My voice was so soft I honestly wasn’t sure if Victoria had heard it at first, but she did. Before she answered me however, she sat back down in her chair and rubbed at her forehead.

”For a while, I didn’t. You did a pretty good job of hiding it, all things considered. When we started sleeping together though, I…kept hearing you talk while you had your nightmares.”

I leaned back in my seat, shoulders slouching in resignation. Of course it had been my nightmares…

“So many of them were about Jefferson. At first, I figured you’d just been spooked by all the information that came out about him — even if it was a few years after the fact,” she continued. “I thought maybe your head was crafting some fucked up scenarios to torture you with at night, but then, they didn’t stop. And you kept saying the same things over and over again in your sleep.”

”So you put two and two together,” I finished for her.

She nodded. “Yeah. It made too much sense the more I thought about it. I never understood why it took you so long to start taking pictures again after Chloe died, or why you freaked out at Dana that one time when she poked you with a pencil. Like I said — I hoped it wasn’t true, but…”

She trailed off, refusing to look me in the eyes. That wasn’t something Victoria ever did.

“But — I don’t understand, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Honestly? I didn’t wanna know the truth. That, and I figured you were working through it with your therapist already. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it either, I — I didn’t want you to know that I knew. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. If I’d known back then that she knew what happened to me, things between us likely wouldn’t have been the same. I couldn’t say for certain if it would’ve been good or bad, however. Just — different.

“So, when I learned about Jefferson getting a retrial, I knew I had to come over here and make sure you didn’t…do anything harsh, after they announced it.”

“That’s why Victoria brought me along,” Kate chimed in. “I don’t remember what happened to me exactly, but I know what it’s like: feeling so unsure about what might’ve happened…what he could’ve done outside of taking pictures…”

I grimaced. That very same thought had been haunting me for years. Never knowing what else that psychopath could’ve done to me while I was too drugged up to stay awake…that’d been a fate far crueler than being strapped down to that damn chair.

“That's why Victoria and I were thinking…” Kate went on, looking to the other blonde as if asking for permission. “That maybe, you come live with one of us for a while.”

I blinked.

“What?”

”It’d only be for a little while!” Kate assured quickly. “It’s just that — with everything you’ve been through recently and now this — we wanna make sure you’re safe. That you have a support system to turn to.”

“One you can’t ignore.” Victoria added, a knowing edge lingering within her voice.

My jaw tightened.

No…no, no, no, no, no, this was the last thing I needed. I had someone to find, someone to serve justice to. My own feelings, my trauma, my mental state, my health — none of that mattered, not while Alice’s killer was still on the loose. I couldn’t let anything stop me from avenging her, from figuring out who this fucker was so I could lock him up in jail or send him back to hell where he belonged. Staying with Kate or Victoria? That would only hamper my progress.

I shook my head. “I — I can’t do that.”

Victoria rose from her seat. “The fuck do you mean you can’t? Max, this isn’t up for debate. You need someone to help you.”

“I don’t!” I protested. “I’m fine!”

And I was. I didn’t need any help.

She let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Seriously?! You’re fine?! You look like you’re halfway to becoming a skeleton right now! You haven’t been taking out the trash or cleaning or eating or — fucking anything! I don’t even wanna think about what I might’ve seen if I hadn’t stopped by sooner! This is exactly what happened after —“

”Victoria that’s enough!” Kate shouted, and it was loud. Louder than I’d ever heard her speak before in my whole life. It made Victoria stop dead in her tracks, shock ebbing across her face like she’d just been shot.

“Max,” she continued, her voice firm yet somehow gentle at the same time. Like the fiercest whisper you can imagine. “Victoria’s right. I know you might think you’re okay, but whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you need help. Look around you, you’re not dealing with this in a healthy way, and the longer you stay holed up inside this apartment, the worse you’re going to get.”

I looked around. Even after Victoria and Kate had helped clean the place up a little, it still looked to be in a state of disarray. A number of empty water bottles and glasses had been left out atop the coffee table, kitchen supplies were littered across the counters. It all looked terrible. The more I took it in, the more I realized how I’d been living. But I guess calling it ‘living’ was pretty disingenuous. Up until now, I’d simply been surviving.

“You’re not alone, you know. You have me, and Victoria, and so many other people in your corner that want to see you well…all we’re asking is that you just let us help you. Come live with one of us for a little bit, let us take care of you and get you back on your feet. Please.”

Kate’s words were so kind and empathetic, laden with an understanding I was sure no one else on the planet could’ve given me. But that kindness only made things worse, because for the briefest of moments, I actually allowed myself to picture what that scene might look like.

Drinking tea with Kate in the mornings, watching nerdy comic book movies with Victoria – it made me feel happy, fulfilled. Like there was something I could look forward to, a way for me to push past all of this. Maybe, with their help, I could actually learn to live again.

But that image came crashing down in a fiery blaze the second I remembered who I was. The dangers I posed. The curse I was forced to bear.

It felt like I’d just gotten the wind knocked out of me. Like the reminder had just been zapped straight into my mind: Kate and Victoria shouldn’t have been near here – near me.

“Everything you touch tends to die a whole lot quicker than it should.”

They needed to get out here. Leave before they stayed too long and died just like Alice and Chloe did. If they didn’t get away, and soon, there was no telling what might happen to them. What terrible fate my powers would cause them. Would they get killed by that man? Hurt by the mercilessness of my powers? I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t lose anyone else.

They had to go.

Quickly, I stood up. It both surprised Kate and made me feel a little dizzy, but I didn’t care. I had to protect them. “You both need to go. Now.”

You have to do this…It’s for their own good…

Kate looked dismayed, but she still didn’t move. “Max, we–”

“NOW!” I commanded, trying my hardest not to sound as desperate and afraid as I felt. I could tell immediately that Victoria didn’t like it one bit.

You have to hurt them…

“We’re not leaving, jackass! Not when you –”

“Either get out, or I call the cops and make you get out,” I growled. “Go!”

You have to make them hate you…that way, they’ll stay away. That way, they’ll stay safe…

Both of them looked horrified, but after a long pause, they finally did as they were told and motioned towards the door. I joined them, if only to open it and usher the pair outside.

“Max – “

I cut off Victoria by slamming the door shut with both hands, immediately locking the deadbolt and staring at the pale white surface of the painted metal in front of me.

As expected, Victoria started pounding on the door, her voice now muffled and metallic. “Max, let us back in! We can talk this out!”

“Please, Max.” Kate pleaded. “You don’t have to come with us, just let us back in!”

I didn’t dare look through the peephole. I knew the moment I saw their faces I might cave and listen to them, but that still didn’t stop me from falling apart when I heard the dejectedness in their voices. As Victoria started pounding on the door again and calling my name, my vision blurred, fresh tears sliding down my face.

They called out to me a few more times after that, each one making my heart hurt more than the last. It was like someone had buried a jagged blade deep inside my chest, and every time Victoria or Kate pleaded for me to let them in, it only twisted another 90 degrees.

Eventually, Victoria planted her hand on the door one last time, keeping it pressed there while I pushed back at the divider between us. Even from the inside, I could hear her last breath of defeat.

“Come on, Kate. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“But…will she be okay?”

Kate sounded so worried…it made me feel sick.

“No, but we’ll help her get there,” Victoria said, making sure her sentence was loud and pointed. “We’re coming back tomorrow.”

“Alright…”

And with that, the two of them walked off, leaving me to stand there alone in silence while I heard the sounds of their footsteps tapering away from the building.

The second I was sure they’d finally left, I dropped to my knees in an instant, fingers curling against the door, sliding white paint beneath my overgrown fingernails. It was all I could do to start breaking down in sobs, but these weren’t loud or angry, they were pathetic – quiet. Barely noticeable amidst the ambient noise. I didn’t have any right to bother other people with my sadness, not when I was the root cause of it. So I sat there, whimpering for hours like the pitiful little murderer I was.

Now that I was alone again, the suffocating fog I’d felt haunting me for the last month started swarming me like never before. It was thick and dense, clouded my mind with whispers and mocking echoes of all the things it knew I could never have.

Friends, love, happiness, peace…all those things belonged to another life. A life that wasn’t mine. I could never have them. I could never simply be – because as long as I lived, I was nothing more than a walking, talking hazard of death. A ticking time bomb just begging to go off so it could kill the next person that got too close.

I thought I’d made peace with that, whether in this last month since Alice died or the last ten years since Chloe. But still…there was nothing I wouldn’t have given to live in a world where the apocalypse wasn’t stalking me around every single corner.

Why me? Why was I like this? Why was it that I was never allowed to have even a moment of happiness? What did I ever do to deserve this?

But then it dawned on me. I did know. I knew exactly why I was like this.

My stupid. Fucking. Powers.

My powers. It’s always been my damn powers.

They were the reason Alice had died, the reason I had to push everyone away. They were the reason I’d spent so much of my life drowning in guilt, and the reason my best friend had been taken away from me all those years ago.

If I had never gotten them in the first place…if I was just normal…

With a newly realized swarm of unbridled rage stirring inside my belly, I rose to my feet and marched towards my room. I hadn’t been inside since the night Alice died. I kept my camera collection there. Simply being in proximity to so many devices capable of channeling my powers might’ve tempted me into using them – and that was something I simply couldn’t afford.

But this was different.

Slamming the door open, I stomped up to the shelves where I kept all my equipment. Even though I was a few feet away from them, I could still feel my arm buzzing with energy. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. That stupid fucking buzzing sensation that only existed to remind me of why I’d never truly be happy.

“You did this…” I whispered, angrier than I’d ever felt.

Slowly, I reached forward and grabbed a camera, hands trembling with fury as I thumbed over all its buttons and knobs. How could something so incredibly small have the power to destroy so much?

You did this… I thought.

“YOU DID THIS!”

BAM – I tossed my recently repaired Alpha 7 straight into my wall, shattering it in half.

SLAM – I gripped my EOS 6 and threw it off the shelf, smashing it into the ground.

It didn’t matter what it was. Filters, lenses, flashes, tripods – I tore all of them apart and shattered them to pieces. I blew holes in the walls, destroyed my dresser, cracked my mirror, splintered my makeup table – all of it. I was going to destroy everything like it destroyed me. Make sure they understood what it felt like to be bent and broken, to be helpless and alone.

BANG, CLANK, THUD, CRACK.

Nothing was going to be spared. All my pain, guilt, anger, and sadness was going to be unleashed for as long as I could let it. Nothing would make any of this –

I paused, my hand coming to a sudden stop just before it had the chance to knock another object to the ground.

Sitting in front of me, neatly tucked away behind the deepest parts of my shelf, was my old Polaroid Sun 600.

In an instant, all of my rage seemed to melt away, fading as I stared at a piece of myself I’d long since forgotten.

Much more gently this time, I reached forward and took it in my hands, eyes scanning the dusty old flash and lens that’d been lying dormant for the last ten years.

This was one of the first analog cameras I’d ever owned. The camera I had with me during the week that…

“Chloe…” I whimpered, collapsing to the ground as I cradled the device in my arms, like it was the only thing holding me together.

It was so cruel how that camera was one of the last pieces of Chloe I still had left. The one thing that connected me to the week that never was. The week I’d made my greatest failure, the week I’d forged all my deepest regrets.

But the camera was more than that. It was the ultimate reminder – a relic of the old Max who still hadn’t left that lighthouse. Holding it between my hands, feeling all that energy swelling inside my limbs, it made a part of me scream louder than it had in over a decade with one single word:

Try.

‘Try’...why was it that even after all this time, even while knowing full well what the cost might be, that there was still a part of me who wanted to try going back?

The old Max – the better Max – was still lingering somewhere, shouting and wailing with the hope that one day, I’d listen. That one day, I’d try to do the impossible again.

It was bad, thinking all of this, I knew it was. It was dangerous for me to feel that temptation, to ask those ‘what-if’ questions I used to torture myself with after Chloe’s death.

But I couldn’t deny it. The urge to try and make things right had been bubbling somewhere inside me since the night Alice died. Maybe that was why I’d chosen to distract myself with this pointless search for so long. Maybe that was why I never gave myself the chance to rest – because I knew the moment I did, those thoughts would just start swimming. And once they gained momentum, they couldn’t be stopped.

I’d been tearing myself apart with the ‘maybes’ and ‘maybe nots’ for so long. Losing my sanity over the fear of what might happen if I acted while at the same going crazy because I couldn’t bring myself to do anything.

I couldn’t decide this on my own. I couldn’t know the answer – not without help. That much was clear.

I needed someone to talk to. Someone I could trust, someone that would tell me exactly what I needed to hear without coddling me or lying to me like everyone else always did. Someone who knew about my powers and the consequences that came with them. I needed –

…

It was right then that I got back up and rushed to my laptop. It was time to book a plane ticket.

By the time I got to the airport that next morning, I was about a thousand dollars poorer.

As it turns out, booking a plane ticket to go across the country at the very last minute is extremely expensive – not that it really mattered to me much. No amount of money was worth staying in that apartment until Victoria and Kate came back to hound me down. After yelling at them like I did, I wasn’t entirely sure I had the stomach to face either of them again.

Just remembering the way they looked at me when I shouted at them, the way I remembered my own voice sounding as I told them off…it made my stomach lurch almost as much as it did every time I remembered the sight of Alice’s body.

But I couldn’t think about that. Not when I had somewhere important to be.

It was ironic, really. I’d desperately been trying to avoid the place for the last six months since my powers came back. But as usual, I found myself getting pulled right back toward it by that same invisible rope wrapped around my waist – just like always.

Arcadia Bay looked so different in the spring, so...alien. Well – more alien than usual, anyway. In the last ten years I’d come to visit, I’d only ever made the trip during the fall. I was so used to seeing all the leaves speckled with different hues of orange and yellow, so familiar with the dead, lifeless air that made the town seem so hollow. But now, in the spring, everything looked so much more alive. I’d never seen the grass look so green or the trees look so full. It almost made me feel like I’d somehow flown and driven to an entirely different town by accident.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to say something to me. Silently reminding me that there was more to this place than all the dying gloom of the fall would have me believe.

It made the journey to the cemetery feel so much longer than it usually did, and when I finally got there, that alien feeling didn’t really stop.

It was around four in the afternoon by the time I parked my rental car, and for the first time since I’d started making my annual trip down there, I didn’t see Stan at the gates. From the number of cars in the lot, I could tell there were lots of people here too. Locals that had come to mourn their loved ones right before the place closed down for the day. Having so many potential spectators wasn’t really ideal, but I’d have to make do with what little time I had left.

The cool air nipped at my cheeks as I made my way to the grounds. There were so many more birds chirping in the air, a wonderful little song echoing across the whole treeline. This time around, the trees were too full for me to see any of them. It made me feel like my walk had its own personal chorus.

I knew exactly how many steps it would take to reach my destination: 300 steps forward, 150 steps to the right.

I didn’t keep track of any landmarks this time. It felt pointless now. A useless quirk of my old ritual that I didn’t need. I wasn’t here to mourn after all, I was here to get answers.

My steps felt purposeful and light. I could tell it had rained recently, because the wet dirt squished under my own weight, dirtying my shoes and coating them in a thin layer of mud.

297…298…299…300.

I turned to the right, continuing the count until I reached the 150 mark. When I was finally done, I was face to face with that old granite stone. There weren’t any flowers standing by it this time, and surprisingly, the surface looked so much more weathered than it usually did. Green stains and grimy dirt lingered in every crack and flaw I could see.

Stan must’ve always taken extra care in cleaning it in anticipation for my usual arrival in October. Any other time of year…well – I doubted he cared that much.

Here lies Chloe Elizabeth Price

March 11, 1994 - October 7, 2013

“Like a butterfly, she spread her wings and flew unto the heavens”

I wondered what Victoria and Kate would say if they knew I was here. I’d silenced my phone and turned off the notifications practically the same second I stepped outside. By now, the two of them were probably losing their minds trying to figure out where I was – or, if they knew – it’d be a long time before they got here.

Definitely a good thing. There was no doubt in my mind that if I saw Victoria anytime soon, I’d lose my head in a flash.

That was nothing in comparison to what my mom or dad would do to me, though. Neither of them knew I still saw Chloe every year. Ever since they chastised me for it, I’d chosen to keep my annual little ritual a secret from them.

Nine years ago, after I’d made my first round trip from Seattle to Arcadia Bay, I returned home to my mom yelling at me for going off on my own without telling her or dad. When I told her where I’d been, she nearly lost her mind, scolding me for going so far away and berating me for even thinking about visiting Chloe. She told me that I couldn’t go back there again, that it was time to ‘move on’ and ‘let myself heal’. But of course, I didn’t listen, I simply got sneakier about it. The year after that first incident, I told them I was going out somewhere in the city to work with a client. Neither of them were ever the wiser.

It got easier when I started living with Victoria and didn’t have to worry about them breathing down my neck so much. But even to this day, I still always told them I was merely visiting Seattle to help out some of my old friends. I knew the only thing telling the truth would accomplish was making them disappointed in me. They could never stand me being so far away, much less so mournful over my best fucking friend. Of all the things that had changed about them over the last decade, the unexplainable feelings they had towards my grief hadn’t nudged in the slightest.

They’d probably kill me if I ever told them I went to Long Beach during Blackwell’s winter break back in 2013.

In a way, I felt more alone now than I had in years. I couldn't show my face to two of my closest friends right now, and I couldn't cry to my parents for help either. None of them understood what I was really going through, the never-ending battle being waged inside my head.

Right now, the only person I could really trust to give me a fair and unassuming conversation, was the girl currently buried beneath my feet.

“Hey, Chloe,” I muttered. “I’m back. A little early this time.”

As a cool breeze brushed against my hair, I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. A special piece of the puzzle I’d somehow forgotten.

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t bring any cigarettes this time…sorry. I was kind of in a hurry.”

As soon as I finished speaking, I stared wordlessly at the gravestone in front of me, giving it time to respond like I always did.

It didn’t say anything back.

“Hope you can forgive me,” I continued. “You’re probably more curious as to why I’m even here right now anyway, aren’t you?”

I hitched my breath. I had to wonder: was she watching me right now, wherever she was? I could only imagine how pathetic I must’ve looked from the outside. How disappointed Chloe would’ve been if she saw how I’d chosen to spend the last 30 days.

“So you just moped around for a month, Caulfield? Come on, I know you’re better than that.”

“Something happened.” I explained. “Remember that student I talked to you about? Alice? Well, I ended up going to that job with her after all. It was…almost a total disaster. She actually took on something way outside her skill set. Lied about her credentials, oversold herself – y’know standard kid stuff. I had to bail her out. I basically guided her through night until we were finally done. It sounds like it’d be annoying when I say it out loud…but, it still makes me smile just thinking about it.”

“After that, we went to another job together. One Victoria set up, actually. It was fun, refreshing. After that, we just kept getting closer and closer.”

As I recounted all of my memories with her, the sight of that adorable, smiling face kept flashing through my head.

It was so easy for me to forget faces, but I’d promised myself that I would never forget Alice’s. I’d keep that image of her for as long as I possibly could.

But even those were hollow words.

I knew it wouldn’t last. The brain is cruel, every time you try to recall something, you piece it back together just a little differently than you did before. Eventually, you have no idea what might be real and what might be fake. So much time had passed since her death that I wasn’t really sure if I remembered Chloe all that well either. Was the person I always visualized inside my head the Chloe Price that actually existed? Or was that just an idealized version of her I’d conjured up over the last ten years?

It hurt my heart to think about it. I didn’t want that to happen to Alice.

“She was like a sister to me. We did everything together, saw each other every day if we could. Fuck Chloe, you should’ve seen it. For the first time in so long I felt like I was actually going somewhere. But last month she – she was murdered,” I said. My voice was low and bitter as I mouthed the words. “She didn’t even get a fucking funeral…”

Tears started welling up around my eyes almost immediately. When I spoke, my voice cracked and strained trying to hold back an incoming wave of sobs.

“All this time I’ve just been – I’ve just been trying to live with it like I’m supposed to. Like normal people do, right?”

I shook my head. “But I’m not normal. I have these stupid powers and they – they call out to me every single day like a fucking curse. They keep begging me to use them over and over again. Telling me to go through with what I know I want to do…”

“But the consequences…the stupid fucking consequences…I can’t let what happened here in Arcadia Bay ever happen again. I know that. I can’t spend so much time trying to fight back against the inevitable…so why do I still wanna do it so badly?”

Again, the gravestone didn’t respond.

“My powers aren’t the same as they were before…I could go back far enough to save her, I know I could. But there’s this – wall. All my fears, my doubts – they just keep stopping me. It’s why I came to you…”

I knuckled away the tears, staring at the letters engraved into the polished granite.

“I can’t decide this on my own. I need help, and you’re the only person I can turn to.”

I stifled another sob, a heavy gust of wind rushing past my ears. It howled a low rumble that I could’ve sworn almost sounded sad. An angered cry from somewhere far away.

“I feel like I’m falling. I’ve just been falling for so long and haven’t had anything to help catch me. Honestly…I can’t even remember when that feeling started anymore.”

I buried my face in my hands, allowing the softest of hiccups to seep through the flimsy emotional shield I’d set up before coming here. “I keep asking myself, ‘what would Chloe do?’ but I don’t know. If you were here…you’d know just what to say to me. Wouldn’t you?”

Maybe it was the salty air messing with my mind. Maybe it was some spiritual bullshit I didn’t understand. Maybe, it was just me going crazy – but for the first time in so many years – I could almost imagine it: Chloe, standing right in front of me with that big lopsided grin of hers still plastered to her face.

It was like she was there, but somehow just barely out of reach. I could sense her, feel her, and when I lifted my head, I found myself staring directly at the girl I’d come to love so deeply. Or at least – the version of her I still held close.

What would Chloe do?

“You’d probably…give me shit for crying so much,” I reasoned. “Say something stupid to try and cheer me up…”

“Damn. Looks like someone’s taken the doom-train to sobsville, huh?”

I smiled, a bittersweet curl finding its way to my lips. “Then, you’d be comforting. It was never easy for you. Just like me, you could never find the right words most of the time. But when it came to us, you always made every word count.”

“Max…you have to stop beating yourself up so much. You know that.”

“Then…you’d walk up to me…” I whispered, and I imagined her doing just that: moving forward and placing both her hands atop my shoulders.

What I would’ve given to feel them for real.

“And then, finally, you’d say…”

“You should do it. I mean – I would. Sure, you have the power to take shit away…but that doesn’t mean you can’t give shit back, right?”

“But what if I can’t? What if I can’t save her and this all just ends up being worse than it was back then?”

“Then you keep trying until you get it right. Max, you’re never gonna get anywhere if all you do is run away. Fight for the future you want, hippie. Stop sulking in the past and look ahead for once. If you think you’re cursed, prove the universe wrong by breaking it, already! Thrash the shit out of it if you have to!”

Thrash the shit out of it…I thought

I stared at my hands, watching them closely as if I could see them somehow grasping at the very thing I’d been wanting for so long.

Was that really something I could do? Fight for the future I wanted? Look ahead?

There was no telling how much I could mess things up. What I would lose if I wasn’t careful. I’d been down this road once before and knew what was at stake – in fact – I was the only person that knew. The half of me that felt obligated to ensure something like the tornado never happened again groaned in protest, reminding me of the damage I could cause; the storms I could create. But the other half…it could see past the cyclone, and in the comforting embrace of its eye, I saw Alice standing directly at its center.

I raised my head one last time, feeling the resolve inside me surge through each and every one of my veins. While the imaginary Chloe began to fade out of existence, I realized that for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel a dark fog caressing the folds of my brain anymore. I felt alive.

There was more to this than just Alice, after all. If I could do this, if I could prove to myself that I had the power to do something good for a change, I could almost envision a version of Max that finally learned how to love herself. A tantalizing call for a better future and a better me, beckoning me to come forward.

And even if those stupid consequences came back to bite me in the ass, even if the two halves of my mind were forever destined to be at odds with each other, I’d keep trying. I’d keep pushing forward, for Chloe, for Rachel, for all the people I’d failed over the years.

And of course, if there was anything the two sides of myself could actually agree on, it’s that Alice would always be worth it.

“So what’s it gonna be, SuperMax? You finally gonna give it a shot?”

“Yeah,” I decided, watching the last remnants of the Chloe I’d seen disperse into the air. “Yeah, I’ll–”

Click.

Before I could finish, I felt something press against the small of my back. It was cold, hard, metallic – round.

The second I even began to turn, a low, hoarse voice stopped me, dead in my tracks.

“Don’t. Move,” it said. “Make any sudden movements, any sudden sounds. Call for help, try to run, try to scream – do anything other than standing still and keeping quiet…and I’ll shoot.”

I’m not sure how long it took for me to realize what was going on.

One moment, I’d been deciding what I’d do with my powers; the next, I had a gun pointed at my back.

The immediacy of it all made the man’s words register so much slower than normal. “Don’t move”, “Scream”, “I’ll shoot”. It all seemed to lag behind in my head. Like my mind was processing everything at half speed.

When the words did finally manage to sink in, my whole body stiffened like it was made of solid stone.

A sudden rush of realization made every single one of my nerves surge into overdrive. It took every ounce of willpower I had left in me not to scream at the top of my lungs, make a break for it, or at least turn around to see the face of the man currently threatening to kill me. But nevertheless I held my ground. I didn’t dare move. Even if it took longer than usual for me to understand how dire this situation was, my instincts were keeping me locked in place.

Wait – hold on – if I couldn’t do anything other than ‘standing still and keeping quiet’, could I even breathe right now? Was I allowed to do that? Would he shoot me if I did? Fuck – now that I think about it, could I blink? Shake? Shudder? What would it take for this man to shoot me dead right here in the middle of this cemetery?

It was all so overwhelming and terrifying that my knees felt like they were made jello. I had no idea what to do – what options I might’ve had to get away from this.

I tried to think. I’d been in such dire situations before, hadn’t I? I’d nearly gotten overdosed by Jefferson. Almost crushed by the foundations of a diner. I’d barely escaped getting mauled by a dog, and stabbed to death by a drug dealer – no matter how bad things got, I always found a way out, didn’t I?

…

Didn’t I?

…

No…I only ever got away because I could cheat the system.

My only chance of escape was my camera. If I could just grab it, I could use my powers and maybe find a way out of this. The only problem was that it was tucked away inside my messenger bag. There was no chance in hell I could reach over to unclip it and pull it out without him noticing though. If I tried, he’d just shoot me.

My throat felt dry, my heart pounded against my ribs like a machine gun tearing into dirt. I had no way out, and each heavy thud inside my chest only made that fact all the more apparent. I was frozen, unable to think or move. I could feel my lungs growing sour with stale air and pressure bulging my already wide eyes. If I didn't figure this out, I’d either die here or pass out and get myself killed anyway.

Luckily — or maybe not so lucky — the man spoke to me before I had the chance to do either.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Caulfield,” he said. His voice…it was so growly and rough. Like he’d smoked ten packs a day for the last 20 years.

Somehow, I managed to let out the tiniest little breath from my quickly tightening throat – but it didn’t last long. When I didn’t respond, I felt the barrel of the gun press harder into my back, nudging me forward. Suddenly, that small breath became a sharp gasp of fear.

“Speak,” he commanded. “You were so talkative just a second ago, weren’t you?”

I swallowed, beads of sweat forming along the length of my brow. My own voice was shaky, rattled. It sounded like I was trying to talk through a pinhole. “Who – who…are you?”

I felt him shuffle slightly from behind me, soft leather creaking as he tightened his grip on the gun. “Someone who knows quite a bit about you, Miss Caulfield.”

That only made things scarier. For some reason though, his words seemed oddly familiar. I just couldn’t put my finger on why.

I bit my lip, and trying as hard as I could not to cry, I forced myself to speak: “Wh — why are you doing this?”

”Ah…that’s the most important question isn’t it?” he drawled. “There’s more than one reason for why I’m here right now. So many little events and variables working together just so we could finally meet at this exact moment. I could go on and on about the details, but really it’s quite simple. I’m doing this because you took everything from me.”

What?

My brain nearly rebooted itself out of pure confusion. I took everything away from him? How? What the fuck could I have possibly done to make him want to kill me?

He must’ve sensed my bewilderment, because just as soon as I started asking myself those questions, he scoffed. It was croaky and guttural, honestly it didn’t sound completely human. “I’m not surprised you have no idea what I’m talking about. It’s only natural for someone so ignorant to be so blind after all. I’ve always found that quite ironic about you. Despite your talents, you have such a small understanding of how all this works.”

“‘My talents’? What do you mean…my – my photography?” I trembled.

“Is it not obvious by now, Miss Caulfield? I know what you can do. And more importantly: I know what you did ten years ago in this very town.”

All around me, the light breeze I’d been feeling seemed to stop in an instant. Like slowly turning gears, all the pieces started clicking into place.

“I know what you can do.”

Now I knew why his words sounded so familiar. I’d seen them written on a slip of paper just a month ago folded neatly in the palm of Alice’s cold, dead hand.

My vision turned red. The fact that he knew about my powers or what I’d done in the past didn’t really matter to me all that much. Not in comparison to the one glaring fact that had immediately taken over my mind.

“You…” I seethed, anger swirling to the surface, shooting past my fears. “You – you were the man I saw that day. You killed Alice.”

He hummed in recognition, although it sounded more like a raspy snarl. “Alice…yes, that was her name wasn’t it? Your – what? Student? Friend? Either way, it doesn’t really matter now. My plan still failed all the same.”

Before, it took everything I had not to scream and cry. Now, I was just trying to contain my rage so I wouldn’t get shot. Despite my best efforts however, all that anger laced my voice with venom, a hiss I wasn’t used to hearing in myself. “What, too stupid to kill me, so you decided to kill Alice instead? What sort of shitty plan was that, exactly?”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself,” he chortled. “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I just hoped the sight of your friends’ body would get you to use those abilities of yours…but no. Something’s blocking you, isn’t it?”

I didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop my face from twisting and contorting with fury.

“I spent so much time trying to figure out what would finally get you to use them. I thought you just needed someone to save, but for whatever reason, you turned a blind eye when I arranged to get that woman killed a few months ago.”

My eyes were already wide, but now, they were burning. “The accident with the truck…you – you did that?”

“Yes,” he admitted, even without seeing his face I could practically hear his lips curling into a smile. He wasn’t just telling me what he’d done – he was gloating. He was actually fucking gloating. “After that didn’t work, I reasoned the death simply needed to matter more to you. That’s when I started keeping an eye on your precious little shit of a student. It didn’t take me long to–”

I couldn’t contain my anger any longer. In the middle of his sentence, I snapped and jerked my head backward as hard as I could, slamming directly into his face. His nose crunched like paper under the force, shattering in two the second we made contact. While a part of me was still scared shitless, I couldn’t help but feel a huge wave of satisfaction wash over me the second I heard him yelp in pain.

Was that a stupid thing to do? Absolutely. He easily could’ve blown a hole right through me if he wanted to – but honestly, at this point, I didn’t care. All that mattered was inflicting as much pain as possible in what little ways I could manage.

For once however, luck finally seemed to be on my side. The sudden movement must’ve thrown him off his mark, because when he reflexively pulled the trigger, the bullet only managed to graze the top of my shoulder.

The sound eviscerated my eardrums, and the wound immediately stung like I’d just been branded with hot iron, but I was alive. Thanks to my stupidity, I’d actually managed to give myself the opening I needed to escape.

I didn’t waste any time. As soon as I got the chance, I turned on my heel and dashed across the grass as fast as I could, hopping over gravestones like they were olympic hurdles. While I ran, I had a brief, split-second thought about looking back so I could relish in the damage I caused. I wanted to see what his face looked like, really internalize it so I’d remember who I was looking for this time, but it was quickly snuffed out by the desire to run.

“You bitch!” he yelled, his voice dry and nasally in the open air.

I knew I didn’t have much time to get away. This place was wide open and the moment he recovered, he’d start firing shots at me from afar.

My legs moved on their own, guiding me forward until I spotted one of the larger trees positioned in the center of the grounds.

I didn’t even give myself a chance to think about it, the moment I saw it standing there; large and imposing, I rushed behind it and sank down until I was sitting on all the exposed roots.

BAM! A shot rang, blasting through the tree’s thick trunk like it was nothing more than a piece of paper. Splintered wooden fragments rained down from above, dusting my hair. It was so sudden I couldn’t help but yelp in terror.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

I never thought I’d have to use my powers again so soon, but if there was any time to use them, it was now.

I couldn’t do that without grabbing my camera however. Quickly, I fumbled around and started working to open up my bag. It should’ve been easy, but my trembling hands made it hard to get a good grip on the clip.

BAM!

Another shot. This time, it just barely missed the top of my head.

Come on, come on, come on!

After a little more maneuvering, I finally managed to get it open. The soothingly familiar sound of that quiet metallic ‘click’ was like music to my ears.

As soon as I pulled open the flap, I reached inside and grabbed at my camera with lightning speed. I felt the energy flowing through me before I even had it wrapped around my fingers, but strangely, it didn’t tingle like it normally did. Right now, it was bursting. Electric, and fiery like my arm was about to explode.

I didn’t know what that meant, but more importantly, I couldn’t believe I was actually about to do this. This was the point of no return, something I couldn’t take back if I did it. I wished I’d had the time to think about it some more, but at the moment I couldn’t afford to keep deliberating every damn decision I wanted to make. It was either now or never.

Without a single wasted movement or a moment to spare, I pulled the camera up to my eye. At the same time however, the sound of a third gunshot echoed across the yard.

I shut my eyes, the fear that I might’ve been hit gripping my mind like a vice.

Had I been shot? I heard a long time ago that you wouldn’t really feel it at first.

But…even after waiting for a huge wave of pain to take over my senses, I didn’t feel anything. And when I took a peek at my surroundings through the small hole of the viewfinder, I noticed that everything was standing perfectly still.

The distant trees and their leaves weren’t swaying with the wind anymore. A couple birds trying to fly away from all the loud noises were now frozen mid-takeoff too.

I’d done it. I’d stopped time.

The sigh of relief I breathed deflated me so much I felt like I was sinking into the grass.

My heart might’ve been pounding like a jackhammer, and my nerves might’ve been shot into total mush, but I was still alive. Thank fuck.

I wasn’t completely out of the woods yet, however. I still had to actually use my powers to escape this mess, and this time, I couldn’t back out of it. If that last gunshot was anything to go by, I’d likely die if I decided not to go back.

I gulped. Despite the life or death situation I was currently facing, I still couldn’t help but feel like the prospect of rewinding time was so much more intimidating and dire.

But I had to try. I promised myself, Chloe, and Alice that I would. I wasn’t going to fail them anymore.

The only problem was…how? My old polaroid was a fixed-focus camera. It didn’t have a zoom function like my others did.

That’s when I felt something flicker across my fingers, as if responding to my question. This time, the energy guided me to the exposure slider at the front of the camera body. Awesome.

I wasn’t sure how much mileage I could get out of it considering it was so small, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, slowly, taking a deep breath and doing what I could to try and keep myself calm, I pressed my finger to the nub and slid the switch from one side to the other. As it moved, the world around me reversed and swirled as if I was holding the rewind button on a remote.

The birds flew back down to their perches, the leaves switched their directions — when I reached the end, I found that I couldn’t rewind past that specific point. I had absolutely no idea how much time I’d just bought myself, but I could tell it wasn’t much.

It would have to do though. Besides, I figured I could keep repeating the process until I gave myself enough time to escape anyway.

This was it, my first rewind in over ten years. I knew once I hit that shutter release, I’d be fully committing to breaking my promise. I might be saving myself, but then again, I could also be dooming thousands of people to their deaths at the very same time. Maybe — maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all —

No. For fuck’s sake stop thinking like that, Max. You’re making a new promise now, one to save Alice. Hell — maybe you can save Chloe too someday if you get this right. You’ll never know unless you try, and if you don’t, then no one will get this guy. Alice’s killer will be free to hurt more people.

My finger inched towards the button, energy sparkling in every pore.

I can do this…

With a heavy, springy clink, I pressed the button and watched in amazement as a bright burning light flashed behind my eyes, the world around me slowly coming back into focus.

And then, once the light faded — nothing. Nothing else happened. The world wasn’t swirling around anymore, the sounds weren’t halted – everything was completely normal.

For a second I thought I’d fucked something up. That somehow, in all my stupidity I’d actually done nothing at all. When I pulled the camera away and looked around, however, I noticed two things. One, everything seemed quiet, and two, I hadn’t been hit by a bullet…yet. That had to be a good sign, right?

Just to be sure, I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone. The time was 4PM.

The time I arrived at the cemetery.

I slumped back against the tree, eyes staring at a blank point in the clear-blue sky above. I’d actually done it…I almost couldn’t believe it. I’d actually rewound time. By around 15 minutes no less — more than I’d ever gone back without a picture before.

It was so amazing I actually managed a laugh. It was delirious and almost devoid of any energy, but it was still a laugh. The first one I’d had in what felt like forever.

I still had so many questions, like, how did that guy know about my powers? How long had he been casing Alice and I before he chose to strike? How did he manage to set up that brown-haired woman’s death? And most importantly, who the fuck was he?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to mull over any of that. Right now, my highest priority was getting the fuck out of here before that man had a chance to catch up and kill me.

Still, if I needed more time, I could always just use the camera to go back even further.

Or so I thought.

The second I stood up off the ground, the camera started making a loud crackling sound.

BRZZZZT.

As soon as I noticed it, the device started smoking like it had just caught fire.

”What the hell…?” I sounded, turning the camera over in my hands.

That’s when the lens snapped in half, sending a dozen stray sparks hurtling towards my face.

It startled me so much I threw it to the ground like it was some kind of live bomb. However, it didn’t explode. In fact, even after waiting around to see what would happen, it stayed just like that: a pathetic, smoking hunk of plastic and metal.

I couldn’t believe it…my old camera — my Polaroid Sun 600 — it was completely toast.

I had absolutely no idea what had just happened, but the sight of it lying on the ground there, broken and battered like it’d just been overloaded with a million volts — I had to admit it really stung.

That old camera was one of the last pieces I had left of my old life. The version of Max that still had some semblance of her innocence left. The Max that still had Chloe…

It was saddening, but I didn’t really have time to mourn. Dilly dallying around any longer wouldn’t help me, and right now, the fact that I didn’t have an extra rewind to work with made getting out of this cemetery seem a lot more important.

So, with a heavy heart, I tore my eyes away and started running to the parking lot. I couldn’t be too sure when that man had arrived, so I made it a point to hurry. He might’ve gotten there recently by the time he pulled out his gun, or — scarier — he could’ve been waiting for me to show up the whole time.

Either way, I had to move.

I tried not to seem too panicked as I sprinted past some of the people still walking around. It was weird enough to be running in a cemetery (probably disrespectful too) but I was fighting for my life here, I could worry about what people thought of me later.

After retracing my steps to the front gates, I huffed into the parking lot and made a beeline for my car. It was so close. Once I got in, I could book-it-the-fuck-away and figure out some kind of plan.

I was panting now, the distance quickly closing with every step I made.

I was twenty feet away.

Ten feet.

Five.

Finally, my fingers brushed against the door handle. All I had to do was —

BANG!

…

I heard it crack from behind me, saw all the birds in the distance flying away in response to the sound, and yet, I hadn’t felt a thing. All I could tell was that everything had gotten strangely quiet all of a sudden — calm.

It took a long time for my mind to register what was happening, for the dread to settle in and slither the chilling feeling that I knew exactly what just happened up the back of my spine.

I knew I shouldn’t look down, knew I shouldn’t let myself see. I should just get into the car and run.

But it was already too late.

Slowly, morbidly curious, my eyes shifted downward, every inch they crossed more and more horrifying than the last.

And that’s when I saw it:

A gaping, bloody hole, right at the center of my stomach.

As if it’d been waiting for me to see, the pain immediately exploded in one powerful burst of agony the second I looked. Wave after wave, an unbearable burning sensation echoed across my gut. I could tell it was spreading, that my body was signaling to me I’d just gotten hurt so badly it didn’t know what to do.

I could hardly move, and before I had the chance to inch any further towards the car, I dropped to my knees in shock.

Blood was already starting to pour out of the wound; a thick steady stream of red, trailing down my torso and onto the ground.

This isn’t — this isn’t happening, I thought to myself. In disbelief, I placed my hands on the wound as if this was all just some terrible joke, a trick of the mind.

But the blood coated and stained my hands, highlighting every indentation across my skin. This was real.

I was actually going to die, wasn’t I?

My fight or flight kicked in again, thoughts racing through my mind. This wasn’t the end. I wasn’t dead yet, I could still get help.

Yes…help. I needed to call for help. Someone could take me to the hospital and maybe I’d have the chance to live this.

It was a longshot, and my throat felt weak, but I had to try.

”Someone…s-someone please,” I called, but my voice was barely above a whisper. “SOMEONE, PLEASE HEL—“

Before I got the chance to finish, a large gloved hand reached around me and clamped down on my lips. My eyes went wide, the only sounds I could make were muffled screams and terrified whimpers of agony. I tried to fight back, clawing at the hand with both of mine, but it was simply too strong. Or maybe, I was just too weak.

“How unfortunate,” a growly voice said from behind. “It’s such a shame things had to end like this…”

I thrashed around, tried to whip my head from side to side in an attempt to escape, but it was no use.

“I take it that since you were running away, you and I already had our little chat, didn’t we?” he guessed, and as if saddened by what he’d just done, sighed in discontent. “You finally use your ability again and this is what I have to do. If only you’d done this sooner…”

I tried to bite down on his fingers, but the iron grip on my lips was way too strong for me to do anything other than chomping down on my own mouth from the inside.

“I couldn’t allow you to get the chance to figure out who I am unfortunately. Not if I wanted any of this work.”

By now, I’d stopped struggling. There was nothing I could do but pathetically hold onto his hand. In some stupid, horrific way, it felt like my last lifeline.

“So I guess that’s where this story ends, Maxine. There’s nothing left for me to say, and nothing left for you to do. Consider this an act of mercy. At least now, I’ve saved you from all your suffering, and perhaps, you’ll get to see your precious friends again very soon.”

His grip loosened.

“Goodbye, Miss Caulfield. I’m sure you’ll be mourned.”

Without another word, he let go, leaving me with no other recourse than to prop myself up with my hands. I wanted to try and cry out for help again, but I could sense that I was far too weak to make any noise. I’d lost too much blood, all the muscles in my body were shaking and growing steadily more frail by the second.

The only thing I had enough energy for was crying. As the man stepped out in front of me, my vision blurred. Tears streamed down my face in a final bout of sadness as I made one last sobering realization: this really was the end.

I tried as hard as I could to keep myself even somewhat upright for as long as possible, but it didn’t last. Eventually, my arms gave way, and I fell to the ground like a lifeless ragdoll.

All I could do was watch, stare at the man who’d killed me walking away from the scene. Even now, he still wasn’t looking at me. Even now, I still couldn’t see his face.

But I guess that didn’t matter anymore.

Dog…even as my senses dulled, the wound still hurt so much. Was this what Chloe had felt when she died all those years ago?

How cruel was I to do something like this to her?

It figured I’d end up dying in Arcadia Bay. The universe really loved being stupidly poetic like that, didn’t it. Maybe it was always meant to be. Maybe this was the reason I always kept getting called back to this place.

At least now…I’d finally get to see Chloe again. Maybe after all this time, I could finally rest…

But just as the warm light of acceptance started simmering beneath my skin, the sight of that man still walking away in front of me made the embers of anger roar from somewhere deep inside my chest.

This couldn’t be how things ended. I couldn’t let myself die here knowing that in the end, I’d failed Alice.

Rage erupted inside my mind, flooding my psyche with a thousand overwhelming thoughts of revenge. I could still taste the blood in my mouth, could still scrunch my brow. As long as I could move, I was going to do anything I could to fight back.

My arm surged, energy pulsing inside my hand like I’d never felt it before. In one last attempt to change this outcome, to make this fucker pay, I reached outward; feeling around for that comfortingly familiar sensation in the air.

I grabbed hold of it with all the strength I had left, aiming it directly at the man still sauntering away without a care in the world.

This wasn’t the end.

In my final moments, right before the last bits of light managed to leave my eyes, I felt the world shudder.

And then, as if it could hear me, it all turned back in one spiraling flash.

End - Act I

Chapter Text

Swirling. Endless, hopeless, infinite swirling. That’s all I can remember.

When I reached forward and pushed on that invisible force I’d felt lingering in the air, the world around me suddenly began to spin. It distorted, twirled, and twisted as if being mixed inside some massive reality-warping blender. Only, this wasn’t any kind of spin I’d ever seen, or – felt? It was pretty hard to tell.

When you think of spinning, you’d probably imagine something like a ceiling fan whirling around super fast in a single direction, but this was different. Everything around me wasn’t just revolving in circles, it was being consumed -- sucked into an endless vortex that had no end, beginning, or center. It was the mouth of a monster so terrifyingly all-encompassing it felt unfathomable to my puny little eyes, a presence so powerful I was merely a flea in the face of a dragon. The sheer scope and vastness of it all was so intense and otherworldly that I could hardly grasp what the hell I was even experiencing.

It felt like something humans weren’t meant to see; like I’d stepped into a dark corner of the universe my mind wasn’t fully capable of understanding. And maybe, that was for the best, because if I had been able to comprehend it, I probably would’ve gone insane.

Almost as soon as it happened, my brain became overloaded with enough information to make me freeze. I was paralyzed, effectively catatonic, but at the same time, I could still sense and process so much — too much. Way, way too much.

Without warning, hundreds upon thousands of different sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and sensations rushed past me in an unstoppable, gushing stream. The sheer force of it all made my head feel like it was being stretched to the length of a skyscraper, yet somehow, it didn’t get torn to shreds inside the vortex.

It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, and probably ever would; the worst possible torture you can imagine, but the pain is always at it’s peak. I so desperately wished that I could cry out for help, wished I could just let myself die so the pain would be over, but I was powerless to stop it.

The worst part was that all the information crowding my head never felt fully complete. I was receiving every ounce of stimulation my body could possibly handle — yet somehow none at all.

My nerves surged with pain. Burns, scratches, cuts, and scrapes jolted every inch of my skin, yet at the same time, I felt numb — as if I was floating around in a place that had no sensation or feeling.

Thousands of voices chittered, chattered, screamed, and whispered directly into my ears…but everything seemed so silent.

I could see a billion different sights swirling and distorting, but my eyes felt painfully, terrifyingly blind.

I wanted to scream, wanted to close my eyes and fight back against everything I was being forced to endure, but it was impossible. My mind and body simply couldn’t move.

It continued for what felt like years. My head stretching, my nerves screaming, my entire being getting consumed piece by piece inside the monstrous presence beneath me. I felt like I was being torn apart atom by atom then pieced back together all in the span of a tenth of a tenth of a second, every second, forever.

I’m glad I don’t remember much other than that. The things I must’ve seen in there, the sensations I must’ve felt…no one could make it out of that with their sanity intact. Not unless their brain forced them to forget like mine.

One thing I do remember though, is that every little sensory torment I was forced to go through somehow felt oddly…familiar. Like the swirling, spiraling black hole made me feel and process all the different things I’d ever felt at the exact same time.

I didn’t know what that meant, why that was happening, or when it would stop, but for a brief moment, within that infinite pocket of disturbingly recognizable agony, I swear, I briefly heard Alice’s voice calling out to me from somewhere so close yet somehow so far away. A singular whisper that shouted and echoed, “Miss Caulfield?” like a haunting chant.

I tried to reach for it, felt my frozen fingers yearning to grab hold of the only thing it could make sense of. The harder I tried, the closer I came. I could feel it, almost taste it. If I could just inch forward a little further, then–

But that’s when it all came to a sudden end, and in an instant, I found myself gasping for air.

When I was finally freed from my personal eldritch-style hell, the first thing I noticed was that my lungs had absolutely no air in them whatsoever. It felt like I’d been breathing out for 30 seconds straight, wilting my insides until they crumpled up into a jumbled mess of deflated muscle.

The second thing I noticed was that I was falling.

As quickly as I could manage, I gulped in as much air as I could – the largest breath I’d ever drawn – right as I unceremoniously hit the ground. Without thinking I tried flailing my arms around, maybe hoping the extra movement would somehow slow my fall, but of course, it didn’t really work out.

“OOPH!” I grunted, the sheer force of the thud knocking the wind right out of me again. My poor back suddenly found itself in a world of pain too. Whatever I’d just landed on had been hard and rigid, like I’d been struck by a rock or some kind of wooden structure.

It took me a long time to get my bearings, the panicked, scattered feeling of being unable to breathe made it hard for my mind to focus on anything other than simply trying to stay conscious.

For what felt like hours, I breathed in and out as deeply and slowly as I could, gently allowing my body to calm down and finally stop tingling. The whole time, I tried to recall what the hell had just happened. For some reason though, I couldn’t remember a damn thing – which was super frustrating. I knew I’d been…somewhere? And I swear I was doing…something? I could also vividly remember feeling…

Shit. What the fuck had I been doing before all this?

Every time I thought I might be able to make out any sort of detail, my brain short-circuited and stopped halfway. I kept thinking it was right on the tip of my tongue, but every time I tried to articulate it I found that I simply couldn’t.

In fact, now that I was trying I noticed that all my thoughts were jumbled. Remembering anything was a painful struggle akin to pouring molasses out of a jar. When I really strained my thoughts, I remembered something about a plane, but that was it.

Groaning in annoyance, I turned to my side and planted a hand on the ground so I could try and push myself upright. That’s when I noticed something weird.

The floor; it was carpeted.

Considering I’d fallen on something hard just a moment ago, I figured I’d landed on a solid surface, but no. The whole thing felt fluffy and soft.

Huh…

Confused beyond belief, I turned to see what I’d been lying on this whole time. Turns out, it was a chair: an old wooden one at that. I couldn’t tell you how old it was but it’d probably seen better days. Much of the stain and finish on the poor thing had long since eroded away, leaving the wood faded, matte, and rough.

I had no idea why I’d been sitting on it, but looking at it gave me a strange feeling: bittersweet warmth aching throughout my chest. Why did it seem so oddly familiar?

I shook my head. It was stupid of me to spend so much time staring at an old wooden chair like I was some kind of nostalgic grandma. Right now, I needed to figure out where I was, which was…

Slowly, my eyes shifted beyond the chair, drinking in the sights of all the new scenery around me.

I don’t know what I expected to feel when I looked around, but another immediate burst of that same bittersweet familiarity definitely wasn’t it. The walls were covered in various posters I could’ve sworn I’d seen before. Some of them were the works of various photographers I admired — Henri Cartier-Bresson and Robert Frank — others were stylised artworks of my favorite novels like The Winger and The Cow. There were movie posters, band posters, and strangely, photos that looked a whole lot like mine.

Wherever I was, something about this whole room seemed so weirdly uncanny to me. Like I’d seen this place before but for some reason, I couldn’t remember where.

I continued scouring, cautiously circling around in some vain attempt to make sense of what was going on.

But then my eyes fell on a picture that made my pulse stop dead in its tracks.

It was a portrait. A portrait of none other than Mark Jefferson.

A vicious chill ran up my spine, one that made me shiver in an uncontrollable, vibrating tremor; a fierce cold piercing through the deepest layers of my skin.

I sprang to my feet as fast as I could, eyes wide and scrutinizing as I stared at the visage of the man who’d tortured and had his way with me so many years ago. He smiled nonchalantly at the camera, looking so sweetly innocent like he wasn’t at all a chauvinistic psychopath behind those thick-rimmed glasses of his.

Why was this here? What kind of person would be so fucked up that they’d idolize that murderer enough to stick his face up on their wall?

I spun around on my heel, more sights and details ebbing their way into my vision.

The whole room was cast in a gray-ish blue hue as the evening daylight filtered in through the unshaded window on the far wall. It made every highlight brighter and every shadow darker; trust me when I say it only added to my unease.

The chair on which I’d apparently been sitting was located in front of a small desk, post-it notes scattered along the wall behind it, hasty reminders for whomever they belonged to. A small end-table sat near the bed too, a polaroid camera and a bunch of film capsules haphazardly strewn about along the surface. I should’ve known whose camera that was…right?

But most strikingly however, just off to the side, I saw something that made me quiver: a giant wall of photos, all lined up in a neat, organized grid, and above them, a series of paper faerie lights held together by a long, frayed string.

That’s when everything began snapping into place.

Of course…how in the world hadn’t I realized it before?

This place – it looked like my room back in Seattle.

No…scratch that — this was my room back in Seattle — except…it looked just like it used to back before I left for Blackwell Academy…

What the hell is this? What the fuck is going on?

It all seemed too crazy to be true. Somehow, for some reason, I was staring at a carbon-copy of my old room…but why? How the fuck had I ended up here? What had I been doing before I woke up? Why couldn’t I remember anything?

I backed away, my steps slow and uneasy. I was so focused on trying not to freak out that when I bumped into something, I yelped in surprise.

Spinning around, I found myself face to face with my bedroom mirror, and what I saw made my blood run ice-cold.

In the reflection, staring back at me with a pair of tired blue-eyes, was me — except it wasn’t really me. It was me from ten years ago.

My fringe covered my forehead, my hair just as shaggy and unkempt as I remembered it. When I looked down, I saw that I was wearing an old pink hoodie and a white shirt I could’ve sworn I’d thrown out years ago.

My heart pounded relentlessly, and slowly, as tentatively as I could, I raised a hand to the mirror’s surface, watching as my reflection pressed its fingertips against mine.

With a small gasp I pulled away, quickly taking a moment to press my fingers along my own face and hair. As I touched, squeezed and tapped myself, I half-hoped the mirror was lying — that I’d finally lost my sanity and this was just some freaky illusion my broken mind had cooked up. But the more I felt around my face, the more I patted at my hair, the more clear it became to me that the reflection in front of me was telling the truth. Right now, at this very moment, I looked like. A 17-year-old version of me.

This couldn’t have been real…this had to be one of my dreams again.

“What the hell is this?” I breathed, “What the fuck is going – GRK–“

Before I could finish that thought, something terrible caught in my throat. In response, I reflexively slapped a hand over my mouth and lurched forward.

Out of nowhere I started to cough and hack uncontrollably, sharp pain prickling throughout my insides. The sheer force of all the involuntary spluttering made my diaphragm feel like it might split in half at any given moment. I tried to stop it, tried to gain any semblance of control amidst the endless onslaught of coughing and wheezing, but I was helpless. The pain grew so unbearable and so intense that it felt as if I might hack up both my lungs.

I was certain I was about to die, that I was about to end up spewing all my organs onto the carpeted floor, but then, at last, without any warning, my lungs finally relaxed.

When I opened my eyes, however, I froze in terror.

My hand. It was spattered with blood.

That’s when I realized I could feel something else too – a whole lot of something’s all at once.

My eyes stung like they’d been doused in gasoline, and even weirder, a warm, viscous liquid began sliding down the sides of my face. I started to panic all over again, all the new and very much overpowering stimuli sending my reflexes into overdrive. I wanted to grab a washcloth or something, but just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I felt a familiar oozing sensation of blood creeping its way out of my nose.

Now absolutely terrified, I looked back at the mirror, my mouth gaping and my gaze fearfully wide. To my horror, I saw that blood was gushing from every orifice of my face. My eyes wept bloody wet tears along my cheeks, my ears leaked across the length of my jaw. Blood also trailed down the sides of my mouth too; but worst of all, my nose was flooding like a dam had burst — just like it used to when—

“AGH!”

I fell to the ground, a sudden, sharp pain stabbing into my head, an angry mugger having his way with my gray matter.

It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, a fiery, electric jolt straight to my cerebrum. It made me squeal, spasm uncontrollably on the carpeted floor as if I’d suddenly become a fish out of water.

Unsure of what I could possibly do to curb the unbearable searing pain, I clutched my head as tightly as I could and curled into a fetal position. I glued my eyes shut, tuning in to the feeling of my brain pulsing and throbbing on repeat with no hope of stopping. It felt too big for my head. A stretching sensation not too different from the one I experienced in that weird purgatory world.

You’d figure it’d stop there, that I’d find some kind of relief, but no, Max Caulfield is never that lucky. For some reason, everything started to buzz…a low hum, itching beneath my skin, thousands of tiny needles cocooning me in a restrained symphony of white noise and stabbing pain.

No matter how much I tried to fight back against the insufferable, cutting sting of my nervous system being set ablaze, it just got worse. Blood continued pouring out of my face, and my brain? It swelled and swelled until my skull came dangerously close to snapping in half.

Pathetically, I laid there. Convulsing, twitching, and whimpering for all I was worth. I could hardly catch my breath, barely think. The only thing I could do was perceive every last pounding sting in this latest episode of: “How much pain can Max handle this time?”

The only saving grace was that it didn’t last for very long, and fortunately, just as quickly as the pain arrived, it vanished without a trace, dissolving into nothingness like salt in water.

Still, even after it was finally gone, all I could really do was continue lying on the ground like that. Limp and motionless as if I was nothing more than a cold, lifeless corpse. I felt exhausted, way too weak from losing all that blood, and still so confused about everything going on. Nothing seemed to make sense, but the simple act of trying to form even one coherent thought just made my head hurt more.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the sheer insanity of it all. It was numb, pitiful, the kind of dry, empty laugh you only let out when there aren’t any emotions left for you to express. When you’ve finally depleted all your options, when you’ve used up all the anger, sadness, shock, and happiness inside of you, when there’s nothing you can do aside from accepting that this is the way things are — everything (in a very disbelieving, somber sort of way) — starts to feel so terribly funny. Comical, even.

This was my reality, the universe I lived in; the life I was doomed to have the moment I messed with something that shouldn’t have been touched.

And it would never truly end, would it?

No matter how hard I tried to let myself live just one normal day, the universe did everything in its power to keep sending me through the proverbial meatgrinder.

Briefly, I wondered what might happen if I simply decided to lie there for the rest of my life. Just – let the world continue spinning on without me. At the very least, I could deny all the powers-that-be the satisfaction of finding yet another way to hurt me again.

After all, I knew that the moment I got back up, something else would happen, another terrible, stupid series of events perfectly designed to tear me down piece by piece. For a brief moment, I’d think everything was okay, then, it would all come crashing down and ruin any semblance of calm I had left. Did I really wanna keep putting myself through that? Was that even something I could do anymore?

I mean – who knew what might happen next? Would Victoria die too? Would Jefferson actually get let out of prison? Would I somehow lose my mom and dad? What else could be done to make this any worse? To make me any worse?

The only thing I could really do was wait and find out. Same as always.

Which is why it was just my luck that right as I finished that thought, I began to hear it: that very “something” rearing its ugly head.

“Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”

The voice’s call was sudden, its words a reverberating thrum that echoed from somewhere beyond my own mind. By now, I had a ton of unwanted experience with disembodied voices, but this…this was different. For whatever reason, it didn’t sound like that overwhelmingly loud whisper I’d heard when I saw Alice’s body. Somehow, it felt so much stronger. Powerful.

“I kept it simple. Told you nothing more than four fucking words...”

Again, it sounded so different. It wasn’t like someone was talking inside my head or intruding on my thoughts and feelings anymore. It almost sounded like…another person was in the room with me.

I knew I should probably pick myself up off the ground to investigate, but the mere thought of moving only made my better judgment grumble in protest. I really didn’t wanna see what new pile of garbage fate had in store for me this time, and honestly, if I was going to get killed, then so be it.

But still, when the unsettling feeling of someone else’s presence crept in from somewhere behind me, I knew it was pointless to try and fight back. My desire to continue laying there like a useless ragdoll had unfortunately been trumped by all my unease.

I might’ve hated it with every fiber of my being, might’ve groaned and huffed with pain as my muscles screamed in defiance, but somehow, I managed to sit myself up and stumble back to my feet.

The sudden movement made my head spin. In fact, the moment I stood up, the world started to wobble and undulate like I was looking at it through a giant funhouse mirror. If I hadn’t placed a hand on my desk to steady myself, I would’ve fallen right back over.

Once I took a moment to relax and felt like I definitely wasn’t going to pass out, I scanned the area for any uninvited guests. Despite feeling for certain just a second ago that someone else had been skulking around inside my room, no one was there.

I shook my head, figuring it was just my rattled mind deciding to play tricks on me again, but before I had the chance to write it off and make my way over to that super enticing looking bed on the opposite side of the room, I heard that damn voice speak up again.

“I gave you Instructions so simple, a fucking toddler could’ve followed them. And still, you somehow managed to fuck it all up.”

I snapped around almost instantly, the blood inside my head sloshing from one side to another like it was water in a bottle. It made me rock from side to side – nearly lost me my footing – but I still forced myself to stay upright. Wherever the voice was, it sounded so close, just barely out of reach. If I could only figure out where it was coming from…

“Over here, dumbass.”

Great. Not only is it annoying, but it’s also an asshole.

Grunting indignantly, I spun around and clutched my desk to avoid tumbling backwards again in some vertigo-driven fit of clumsiness. This time, I was greeted by the sight of my dresser. It didn’t look all that menacing of course, but the way it stood there, motionless, buried beneath the shadows of an otherwise sickly-gray room, it filled me with a strange sense of dread.

Cautiously, I pushed off the table and inched my way forward, the presence I felt only growing stronger with every step I took. It was a heavy feeling, a dark, creeping weight digging deep into my shoulders from somewhere down below. It made me slow, forced my insides to curl with fear, but still, I pressed on.

When I finally stepped in the front of the mirror, I strained my eyes for any signs of something out of the ordinary. I knew for sure the voice was emanating from somewhere around here, but…where?

I probably spent five whole minutes investigating the damn thing. Fuck, I even stared at my reflection until it started to distort in that weird disturbing sort-of-way it often does when you look too long. No matter how many times I pored over the scene though, nothing of note stuck out to me. Everything was in its rightful place – not one book, poster, item, or article of clothing looked any different than it had when I first saw it.

I guess I am going crazy.

I lowered my head and sighed with exhaustion. It was probably best to give this all up now before I had the chance to give myself an aneurysm. My only hope was that the voice would at least fuck off long enough for me to figure out what was going on.

Or sleep. Sleep would be nice too.

But just as I turned away, right as I stopped focusing on the mirror, I saw it. It was brief; the tiniest little split of a second you could possibly imagine; but it was there.

Practically imperceptible, sure, but in that faint blip of time, I’d involuntarily allowed my eyes to brush past the image of my own face. Even within that quick flash of blurred features and warped colors, I could immediately tell something was off.

Confused, I turned myself around to get a second glance, and what I saw was my own reflection, smiling right back at me with a twisted, unnatural grin.

“Hi.”

“AH!” Immediately I recoiled backwards and gasped, or – well – tried to gasp. It came out as more of a silent inhale than anything else.

The scare hit me so suddenly my mind nearly did a full-reset before I had the chance to truly grasp what was happening. Even then, I still had a really hard time believing what it was seeing. Completely out of nowhere, my own reflection had spoken to me – and not only that – it was smiling at me.

For a moment I just stood there and observed, wondering with bated breath if I’d finally gone full-psycho and just imagined it.

But when I saw my own face roll its eyes at me, my heart stopped beating.

“God, you’re always gonna be such a fucking pussy, aren’t you?” the reflection sounded, annoyed in a way I wasn’t used to hearing in my own voice.

“‘Aw, have I gone full psycho?’” she mocked, making an unnaturally stretchy looking pout with her face. “Jesus, you’re such a drama-queen.”

I glared at her, suddenly realizing exactly what it was I was staring at. This wasn’t some crazy vision, it was my doppelganger. The annoying voice in the back of my head that’d been taunting me for the last six months, the stupid bug that wouldn’t shut up no matter how I tried to push her out.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” she said. “Since we’ve last seen each other face to face, that is. And here I thought you were finally starting to change. It only took you – what? Another easily world-ending fuck up to see me again?”

I held my scowl, but I didn’t say anything. I knew how this song and dance went all too well by now. First, she’d antagonize me; mock me, and berate me. Then, she’d force me to see or experience something terrible. Her goal was to goad me into an interaction, say things that would make me wanna talk back or try to fight. It might’ve worked in the past, but I wasn’t going to let it happen this time…there was simply no chance in hell I was gonna give her the satisfaction.

So instead of speaking, I turned away and hugged myself tight. All I had to do was ignore her, stop myself from giving her what she wanted.

“Well, would you look at that,” she taunted. “Ignoring all your problems instead of actually dealing with them head-on. How…on-brand of you.”

Shut up, I thought, irritation already swelling deep inside my chest. There was just something about her that always made me so irrationally angry, and that made it all the more difficult to disregard her words.

Despite all my anger and unease however, I couldn’t help feeling a little relieved. If she was here, that meant all of this was just a dream – another stupid night terror for me to wake up from. I mean, it would explain pretty much everything: why I was in Seattle, why I looked like a teenager again, why I saw all that weird otherworldly shit…

Yeah…that’s what this was. It was just another nightmare. If I could ignore it or endure it for long enough, then it stood to reason I’d wake up eventually. The only question was…how long would I need to hold out?

From behind me, I heard my other self sigh in agitation, “This isn’t a dream, dumbass.”

I shut my eyes, willing myself to ignore her with every ounce of resolve I still had left. I couldn’t let her win, couldn’t let her get to me like she did when I saw her six months ago. She wasn’t going to kill another Chloe or tie me down to another chair if I could help it. Not this time.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Do you seriously believe that shitty, self-absorbed brain of yours really has the capacity to come up with something like this? Don’t think you can just give yourself that much credit.”

Ignore her…ignore her, ignore her, ignore her.

”But — hm…there’s a part of you that isn’t quite convinced this is all a dream either, right?”

I squeezed my eyes shut harder, residual anger coursing through my bones like hot water in metal pipes. I absolutely hated it when she peered into my mind like that. It always felt so…violating. Ugh, if I could just grab her and—

Forget about it, Max! Just keep ignoring her. The only way you get out of this is if you win the war of attrition.

“Oh don’t be such a fucking baby,” she chided, more venom lingering in her voice. “I mean after all, don’t you have your own special way of testing out this sort of thing? Why don’t you go ahead and give it a try? Prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Her words made me shudder. I didn’t want to give in, but despite my own feelings I still felt the intense grip I had on my own waist loosening ever so slightly.

It really pained me to admit it, but she was right. I did have a way to test if I was lucid or not. All I’d have to do was plug my nose and try to breathe through it. If I could, I’d know for sure I was dreaming, if I couldn’t…well — then I’d know I’d come back to the world of the living.

But there was no way that was happening.

Nope. Never.

Definitely not.

She was just baiting me. I wasn’t going to fall for one of her tricks again.

”Sure you won’t,” the other me jeered. “But you can’t deny it — that small pinch of doubt you have…”

I grit my teeth.

“Even now, I can feel it: that weird sensation creeping up your back? The cold hand prodding at your spine? Somewhere in there, a part of you knows this feels way too real to be fake…there’s just too much pain beneath that skin of yours for it to be something as easy as a trick of the mind.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“You can try to hide it all you want, but you can’t keep those sensations from me. I can feel your nerves swirling up inside you, mixing around until they get themselves all tangled up like a bunch of loose wires. You know this isn’t how you’ve ever felt in a dream before. So, go on. Do it and tell me this is all just one big fantasy.”

As she finished her little speech, I bit down on my lip with so much force I actually drew blood.

My immediate reaction was to tell myself that she was simply trying to trick me. After all, this was the same game she always played, wasn’t it? I knew her well enough by now to know that this could easily be some kind of grand scheme designed to torment me as much as possible. If I gave in now, if I humored her and did as she said, there was a ridiculously high chance I’d just end up shooting myself in the foot.

So, it’d be stupid of me to even entertain the idea, right? I couldn’t seriously let myself think about playing along and acting like I wouldn’t just get thrown right back into that damn bunker again. Right?

And yet…there was still something so undeniably real about all the things she was saying.

I’d had extremely vivid dreams a thousand times before. By now, I knew exactly what to expect; all the telltale signs that something was wrong and that I needed to wake up. But this felt so different. So…visceral. The pain I sensed thumping inside my chest…the headache I felt roaring throughout my skull…the agitation scratching at my throat…it all felt so terrifyingly real.

I swallowed. Noting that the sinking I could sense in my core didn’t carry the same kind of haze it usually did in a dream. The distant impression that all the pain was somehow disconnected from my own body, yet still undoubtedly attached to me from afar – it wasn’t there.

What if she was right? What if I wasn’t dreaming?

But then…what would that mean for me?

The question flickered behind my eyes, a small fire burning with the unignorable desire to at least make sure.

Half of me still didn’t want to do this, but the other half was becoming too loud and too anxious to ignore.

Still keeping my eyes closed, I raised a trembling hand to my face and plugged my nose. If I could breathe, then this was all a trick. If I couldn’t – well – I didn’t want to think about that.

So, slowly, I inhaled one long, deep breath, and–

I couldn’t push any air out.

My eyes shot open almost instantly. This was real.

And if this was all real then–

“How are you here?!” I burst out, spinning around to face her.

“And she’s back!” my reflection announced, her smile was all tooth and no lip. “It only took her about a thousand fucking years of internal monologue to figure it out. A new record!”

I glowered at her, which accomplished nothing outside of making her eyes roll.

“Oh, come on. Do you seriously need me to tell you how fucked up your head is? Don’t look so freaked out, I mean – can’t you see this is the start of something great?”

I clenched my fists, doing what I could to ignore the implications of that statement. Even if this all was somehow real, I had a feeling she’d try playing the exact same games she usually did regardless. I had to be careful, try to keep my cool so she wouldn’t win out against me in the end.

“Whatever, just — how am I here? What happened? I…look like a kid again. It doesn’t make any sense.”

”Doesn’t it?” she growled, her smile suddenly disappearing. “This was what you wanted after all, right? The stupidly selfish thing you kept asking for?”

I furrowed my brow, straining myself to remember what the hell I’d been doing before I got here. No matter how thoroughly I tried probing at my memories however, all it did was make my brain hurt. “I…don't understand.”

”Fuck me, you really are slow on the uptake aren’t you?! Do you seriously not remember anything? All the shit that happened before you ended up here?”

I turned to the side, forcing myself to move as if the motions would somehow knock something loose. At first, I couldn’t seem to find anything, but then – suddenly – I saw the hazy flash of bright green trees and a clear blue sky gliding past my eyes…if that’s what I thought it was, then I’d been –

“I was driving.” I finished. “I was headed to the cemetery. The one in Arcadia Bay.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my doppelganger nodding with encouragement, though it didn’t seem like she was really cheering me on as much as she was taunting me. It almost looked malicious in its eagerness.

I ignored it.

“I went there to…say hi to Chloe. I told her about Alice, I think?”

”Yes…then what?”

I shut my eyes tight, digging around inside the pool of fractured memories and scattered sensations for anything solid to latch onto. It turned out to be a herculean task however, because the harder I looked, the more it seemed like they were trying to play a nasty game of tug-of-war with me. Visions kept fading in and out, never feeling defined, yet never truly fading away. The endless push and pull made it unbelievably hard to piece everything together, but still…

What had happened after I talked to Chloe?

I told her I’d use my powers again to help Alice, and then —

My eyes went wide. Every passing hint of panic, pain, and despair immediately flooding my head with the force of a 50-foot tidal wave.

“I was shot…“ I gasped, nearly breathless as my heart rate skyrocketed to at least 200. “I was fucking shot!”

Quickly, I pressed my hands to my stomach, tugging on my shirt so I could see where the bullet had pierced me.

I expected to see a huge gaping exit wound; blood marring my skin and flesh protruding from my body, but to my astonishment, nothing was there.

Confused and absolutely dizzy with fear, I felt around some more, thinking I somehow must’ve missed it or I simply wasn’t looking in the right place, but no. There wasn’t a single hole, wound, or drop of blood to be found — nothing at all. Strangely, the only thing I could sense was the faint echo of hot iron pressing against my insides. The ghost of a non-existent bullet sending waves of pain throughout my gut.

”There you go…” My other self mouthed, her voice carrying a sinister note of satisfaction.

”I should be dead.” I stated, plain and hollow like my stomach felt.

I almost didn’t process that. It was just so unbelievably horrifying that I instinctively tried tricking myself into believing it wasn’t true. But I knew I felt that bullet, knew I’d felt my life draining away on the asphalt of a shitty parking lot.

I started hyperventilating, reality crashing into me way too hot and way too fast. “Oh fuck….oh fuckoh fuckohfuck, I should be dead! Am I dead?! Is that why—“

”No. Unfortunately for both of us you're still alive,” my reflection grumbled. “And I think you know the reason why.”

I gulped, pressing my hands further into my core. “No.”

”Yes.” she leered. “Congratulations Maxine, you finally did it: you went back in time. The only problem? You went back so far you’ve turned yourself into a teenager again.”

I shook my head defiantly. Even when the throbbing and aching only got worse and worse with every single movement, I still forced myself to continue. I had to. “N-no! I — I didn’t! This is all just—“

“Just what? You still think this is a dream? You’re really gonna try and gaslight yourself into believing that?”

”But, I never wanted to —“

”Yes you did!” she snapped. “When your selfish ass was bleeding out on the ground, you had the chance to finally let things go. You could’ve died, moved on, and met your precious little Chloe again up in the sky. But of course, you couldn’t even do something as simple as that.”

She pressed a hand against the surface of the mirror now, the eerie look of anger on her face so disturbing I wanted to run away and hide. But as usual, I was stuck firmly in place.

“At the very last moment, right when you were about to kick the bucket, you decided to reach out, remember? You lifted your hand, called for help, and for some stupid fucking reason, somebody actually listened. Now here we are. So far into the past I can’t even begin to fucking fathom how bad this could turn out.”

I gaped at her, frozen like a marble statue. Despite this all clearly being real, my sense of logic was screaming at me in hopes that somehow, it could manifest the idea that it wasn’t into reality.

I knew I’d reached out right before I died, knew I’d felt something bubbling in the air just before the whole world went dark, but still…going so far back I’d regressed into a teenager? How was that even possible? My powers had never deaged me before, so why could they suddenly do that now?

While I tried to make sense of it, my doppelganger simply titled her head, a forlorn expression etching into itself her features, graphite on rough paper. “You still don’t believe me, do you? You’re not gonna accept it until you have proof.”

When I didn’t respond, she merely sighed, backing away from the mirror and resting her hands atop the dresser. “Fine. You need proof? Go ahead and check that phone in your pocket. Tell me the date.”

I blinked, only just now realizing that there was in fact something in my pocket. I guessed with everything going on, I was a bit too overwhelmed to notice.

With a slow, hesitant hand, I dug into my jeans and pulled out my phone, just like she asked. The second I saw it however, I had to do a double take. It wasn’t the iPhone 13 I was so used to handling anymore, instead it was my old iPhone 5. Headphone jack and all.

Mentally preparing myself for what I was about to see, I pressed the home button and checked the date. The lock screen said it was April 22nd.

Something about that date seemed strangely familiar…

Putting a pin in that thought for now, I unlocked the phone with the same passcode I’d been using since I was 16 and went to check the calendar. As I scanned over all the apps I had installed, anticipation and anxiety began broiling against my skin, a lightheaded tingle like pins and needles stabbing into my cheeks.

It only took half a second for the app to load, but when it did, the date I saw made me seize.

Today was April 22nd…

2013.

No way…

I let out a shaky breath, my entire body trembling as if it’d just been hit with a freezing wave of impossibly chilly air. At first my hand clenched around the device, a white knuckled grip that threatened to crush the phone to pieces if I wasn’t careful. But then, involuntarily, I lost the strength to continue; not even realizing it when the device dropped to the ground with a soft thud.

11 years. I’d gone back in time by 11 years.

My heart was thumping so violently and so loudly inside my chest I felt like I was going to faint. I tried to take a deep breath, but – wait – why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? Why couldn’t I breathe?

My lungs weren’t working. Shit, I couldn’t get a breath in and my lungs weren’t fucking working!

Come on Max, breath! Fucking breathe already!

No…this was too much. This was way too fucking much.

My mind immediately started racing, falling face-first into an downward spiral of unanswerable questions: how did this even happen? How was it possible? I’d never gone back this far before — not even with a camera. Hell, I hadn’t even dreamed it was possible I could. Even when I used that photo to go back in time and save William during that week with Chloe, I never even broke the five year mark.

And then there was that date...April 22nd.

April 22nd, why did that seem so familiar to me? It was right on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to taste it.

What did all this mean? What was going to happen now that I was here? What was I supposed to do about all this? Why me? Why me, why me, why me?!

My brain became so overloaded with emotions and uncertainty that it had no room left to focus on basic bodily functions. I wasn’t moving, stirring, blinking, or breathing. All that mattered was the petrifying, disconcerting horror of this entire situation being laid bare before me.

I was starting to lose my balance, senses dulling from the lack of air and shot nerves. I wanted so desperately to breathe, but how was I supposed to do that when I had no idea what my next move was going to be?

“Isn’t it obvious?” my other self chimed in. Even though she sounded condescending and bitter, the sound of her voice acted as a sort of flotation device for my rattled mind. Something that kept me aloft amidst the darkened sea of my own panic. “You saw what happened when you changed the events of a single week — the destruction that caused. Now imagine what 11 years worth of time might do. The way I see it, you only have one option: make sure nothing gets changed. Live your life exactly the way you did for the last 11 years and make sure nothing drastically different ends up happening. You have to act like nothing’s wrong, go back to Arcadia Bay in the fall just like you did before. And on that day, when you get the vision of the storm, you go ahead and let Chloe die in the bathroom; because you know that’s the only way to stop this.“

That sentence made me give her a look, but she still continued on like nothing had happened. “After that, it’ll be business as usual until you catch back up to your own death. Simple enough, really.”

I took a long time to soak that in, really internalize that as something I had to do.

She was right of course (annoying as that was), living my life exactly the way I did before was the only logical solution to all this — the simplest, most surefire way I could guarantee no one else got hurt because of me. At the same time, however…her words began to make me think about something else. One singular thought that kept circling back to the forefront of my mind; something I hadn’t even considered until she mentioned it because of how shocked and confused I’d been for the last ten minutes: right now, at this very moment, Chloe was alive.

She wasn’t in her grave anymore. She was talking, walking, breathing, sleeping…dog, if I really wanted to, I could open up my phone and call her right now.

”I swear to God if you get any fucking ideas right now…” my uninvited guest hissed.

And then there was that date: April 22nd…it felt so familiar to me it kept popping back up like it was practically begging me to take notice, alarm bells ringing at max volume in an effort to make me remember.

Something about that matters. I thought. I’ve definitely seen that date before, I can feel it. But…where? April…April, April —

That’s when it hit me.

April 22nd – how could I have forgotten? I’d seen that date plastered across Blackwell‘s walls and bulletin boards for months back when I was there; always accompanied by the image of a beautiful girl with blonde hair and a blue feather earring.

Today was the day Rachel Amber was supposed to die, and if it wasn’t already too late, there was actually a good chance that she was alive too. Just like Chloe.

”Stop it. Put a stop to this shit right-fucking-now!”

And — shit — Alice. Alice was alive right now too.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?!”

I turned away from her, keeping silent as I felt an incipient warmth blooming inside my core. It blossomed like a flower, unfurling its petals as if it was practically scalding my very bones.

I mulled it over again, wordless as can be. I think I heard the sound of my other self banging against the mirror’s surface at some point, but I don’t really remember. It’s not like it mattered that much anyway, not when I was faced with an entirely new dilemma:

Chloe, Rachel, Alice – they’re all alive. Right now.

I repeated those words again and again, the emotions they stirred so alien in comparison to all the dread I’d been cloaked in for so long. I knew what this was, of course – I just never thought I’d feel it again. The faint glimmer of hope that made your heart stutter, the rapid flutter of butterfly wings flapping violently inside your tummy – it was adrenaline, it was light, desire given form. It was the unmistakable glow of opportunity. The kind that could change absolutely everything.

The kind that made you think: ‘what if…’

And of course, I had to wonder –

No. Stop it. Get that out of your head right now. My mind blared. You know you can't do that. You know it’s too risky.

I guess the last few throes of common sense I still had left weren’t going to back down without a fight, huh? I mean – they did have a point after all. There was no way I could honestly allow myself to risk so much, not after seeing everything I have, knowing just how terrifying things could truly become if I used my powers like this…but still…

Off in the background, the muffled sounds of my doppelganger’s screams and bangs vibrated from far away.

I knew I’d already decided to use my powers again so I could help Alice, but I was only talking about a month’s worth of time back then. This was 11 years we were talking about. The consequences of doing something like this would be – well – I didn’t wanna think about that.

But the more I mulled over the idea, the more I found that I simply couldn’t ignore just how tantalizing it was.

I’d sent myself back so far I had six whole months before the storm was supposed to hit Arcadia Bay. If I assumed it still would, and decided to do what I was thinking about…I had so much more time to figure out a way to stop it.

And Jefferson – I knew all about his depraved little horror-show down in that bunker of his. With my knowledge, I had the chance to stop him before he could hurt anyone else.

Then there was Alice’s killer – the faceless man that shot me dead. If I could figure out who he was and stop him too, I’d save both Alice and that brown-haired woman from getting murdered in the future.

More hostile thoughts started sprouting from the deeper parts of my subconscious as I recounted the possibilities, rebuking me for even broaching the topic in the first place.

But what about everyone else? Do they not matter to you?

Are you really going to risk killing thousands of people for something you’re not even sure will work?

You couldn’t fix anything before, what makes you think you can now?

And for a moment, they almost had me. The weight of my own arrogance combined with the knowledge of all the terrible things I could do nearly pulled me right back down into another spiral.

But that was before something sparked inside my memory: the words I’d imagined Chloe had said to me back at the cemetery.

“Then you keep trying until you get it right. Max, you’re never gonna get anywhere if all you do is run away. Fight for the future you want, hippie.”

Wasn’t this a future worth fighting for?

All of a sudden my doppelganger’s voice boomed from behind me, breaking through my thoughts with the destructive power of a wrecking ball. It was much louder and heavier than before, and with the way it made me feel a faint static buzz on the inside of my skull, I almost thought she was about to unleash some kind of psychic attack. “So this is what we’re doing now?! Dropping all common sense in favor of some fantasy-land you’ll never create?!”

I turned back to her now, watching as her features hardened with rage. “You use your powers for the first time in forever and what happens?! You get shot! Do you not see the fucking pattern here?! Does that not matter to you?!”

When I didn’t respond, she let out a long tired breath and slowly allowed her face to relax.

“Of course it doesn’t…you just got handed the one thing you’ve always wanted on a big, steaming, silver platter. As long as it’s there, sitting in front of you, that tunnel vision of yours will never let you see the bigger picture.”

“‘Seeing the bigger picture’,” I mused. “Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing this whole time?”

Now, it was my reflection’s turn to go silent. Instead of spewing off some mean-spirited retort like usual, she merely narrowed her eyes.

And yeah, in case you were wondering, I was pretty proud of that.

Seeing as I’d finally shut her the hell up, I relaxed and bowed my head towards the ground. My phone was still there, open and waiting like it was expecting me to use it for its intended purpose.

So many conflicting thoughts were still swirling through me as I gazed at it, each one disjointed and chaotic, passing from one synapse to the other like some disquieting game of hot potato. If I hoped to have any chance of coming to a decision, I knew I needed something to focus on. Something to zone me in.

I bent down, grabbing the phone between my fingers with slow, measured purpose. The moment I opened my contact list, it only took a couple swipes of my finger to see a familiar face staring back at me.

Chloe.

She was 14 in that picture. If I tried, I could almost recall taking it during the summer before I left Arcadia Bay for the first time. She was still smiling back then, happy and dorky as can be with a big head of strawberry blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

Seeing that face again…knowing she was out there, still waiting for her best friend to say hi to her some day…

It was in that moment I knew my mind had been made up.

“Why did I even bother?” my doppelganger muttered, her voice just barely above a whisper. She looked tired – still angry of course, but tired nonetheless. The way the wrinkles in her face seemed to deepen made it look like she’d somehow aged five years over the course of our conversation.

When she next spoke, she sounded bitter. Every word as harsh and sharp as the tip of a blade. “You’ve made your choice now, and I guess I can’t stop you. But when you get down on your luck, and shit hits the fan like I know it will, just remember that I was the one who tried to make you see reason.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She sneered at that, slowly backing away from the mirror with scorn written in every single one of her movements. When she was finally gone, it left my reflection empty, devoid of life or substance.

When I blinked, I saw myself again. No uncanny smile, no angry wrinkles – nothing. Just me.

And unless I was dreaming it, everything seemed so much clearer than before. Quiet. My other self leaving was like a low hum dissolving into the bowels of a distant fog. The endless whirlpool of thoughts I had finally slowed down too.

Once again, I found myself completely, and utterly alone – but this wasn’t like the last few times. I didn’t feel a hole in my chest anymore or the drowning hopelessness of solitude. I felt invigorated, excited, but also – deftly afraid.

I moved to hover my thumb over the call button, watching as the light of my phone screen slowly blended in with the world around me. The only things separating me from hearing that voice again were two measly centimeters of dead air.

Deep down, I knew this was dumb. This would by far be the most stupid, idiotic thing I’d ever done. There was so much to consider, so much at risk, but I also knew that if I didn’t do this, there was no way I’d ever be able to live with myself. The thought that I could’ve done something while I sat around waiting for life to pass me by would’ve made me feel so guilty.

And dog…I was so damn tired of feeling guilty.

So, without another shred of hesitation or the even slightest flicker in my resolve, I closed the distance. Pressing the button and allowing the phone to ring.

Chapter Text

The moment I open my eyes, I know I’m in a dream.

It isn’t all that hard to tell, really. Sure, there’s this hazy, mind-numbing fog surrounding my skull and the strange sensation of my body being somehow separated from my own thoughts—but neither of those things really register until much later.

No, the reason I know I’m dreaming is because it’s snowing in the middle of fucking April.

It’s like total whiplash. Just as I wake up, a chilling, biting wind slaps me square in the jaw and sends a torrent of air screaming throughout my eardrums. It’s basically the loudest air-cannon I’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing, all concentrated on a single ear like it owes the wind itself money.

But that’s not all. Everything around me is a blindingly bright white, an endless hellscape of snowy dunes and misty fog (save for the sky, of course—that’s just a dull, depressing grey).

My only thought throughout all this? I really wish my brain had the forethought to conjure me a jacket.

Most people would probably be freaking out right about now. If it were anybody else, they’d either be trying to figure out how to wake up or slowly lose their mind running away from a wild pack of dream demons. Me though? I’m not exactly a stranger to weird nightmares like this. In fact, I used to get ‘em all the time a couple years ago. By now, I know how they operate, know what to expect—and while that definitely doesn’t make standing in the freezing cold any more pleasant, I at least have some idea of what I’m dealing with.

After all, the only thing worse than a devil you know is a devil you don’t, right?

At any rate, now that I’m completely freezing my ass off and have no idea what else to do, I cup a hand over my eyes and start scanning around—searching for something—anything—even slightly out of place. I figure if this is one of those weird cryptic dreams of mine, I probably should be looking for something. Usually, all the spooky shit starts happening the moment my eyes catch something weird, and when shit gets spooky, I wake up pretty soon after.

But there’s just one problem. Right as I turn my head to look, another gust of wind lashes out at my face again. Instantly, hundreds upon thousands of snowflakes whip across my vision like a collage of dazzling stars—the combined strength of which is so powerful it creates a flurry that nearly knocks me right on my ass. They’re all either flowing with the current of the wind or piling up on the ground—and now that I’m looking at it, I only just now realize it’s covered with snow up to my knees.

It takes me a second to find my center of gravity again, but when I do, I quickly notice that something’s changed.

A moment ago, the landscape was barren and empty. As far as I could see, it was nothing but snow and wind for miles and miles. Now though, after blinking a big pile of snow right out of my face, I realize there’s something new up ahead: a blob, tiny and vaguely human-shaped, just up ahead.

Seeing it causes something to rise within me—a fiery burst of fear and unease that makes every single nerve in my body cry out in objection.

For some reason, my own damn body is trying to warn me against moving forward—screaming and groaning with terror to make sure I stay away from whatever-the-fuck that thing is. It makes me nauseous, triggers this weird feeling in my gut that scares the shit out of me. I don’t know how exactly, but instinctually, I just know that going towards the blob is a ridiculously bad idea.

The thing is though… if there’s anything I know about my own gut, it’s that most of the time, it tends to be dead fuckin’ wrong.

Besides, I know this particular blob pretty well, and no amount of crying, screaming, or whining coming from any one of my insides is gonna keep me away from him if I can help it.

Not ever.

So, with chattering teeth and shaking bones, I start trudging my way through the snow, little by little. It’s a pain in the ass, trying to wade comfortably through what basically amounts to a sea of white powder—and it’s even worse considering I’m only wearing a tanktop and a pair of ripped jeans. At the moment, I can’t even feel my toes.

How my head can conjure up such a realistic snowstorm but not a single piece of winter gear? No idea—guess I’m just weird like that.

But do you wanna know something weirder? It’s the fact that for some reason, the landscape is slowly starting to change.

At first, it’s just the blob and the snow—the only two visible things in my periphery. But after a few steps, a couple grunts, and multiple blinks later, something magically pops into existence just in front of the blob. It looks short, rigid—almost like a signpost or a tripod.

Another few blinks later and a big statue appears behind him, one I actually recognize: it’s the old Northwest Valor statue from Overlook Park. I haven’t been there in years on account of the fact that the whole thing is still healing from the fire that broke out a few years ago—but still—I’d know that bronze mug anywhere.

Slowly but surely, the more I close the distance, the more things seem to change. What was once a flat, endless space of snow as far as the eye can see is now a massive valley that stretches into a huge forest just beyond the horizon. Guardrails, signage, trees, brick decoration—each step I take adds something new to the mix. After a while, I realize that my connection to the Overlook isn’t just my brain being weird—I am at the Overlook now. The very same space high above the valley everyone used to use for sightseeing.

And now that I’m actually here, the tiny thing I’d seen standing in the distance that at first looked like a weird blob, has now transformed into a man. A man with a big bulky winter coat, buckled jeans, a hunting rifle and strawberry blonde hair.

He’s hunched over a little bit, eyes pressed up directly against one of the old park viewfinders. It’s been so long since I’ve last seen him, so long since I’ve spoken to him—and even though I’m freezing cold, just being near him makes my body feel a comforting sense of warmth.

“Dad?” I ask, eyeing him warily with a deep-seated sadness I thought I’d gotten over by now.

Guess losses like that tend to leave a hole you can’t really fill.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, quiet and careful—it’s almost as if he’s afraid something might hear us if we speak too loudly. Whatever he’s looking at has to be real fucking important too, because the entire time he speaks, he doesn’t even slightly turn to look at me.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching.”

Well, duh.

“...Uh, yeah. Watching what though?” I query.

As soon as I say that, he pulls away from the viewfinder with a surprising amount of haste and fishes a pair of binoculars out of his coat pocket. The whole time, he still outright refuses to look at me, adjusting the lenses like that’s more important than acknowledging his own daughter.

“Check it out,” he says excitedly, already staring at the valley with the same kind of wonder you’d only find in a child seeing whales for the first time.

For a moment, I just study him, doing what I can to drink in the sight of my long-dead dad like I’m convinced he’ll disappear the second I turn away. A moment later, my gaze finds itself resting atop the old metal viewfinder standing right in front of me, the cold hunk-of-junk practically begging to be used.

I know something about this is off—know that in all likelihood, looking through that damn thing will lead to some crazy shit going down. But still, despite knowing that, I can’t help but feel compelled to take a peek. Besides, I’m not exactly known for my sense of self-preservation. So, without another word, I reach forward and press my face against the big metal eyepiece staring back at me.

Honestly, I’ve always hated these things—having to pay real money to see nature always felt like a total scam to me.

Trying to look through one only to then realize I needed a quarter bummed me out like you wouldn’t believe back when I was a kid, and as I lean my head into the lenses of this one, I half-expect to feel that same kind of disappointment.

Thankfully though, it looks like dream-dad already paid the toll for me.

For some reason, the old thing is focused on this one tiny spot in the snow. It doesn’t look all that special—just a big, nondescript sheet of white near the treeline. Not exactly helpful if you ask me.

“Uh, dad? I don’t see shit.”

“Oh ho, that’s another one for the swear jar,” he laughs, although it sounds pretty forced, almost like he’s straining himself to make the noise. “Come on now, Chloe, turn it to the left a little.”

“Alright…” I mumble, doing as I’m told while trying as hard as I can to keep the viewfinder steady through all my shivers. As I pan to the side, I notice some kind of elongated hump forming in the snow. A long, icy snake stretching further and further along the edge of the forest, as if slithering away from the valley itself. Eventually, my eyes find the front end, and when I see it, I realize it’s moving—small piles of snow flicking to the surface as it inches forward little by little.

I reason it’s gotta be some kind of animal digging its way through all the powder, and sure enough, almost a minute later, a little head pops out of the ground—one covered in sleek white fur, beady black eyes, and big droopy ears: a rabbit. A tiny, jittery little thing just barely visible against the snow.

…That’s what Dad’s been staring at all this time? Really?

Pulling away, I turn to dream-Dad and give him an unimpressed look. “A rabbit? That’s what you’re obsessing over right now?”

“Not just that,” he notes, immediately raising his hand to point somewhere off in the forest. “Look! Over there!”

I really wanna ask him where the fuck “over there” is supposed to be, but luckily, I don’t have to look for very long.

Right on the outskirts of the snowy landscape below, stalking just along the edge of the treeline, is a huge, grey-colored wolf—head bowed low to the ground with paws inching forward ever so slowly in the rabbit’s direction.

“That wolf’s been hunting our little rabbit friend for a long time now,” he breathes. “It’s almost ready…”

Suddenly, I actually start to understand just why he seems so entranced. Deep down, a part of me knows the rabbit doesn’t stand a chance at getting away from an animal like that—it’s so tiny, probably can’t even run that well through all the snow. Most likely scenario? The wolf takes home the kill easy-peasy.

The other part of me though… it wants to see that rabbit run. Wants to cling onto that small bit of hope it might somehow escape.

So we wait. Stare on as the rabbit keeps burrowing in the snow and the wolf keeps stalking closer and closer toward its prey. At some point, the wind picks up, rushing through my ears and turning my fingers purple with the cold. I don’t care about the pain, really. I’m just too damn focused on what’s about to happen.

And then, the wolf jumps.

It’s instant, a faster-than-you-can-blink kind of moment in which the wolf’s claws nearly grab hold of the rabbit’s flesh. If the poor critter hadn’t noticed in time, it’d be dead before I could even blink. Thankfully, it’s quicker than that, and just as fast as the wolf pounces, it hops away in a mad dash.

Despite that surprising burst of speed though, the big bad wolf just keeps up the chase without a hint of hesitation. It’s hard to keep up, using the viewfinder to follow both animals as they dash, gallop, and dive through the snow.

Occasionally, the wolf gets close enough to start snapping its jaws at the rabbit’s tiny, fuzzy tail, but every time it tries, the rabbit simply skirts to the side and throws the beast off completely.

It’s crazy, a constant zigzagging motion quickly carving out a new path across the valley as the pair plow through the snow.

Eventually, their chase lasts long enough that the two of them actually manage to wrap all the way around and start running up the giant hill next to us. I don’t even need to use the viewfinder anymore to see.

Right now, I’ve got front-row seats.

The rabbit’s plan seems to be a good one too, because somehow, against all odds, it’s actually winning. With its tiny, speedy body, it’s able to travel uphill way easier than the wolf can, and the further it goes, the harder the wolf has to work just to keep up.

Either our little bunny friend has a very important date, or it’s fueled with enough willpower to put Frodo Baggins to shame.

“Holy shit…” I breathe. “Little guy can really run.”

“Yep…” Dad mutters, no longer looking through his old binoculars. “This isn’t the first time it’s had to escape.”

What that’s supposed to mean? No idea. But at this point, I don’t really care. I’m way too invested in this chase to give a damn about random, cryptic shit like that.

Or at least, that’s what I think.

CLIK-CLAK

It happens just out of the corner of my eye. The whole time I’ve been watching those two animals run toward us, my dad unslung the rifle he’s been carrying and started to load it.

When I turn to look at him, he takes aim and starts pointing the barrel directly at the path the rabbit’s about to cross in just a few seconds.

“Dad?”

“That rabbit, it’s had a lot of practice running away from anything that might do it harm,” he says, refusing to acknowledge that I call his name. “But that’s the thing about running, Chloe…”

The rabbit’s so close now, if it passes us, it’ll have a decent chance of outrunning the wolf completely.

“Dad, wait–”

BANG!

Right before I can finish my sentence—just as I go to tell him to stop—he fires the gun right along the rabbit’s path.

And he hits it square in the head.

His shot echoes across the valley, the sound blaring and bouncing between my ears, forcing them to ring. Just a second ago, that rabbit was about to be home free. Now? It’s a headless, lifeless corpse, motionless on the ground.

Blood shoots out of its body, painting a long, dark streak of crimson atop the pale white surface of the snow. It’s like a scar, a stain on an otherwise clean and peaceful landscape that might never be erased.

And when the wolf finally catches up, it begins to feast.

“Dad…” I gape. “Why? Why would you–”

“You can run as fast as you can,” he cuts in, slinging the rifle back on his shoulder. “But when you spend too much time looking over your shoulder, wondering what’s chasing you…” he turns, a sickening, toothy smile slowly creeping across his face. “You’ll never see the danger standing right in front of you.”

Suddenly, the wind picks up again—a sharp, violent barrage of ice-cold knives stabbing at each and every nerve like it knows exactly where to strike. And somehow, this time, everything feels so much colder.

That’s when it finally hits me:

This is the spooky shit, isn’t it? The critical moment I’ve been waiting for.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

When he finally chooses to look at me, I feel my blood run colder than the ice I’m standing in. He looks just like my dad. The only problem? Half of his face is brutally burned—a giant, uneven patch of pale-colored flesh hanging off the bone in a way that almost makes it seem like his skin is melting away.

Whoever this is, it’s not my dad.

“Sweetheart?”

And just like that, the dream is over. In an instant, I bolt upright out of my bed covered in sweat and breathing so heavily I think my lungs might pop.

It takes me a second to get my bearings, calm down enough to realize I’m not stuck in the middle of a blizzard anymore nor staring at a dead rabbit.

I’m in my room. Exactly where I’ve been just a few moments prior.

Awake at last.

“Fuck…” I groan, wiping a hand across my face. It’s strange, even now, despite the nightmare being over, a part of me can still feel the painful, vibrating tingle of frozen limbs and ice-cold wind.

But that’s just my brain freaking out. None of that was real—obviously—whatever that was, it’s nothing more than a dream. A weird, fucked up dream, mind you, but a dream nonetheless.

In fact, within the next hour, I’ll probably forget all about it.

Because after all, what sense is there in trying to remember something as crazy as that?

ACT II

Alright, so before we start this whole thing, can I ask you a quick question?

Have you ever felt like you’re…I dunno, trapped?

And no, I don’t mean literally trapped, like you see a can of Monster under a box with a stick and when you go to grab it, the stick gets yanked away, no—I mean figuratively trapped. Or is it metaphorically? Rhetorically? Fuck, I never passed English, but you get what I mean.

It feels like you’re stuck, but also not really—you’re in a cage, but the door’s wide open. Technically speaking, there’s nothing actually stopping you from just up and leaving, and you know you can go whenever you want, but there’s always that one thing that keeps you from doing it.

Say you’ve got this beaten-up old truck being held together by spit and glue, yet it somehow still works. Or maybe you’ve got just barely enough cash pushed aside to fill your tank and get you out of town lickity-split. Everything’s ready: you’ve packed up your stuff, prepped for months, planned out a whole-ass route from point A to point B—but there’s just something, or someone that keeps tying you down. You’re not restrained, but it feels that way. You wanna go, but you know that if you do, you’ll just be leaving behind the one thing you actually care about.

Because no matter what you do, you simply can’t live without it.

That’s where I’m at right now—stuck in one spot with nothing holding me down except the thought of my mom being sad, and the agonizing wait for the one person in this town that actually gives a damn.

If you ever figure out how you’re supposed to deal with that, let me know, because so far, all I’ve come up with is endlessly running around in circles—falling into this annoying, god-awful cycle that just keeps getting slower and slower the more time goes on. In fact, as soon as I wake up from that weird dream (at least, I think it was a dream—the details are already kinda fuzzy), I do the same thing I’ve done every day for the last 11 months: sit up and stare out at my room while I contemplate my existence.

Like every other day, my room looks exactly the same: dirty, dusty, and covered in piles of clothes scattered across the hardwood floor. I don’t have much in terms of furniture. In fact, all I’ve got is my bed, my desk, and an old torn-out car seat propped in front of a TV I snagged from someone’s driveway a couple years ago.

On clear, cloudless days like this, the big ol’ American flag hanging over my back window always tints the sunlight a nice, calming shade of red. In the mornings, it actually shines across my face when the timing’s just right—without fail, harsh beams of light always manage to drag me away from my slumber unless I get under the covers for safety.

To my mom and my piece-of-shit step-fucker, the place is a total mess. A giant pigsty of clothes, papers, and memorabilia all blasted into every nook and cranny you can think of. “It looks like a tornado’s gone through it, honey,” my mom would say. “My drill sergeant would’ve had me court-martialed for a mess like this,” David would repeat.

But they’re just closed-minded. I don’t think either of them realize just how controlled a mess this place actually is.

Doesn’t matter what or why—if you ask me, I can tell you where anything is—from art supplies to old board games to…

Slowly, my eyes drop on something sitting atop my desk. An old picture frame, facedown like it’s been for the last two years.

An old photo. One of me, my dad, and my old friend Max.

I yawn, slide off the bed, and hobble over to the photo—staring at it like it’d somehow spring to life and start dancing at any given moment.

I’m not really sure why I still have it out after all these years. Even when the actual picture was always pointed at the ground, just thinking about it usually makes this huge pit open up at the bottom of my stomach.

And even as I wrap my fingers around the dusty wooden frame, it feels heavy, acidic—an old, hungry monster slowly poisoning my brain and feeding off my flesh for as long as I hold it between my hands

It’s been so long since I last looked at it…maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just—

No. Fuck that shit, I think. Slamming it back down on the desk with a sharp thwack.

It’s way too early—or at least I hope it’s early—for me to start thinking about any of that crap. I don’t have the energy to reminisce on all the wouldas, couldas, and shouldas in my life…no, right now, my brain’s craving one thing and one thing only: nicotine.

Takes me a few minutes to actually find a working lighter buried inside my desk drawers, but once I do, I grab a cig, open the window, and light up like it’s any other Tuesday.

Or—shit, is it Friday? Monday? Fuck, I haven’t been keeping track. What’s the point anyway? Not like it’s gonna matter for another month or so.

God…this room, this town, this place, these people—I shouldn’t have to wake up and see them every goddamn day. If things had actually gone the way they were supposed to, I’d be long gone by now; living it up in L.A. with Rachel while we both enjoyed some sunburn-inducing rays on the beach.

Rachel…fuck, the thought of her alone makes me huff out a huge puff of smoke.

Rachel Dawn Amber: My best friend, my shining star, my…well, let’s just say that girl’s never really liked all that much labels much.

For the last three years, Rachel’s been the one and only person in Arcadia Bay I can actually count on. When I was at my lowest—kicked out of school and dealing with the fact that David was moving into the house—I had no one but her. Unlike everyone else in my life, Rachel’s been the only person to actually stick by me through thick and thin.

My dad? Kicked the bucket about five years ago now. Freak car crash that no one saw coming.

My mom? She couldn’t give two fucks about me or how I feel.

And Max?

…

My eyes drift back to that photo on the desk. Another, much more intense puff of smoke escapes my lungs and fades out into the room as I stare.

Fuuuuuck Max…my best friend—or, well—ex-best friend now, I guess.

It’s not a memory I like to think about all that much. All you need to know is that she was my oldest friend…and she left me at the worst time imaginable.

I really, really thought I could rely on her to be there for me after dad died. But when push came to shove, she was just gone. Done and dusted like all those years of friendship meant nothing in the end.

It hurt. A lot. And for a long time, I still kept up the hope that one day, she’d actually message me back.

But that’s not who I am now.

It took a while, but I’m over it. I don’t need Max or her sorry excuses anymore, especially not when I have someone like Rachel in my life.

But that’s not true, is it? We both know that if she ever came back and said sorry, you’d forgive her in a heartbeat.

Hey, brain? Wanna shut the fuck up for a second so I can finish this story? Thanks.

My point is, Rachel’s all I’ve got. And up until last year, we planned on leaving for L.A. together. Ditch this shithole and start a new life somewhere without all the false pretenses and incessant bullshit of Arcadia Bay to hold us down.

We’d both wanted it so badly—decided three years ago that we were gonna leave and never look back…which only begs the question: why the fuck am I still here?

Bzzt Bzzt

Perfect fucking timing.

Just as I finish stamping out my cig against the ashtray, I hear the sound of my phone buzzing from somewhere on the bed.

And as soon as I snatch it up from beneath the covers, I see that it’s somehow already 6 (Monday, by the way), and what’s more, I’ve got a text from…

Well, shit. Speak of the fucking devil.

6:01 PM - April 22nd, 2013

Rachel: Hey, Chlo! You finish your beauty sleep yet or do I need to come over there and give you a true love’s kiss?

One text. One goddamn text and here I am, already grinning like a total idiot.

Chloe: well i literally just woke up but now im thinking about going back to sleep

Rachel: 😛

Chloe: HEY NO EMOJI

Rachel: Sorrryyy~! Promise it won’t happen again!

Chloe: yeah thats what u said last time

Rachel: Yeah but this time I mean it!

Chloe: ill believe it when i see it

Chloe: anyway whats up?

Rachel: Would you be able to pick me up in let’s say 30 mins? Need someone to drive me to this thing and I wasn’t about to ask dear ol’ Vicky.

Aaaand there goes the smile.

Of course…how could I forget? I’ve basically become something like Rachel’s chauffeur over the last few months, haven’t I?

Like most of the random bullshit that'd happened throughout this year, I hadn’t planned on that either. Ever since our big fight—and especially ever since summer break ended—Rachel and I have been hanging out less and less.

She tells me it’s just school. Technically speaking, she is taking college level courses, so now, she has way less time to talk and chill like before.

It’s always something with her…some days, it’s studying for a “hard-ass” test—others, it’s an extra-curricular. Somehow she’s constantly doing something that stops her from seeing me, and I won’t lie, it kinda hurts. A couple years ago, we’d hang out at every waking hour of every waking day. Now? I’m lucky just to see her once in the span of a few weeks.

It seriously makes the days go by so much slower. Think molasses on a glacier or a snail in a vat of syrup.

So…yeah, I choose to pick her up whenever I can. It’s kind of the only chance I have to see her on a somewhat consistent basis now—not until we leave Arcadia Bay, anyway.

Chloe: sure

Chloe: wait for me in the parking lot?

Rachel: YES THANK YOU YOU’RE THE BEST CHLOE

Shit, the smile’s back. Flip of a fucking dime, I’m telling you.

Chloe: i try

Rachel: And you always succeed. See you soon, beautiful!! 😘

Chloe: HEY NO EMOJI YOU PROMISED

Rachel: Guilty…guilty…

Chloe: yeah yeah

Chloe: anyway dw ill be there soon

Rachel: Got it!

Chloe: love y—

I stop myself, hammering backspace over and over until the whole thing’s deleted and my heartbeat stops racing.

God, you have no idea just how badly I want to say those words—how long I’ve been waiting to tell her how I truly feel about us.

To me, Rachel’s everything. A wild, fiery hurricane that swooped into my life and pulled me into her spin like I was nothing more than a leaf off the branch. Whenever I’m with her, I feel like I can do anything. Whenever we kiss, it feels like all my troubles vanish the same way a wispy cloud of smoke fades into the sky.

I’ve been trying to say it for a while now—fuck there have been so many perfect moments too—all of which get wasted on account of me being a total pussy.

Some nights, I just want to scream it at the top of my lungs, bellow out every last ounce of affection I have until I can’t speak anymore.

But no matter how hard I try, I simply can’t do it. Not until we’re gone. Not until I’m sure.

So, with a heavy sigh, I turn off my phone and chuck it at the bed.

Guess it’s time to get ready.

Getting out of the house doesn’t take very long.

Once I shower, brush my teeth, and grab the least stinky set of clothes I can find amidst all the piles in my room, I throw on my old leather jacket and zoom down the stairs.

Logically, the next step is to grab my keys and leave, right? Well, think again, because in this house, nothing is ever that easy.

In fact, the moment I even lay my eyes on the tiny shelf I usually toss them to, the sound of an annoyingly gruff and stern voice garbles something from the other room.

“Chloe?! Where are you going?!”

Agh fuck me. He really couldn’t have just minded his own goddamn business for fucking once?

After spending the better half of four years living with David, I know how this will go all too well: if I tell him I’m picking up Rachel so I can bring her to a party, he’ll start giving me some stupid, tone-deaf, mildly misogynistic lecture about “responsibility,” and “wasted potential”.

If I don’t listen to it and just ignore him instead, he gets angry with me regardless and then I have to hear some dumb bullshit from my mom later down the line.

But if I don’t say anything, he still gets mad.

So overall, lose-lose scenario.

And me, personally? When I’m in that kind of situation, I usually just say fuck it.

“New restaurant that opened up in town!” I shout. “Ah—shit, what was it called again? Noneof something…?”

“Chloe—“

“Oh—shit, yeah! It was called Noneofyourfuckingbusiness-asshole!”

“God dammit Chloe! You—”

“See ya, sarge!” I cut in, grabbing my keys and yanking the door open as fast as I can.

Even when I make it outside, I can just barely hear him getting up from his seat on the couch. Knowing him, he’s either gearing to tear me a new one or smack me across the face like usual—either way though, I don’t give him the chance, because right as he turns the corner, I slam the door shut and grin with delight.

He only manages to catch up with me by the time I get into the truck, but by then, I’ve already turned the ignition and begun pulling out of the driveway.

To his credit, despite the obvious loss he’s just been served, he still stomps up to the sidewalk and tries yelling something at me from afar.

He may be an asshole but at least he’s a relentless asshole.

It’s a bit muffled, but I swear I can just barely make out the angry annunciation of: “YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, CHLOE!”

As-fucking-if.

“Sorry bud, can’t hear you~!”

And then I’m gone, home-free and on my way to Blackwell with a smile on my face.

I’ll probably get an earful from my mom by the time I get home, but honestly? Pissing off my step-fucker like that? Always worth it. And so will be driving Rachel—hopefully.

This time of year, Blackwell’s surprisingly dead. I mean—it is spring break after all, so it makes sense—but still, it’s always kinda weird to see the parking lot looking basically empty.

Normally, the place is filled with cars all bought and paid for by the mommies and daddies of a couple dozen nepo-babies. Now? All I can see is someone’s old black Thunderbird nestled on the far edge of the lot. I can’t help but empathize, it looks so sad and lonely as it stares out at the trees up ahead.

Me too buddy, me too.

The school itself is just as grand and pretentious as ever though.

The three adjectives I’d use to describe it? Huge, egregious, and real fuckin’ conceited.

Being a school that was founded over a hundred years ago, the whole place is built like some old-timey American cathedral. At the very front, you’ve got this huge, main building with a giant bell tower at the center—and on the left, a smaller, fatter outbuilding that houses the gym and the school pool—all of which is made out of brownish-reddish bricks.

As you drive by, you can even see the giant football field slash track nestled right in front of the main building—the one place every roided-up high schooler loves to show off.

The right side is where Rachel probably is right about now: the dorm building located on the exact opposite side of campus. I’ve snuck in there a bunch of times before thanks to Rachel, and while the place is relatively small and cozy, I’m still eternally glad I never have to experience the displeasure of actually living there (I mean come on, can you just imagine the fucking drama)?

Since it’s all built so high up along the town’s outer edge, you can basically see it from any point in Arcadia Bay—the giant, ivory monument where all the stuck-up rich kids can look down on us peasants from above.

How quaint.

Thankfully though, I don’t have to dwell on all that bullshit for very long.

It only takes about five minutes before I see a figure moving out of the corner of my eye, a familiar shape stepping down the old set of concrete stairs leading into the parking lot.

Rachel Amber.

Gorgeous blonde hair that flows with the breeze, hazel eyes that suck you right in and hold you down in their gaze, flawless skin that practically glows in the light of the sun—if you were to describe her to basically anyone, they’d probably just assume you were talking about some kind of mythical creature or something. But no, Rachel is real. Very real. And somehow, in spite of everything, she’s my best friend.

Some days, I really do wonder if that girl truly is an angel.

She isn’t wearing anything too fancy today: a low-cut red t-shirt, some denim shorts (ones that are doing a damn good job of showing off her legs, I might add), and oddly enough, a pair of flip-flops in matching red color.

Like every other time I’ve seen her lately, my eyes feel inexplicably drawn to that sick-looking dragon tattoo on her right leg—and okay, maybe I’m also drawn to her boobs a little bit too, but can you really blame me for that?

And of course, it wouldn’t really be Rachel without that signature blue-feather earring of hers. From the very first moment I’d ever met her up until right now, she’s always worn it on her left ear like it’s some kind of good luck charm. I’ve always loved it, honestly, and after knowing her long enough, it’s actually gotten me to start associating the color blue with her. It feels safe, comfy. Something I can latch onto when I want an escape from all things shitty.

By the time she finally reaches the truck, her wide, impish grin is so infectious that I can’t help smiling as I unlock the doors.

And as soon as they’re open, she gives me all of five nanoseconds to say hi before climbing into the driver’s seat and peppering my face with kisses.

“Hey, you,” she purrs, voice flickering in and out of earshot between each kiss.

The sensation puts me into a fit of giggles. Turns out, having dozens of sweet little pecks tickling at your skin makes it pretty damn hard to keep a straight face.

Also makes it pretty hard to dwell on a bunch of dumb bullshit again too.

“Haha! Okay, okay I give up! Uncle! Uncle!”

Now thoroughly satisfied, she snickers and finally decides to let up, putting an end to her assault. Well—not before planting one last kiss on the tip of my nose.

Out of all the kisses I just got, that one somehow manages to tingle the most.

“Sorry~” she trills, sitting back in the passenger seat with that same shit-eating grin. “Can’t help it. Guess whenever I see that cute face of yours I just feel—compelled.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Besides, it’s only fair…”

And with a dramatic flair, she drops an arm over her forehead, body melting into the seat as if she’s about to faint. When she next speaks, her voice somehow sounds both theatrical and alluring at the exact same time.

How she does it? I have no idea.

“Because alas, I’m nothing more than the beautiful princess trapped inside this horrid castle!” she groans. “And you, Chloe, are my knight in shining tank-top! How else can I ever repay you?!”

It’s so fucking stupid. I mean, come on—that whole performance was cheesier than a pile of nachos, but still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do a whole number of things to my poor brain.

So, it only makes sense that I can’t quite stop myself from slowly inching one of my hands across the empty space between us—fingers brushing ever so gently against Rachel’s thigh as I mutter, “Oh, I can think of a few ideas…”

I know I fucked up when Rachel shoots back into her seat and nudges my hand away. And while she still keeps that same toothy smile of hers, I can tell it’s lined with something strange—a look that feels almost hesitant. “Woah there, easy tiger. Maybe later, but right now we’ve got someplace to be, remember?”

Welp, that’s definitely one way to make myself feel embarrassed as fuck.

“R-right,” I agree, hands moving to grip the steering wheel. “And…where are we going, exactly?”

“The beach. Vortex peeps decided they wanted to hold a bonfire there tonight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “On a Monday?”

That actually gets her to groan. “Ugh, don’t even get me started. It was Hayden’s idea. Said he wanted it to be a…shit, how did he put it? A ‘eulogy to our last spring break?’ You know, even though we already celebrated that Friday night.”

“You don’t…seem too thrilled about it.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t wanna go,” she sighs. “I just wish I had some room to breathe, is all. Ugh, I swear—with how often everyone keeps setting these things up, we’re gonna end up having two parties a night by the end of the year…”

“Well…” I muse. “Maybe you…skip it tonight?”

Almost immediately, Rachel makes a face. “...Skip it?”

“Uh—yeah! I dunno, maybe…shit, the two of us go on a little drive or something? Quiet night out together.”

For a moment, Rachel goes silent, eyes wandering off to the side as if genuinely considering it.

But then she adjusts in her seat, shoulders tightening as if someone just attached a couple ten-ton weights to the length of her back. “That…sounds sweet, Chloe. But, I think I’m just gonna go.”

Huh? But—she just said—

“Why?” I blurt out. “I mean—you said it yourself, you need some room to breathe, don’t you?”

“It’s called keeping up appearances, Chloe,” she argues. “I have an image to maintain—a persona.”

“But why? We’re leaving in a couple months anyway, why does it matter what your ‘persona’ is to a bunch of people you’re never gonna see again?”

“Look—just—you wouldn’t get it, okay? Can we just drop this and start driving now? I’m already fashionably late enough as it is.”

“But, Rachel—”

“I said drop it!”

It takes everything I have to bite back another reply. It would be so easy too, all I’d have to do was say ‘no, I don’t wanna drop it,’ and keep going because seriously what the fuck is her problem? But, at this point, I know better than that.

An argument with Rachel right now is the absolute last thing I need. Not only would it suck to have the conversation escalate into another screaming match like the one we had last summer, Rach might not talk to me for days if I make her mad again.

And to be honest, I’m not really sure I can handle that.

“Fine…” I grunt, taking the car out of park and starting our drive down to the beach without another word.

But I barely manage to make it a few yards before something else pisses me off.

Just as we leave the parking lot, Rachel leans back in her seat and plops one of her legs up on the dash. A second later, she’s pulling a bottle of nail polish out of her pocket and casually painting her toenails like it’s the most normal thing in the goddamn world.

“Hey, come on. Feet off the dash.”

“What? Does the sight of my feet disturb you, Chloe Price?” she teases, wiggling her toes around and snickering while she dabs more paint onto her nails.

“No, but I also don’t appreciate it when someone puts their dogs all over my ride. Now come on, please?”

She scoffs, and even though I’m not really looking at her, I can practically feel her eyes rolling. “Chloe, chillax. I just have to finish painting these last two nails and I’ll be done! Promise!”

“You can finish up at the beach.”

“Oh, and what? Get sand all over them? No thanks.”

Believe me when I say my grip on the steering wheel goes from limply relaxed to white-knuckled faster than you can blink.

“Well, why didn’t you finish them up at Blackhell then?” I ask, my voice tight between gritted teeth. “You definitely had time.”

“Uhh, probably because I didn’t wanna keep you waiting, obviously. I mean sheesh, what’s your problem? Why are you so irritable all of a sudden?”

“Oh I dunno, maybe because the last time you did this we got pulled over?” I shoot back. “Seriously, I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with the cops right now, can you just let it go?”

And for the first time since we started talking, she stops painting. Out of the corner of my eye, I can just barely see the silhouette of her shoulders sagging in annoyance, head finally turning to look at me.

“Chloe, did you get a ticket?”

“Well—no, but—”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” she insists. “Promise, if a cop stops us I’ll just pull out the moves again. No biggie.”

Of course, the moves.

She says it with so much confidence and ease that to her, it must seem completely final. Cut-and-dried, like I don’t have a whole list of reasons to hate that already. You see, while Rachel makes it sound all cute and cool, what she fails to mention is that the moves usually mean either waving her dad’s name around or being uncomfortably seductive with a 30-plus-year-old cop.

Pretty sure the pigs in blue get a real kick out of it, but me? It always makes me feel so fucking weird.

Regardless, there isn’t much else I can say to try and sway Rachel now. When she takes a stance on something, you’re never gonna make her change it—trust me.

The one saving grace is that it only takes a couple minutes for her to finish up. And when she’s done, she opens up the glovebox and tosses the nail polish inside without giving it a second thought.

That would make it the…what? 5th? 6th makeup product she’s so unceremoniously left in there? Not that I mind too much, but still, at this rate my truck’s gonna become a Sephora by summertime.

“See? All done!” she declares. “Didn’t take all that long, just like I said.”

“Yeah, yeah…” I grumble.

Another silent ten minutes of driving later and the two of us are finally pulling into the sandy parking lot of the beach. As expected, the whole place is jam-fucking-packed. Remember those nepo-baby cars from earlier? Yeah, turns out this is where they’ve all driven off to. And keeping in line with how they like to act, every single one of them has somehow done a terrible job at parking.

It makes driving through it an absolute nightmare. I mean come on, could you imagine if I accidentally nicked some spoiled schmuck’s multi-thousand dollar sports car?

…Okay, maybe it’s a bad idea to think about that. The more I mull over it, the more tempting it gets…

Since the sun has nearly set by now, the sky is a radiant smattering of oranges and yellows—and off in the distance, just across the sea—you can see it slowly beginning its descent into the darkness below. The beach itself though is running rampant with snobby highschoolers, a few of which are already starting to gather wood for a giant bonfire pit at the center.

It takes a minute, but eventually, I find a somewhat empty space and put the truck in park.

This is it. Rachel’s stop.

Once I take my hands off the wheel, there’s a long, vacant pause between us. A single, empty space in which the two of us exchange nothing more than the soft huffs and puffs of our own tired breaths.

Rachel, now uncharacteristically quiet and reserved all of a sudden, simply stares out at the beach while her golden hair glows in the orange sunlight.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over just how effortlessly beautiful she is. How every angle and every light seems to bend its way around her and make her seem so ethereal.

Shit, you have no idea how many nights I’ve spent wondering how a girl like that could stand someone like me.

I just wish I could keep her.

“Well…” I sigh. “Here you are.”

”Yeah,” she says. “Thanks for driving me.”

”No problem, and—uh—I dunno, would you wanna hang out sometime soon? Relax at the junkyard or stir up some shit at school like old times?”

”No idea,” she mutters, turning in her seat to look at me dead on. “Though…maybe you’d wanna come with me tonight? Be my plus one?”

Somehow, that makes me sigh even louder than before.

“Rach…”

”Come on, just this one night?”

”You know this isn’t exactly my scene.”

That’s when her brow furrows at lightning speed. ”What? A party? You love parties. Fuck, you went a whole year moshing out and getting piss drunk all the goddamn time just because you could. What are you talking about ‘not exactly your scene’?”

“I do love parties,” I note. “But not this kind. Not a single person here wants to see me and you know that.”

”What? Who the fuck cares? Since when have you given a shit about what other people think?”

”Since I got the message that no one gives a fuck about deadbeat dropouts,” I say. “I mean fuck, the hell do you think Nathan’s gonna do when he sees me? It’ll be just like last year, he’ll call me a freak and get his beefed-up football buddies to start tossing beer cans at me like I’m a fucking garbage can.”

”Nathan’s not like that.”

”To you, maybe. And besides, if not Nathan, god-fucking-forbid Bitchtoria pulls up with her gaggle of cronies so she can be a piece of shit to me.”

”But Chloe, you’d have me to keep her out of your hair though!”

“You shouldn’t have to do that!” I refute. “It’s a party, not a babysitting shift!”

I shake my head. “Come on Rach, let’s face it. These Vortex parties are for spoiled brats that don’t give two shits about anyone but themselves!”

…

You know when you fuck up and for a split-second, you see your life flash before your eyes? Yeah, that’s exactly what happens to me the moment I realize what I’ve just said.

And as if that isn’t enough already, the sheer look of disbelief and anger on Rachel’s face is so intense I think it might straight up kill me.

”Wow.”

”Wait—hang on, that’s not—“

”Oh no, I get what you fucking mean, Chloe. I totally see how it is.”

Before I even get the chance to start replying, Rachel’s already opening the passenger side door.

“Rach, come on—”

“No, no, it’s fine! I’m just a ‘spoiled brat’, right? You’re far better off without me, I understand!”

“Hey—”

“Because God-fucking-forbid I try to include you, right?!”

She’s halfway out now, body twisting so she can climb out of the truck. If I don’t say or do something—and fast—she’s just gonna walk off towards the beach and I won’t get the chance to apologize.

Not without getting hounded down by a bunch of Vortex shitheads anyway.

“See you around, Chloe!” she shouts, pushing herself out of the cab. “I’ll be sure to let you know just how much we talk shit about you, because apparently, that’s all we fucking care about—”

I start moving before I can even think about it: right as Rachel speaks, chastising me in that “I’m gonna ruin you” voice she always uses whenever she’s royally pissed at someone, I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach out for her arm as fast as I can.

It’s close, but I’m just barely able to grab hold of her before she has the chance to slam the door.

“Rach, wait.”

“Let me go, Chloe!” she struggles, trying (and failing) to free herself from my grasp.

“Just—wait!” I repeat, and somehow, that actually gets her to stop. “Look, I—I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean it that way, and you know that.”

For a few, terrifying beats, I wait for a response—some kind of sign, signal, or sound that’ll tell me she’s still listening, that she’s not as pissed off as I think she is.

Instead, I get nothing. No witty replies or angered insults—just deafening, agonizing silence. She won’t even look at me.

“I just—I miss you, okay? We used to hang out all the time, but lately, I barely get the chance to see you anymore. I guess…I guess I’ve just been fucked up about it. Honestly, it almost feels like you forget I exist sometimes. Like one of these days you’re just gonna up and leave without me.”

At last, Rachel decides to ease up and relax against my grip. Taking that as a good thing, I finally let go of her arm and pull back into the cab.

If she wanted to run away and tell me off she’d have every right to. I’d be sad about it, sure, but it’s not like I could be pissed off when I fucked up that much.

Thankfully though, she doesn’t. Instead, she turns to me with a look of consideration creased into her face.

“I’m not Max, Chloe, and I know I’ve been distant lately, it’s just…it’s been so busy.”

“I know,” I say. “But you’re my best friend and I just—I wish you’d spend some more time with me, even if only for a little bit. I miss how often we used to hang.”

She smiles at that. “All those times we’d sneak into Blackwell and mess with Victoria until she went insane.”

I scoff. “Being little shits to David until I was sure he’d blow our heads off.”

For a brief moment, she chuckles, head shaking with amusement. But then, something changes. Slowly, her smile fades into a thin, conflicted line. And her gaze—it shifts its focus to something far, far away. A point in space that I can’t quite see. “I miss how often we used to hang too.”

“Well, hey,” I add. “Maybe we should go on that little drive then, yeah? If not today, then…maybe over the weekend?”

Another pause, and this time, Rachel takes in a long, deep breath. “...We’ll see. I’ll, uh—I’ll let you know.”

Welp, I guess that’s better than a no.

Nodding softly, I pull away from her and sit back in my seat again. It feels huge, the gap between us. A sad kind of gulf that seems downright impossible to cross.

“I guess I should be going now, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess so. Text me when you get back to the dorms?”

She nods, smiling softly. “Yeah. I will.”

Taking it slow this time, Rachel soundlessly shuffles her way out of the truck with a hand firmly planted on the door. She’s just a few steps away now, one more movement and she’ll be out of my reach.

Again.

Realizing that makes my urge to say those words swell right back up again—a big fat water balloon, filled to the brim with a shitty amount of anxiety and an even shittier amount of uncertainty.

But hey—now’s the perfect chance to say it, right? This is the moment—the one I’ve been waiting for.

And who knows when I’ll get another chance like this?

“Uh—hey! Rach.”

She turns, an unreadable expression plastered across her face. “Yeah?”

Come on now, this is it, Price. Three words, three syllables, that’s all you have to say.

“I…”

Yeah…?

“I—uh…”

Come on…just do it…

“Um…”

Oh for fuck’s sake stop stalling and just fucking say it already!

“I...I hope you have a good time.”

…

Fuck me…

I’m not sure what Rachel is thinking in that moment—honestly, I’m not even sure what she’s thinking at any given time—but, I still know that look on her face all too well.

After hearing me out one last time, whatever expression she seemed to have on before suddenly falls flat. It almost looks…crestfallen, in a way. At least I think that’s the word. A face of painfully raw disappointment and sadness that does a damn good job at making my heart feel like it’s just been stabbed clean through.

“Thanks, Chloe,” is all she says, and a moment later the door is closed. In the end, all I can do is watch as Rachel walks off into the sunset towards the slowly gathering crowd of Vortex groupies.

I’m not sure what hurts me more, the fact that I was still too chicken to say it, or that even now, in my tiny little truck cab, it feels like we’re a thousand worlds apart.

For once, I’m actually kinda proud of myself.

You see, even though it takes nearly all my willpower to manage, I don’t actually start raging out until I’m far out of anyone’s eyesight. Right now, the last thing I need is for some cheerleader to watch me having a full-blown meltdown all alone in my truck like some kind of wackadoodle.

But, as soon as I am, I start slamming on my steering wheel.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” I yell, a dull throb of aching pain already surging throughout my hand.

It fuckin’ hurts, but honestly, it doesn’t matter. None of that shit does. No matter how much it stings or how much damage I’m doing to my rust-bucket of a truck, I can handle it.

When it comes to the stupendously shit-tastic life of Chloe Price, stuff like bruised skin and misaligned steering wheels are just par for the course.

But something like this? Yeah, this definitely takes the piss-frosted cake. I mean come-the-fuck-on, how stupid can I possibly be?

Only someone like me would see yet another perfect opportunity and choose to make it another grand-ol’ waste of time.

And crazily enough, it was all going so much better than it had any right to. Despite the two of us getting into a fight just a few seconds beforehand, all the stars somehow managed to align and I was granted the perfect moment on a gleaming silver platter. All I had to do is say the words. Three simple words and Rachel would’ve finally understood just how much she means to me.

But no. Like always, I have to chicken out at the very last second because I’m such a fucking pussy.

“‘I—uh—I—uh…’ wow! Such a goddamn wordsmith, Chloe! Great fucking job!”

I’m lucky there aren’t any other cars on the road right now, because in my rage, I’m zooming down the Arcadia Bay outskirts at nearly 70 miles an hour.

I know I said earlier that I really didn’t wanna deal with the cops, but now? I couldn’t give less of a shit. Honestly, I’m kind of counting on it. Right now, I need something to scream at, and an overweight 40-something in uniform sounds like the perfect target.

Besides, I have no fucking clue where the hell I’m headed anyway.

Definitely not back home, not unless I wanna deal with the fallout of what I said to David earlier.

And not the Two Whales either. If I had any cash to spare, I’d bet money he’s already tattled to my mom like some kind of annoying kindergartner—and if I know her, I’d say she’s already prepping a super tone-deaf, super preachy speech about being nice to him again.

The only other place I could possibly go to right now is the junkyard, but that would just make me think about Rachel even more.

So at the moment, I’m perfectly content with simply speeding across town until I blow off steam. Even if it means wasting precious gas.

I’m not sure how long I do that for. No idea how many different street lights or buildings blur past as I drive from one end of Arcadia Bay to the other.

But eventually, all those initial bursts of anger subside, and in their wake, I’m left feeling nothing but a strikingly hollow sadness. Pity.

Here I am, cruising around in my truck at a steady 30 while the girl of my dreams has fun at yet another party without me.

I have nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and as usual, I’m nothing more than a fuckin’ deadbeat endlessly waiting for her chance to finally leave this place once and for all.

Can I even hold out for another two months? Are the two of us seriously gonna leave together, or…will our friendship strain too much to repair by the time we finally leave?

Fuuuuck, all these questions are seriously starting to make me crave a big fat rip from my bong back home. Ideally one so ridiculously strong and massive it’ll knock me right into next Tuesday.

I guess if I really want to, I can sneak in through my back window. It’ll be a pain in the ass but it’ll help me avoid Sergeant Shithead at least.

Sounds dumb, I know, but I mean aside from that, what the hell else is there to possibly—

BZZT BZZT

Ugh. Seriously? Someone’s calling me now?

Whatever. It’s probably just my mom gearing up to chastise me for what I said to David earlier.

“No thanks…” I mumble, reaching into my pocket and turning off the ringer without even giving it a looksee.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah: nothing else to do. Well—

BZZT BZZT

…Are you fucking kidding me?

“I said: not now,” I mutter, turning off the ringer once again.

Agh, fuck. Now I’ve completely forgotten where I—

BZZT BZZT

“Holy shit, fuck off already and let me fucking drive!”

Whoever this is either has some nerve or is just too delusional to get the message. You’d figure after three ignored calls a person would realize: “Hey! Maybe Chloe doesn’t wanna talk to me right now!” but I guess some people just lack the brain capacity for critical thinking like that.

So one more time, I shove a hand into my pocket and flick the ringer off as fast as I can. I don’t know who the hell needs me right now, but they can wait.

…And that’s when it rings again.

BZZT BZZT

Okay. That’s enough.

With way more force than was probably necessary, I reach into my pocket and yank out my phone with nearly all the anger I still have left in me.

At this point, I don’t really give a fuck anymore. If they want me to answer their calls so badly, fine. I’ll pick up.

But only so I can tell them they can go ahead and kindly fuck right off.

So with an annoyed grunt, I shake my head and take a look at the phone so I can finally see who’s calling.

And when I do, I slam on the brakes so hard my truck nearly flips over in the middle of the road.

At the top of my phone screen, staring right back at me in big bold letters, is a single, three-letter word I never thought I’d see again:

Max.

Once again, I feel pretty damn lucky there aren’t any cars on the road, because the second I see that name, my brain nearly explodes into a thousand pieces.

I know the phrase “my heart stopped” is just an expression—but I think this is the first time ever, I can actually say that and mean it.

It doesn’t seem real. For the last few years, I only ever got texts or calls from Max in my wildest, most twisted dreams—usually some kind of wacky, shitty nightmare where a weird, fucked up version of Max called me up and said a bunch of mean things.

But…no. This is real. I even pinch myself as hard as I can on my forearm and it fucking hurts so this has to be real.

Nearly five long years and my old best friend is finally, actually calling me again. God, how long has it been since I last heard her voice? How many nights have I spent endlessly waiting for even one message to pop up in our texts?

Is it bad that a large part of me still doesn’t wanna believe it? That in the back of my head, a tiny, annoying little voice is taunting me with the thought that maybe, this is all just some kind of fucked up prank?

Because, if it is, I’m about to fall hook, line, and sinker…

Ah, fuck it.

Biting down on my lip, I decide to stop worrying and just press the answer button. Either I’m about to get made to look like a fucking fool, or I’m about to speak to Max for the first time in years.

…You know, now that I think about it, I actually had a whole speech planned out for this very moment.

Well—by ‘planned out’ I mean I had the concept of a plan of a speech…kind of.

I was supposed to write it all down somewhere and say it back to Max when she finally called, but as usual, I kind of procrastinated and forgot about it.

I do remember the gist of it though: Something something, “took you long enough,” something something, “I’m thriving just fine without you,” something something, “anyway, when are we meeting for lunch?”

I just have to remember to keep it cool. If Max calls me up and the first thing I say is some stupid Bond villain shit, I’ll probably kill myself from the embarrassment.

But still, I have to be assertive. I have to tell her every last thing I’ve been thinking about for the last four years and hold absolutely nothing back. It might make me feel like a piece of shit in the end, but I have to do this. I deserve it, right?

But I don't get the chance to think about it, because long before I can mentally prepare myself, a soft, scared little voice buzzes through the speakers of my phone in the most innocently hush tone I’ve ever heard. It’s all static-y because of the connection, but I’d recognize that breathy sweetness just about anywhere.

“...Chloe?”

And that’s all it takes to make everything I just said crumble on the spot.

“M—Max?”

For a moment, the two of us don’t say much of anything—between me holding my breath and Max’s voice going painfully silent on the other end of the line, it’s nothing but a long stretch of dead air for a while.

Even in all that silence, though, I can still feel the ridiculously heavy weight of so many unspoken words hanging over us. I’m sure Max can feel it too: the dread, the anxiety, the desperate urge to just say a bunch of shit but you can’t because you don’t want things to go too fast…

It’s like some huge, temperamental storm cloud had suddenly started looming in the sky.

And I don’t think either of us were really prepared to deal with what might happen if it rained.

Despite that though, Max is the first to break it.

“God…it’s really you…” she says. Except…she just sort of—exhales the words out in a long, shaky breath, following it up with some kind of soft whimper.

My first instinct is to just start yapping. Hearing her sound like that—it makes me wanna ask what’s wrong, how she’s feeling, why she’s calling—but then I remember an important detail: she left me. She’s been gone for the last four years and this is the first time she’s called back.

So the bitterness comes back in full force.

“Yeah…it’s me,” I say, dryly. “You know, I’m a little surprised. After all this time, I didn’t think you’d actually remember my name—what with the years of ghosting and all…”

It comes out with a little more venom than I really want it to, but I don’t care. Max needs to hear this, she needs to understand how I feel—how she made me feel.

I expect some kind of apology to follow after that—maybe a bunch of patented Max Caulfield “sorrys” and “forgive mes”.

But Max doesn’t say a single word. Instead, she starts breaking down in sobs.

It comes out of nowhere. One moment, she’s silent again, the next, I can hear her whimpering and crying over the phone.

Fuck! Too harsh Price, too fucking harsh!

“Shit! Shit, Max I’m sorry I didn’t—fuck, are you good?! Is everything alright?!”

“Y-yeah! I’m—I’m okay!” she stammers, not sounding okay in the fucking slightest. “Better than okay, honestly, it’s just…no—no, there’s no time.”

“Uh…Max?”

Still chock full of surprises, Max stifles her sniffling as quickly as she can and immediately starts speaking with a much clearer, more commanding tone of voice.

“Chloe, listen: I know I’m a total piece of shit and that sorry isn’t nearly enough to make up for how I hurt you but I am so, so fucking sorry for not calling back. You can yell at me and berate me all you want later but what I’m about to ask you right now is super important. Where is Rachel Amber?”

…

I’m sorry—what?

First of all, since when has Max ‘shy dweeb’ Caulfield become so outspoken? Second—and I seriously can’t stress this enough—WHAT?!

“Okay hold the fuck on, how the hell do you know Rachel?”

“Not important right now. Where is she, Chloe?”

I can’t help but laugh at that. But it’s not a laugh of amusement or a laugh of glee—it’s more like a harsh chuckle of disbelief because holy fuck does Max seriously have the audacity right now?

“Like hell it isn’t! The fuck are you asking about her for?! How do you even know who that is?!”

“Chloe, I know this is ridiculous but please, you have no idea—”

“Yeah, I fucking don’t!” I seethe. “You know, you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve calling me up for the first time in almost five goddamn years just to pull this shit on me. You’re lucky I haven’t hung up yet—”

“CHLOE, NATHAN PRESCOTT IS GOING TO KIDNAP RACHEL AND KILL HER TONIGHT IF YOU DON’T FIND HER RIGHT-FUCKING-NOW!”

Well that’s definitely one way to stop me dead in my tracks.

“...What?”

“Nathan Prescott,” she repeats. “At some point tonight…maybe, fuck—it could’ve already happened by now—Nathan is going to drug Rachel and take her somewhere terrible. And by the time he’s finished…she’ll be dead.”

I feel my blood run ice cold, each and every word out of Max’s mouth only serving to make that chilling sensation seem worse than before. Suddenly, all my sweat feels like a bunch of freezing water droplets prickling at my skin—and even worse, my heart is just itching to hammer straight out of my chest.

Nathan Prescott? Drugging, kidnapping and killing Rachel?

No…no, that just doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Nathan is a weirdo freak, sure, but he isn’t like that…right? As much as it pisses me off, he and Rachel are pretty tight. They’ve been that way for years—even since before I actually met Rachel at that Firewalk concert back in 2010. And while every now and again he seems…noticeably fucked, there’s just no way he’s crazy enough to do something that twisted.

“You’re spoutin’ some bullshit…” I mutter, almost automatically. “He’s a piece of human garbage but he wouldn’t do any of that.“

“Chloe listen, whether you think he would or wouldn’t do doesn’t matter because it’s going to happen regardless. But you can stop it…all you need to do is figure out where she is.”

“Max, wait—”

“Do you know what Rachel would be up to right now? Is she at Blackwell? Some kind of Vortex Party?”

“I—I just dropped her off at the beach a little while ago but, Max—”

“Then you need to go get her! I don’t care how you do it or what you do to convince her, you just need to get her out of that place as fast as you—”

“MAX!” I shout, already feeling the hot rush of angered heat flowing through my eardrums. “Shut the fuck up and let me finish, Jesus!”

Thankfully, Max goes silent.

“...Look, even if what you’re saying is true and Nathan is about to kill her—how in the ever living fuck do you know about this? I mean—shit, how do you even know about Rachel? She wasn’t around back when we were kids. You’re doing a whole lot of talking but not a lot of explaining and before I do fucking anything, I need answers from you.”

For whatever reason, it takes Max a minute before she’s able to work up the courage to speak again, every second of which feels like its own terrible form of torture.

It’s stupid, but even as pissed at her as I am for calling me up out of nowhere and demanding I do a bunch of shit—a large part of me still hates the thought of upsetting her.

Old habits, I guess.

“I—I can’t say just yet.”

But boy is she testing my patience.

“Oh?” I scoff. “Oh, so…you just expect me to believe all this at face-value then, huh? Shut up and just go along with everything Max says because she’s oh so sorry for ghosting me?”

“Look, I didn’t say I can’t explain anything, I just said I can’t explain anything yet,” she clarifies. “And I promise you, I’ll give you all the answers you want—and soon. I just need you to do this. You don’t have to believe me, but—if nothing else, at least go and check in on her. If not for me, Chloe, then do it for her.”

Dammit…and there it is. Somehow, Max has always known exactly what to say to change my tune on the flip of a dime. And even now, nearly five years apart from one another, she still knows me like the back of her own damn hand.

Still, I can’t deny the voice in my head that’s screaming with the idea that like so many other things in my life, this is all just one big sham. Another false promise that’ll blow up in my face because I’m simply too stupid to learn.

“And what if this is all a prank, huh? What then?”

“Then it’ll be one bad moment for you,” she responds, her voice so gentle it makes me wanna curl up into a ball on the ground. “Something that’ll suck, but I know you’ll live through. And if it isn’t? Well, then…you’re never gonna see Rachel again.”

The thought alone makes bile rise within my throat. Never seeing Rachel again? Never waking up to her smile or the jasmine-y scent of her golden hair in my face?

I don’t think I can go through yet another heartbreak like that again.

“Fine,” I say, finally. “Fine, I’ll go. But you owe me an explanation—a big one.”

“I know. And I promise I’ll explain everything once I get there. But first, you need to bring Rachel somewhere safe.”

Pause. What did she just say?

“Wait, wait, wait—what do you mean ‘once you get here’?”

“I’m uh—I’m on my way to town, actually! I’ll meet you. Two Whales? Like old times?”

“Wait hold the fucking phone, Max. You’re like—what? Four hours away? Are you seriously gonna drive all the way over here by yourself?”

“Uh—well—no? I was actually gonna take the bus…”

“The fucking bus?! Max that’s like 12 hours, what do you mean you’re taking the bus?!”

“Look, that’s not important! We can talk about my travel habits later, right now, you need to go save Rachel!”

“Fuck! Fine! I—I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” she says, and even more surprisingly, she starts laughing a little. One that sounds near hysterical. “I’ll…meet you tomorrow.”

“You good…?”

“Sorry, it’s just…it’s so nice to hear your voice again, Chloe…”

Now, I’d be a liar if I said that didn’t make me feel at least a little bit better, but still, all those words were so undeniably threaded with a bitter string of sadness. One I can’t quite shake off, not even now.

“Yeah, well…if only that’d compelled you to call sooner.”

“...Bye Chloe. I’ll—I’ll see you soon. Text me when you find Rachel, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

And without another word, I hang up the phone, leaving me to sit alone in the cab of my truck once again with nothing but dead air to fill the void.

I know that based on Max’s urgency, I should probably just go full-throttle right away and floor it to the beach, but honestly, I’m having so much trouble processing everything that’d just happened I’m stuck in a perpetual state of lag.

Max—my not-so best-friend in the whole wide world—finally called me up after all this time…

Just so she can tell me the girl I’m wildly in love with is about to die.

And even crazier, she’s coming back to Arcadia Bay…

We’re going to be meeting each other tomorrow at the Two Whales, just like old times…

If I wasn’t so shocked, I’m pretty sure my head would’ve exploded right on the spot.

Because honestly, how the fuck am I supposed to feel about that?

Should I be happy that Max is coming back to me? Should I be angry at her for ghosting me and only calling to spew a bunch of nonsense? Hell, should I be angry at myself for folding like a piece of paper in an origami factory the second I hear her voice?

I have no idea. All I know is that at the moment, my head is swimming in a huge, confusing melting pot of emotions I don’t know how to parse.

And what was up with the way Max sounded back there? The whole time we spoke, the voice I heard coming through the phone was undoubtedly the girl I recognized as Max Caulfield, but something in her tone was so…off. Like with every sentence she finished, she was right on the cusp of bursting into tears.

So many questions, so few answers…

But all of that can wait for now.

“Alright, Chloe,” I declare. “Time to go find Rach.”

So, you know that feeling you get when you’re about to do something super nerve-wracking and your whole gut just sinks down into one massive pit?

Think waiting outside your crush’s house for the first time or coming back home after having a huge argument with your mom. You know it has to happen at some point, but a big part of your brain just can’t help thinking about all the potentially disastrous ways something could go wrong. What if I act all weird in front of her and she loses interest? What if I just end up in another screaming match about my shitty step-dad and I’m right back at square one?

Well, the moment I get back to the beach, that sinking feeling hits me like a goddamn truck.

It’s like I said before, Vortex Club parties aren’t exactly my scene, and shit, voluntarily stepping into one? I might as well start waltzing into a lion enclosure while covered in fresh meat from head-to-toe .

Turns out, I don’t exactly “fit in” with the popular rich kids. If everyone in this town already treats me like a filthy bum all the time, then the Vortex groupies see me as a goddamn leper. It’s like the second I come into contact with one of them, they get all scared that they’ll somehow catch the disease that makes you dye your hair blue.

It has a knack for making me feel like shit every time, so because of that, I do whatever I can to avoid them as much as humanly possible.

Unfortunately though, I don’t really have the luxury tonight.

Judgmental dipshits aside, I need to find Rachel, and fast. While I still don’t fully believe all the stuff Max has said earlier, there’s always that tiny chance she’s right. And if she is...

Let’s not think about that right now.

So, with a heavy amount of reluctance, I step out of the truck and start making my way towards the beach proper—harsh beats of supremely loud music pulsing inside my chest.

I guess someone must’ve brought their stereo along for the party. Now, if only their taste in music didn’t suck total ass. I think it’s some kind of shitty EDM track? Not sure. All I know is that I hate it, and if I actually got out of here with Rachel, I’d definitely be going on a nice metal band cleanser as soon as possible.

It’s also pretty dark too. In fact, the only reason I can see anything at all is a result of the massive bonfire pit nestled in the sand.

They started lighting it up by the time I left, and back then, it was tiny. Now? It’s a giant, fiery tower of blazing flame that I’m almost certain has to be one-hundred percent illegal.

It’s not like anything would happen to them for that, though. When you’re a rich schmuck, the law doesn’t really apply to you the same way it does to everyone else.

Also, side note, walking through the sand in faux cowboy boots is a total pain in the ass. Even more so when you’re already anxious as all hell.

But eventually, after several minutes of nearly falling over and wobbling through tiny dunes of sand, I finally make it to the area where everyone’s congregated.

It’s about what you’d expect: dozens upon dozens of popular athletic kids dancing and drinking to the sounds of blaring music. Some of them have beer bottles in their hands from the various coolers surrounding the fire, others, solo-cups filled to the brim with who knows what. They’re all split off into their own little groups—several tiny cliques each chittering and chattering as if they’re in a world of their own.

The one thing they all have in common though? They all give me weird looks.

The first person to notice me is some orange-haired chick in a bikini-top and denim shorts combo that can’t find the facial muscles to make an expression that isn’t total disgust. I think her name’s Sarah or something? Either way, her staring makes me grit my teeth.

Now, I know I shouldn’t say anything, but that’s the problem with me, the second I’m in ear-shot, I simply can’t help myself.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, it might last longer!”

And of course, Miss orange-hair is the one to speak up. “Fuck you, freak!”

“Oh you’d just love that wouldn’t you?”

She looks like she’s gonna say something else, maybe walk up to me and start making a scene so everyone on the beach can hear, but luckily, her friends stop her before she can and leave me to continue my walk.

See what I mean? Just being here is exhausting. Honestly, the only solace is that the fire feels pretty nice.

But I have to focus. If Max is right, every second I waste is one I could be using to save Rach. And I’m running out of time.

Now, where the hell is she…

It doesn’t take me very long to find her, unsurprisingly. Even in the proverbial sea of exposed skin and alcohol-induced chaos, Rachel still somehow manages to shine just a tiny bit brighter than the rest. It’s a little weird, the way the firelight somehow illuminates her more than everyone else, but I just chalk that up to me having a serious case of tunnel vision and being stupidly in love with her.

Off near the water, yet still oddly close to the fire, I can see her talking to two other girls I recognize: Dana Ward and Juliet Watson.

Dana is a tall brunette with boobs that practically have their own orbit and a weirdly peppy personality. She is a cheerleader after all, so it makes sense, but for the longest time I always thought it was just an act. It wouldn’t be crazy if that big shimmering smile was just a fake gesture to hide something sadder beneath the surface—but no, she really is just that happy all the time.

Juliet is a little shorter and has lighter colored hair. Unlike Dana, who usually elects to show off her chest, Juliet prefers wearing short skirts and tiny shorts—each one always showing off just a little bit too much leg to everyone that might pass her by.

Basically, they’re both insanely hot and that’s only exacerbated by the fact that they’re hardly wearing anything right now.

They like to stick together too. One doesn’t usually go anywhere without the other, so they’re pretty much the very definition of two peas in a pod. Honestly, it always makes me wonder if they’ve ever…

Nevermind. I’ve got a lot more important, less pervy things to think about.

Besides—somehow, against all odds, I actually managed to make it in time. All I have to do now is talk to Rach.

Except…all these nerves are making it super difficult to walk through the sand.

It’s probably because my head’s a fucking wreck—so much panic, confusion, and a gazillion other thoughts all fighting for dominance at the exact same time. Or maybe, I’m just crazy.

On one hand, I’m massively fucking relieved to see Rachel alive and not dead on the ground thanks to Nathan, but on the other, I have no idea what I’m even supposed to say, nor how I’ll say it.

I mean fuck, what could I possibly tell her to get her out of here with me? “Hey Rach, my ex-bestie just called me up for the first time in almost five years to say one of your close friends is gonna kill you! Awesome, right? Now come on, let’s go back to my place!”

Something tells me Rachel won’t exactly resonate with a bunch of bullshit like that.

And it’s not like I can lie to her either. I’m a shitty liar at the best of times, but now? When I’m so nervous and worked up I feel just about ready to jump straight out of my own skin? Fuck no. That’s a surefire way to make sure Rachel never trusts me again.

Yet despite that, my legs are still inching me forward all the same, and whether or not I’m actually prepared for it, I’m about to come face to face with Rachel in a bid to make sure she stays alive.

And sure enough, when I finally close the distance, my mouth opens before I even have the chance to think.

“Hey, Rach?”

It’s like stumbling upon a pack of wild raccoons pillaging someone’s garbage bin. The second I even make one noise, all three girls turn to look at me with varying amounts of intrigue.

And yes, it does in fact make me sweat like I’ve just ran a 10k.

Dana at least seems innocently curious; wonderment and vague interest line her face as she cranes her neck to get a good look at whoever just spoke. Juliet on the other hand—her gaze instantly snaps to mine with an intense fury like she can’t believe someone’s actually interrupting her mid-sentence.

Rachel, though? She just furrows her brow ever so slightly and watches the oncoming shitshow with attentive, scrutinizing eyes.

“Oh my gosh, Chloe!” Dana beams almost instantly. “Long time no see, stranger! Where the hell have you been?”

At that, Juliet’s face of burning red hatred seems to cool down a little bit too—taut lips slowly relaxing into a nice warm smile. “Yeah, it’s… good to see you, Chloe. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“Uh—yeah…” I mumble, not sure what else to say. “Sorry I haven’t really… been around?”

“Don’t apologize,” Dana assures, her hand gently touching my arm in the process. “These parties are fun and all, but they’re so chaotic. Hard to keep track of what’s happening sometimes, y’know? One second you’re talking to someone, the next you’re having a full blown make out session with your best friend. Definitely not for everyone. I would've stayed in my dorm room all night if I could.”

“Uh huh…” I nod, trying as hard as I can to follow along and act like A, chaos is the only reason I don’t come to any of these things and B, I’m not wondering why the hell Dana even bothers to show up if that’s how she feels.

Before I can say anything else though, Juliet turns back to Rachel with a puzzled look. “But… wait—I thought Rachel said you weren’t stopping by tonight?”

“I did,” Rachel notes, her voice smooth and calm while she smiles at nothing in particular. I’ll never understand how she’s able to just do that: fix herself and blend right in at a moment's notice. It makes it so damn hard to tell how she’s actually feeling sometimes, and fuck is it agonizing. “I guess Chloe’s just full of surprises.”

Speaking of surprises…

“Um, yeah—actually, I kind of needed to talk to you about something, Rach.”

That at least gets her eyebrows to rise a little. “Oh? What about?”

…

Shit, now I’m right back at square one: three hot girls, all staring directly at me with patient curiosity. It’s barely been three whole seconds and I can already feel my confidence melting away into a big pile of mush.

I can’t have Dana and Juliet be here for this, not when I have no idea what to do and already feel so awkward I’m liable to crumble straight through the sand. Right now, an audience is the last thing I want.

So, nervously, I look back and forth between Dana and Juliet before softly saying, “Uh…in private?”

“Aw man…” Juliet groans. “Come on, I want to get in on the big scoop!”

Thankfully, Dana has enough sense to put the kibosh on that before it can even start. Almost as soon as Juliet starts complaining, she shakes her head and links an arm around her friend’s. “You heard the girl, Jules. Come on, let’s give these lovebirds their space.”

Juliet tries to protest by way of grumbling, whining and struggling against Dana’s grip, but in the end, she’s helpless to getting yanked off and away.

“See you later, Rach!” Dana calls, and sure enough, the two of them are gone only a moment later, leaving just Rachel and I to stand alone in silence.

“So…” she starts, moving in just a little bit closer. “What did you wanna talk about? And…does it have anything to do with why you’re here even after saying, and I quote: ‘these parties are for spoiled brats that don’t give two shits about anyone but themselves?’”

I feel my heart get caught in my throat, its incessant pounding growing louder and louder beneath the soft crashing of waves and the idle crackle of burning firewood.

Fuck, what the hell am I even supposed to say? And more than that, why the hell am I not saying anything at all?

It isn’t like me. Usually what happens is that in my nervousness, I just blurt out a bunch of bullshit and end up sounding like a total idiot as a result. Now? After everything that’s happened tonight? I’m at a total loss for words.

Rachel’s probably still pissed at me, and why wouldn’t she be? I was an asshole to her earlier, I’d insulted her and made her feel like shit.

And now, I just interrupt a fun night with her friends all so I can feed into Max’s fucked-up delusions about her being kidnapped and killed—but do you wanna know the worst part? I’m only just now realizing how massively stupid this all is.

So under Rachel’s gaze, the only thing I can do is scratch at the back of my head and kick up a small pile of sand.

“Chloe?” Rachel asks, and God she is so damn nice for asking. “What’s up, are you okay?”

“Well, I…uh…”

Come on, Chloe…say something.

“Uh…”

Fucking anything!

“I…”

…

…Nothing.

Nothing comes.

No matter how hard I try to speak, or formulate even a single sentence, I just can’t find it within myself to say much of anything besides a few uncertain noises of defeat. It feels like I just got stabbed, and pathetically, those last few murmurs are the only things I’d managed to say with my dying breath.

Hearing Rachel’s proceeding sigh only makes that knife sink so much deeper.

“Right…” she says, her voice sounding both tired and frustrated at the exact same time. “Well…if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna go reconvene with Dana and Juliet.”

No…I don’t want you to.

“I…I hope you have a good night, okay? Whatever it is you want to say—just tell me tomorrow, or something. I’ll see you around.”

I want to slap myself—grab hold of my own body and shake it until I finally wake the fuck up and grow a backbone.

But I can't even do that. I really am just that pathetic, and now, Rachel’s leaving. I’m losing my chance and she’s really fucking leaving.

The only thing I can do is give her one last look. A single, passing glance made out of nothing more than pure desperation just because it only feels right to witness how much pain I've put her through. And when I do, something inside me lurches awake.

In the warm, flickering hue of the firelight, Rachel’s face seems so much more beautiful than ever before. Her skin seems to dance right along with it—a small, excited little movement that only served to make her seem that much more angelic.

I’ve woken up to that face dozens of times before, spent so many countless nights just admiring her—staring in awe because she’s just that captivating. Beautiful. Perfect.

And it’s in that beauty that something inside me just starts to…imagine. To think about what my life would be like without her in it:

No more winning smiles, no more hopeless dart games, no more half-eaten pizzas or sleepless nights where the two of us just laid in Rachel’s bed while we watched the stars…

Max said that if I didn’t save her tonight, I’d never see her again. And while I still have no idea how truthful she was even being, there was so much finality in those words—so much certainty. Even though it probably shouldn’t have, something about that had felt so terrifyingly real. Like if I didn’t say anything, this really would be the last time I ever got to see her.

So if this was it…if this truly was the last time I ever saw Rachel alive, then what would I say to her?

Well, I don’t even have to think about it. The words simply fire out of my mouth like bullets in a loaded gun, and I’m helpless to stop it.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Rachel adds, turning to walk away. “Drive safe—”

Before she can leave, I grab her by the shoulders—squaring my chest and staring directly into her eyes so I can finally say the three words I’ve been dying to spill for so damn long.

“I love you.”

And for what’s probably the second time in my whole life, I witness Rachel Amber get completely fucking flapped.

“...What?”

“I love you,” I clarify, and at this point I just decide to put all caution to the wayside and let it rip because who the fuck actually cares anymore? “And—look, I know I should’ve said it a million times before and probably another million times after, but you know what? Fuck it, because I’m saying it now: Rachel Amber I fucking love you.”

For one, two, no—three, terrifying beats Rachel remains completely silent, widened eyes gaping at me like I just sprout another head.

Of course, my mind immediately jumps to all the worst possible conclusions: I fucked up again. Somehow, I said something so stupid the girl in front of me would just grunt and walk away.

She was going to leave me like everyone else in my life does. Like Dad, like Max…

But when I see her cheeks flush with color, all of that fear is washed away and dissolves into the cool breeze surrounding us.

“Chloe…are—are you drunk or something? High?”

“No!” I say, and out of nowhere, start laughing in hysterics. It’s wild and shrill, the kind of noise that makes it sound like I’ve gone completely insane, like I finally lost it…

And I guess, in a way, I kind of have.

“I’m not! Which is fucking crazy right?! Shiiit I could really use a good beer and a huge rip from my bong right now but I haven’t done any of that!”

At that, Rachel slowly cocks her head to the side. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve just…I’ve had a lot to think about lately,” I breathe, finally relaxing and taking my hands off Rachel’s shoulders. “Like—how happy I am to have you in my life and how much I fucking love you—spending time with you. Shit—I planned on telling you all this when we left but I can’t fucking wait anymore. I’m not wasting any more time sitting around and thinking about all this bullshit when I should’ve just said it from the start.”

Rachel’s voice grows softer, her face settling into something more concerned and disbelieving. “I…I love spending time with you too, but—I don’t understand. What happened to ‘we have all the time in the world’?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot too, because what if we don’t? What if—what if something happens to one of us and we can’t go to L.A. together? I can’t—I can’t stand the fuckin’ thought of you getting hurt, Rach. I’d never be able to live with myself if you left and I still hadn’t gotten to tell you everything I’ve wanted to say.”

Gently now, I cup a hand around one of Rachel’s cheeks. Fuck she’s so warm…

“You mean too much to me.”

“Chloe…” she murmurs, nuzzling into me and wrapping a hand around my wrist. “If this is all just some wild attempt to get in my pants…”

“It’s not,” I assure her. “I swear it’s fucking not. Everything I just said? I’m being one hundred percent serious right now. Rach, I love you and—and I wanna be with you. I’ll commit to it too! I’ll go to all the parties, figure out all the ways to see you—whatever it takes.”

For a moment, Rachel simply stares at me, confused hazel eyes scanning my face in search of something I can’t quite see. She’s probably looking for a sign, a tell that’ll let her know everything I’d just said was a lie. That like so many other people in this town, I’m just saying a bunch of shit to appease her.

But I mean every word.

“I’m crazy about you, Rach…have been since the night we first met. The only thing I want in the whole wide world right now is to be yours…all I ask is that you let yourself be mine too.”

I wait for a response, caress my thumb over Rachel’s cheekbone and simply watch as she opens and closes her mouth about a half-dozen times.

Before she can speak though, someone interrupts us.

“Hey, Rach,” a half-drunk, way-too-deep voice calls from behind. I recognize it as Hayden Jones, a big burly looking dude on the football team half the girls at Blackwell are lining up to fuck. I’ve barely spoken to him before, but he and Rachel are pretty good friends from what I know.

Except right now, Rachel isn’t looking at him.

“Rach?”

“Yeah, Hayden?”

“It’s Nathan, he’s been looking for you? Said he wanted to see you or some shit.”

My stomach drops.

I can’t let her go to him. I have to keep her here at all costs or convince her to leave with me.

“Rachel—”

“Tell him it can wait,” Rachel says, stopping me dead in my tracks. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Uh I dunno…he was kinda tweaking out. You sure you can’t just—”

“Tell him if it’s so important he can text me!” she orders, and all Hayden can do is hold up his hands in surrender.

“A’ight, sheesh. Damn. I’ll let him know.”

He walks away barely a heartbeast later, and the whole time, Rachel doesn’t take her eyes off me for even a second.

“Rach…look, I know that was a fuckin’ lot, and—and you don’t have to reciprocate or anything, but—”

Before I can finish, she grabs at the collar of my jacket and yanks me down right to her level, lips pressing into mine with a fire and passion I haven’t felt since our first kiss three long years ago.

And when she pulls away, she still keeps me close, refusing to let go. “How much gas do you have in your truck right now?”

I blink, still a little awe-struck from that kiss. “Uh—I dunno, maybe a quarter tank?”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna have to use all of it to get us back to Blackwell as fast as you fucking can.”

“I—what?”

“Chloe. If you don’t drive us back to that dorm building right now I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from ripping these clothes off and taking you right here in the fucking sand.”

Holy—and once again I can’t stress this enough—shit.

“R-Right!” I sputter. “Yeah, my truck's right back at the parking lot.”

In one swift movement, she lets me go, grabbing at my hand instead—soon enough, she’s marching forward, pulling me along with her like I’m nothing more than a ragdoll and she’s my faithful puppeteer.

Somehow, of all the crazy shit that’s happened tonight, this one is probably the most insane.

Who woulda thunk? Maybe, just maybe, I’m not that unlucky after all.

Chapter Text

It’s 8:32 p.m., and by now, the sun’s fallen far below the horizon.

At this time of night, nocturnal animals stir in the safety of their shadows.

At this time of night, the sea shrouds itself in a thick coat of unknowable darkness.

And right now, as I stand at the center of my carefully curated palace of perfection, the air around me feels nothing short of acrid.

I’m alone. The soft, idle hum of studio lights, lamps, and heaters the only sounds currently filling a space that would otherwise be nothing more than an empty, faceless void. In a way, it’s almost like something out of Lewis Baltz’s lens—a vacant hole in someone else’s dream, long forgotten by the world around it. A husk, left behind by someone far too stupid and careless to understand what any of it truly meant.

It’s in that hole that my stopwatch ticks away: one hour, forty-four minutes, and five seconds—that’s how long it’s been since someone was last here.

Ten seconds following their arrival, my cameras had picked up movement inside the studio. Fifteen seconds before that, a spoiled brat had disturbed the incredibly delicate peace I’d long sought to maintain with this place.

When I‘d arrived at eight o’ clock—passed through the doorway and bore witness to the aftermath of someone’s haphazard, amateurish mess—I quickly came to one singular conclusion:

That brat had been planning something.

It wasn’t hard to tell exactly what he was planning, of course—that much is at least obvious to me.

And it’s not as if he made it very hard to figure out either. The moment I’d pushed past the curtains, I spotted all the required materials for his little escapade strewn about along the glass coffee table as if it was some kind of frat boy’s cocaine-induced dream-home.

Syringes, bottles, lenses…everything he could possibly need—all scattered and disorganized like he hadn’t been handling thousands of dollars worth of precious equipment.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. Because in his stupidity, he’d handled all of it without using any gloves. The single, most important rule I’d hammered into his brain the moment he first came here so many months ago.

So, at this very moment, every single item laid out in front of me is undoubtedly contaminated with his putrid, talentless stench.

He’s lucky he hadn’t decided to grab the Hasselblad during his moronic mishandling too, because if he had—and I found out he used it without the proper care it deserved—I may have just killed him the second I saw his face.

It’s like I’d left my home for the weekend and came back to find a shoddy, pathetically bastardized imitation of what once was. An intruder encroaching upon a space that should’ve been mine.

It feels violating. Something sacred being taken away from me and manhandled in the most taunting way possible.

Truly, there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret bringing him here.

After so many years, I'd finally escaped the suffocating gaze of all the inner cities, and to my delight, found the perfect place to set up my own proverbial Garden of Eden. No more half-assed, hastily jerry-rigged studios inside vacant apartment buildings and empty storage lockers. No more looking over my shoulder after every shoot as if someone was watching me from behind. No more countless days spent dreaming of how I might collect the best possible subjects and slip them back without being caught. In Arcadia Bay, there are fewer cops than the number of employees they have at its one and only gas station.

And moreover, it’s practically teeming with beautifully innocent models just waiting to be captured.

But of course, none of this was “easy” by any stretch of the imagination. When Sean brought me here nearly two full years ago, this studio was nothing more than a fetid hole in the ground of a decaying barn in a rotten town. It took months upon months of slow work and personal renovation to finally turn it into something worthy of my lens, but when it was finished it became everything I’d ever wanted it to be.

The only stipulation? I had to take Nathan under my wing.

Which leads me right back to the main question I’d been pondering ever since I got here: who was Nathan planning to take?

But of course, if you speak the devil’s sorry name, he shall ever so clumsily appear.

And just as my stopwatch hits the one hour forty-six minute and fifty-four second mark, I hear the soft ruffle of the entryway’s plastic curtains opening up behind me.

I hate to admit that it surprises me, if even a little. I suppose I was far too busy staring at the table and steepling my fingers to care about the world around me. But now, I’m more than aware, and angrier than I've been in a long time.

One harsh breath, a few stomps of anger, and a sudden halt of silence. That’s all I need to hear to understand exactly what’s brewing inside Nathan‘s empty skull right about now.

I swear…it seems like every time I see him he somehow manages to get dumber and dumber.

“M—mark?!” he spits out, sputtering the words like some kind of frightened kindergartner lost in the grocery store. “I—I didn’t know you were coming here tonight, I was—I was just—“

I stop him before he can gargle out another word of his headache-inducing nonsense—a single action so beautifully simple yet so drenched in authority that he shuts his mouth the second he sees it.

One raised finger. That’s all it takes.

And I make sure to let it hang, keep my finger pointing straight to the ceiling so all the suspense can seep further into Nathan’s already rattled mind. It’s going to make him shake with fear, sweat until he’s nothing more than a shriveled up shell of himself—but that’s the point. I don’t want him to think for even a nanosecond that he’s allowed to have any sort of peace.

He wasn’t going to get any. Not for this.

But, all good things must come to an end I suppose, because after a solid 30 seconds of waiting, I finally lower my hand and speak as calmly as I possibly can. “Nathan, come here for a second, will you?”

“Mark, I—”

“Come. Here.”

As soon as he’s standing next to me, I place my fingers back on their steepled perch and take a long, sharp breath. For a while, I don't say anything more. Instead, I simply force him to sit in the silence and soak it all in—after all, it’s only fair he got to bask in the idiocy staring back at us right now. It is his mess we’re dealing with.

“Nathan,” I finally say, turning to look at him while vaguely gesturing toward the table. “Can you tell me what this is?”

His gulp is practically comical in its volume. “Uh—it’s, uh—equipment…sir.”

“Right,” I agree, pressing a finger to my lips in thought. “Very astute of you. Now, who do you suppose brought all this out, hm?”

“It was…it was me—sir.”

“Ahhh, I figured as much. So, Nathan, considering you are the person that chose to set all this up, would you mind explaining to me exactly what it was that compelled you to do this?”

This time, he takes even longer to respond—sorry excuses for functioning eyeballs scanning over the contents of the table as if it might somehow grant him an answer to this little dilemma. I can practically hear the gears turning inside his head, see the smoke pluming out his ears.

And it’s about what I expect when he finally shifts around and says with, a shaky breath: “I was, uh—rehearsing, sir. Just—getting everything out like you always do before a shoot, y’know? I’m…I’m trying to be like you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Rehearse?”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Rehearse’...of course—shoot, why didn’t I think of that? You were just rehearsing!”

That’s when Nathan spins around to meet my eyes—it’s the first time he’s done that since he arrived here—and soon after, he follows it up with a small, silent nod. One that seems all too eager to confirm his intentions.

“You know, I knew you’d be ready for the art world so much sooner than most,” I say, placing a warm, comforting hand atop his shoulder. “Rehearsals like this happen all the time during real, professional photo shoots out in the fashion world. Good idea to get prepared for the more…tedious parts of the job.”

“Y—yeah, that’s—that’s why I wanted to rehearse,” he mutters, face flushing. “I was, uh—preparing myself.” “Well, good job. Now, why don’t you go ahead and pick all this up for me, okay? We’ll talk about it later.”

The way his face brightens up at my declaration nearly turns him into an entirely different person.

It’s like watching anesthetic take hold of someone’s mind—in much the same way, the grim, fearful aura Nathan had been carrying since he got here slowly seemed to ease itself away. One moment, he’s scared for his life, the next, he looks so disgustingly hopeful and happy that he could be a child again—as if he’d finally accomplished something for the first time in his miserable life.

And obeying me once more, he nods. “Y–Yeah, of course! Right away…uh—sir.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” I say, watching as he slowly gathers all the materials he’d ever so carelessly strewn about.

I give him barely half a second to revel in that feeling. Allow him to think, if only for the briefest of moments, that I’d actually believed a word of that. It’s more than what he deserves, but it makes my next move feel all the sweeter.

I slap him across the face as hard as I can before he can even react.

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME, YOU SPOILED LITTLE SHIT!” I shout, seething with fury while the ‘spoiled little shit’ in question drops to the ground and starts writhing in pain.

“AH! F—FUCK!” he wails. “M—Mark I’m—I’m sorry! I—”

“Don’t you ever take me for the common trash up there at your precious little school, do you understand me? NEVER!”

“AGH—SHIT, I’M–I’M SO SORRY! P—PLEASE DON’T—DON’T HATE ME!”

The next thing I know, he’s sobbing uncontrollably along the tiled floor, body curling into the fetal position like the baby he is so he can cradle his damaged cheek. The moans and wails of pain are like nails on a chalkboard—the most intensely grating sound I’d ever had the displeasure of hearing.

I didn’t want to slap him, truly. A big red mark like that is hard to hide—even harder to explain away. Now, people are going to start asking questions, and I’d have to spend more nights worrying about the delicate balance of my peace. Again.

But still, hearing him cry like an infant? It’s so…pathetic. Cathartic, even. Honestly, if we lived in a perfect world, I’d beat him over and over again until he passed out from the pain. But unfortunately, nothing is perfect…not unless it’s within my lens, of course.

Besides, I still had some important information to pry from him.

“Aw…Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I sigh, putting on my most apologetic voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled…I’m sorry, Nathan.”

And thankfully, that manages to stifle some of his cries. Eventually, he even turns his head to look at me with a noticeably wistful glint in his eye.

Perfect.

Now seeing my opportunity, I reach out a hand and urge him to take it. “Come on, get up. It’s okay, I mean it this time. I shouldn’t have tricked you, I’m sorry.”

It’s hesitant, but he still grabs on and allows me to pull him back up to his feet. Barely a second later, I’m hugging him and rubbing his back in slow, methodic circles. “There, there…it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

He continues sobbing obviously, hitched breaths and small whimpers filling the air around us because it’s the only sound he knows how to make right now. But after a while—after he finally settles down and stops shaking so much, I pull away while maintaining a firm grip on his shoulders.

“You know I didn’t mean to be so harsh, right?”

He nods.

“Good…it’s just—well, it all goes back to that quote I told you, remember? ‘Mutual trust, not mutual suspicion, is the only foundation for cooperation and survival.’ Who said that?”

“Uh—G–Ghandi…?”

I should slap him again for that alone, but luckily, I have more control than that.

“Not quite—Winston Churchill, but that doesn’t matter. You see, Nathan, I think it highlights exactly what we have going on here,” I add, suddenly pointing directly at the center of his chest. “You trust me to give you the vast wealth of my knowledge, all this equipment, and private lessons to cultivate your craft…”

Then I point at myself. “And I trust you to keep all of this a secret and to never withhold any information from me. It’s how we survive, remember? Does that make sense?”

He nods again.

“Good. And—do you understand why I do this for you, Nathan? Why I go through all these different hurdles just to teach you?”

This time, he simply stares, but almost immediately after I say that, I can see another small flicker of hope gleaming behind his blue, bloodshot eyes. I almost want to smirk in response, but I stop myself before I have the chance. While it would be nice to gloat about how easily I flipped his mood, I’ve got him exactly where I want him to be right now, and I can’t afford to lose that yet.

You see, I’ve found that it’s stupidly easy to turn Nathan into a malleable ball of putty between my hands—to keep him in line while also preserving his unwavering respect. Control.

It’s a delicate system, one of both reward and punishment that conditions him to obey me at all costs. In a way, he almost is like a dog. All I have to do in order to get him to sing my tune is dangle a treat right in front of him.

“Because I believe in you, Nathan,” I say. “More than anyone else in your life, I’d imagine…right?”

His gaze shifts to the floor.

“Your dad doesn’t believe in you one bit now, does he? Always lecturing you…belittling you—barely giving you the time of day despite being his own flesh and blood. But I do. I know you have…talent,” and good God, just saying that makes me want to vomit. “You just need someone like me to help you tap into it. I know you have it in you, Nathan. That’s why I trust you.”

“But…when you do things like this—it starts to make me question just how much faith you have in me.”

And as expected, that gets Nathan to snap his head back up at me. “Wh—what?! N—never! I trust you! Always have!”

“And I believe you…but you’re making it so hard for me right now. So, let’s try this one more time, okay? Nathan, why did you decide to bring this all out tonight?”

His eye contact breaks again, the tight burst of conviction I’d sensed just mere moments ago unraveling into something much more tangled and frayed. Despite everything I’ve told him thus far, he’s still scared, which only makes the angry bile in my throat rise to even greater heights.

“I…” he falters. “I was trying to bring Rachel here.”

I have to strain nearly every muscle, tendon, and ligament in my face just to keep my lips from twitching.

It still doesn’t stop me from squeezing his shoulders just a little more tightly, however.

“Ah. I see,” I nod. Forcing myself not to start shouting again is a herculean task all on its own. “And—why would you do that, Nathan?”

“I—I wanted to bring her here…capture her like you capture all the others, y’know?”

The slight quake in his voice only makes me want to wring his neck even more.

“I was trying to be—trying to be like you…I wanted you to see I could do this…that I was ready.”

I can feel the scalding heat of rage simmering more and more beneath my skin with every word he speaks. ‘That I was ready’...God, the mere insinuation makes me want to punch him—maybe more.

Everything about him from the way he talks, to the way he moves, to the way he practices his pathetic attempts at art—for as long as I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing him, all of it was incessantly incompetent, childish. Everything he ever does is antithetical to everything I am.

Truthfully, the mere idea of a brat like him somehow perceiving himself to be ‘ready’ or even capable enough to work alongside me with any amount of amiability…it feels like an affront to my very nature.

“Well…be that as it may,” I hiss, barely able to hold back a long and intense string of insults. “I thought I told you that Rachel was not a priority and that I had different plans for her.”

“I—I know, but—”

“But nothing! You knew better, and despite that, you still had the gall to try bringing her here all on your own!”

My fingers only sink deeper into his shoulders now, and this time, he actually has the wherewithal to start whining in discomfort. Lucky for him, I oblige his pleas and release him from my grasp just a few beats later.

I would’ve torn the flesh straight off his bones if I knew I could get away with it, but I suppose freeing up my hands to massage my temples was a decent enough alternative.

“I mean—imagine what might have happened if you’d fucked up! Do you even know what her body weight is?! How many milligrams of each solution you’d need to make her just the right amount of conscious?!”

He shifts uneasily on his feet. “Well—I—I didn’t—”

“That’s right! You don’t! FUCK, for all we know, you could’ve given her too little and she would’ve remembered the whole fucking thing! Or, shit—maybe you would’ve outright killed her with an overdose! Honestly, I’m not sure which would’ve been fucking worse!”

“Mark, I’m sorry—”

I cut him off before he can continue, rounding on him with a single finger—the same one I’d used to silence him earlier.

“You are lucky I have your father to thank for all this,” I snarl. “Otherwise, the sheer amount of idiocy you exude here on a daily-fucking-basis would’ve had me toss you to the goddamn streets months ago.”

He doesn’t reply to that. No stuttering or stumbling over every word and syllable this time around. Instead, he merely shrinks in on himself, eyes watery and on the verge of yet another tantrum to rival that of a toddler. I’m already taller than him as it is, but now? He may as well have been three feet high.

“Now, I’m going to give you a few directions so simple that not even you could mess them up,” I declare. “You’re going to clean up this mess, wipe down the bottles, sterilize the syringes, and put everything back exactly where it belongs. And if you don’t use gloves this time, I promise you I’ll give you another bruise to match the one you have on your face right now. Do you understand?”

He nods, but it’s not enough.

“I said: DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

“Y—yes! Yes, I understand!” he answers quickly.

“We’ll see. Now get to work.”

As soon as he moves away, I let out an explosive sigh—one loud enough for him to hear from across the room and stew over—but I don’t move. Not yet.

Unfortunately for both of us, I’ve already resigned myself to staying until his work is done. I don’t want to, obviously. I’d rather be at home, enjoying a good movie and a glass of whiskey, but I knew all too well that if I didn’t, he’d mess up somehow and it’d require me to come back to this damn place all over again.

Fuck…he’s become such a nuisance I’m already starting to loathe coming to the one area in the whole world that should rightfully be my happy place. And even worse, I still have one more year left with him. If I had to deal with this for another 365 days…

I clench my fists. I’d rather not continue thinking about something so aggravating.

But still…to think he wanted to bring Rachel down here…how fucking stupid can he possibly be?

Talking as if he’d understand what to do with her, what I was even looking for.

“Be like you…” his words echo inside my mind.

How hilariously pathetic. Never, not even if he lived another hundred years, would he ever be like me.

My train of thought is unfortunately cut off when I see him enter my field of vision again. He’s still moving around all uncertain and stupid in the same way he always does, but here, the silver lining is that he at least has gloves on now.

Trying not to blow another gasket, I watch attentively as he moves to grab one of the studio lights and begin its disassembly. I was prepared to watch even more ineptitude at play, to see him fumble around with a bunch of parts he didn’t know what to do with.

But just before he reaches the stand, he suddenly comes to a complete and total stop. Limbs, body, and face all frozen, like he’d been encased inside a giant block of ice.

And for once, the sight of him doing something strange doesn’t immediately make me angry. Instead, I’m more perplexed than anything else.

“Nathan?” I call, but I don’t get a response.

“Nathan,” I repeat, still nothing.

Slowly, confusion gives way to anger once again, and soon after, all that fury simply makes me feel even more tired and stretched thin. At this point, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I looked in the mirror and saw two finger-sized holes dug directly into the center of my temples as a result of all the rubbing and massaging—and even then, that familiar motion was only providing me with a miniscule amount of actual comfort anymore.

Lovely, he’s so mind-numbingly dense that he’s even turned my stress relief into something banal.

God dammit. He must be having one of those ridiculous episodes again. Did the brat not take his fucking meds?

“NATHAN!” I say again, this time much louder and more succinct. But he still doesn’t move.

“For the love of…for fuck’s sake it never ends with you, does it?”

Time to take matters into my own hands I suppose (as per usual).

Preparing to slap him across the face again, I step forward towards him atop the backdrop with my hand just itching to make both sides of his face match like I’d promised earlier.

But then, out of nowhere, he snaps out of it, gasping for air like he’d just been underwater for the last 60 seconds. When he looks at me, his face is pallid—small, glistening beads of sweat already forming along the length of his forehead. Odd.

“M—Mark!” he spits, sounding stunned as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Oh, lovely, I’m glad you at least have the mental capacity to remember my name,” I growl. “Would you care to explain what that was just now? I already told you, if you can’t get your stupid episodes under control, I’d—”

“We need to leave,” he breathes, and for the first time in quite a while, I have to do a double take.

“What?”

“We’ve gotta go—gotta get all this shit somewhere else. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I can already feel the veins on my forehead pulsing. “Oh? And—why, oh why Nathan, would we possibly do that?”

In that moment, he turns and gives me the gravest look I’ve ever seen from him before.

“Because…someone knows we’re here.”

When I wake up, it’s completely against my will.

Usually—and in the least hipster way possible—I like to think I’m pretty cool or free-spirited for keeping my window open throughout the day. I mean, after all, what’s not to love? The breeze feels nice across my skin, the lighting makes me look hotter than I already am, and best of all, the air simply lets me…connect with nature. Ties me to an invisible thread that cues me into the ebb and flow of Arcadia Bay (and again, I mean that in the least tree-hugging way possible).

Something about it just feels right to me, like the open air is exactly where I should be—where it wants me to be, even. But whenever night rolls around, I almost always remember to shut it tight—to turn the latch and close the blinds so no Peeping-Toms, Tammys, or Theresas can peer into my room without permission.

But…this is one of those days where that “almost” comes into play, because in my excitement, I flat-out forgot to close it before bed this time.

I doubt you can really blame me for that, though. After all, when you have a great night like I just did, who the fuck would care about boring shit like windows? And while most days, having everyone hear all the nitty gritty details of exactly what I might be up to would bother me—I find that I don’t actually care this time.

Everyone assumes I’m nothing more than a Grade-A slut as it is—might as well play into it a little and allow the lovely residents of Blackwell to hear it from all across campus, right? At the end of the day, what did it matter after a night like that?

So, it’s for that reason the harsh beams of morning sunlight blaze across my face—and slowly but surely, they drag me back to the world of the living.

The first thing I notice, of course, is the relaxing scent of lingering cigarette smoke wafting through the air. And when I open my eyes, they ever so gradually adjust to the beautifully perfect sight of a tall, blue-haired girl leaning against the window without a care in the world.

With all that light pouring in, she looks almost angelic to my waking eyes. My very own Cordelia—all mine and mine alone.

She’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a loose-fitting tank-top. It’s just barely enough to cover the silky smooth leanness of her body—somehow, it leaves so little to the imagination yet begs you to come looking closer so you can see for yourself.

God, it’s always that kind of intrigue that tingles my brain so irresistibly.

She’s texting someone it seems, the cigarette in her mouth only occasionally leaving her lips so she can tap the ash out the window.

It’s right about then that I realize, and not for the first time, that I’m completely smitten.

I’d felt that same sensation with this particular girl a number of times before—but now—things seem so different. Clearer. Like, strangely, a hazy and immeasurably gossamer fog I’d never even noticed beforehand was just suddenly—gone. Whisked away as if it was nothing more than a filter on an old lens I hadn’t used in years.

And now, bathed in the warm light of the morning glow, I can see her with so much more clarity than ever before. Make out every little detail and facet of that obnoxiously pretty face of hers right down to the molecule.

Shit, had she always been so…

Agh—Christ…sorry. I guess this is what three fucking words can do to me, huh? It’s so damn simple, yet the mere thought of it turns me into a helpless pile of mush that can’t stop itself from waxing poetic. I mean come on, how cruel is it that I have to be such a fucking romantic?

And even crueler, why is it that now, after everything that's just happened, I can still feel the yawn of that chasm between us?

I’m lying in bed, she’s standing at the window—really, we can’t be more than a few feet apart from one another—and yet, it feels as if she might as well be miles away. There’s a great gulf there, a canyon so wide I can hardly see the other side. It’s filled with the hush, dulcet tones of unspoken words, repressed feelings, and untold secrets.

Despite the few hot rays crashing into my face from afar, the rest of me is still so grimly cast in shadow. The weight of all those secrets coiling and curling around my body in a way that makes my heart ache.

Chloe’s always worn her heart on her sleeve, but I have to wonder if that space holds any of her secrets too. And if it does, I wonder if she also feels that weight.

I’m not exactly sure how much longer I allow myself to ruminate on that. But for a long while, I’m simply staring, watching with rapt attention as Chloe makes all her agonizingly alluring little movements.

But eventually she spots me, bright blue eyes locking onto mine the second she looks away from her phone.

“Oh—shit! Hey, Rach! Morning!” she stutters, and fuck I wanna kiss that nervous little smile right off her face. “Sorry, I—uh…didn’t mean to leave you hanging. You haven’t been up for too long, have you?”

The curl of my lips is practically automatic.

“Not for long, no," I say, and at this time of day, my voice sounds slightly hoarser and groggier than I want it to. “Although…I have been missing a certain little spoon of mine. Seems she ran away from the kitchen drawer…isn’t that sad?”

When I sigh, I make sure it’s as dramatic and overbearing as I can possibly manage so early in the morning. “It’s just so lonely here without her…cold too…”

Slowly, that little smile on Chloe’s face evolves into an impishly devious grin. A second later, she’s tossing her cig out the window and waltzing over to the edge of bed in that ridiculously sexy way she always does whenever she’s excited.

She’s not even doing it on purpose, really, but by the time she’s leaning into the bed and planting a kiss on my forehead, I’m practically helpless.

See, that’s the most frustrating thing about Chloe to me. She’s the most attractive woman I've ever known—but she doesn’t even realize it.

It’s silly to think about, but there are so many little things she does that have a habit of making me swoon in the strangest ways. Sometimes, she crosses her arms and all of a sudden there’s a stirring in my tummy. Other times, she’s kicking her feet up at The Two Whales and I just wanna pull her in for a five-hour makeout sesh.

At the same time though, she’s still a lovable little oaf that’ll start cracking stupid jokes in almost the exact same breath.

God…maybe that was for the best. Because if she knew the effect she had on me…

“Choo choo, babe! Little spoon, coming through!”

Yep. That’s my girlfriend alright.

And the moment she scurries under the covers to greet me, I’m wrapping my arms around her in the gentlest, most possessive grip I can muster.

Suddenly, everything’s right with the world again.

In true Chloe fashion, she smells like smoke, faint B.O., and the slightest tinge of day-old weed.

Funny, on any other day and in any other circumstance, all those smells on their own would usually make me gag in varying degrees of disgust. But all together? The scent is so distinctly Chloe that it makes my body melt without a second thought. After spending so much time together throughout the last three years, the smell tastes like home. The one place I can always come back to no matter how far I go or how deep I dig.

So, it’s with a delighted sigh and a soothed heart that I finally tangle up our legs and rest my head against Chloe’s back.

She’s not escaping any time soon. Not if I can help it.

Being so close to her makes me want to pass out, and sure enough, I slowly feel myself slipping back into dreamland…

But of course, just as I’m about to close my eyes, the sharp DING of Chloe’s phone pulls me right back to reality.

Never a dull moment, huh?

“Mm…” I grumble, putting approximately zero effort into hiding my annoyance. “Who’s texting you so fucking early?”

The words make Chloe stiffen. “Well—uh…you’re probably not gonna believe this, but…”

Unfortunately, curiosity gets the better of me long before Chloe can even finish her sentence, and by the time she trails off, I’m already peering over her shoulder to take a look.

And when I see who’s on her phone, my stomach twists itself into knots.

“Wait, hold on—Max? As in—Max your old friend and not the random skater-dude coincidentally also named Max that you met at the park? The one who doesn’t understand that you like girls?”

“Okay first of all, that was years ago, I dunno why you bring that up all the damn time,” she pouts, “And second: yeah. Max Max.”

My grip on Chloe only grows tighter.

Oh yes, I was very familiar with the ever-elusive Max Caulfield. The “friend” Chloe grew up with that skipped town the day of her dad’s funeral (I mean seriously, who the fuck does that?) and promised she’d stay in touch…only to then get flaky and eventually stop messaging altogether.

But that’s the weird part. As far as I’m aware, Max was just a shy, obviously insecure nerd…so, why the hell would she be messaging Chloe now of all times after so many years of silence?

Did something happen to her? Did she wake up and have a shocking moment of clarity where she finally realized the full extent of what she lost? Was her texting Chloe an attempt to rekindle something she’d given up years ago? Was she—

“H—hey, Rach?” Chloe suddenly strains. “Squeezin’ real tight over there.”

“Oh! Sorry!” I mumble, letting Chloe go as quickly as possible. I feel kind of bad for almost hurting her, but right now, that isn’t really important to me. “But—what’s she texting you for?”

“Well, while I was uh…driving last night, she called me up and said some wild shit.”

“…Meaning?”

“Meaning…” she falters. “Meaning, she said Nathan was gonna drug you and kidnap you.”

…

One single sentence, and a few small beats—that’s all it takes to make my brain stop working.

Somewhere inside my own head, I swear I can almost hear the distantly prickled sounds of a snap, crackle, and a pop—the violent ignition of a verbal flashbang, stun-locking me atop the bed.

Why would she…? What?

WHAT?!

And stupidly, I decide to say the last one aloud. Although this time, it sounds a lot more sheepish and dumbfounded than it does in my head. “...What?”

“You know, that’s kinda funny actually. I pretty much had the exact same reaction when she told me. Same inflection and everything.”

I ignore her, but thankfully that sentiment at least knocks my mind a little loose. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait…so, she told you Nathan was gonna pull a Taken on my ass and kidnap me?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Chloe shrugs.

“...Why? Actually, no—how?! She doesn’t even know him!” though I’m not so certain of that immediately after I say it. “She…doesn’t know him, right?”

“No. Dude and his shitty family moved up here from Florida a while after she left town. I’ve got no clue how she knows him or you.”

“And she mentioned me by name?”

“Yup,” she says. “And for the fuckin’ life of me I couldn’t get her to spill a goddamn thing before she said goodbye.”

Okay, so this was only getting weirder by the second? Awesome.

Now decidedly reeling from all this, I slide back onto the mattress and take a few moments to try and wrap my head around it all.

I come up empty.

How someone I’d never even met could possibly suspect that one of my best friends would do something so fucked up is a total, mind-melting mystery.

I mean—it’s not like I don’t know Nathan has a bit of a crush on me…and, it’s also not like he hasn’t been acting pretty weird lately either. But even still—there’s just no way in hell he’d ever do something like that. He’s too skittish. Too uncertain and nervous to even think about making a move so…insane.

Honestly, the idea seems more like the crazed ramblings of a concerned psychopath than anything else, really. Or maybe worse, a stalker.

Eugh. Now that thought makes my breath hitch.

“Hey,” Chloe suddenly whispers, low and calm. She turns to face me, gaze ever so carefully staring into mine. Fuck…I swear I could get lost in those beautiful blues forever. “Sorry I dumped all this on you so early in the morning. Shit’s been bugging me since last night.”

I smile, but I still wave her off all the same. “No, no, don’t apologize. Not like you’re the one spewing whacko bullshit out of nowhere…”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, but her heart doesn’t really seem to be in it. “What’re you thinking?”

“What the hell any of it means…” I grumble. “Honestly, she’s probably just trying to get your attention or something. Maybe she had a change of heart and realized she wants to be the center of your life again. Wouldn’t hold it past her to start acting this way so she can get you worried…she wants you to focus on her and no one else.”

“Maybe, but…she sounded real fuckin’ spooked yesterday. Faking all that just for attention…? I don’t really buy it.”

I’m not sure why hearing Chloe defend her makes my heart ache a little.

“What else did she say to you?” I continue, ignoring those thoughts for now and pushing them aside. “Anything interesting? Maybe she said something that didn’t make any sense at first but might have a hidden meaning?”

Chloe simply shakes her head. “Not that I can think of. It was all just ‘Nathan’s gonna kill Rachel!’ and ‘Go get her away from that party!’”

…Huh?

I have to do a double take—there’s just no fucking way I heard that right. “Wait, wait—what was that last part?”

“Uh…’go get her away from that party’?”

My heart stops, and immediately, I feel all the color draining away from my face.

As if Max’s baseless, crazy-ass accusations weren’t enough already…

“She…she told you to come get me?” I breathe, and at this volume, it almost sounds like a straining, high-pitched whistle. Steam in a tea kettle.

It takes Chloe a couple seconds to understand why I’m so fucked up all of a sudden. The whole time, I merely watch as narrowed eyes scan across my face with a mixture of confusion and worry.

But then it finally hits her, and her expression widens into something I can only imagine looks pretty damn similar to how someone might gape if they inadvertently just stepped on top of an active land mine.

“Oh. OH! Shit, Rach, that’s not—”

“The only reason you came back to me at the party last night…was because Max told you to?”

Both of us rise at the same time—and while Chloe tries to reach out and grab my shoulder, I swat her hand away and hop off the bed with my comforter wrapped tightly around my chest “So—what? You’re just gonna do everything that weirdo says now?! You only said all that shit just to get me away from that fucking bonfire?! Chloe, are you fucking kidding me?!

“What? Rach, no! That’s not what happened! I—” she stammers, desperation lining her voice. “I–I didn’t—”

Clearly having no idea what she can possibly say to make this any better, she goes silent and tries reaching out again. This time though, she thinks better of it and stops herself. Instead, she pulls back, takes a long deep breath, and stares at me square in the face.

“No. That’s not what happened.”

“Then what the fuck did—”

“Max only told me to come and get you. Nothing else. She didn’t tell me to start pouring my heart out or ask you to be my girlfriend—none of that shit. That was all me.”

“But—but you still only came because of her!”

“Yeah. I did—and I’m not fuckin’ proud to admit that.”

“But—why? If you weren’t gonna come back anyway why the hell did you only bother after Max said something to you?”

“Because…well—what Max said scared the shit out of me, alright?” Chloe says, and the nervousness in her voice isn’t lost on me. “When she called me up, all the anger I was still feeling because of our fight kinda just…poofed the second she said you were in trouble. Shit, I figured I’d either make a fool of myself or lose you so…I said ‘fuck it’ and drove over.”

The grip I have on my blanket relaxes a little, a sharp pang of guilt stabbing at my heart the moment Chloe brings up the fight.

God…I can never fucking control myself, can I?

She must’ve seen the quick lapse in anger as an opportunity though, because a moment later, she’s stepping out of bed and making her way back over to me.

When she reaches for me this time, I don’t pull away. I simply allow her to rub at my shoulders and cradle my face like she always does whenever she wants to calm me down.

“Rach…all that shit I said was real,” she breathes, and holy shit her voice is so soft. “I meant every word. I mean that. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to break your trust.”

If it was literally anyone else, I wouldn’t believe them for even a second. You see, when most people start broaching platitudes or mouthing off excuses, it always turns out to be nothing more than a way to mask their insincerity.

But Chloe isn’t most people, and no matter how hard I look, I don’t see anything even remotely close to insincerity in that gorgeously pretty face of hers.

Not even a little.

“Honestly, I’m kinda glad we’re talking about this now, y’know? The last fucking thing I want is for us to start this whole thing off with a bunch of false-pretenses and half-told bullshit. And you know what? Fuck it, I’ll say it again: I love you, Rach. Always will.”

Her words do make me feel better, God they really do.

But even after hearing that ‘I love you,’ I still feel a festering inside my stomach. That veritable tightness that just wouldn’t go away.

Except this time, it’s not coming from Chloe.

“I love you too…” I whisper back, wrapping my fingers around Chloe’s wrists. I revel in the fact that it makes her grin.

“I don’t wanna ruin this for us, Rach. No chance in hell. I know we’ve tried this shit before but…it feels different this time. I can feel it.”

“I can feel it too,” I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I still don’t understand though…you believed her? All that weird shit she said about me and Nathan?”

“Not really, no,” she admits, moving to sit back down on the bed. It sucks, feeling her pull away from me. Without her touch, I feel so damn hollow.

“Shit, I had no fucking idea how I was even supposed to get you away from that beach in the first place—didn’t believe I could, honestly. But, when I saw you and thought about what it might be like to lose you…I guess I couldn’t stop myself. I think I needed that extra push. It just so happened that Max’s wacko story ended up being the thing to do it.”

I sit back on the bed now too, pressing into her side and resting my head against her shoulder.

“You know…keep talking like that and I might just tear your clothes off again,” I joke, giving her a playful nudge. “But still…I know she’s your friend and all, Chloe, but even if she gave you that ‘push’, I can’t really say I’m a fan so far. I mean—what the hell is she doing all this for?”

“No. Fuckin’. Idea. But—I guess I’ll just have to ask when I see her.”

My head snaps back to Chloe’s face so fast I’m surprised I don’t feel a sudden onset of whiplash. “Wait…’when I see her’? She’s not coming back here is she?”

“Correcto-mundo,” Chloe confirms, now leaning back on her elbows. “I’m supposed to be meeting her at the two whales in…uh…” she checks her phone. “An hour and a half, just about. According to her, she said she’d ‘explain everything’...whatever that means.”

And there it is. For the third time this morning, I’m thrown for a goddamn loop.

Honestly, at this point I feel more like a blonde-haired hacky sack than an actual human being. If I got hit even one more time, I’d probably end up flat on my ass in the dirt long before I could even recover.

That's not even touching on the ever looping roller coaster of emotions the universe decided I had to go through right now.

I mean seriously, flipping from smitten, to uncertain, to smitten again, then surprised, then pissed off, then smitten one last time—only to be surprised again…? It’s just too much for nine in the morning. And now, it was shifting into something more like wariness or disquietude. The kind of feeling that makes you curl in on yourself a little—like the shadow of some unfathomable giant is suddenly looming over your head, and there’s a tiny, nonzero chance that you might just get squashed under a mile long bootheel.

Max “weirdo, shy nerd, probably a stalker” Caulfield—is coming to Arcadia Bay for what’ll be the first time in nearly five years. And, to add onto that, she’s also attempting to monopolize my new girlfriend’s time by pushing some stupid narrative about Nathan being an American Psycho.

I’m…not sure how to feel about that realization, exactly. On one hand I’m definitely still pissed the fuck off about her little prank call. And on the other…well, I’m kind of curious.

Max might be tweaking out of her mind at the moment (that much is true), but at the same time, she’s someone I’ve always wanted to meet, deep down.

To know what the person that left Chloe behind is really like…to examine her, take her apart and put her back together again…I can’t think of anything else more intriguing than that.

And speaking of which, when I focus back on Chloe, I see a far-off look in her eyes. Something wistful, something…unknowable.

I think it’s that sight that sparks an idea inside my head.

“Well,” I declare, raising my voice just as quickly. “I think we both know what this means, right?”

Chloe turns her head, face scrunched up in confusion. “Uh…no?”

“It means, I’m coming with you. Obviously”

Now it’s Chloe’s turn to be the hacky sack, and as expected, she starts looking at me with the same kind of incredulity I must’ve shown her only a few moments ago.

“Oh, well—I mean, cool, but…are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just…you said you weren’t exactly a fan. I mean—I guess I get it, considering…you know. And trust me, I’m definitely gonna give her shit for that when I see her, but…”

“But…?”

”Max is, well, shit. I dunno what she is to me right now, but even if she’s doing some stupid stuff, I still don’t wanna piss her off the second she walks in.”

I frown. “Chloe, I’m not a fan of David either but I still smile and wave every damn time I see his geometrically impossible haircut. God knows I wanna sock him in the balls, but I hold it in. I’m sure I can do the same with Max.”

“I know, I know, I’m just—scared,” she sighs. “Putting all that weirdness or any of your theories aside, what if something’s really up with her? What if she’s in trouble? Why else would she be acting this way?”

I want to say, “It’s drugs. Obviously drugs.”

But thankfully, I don’t voice that sentiment aloud.

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” I assure her. “We’re girlfriends now, remember? When we do shit, we do it together. I’m not gonna leave you hanging, wondering what’s going on all alone—especially when I know you need the emotional support.”

“Pffft,” Chloe spits, wildly nervous. I’m not sure who she’s trying to fool more—me or herself. “No I don’t—”

”Babe, you’re a lot of things, but a good liar definitely isn’t one of them. Besides, I wanna meet her! See what’s up with the amazing Max Caulfield!”

”Rach…”

”And no, I won’t prod her brain for hours on end. Promise. I have to help the stage crew out with something in a couple hours anyway.”

That’s what finally gets her to settle down, and in the blink of an eye, she’s practically melting into the bedsheets.

“Thank you. Seriously.”

”No prob,” I wink, flashing Chloe a toothy smile in the process.

And yes, the fact that it gets her blushing all over again makes my stomach flutter. How’d you know?

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that or I’ll wanna stay here and go for another round…” she groans, but the curl in her lips betrays any annoyance I might hear otherwise. “I guess I should head back home and get ready, huh?”

”Yep…I should too. I mean—unless you want me to greet Max naked of course.”

”Eh, it'll probably happen at some point anyway."

I roll my eyes, putting a great effort in making sure my grunt of disgust is as obnoxious as humanly possible.

"Oh come on, you know I'm right!"

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Chloe?”

“Not someone who cares about being butt-ass naked around other girls, that’s for sure.”

“You really are such a pig, you know that?”

"For you? Oink oink, bitch.”

And that does get me laughing like your standard, stereotypical schoolgirl.

“Anyway…” Chloe giggles. “Want me to pick you up?”

”Nah, I’ll meet you. Now go on, get outta here, tiger. Before the annoying security guards see you.”

”Right, right…” she agrees, getting out of bed and ever so reluctantly putting the rest of her clothes back on. It kind of hurts, watching all her pale, luscious skin disappear beneath that threadbare prison…but unfortunately, I have to hold it in.

How unbecoming of me…such a slave to desire...

Once she’s done, she gives me one of those sweetly beautiful smiles of hers and makes her way towards the door.

She has her hand wrapped around the doorknob right when she suddenly remembers something though, and in an instant, a flash of blue runs towards me at mach five, tackling me into the bed with a kiss I can only describe as mystical.

It hurts even more when she pulls away, but it fades away the second she breathlessly mouths: “Love you~.”

God dammit now I really wish I would’ve ripped those clothes off earlier.

“Love you too.”

And a moment later, she’s gone. Leaving me alone in the confines of my dorm room, wrapped up in blankets and basking in the light of the rising sun.

I only wallow in that feeling for a few seconds more before letting out a breath I had no idea I’d even been holding. For a while, all I can do is stare at the empty white void of my ceiling, mind flickering with ideas and expectations for everything that’s about to happen.

It makes my smile falter.

In a way, I really can’t wait to meet Max. If not so I can size her up, then to see just how easy it’ll be to assert myself as Chloe’s. The pièce de résistance, however? That’s going to come in the form of my…delayed arrival.

If Max was going to throw a bunch of surprises at me, it was only fair I’d throw a couple at her, right? Ambushing her mid-conversation with Chloe seems like the perfect way to do just that.

And once I’m there, I’ll see exactly what she’s all about.

This was either going to be a big waste of time, or a lovely exercise in the delicate art of shutting someone down.

Either way, it’ll be the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in months.

You know what they say: Lights, camera, action!

Chapter Text

Wanna know how long it takes for reality to finally come crashing in to me, Roadrunner style?

Five. Whole. Minutes.

Oh yeah, I’d acted all cool and unbothered back there in Rachel’s room, I know, but now that I’m actually on my way home, getting ready for something I definitely, one-hundred percent, am not prepared for…?

The panic sets in about half a mile out, and all of a sudden, I’m gunning it back to the house at top speed.

The worst part is that it doesn’t even hit me right away. Back at Blackwell, I’d gotten into the car as happy as can be: feeling myself, beaming, enjoying the scent of the fresh air—but then, eventually, I realize exactly what I’m doing…and just like that, my brain collapses in what I’m sad to announce is probably the slowest domino fall in human history.

I mean—what the hell are you supposed to do when you’re getting ready to see your long lost best-friend again for the first time in nearly five years (aside from showering and brushing your teeth, that is)?

And, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m kind of…scared. Worried about what'll happen and what I’ll see.

After all, I don't actually have any idea what Max looks like now—how she might’ve changed, or how she managed to survive without me in that big bustling city…

Fuck, just thinking about it makes a nostalgic ache run up my spine—a writhing, slithering snake of a thing that moves to coil its tail around my neck. It threatens to choke me out if I’m not careful, make me regret ever giving her a chance in the first place.

Honestly, it's kind of killing me to think that all of this could potentially spoil any good memories I still have left.

Whenever I picture Max in my mind's eye, I see the tiny, mousy, 13-year-old girl that’d left me on the day of dad’s funeral. All those freckles, the tight ponytail she used to keep her hair in, those big blue eyes I spent way too much time staring at when I was a kid—

It’s so hard to imagine how she might’ve changed after all this time. I mean—I definitely have.

…Wait a minute—fuck—why didn’t I think about that?! How the hell is Max gonna react to the new me?!

I’ve got a huge fucking tattoo now! That's not even mentioning the blue hair and way less modest style I went with these days—shit, does she even like punk stuff?

Oh fuck…what if she hates it? I could totally see Auntie Van making her hate punk culture like it’s the fucking plague.

After all, Max did always follow along with whatever her mom told her to. That is, unless I was around.

God dammit, what if this is all way too much for a re-introduction? Should I like—un-dye my hair or something? Cover the tat? Shoot, maybe I should actually clean my Goddamn room for a change…

But then, just as my mind starts spinning and scrambling to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to deal with any of this, a single thought occurs to me:

I don’t owe Max jack shit.

Sure, at some other point in my life she might’ve been my best friend—the kind of girl I’d get into major trouble for just because I wanted to impress her a little (and yes, I still think Queen Callamastia’s final stand in my dad’s grill is sick as hell)—but that was a different time. A time I still had my dad, and no David to worry about.

And also, no shitty mom that loves defending said David like my opinions don’t matter either…

That was a different Chloe, and even if there’s still a tiny—pretty big—wildly massive part of me that maybe wants Max to kind of like me after all this time, I shouldn’t have to change in order to make that happen.

She’s still the girl that left me, right? Still the girl that never texted back after I lost dad and made me lose not one, but two people that were super important to me?

If Max wants to see me again, she’s gonna see me as I am now. Not some pathetically sad guesstimation of what I think she wants to see.

So, if she doesn’t like the hair, then tough shit!

If she doesn’t like my style, she can fuck right off!

And if she doesn’t like that I’m gay, and that I’ve probably had the hots for girls since we were little kids, then—then I’ll just kick her ass all the way back to Seattle…even if that would kinda suck.

Fuck, now that I think about it, that’d be a pretty nasty punch to the gut, wouldn’t it? Finding out your long lost best friend grew up to be a homophobic sleazebag? Honestly, if that turns out to be true, I dunno what I’ll do. I mean—she doesn’t seem the type, but then again, I used to think mom would always be on my side no matter what, so…

Guess you can’t really count on anyone.

Well, except for Rachel, I muse.

Can you, though? Can you really?

Ugh, brain, please shut the fuck up I don’t need this shit from you right now.

Anyway, it’s with that comforting thought that I finally pull into the driveway again. And for once, I’m actually greeted by a pleasant surprise.

David’s car isn’t here, meaning I must’ve just barely missed him on the way back home.

Hell—to the fucking—yeah.

Bitch.

Mom was probably home, though. And if any of my predictions from last night were as well-informed as I’d like to believe, she has an earful already locked and loaded for the moment I open that door.

And, between you and me, I’d rather sniff a skunk’s smelly ass than deal with any of that crap right now.

So, it looks like I’m gonna have to pull the good ol’ ‘sneak through the window and hope I don’t break my neck’ trick. Shitty name, I know, but I’ll workshop it—you’ll see.

The working name is pretty accurate though, because in order to get inside through my bedroom’s front window, I have to climb on top of the fence, pull myself up to the roof, try not to slip, die, or both—all while finagling the lock and trying to make as little noise as possible so I don’t alert my mom or the walking caricature of a 1940s army poster she calls a husband.

Thankfully this time around, I get in without so much as a hitch. I mean—it does make me feel exhausted as shit, but that’s beside the point. Fuckin’ cigarettes...

Once I’m in though, I waltz over to my closet and start rifling through absolutely everything I have. Again, it’s the usual game of finding whatever smells the least out of a pile—but this time, there’s also the added challenge of finding something that screams “me”.

See, if I’m trying to have Max see me “as I am now,” —and, not in a way that makes it sound like I’m about to strip—I need to go all out. Really play into the punk vibe as much as I possibly can to show off exactly who she’s dealing with now.

Honestly, if I had more time and way more money to spare, I’d probably get some new piercings just to prove I’ve gotten way too cool for school—literally.

Shit, would I look good with snakebites? Oh, maybe a septum?!

Alright, alright slow your roll. Dreamin’ a bit too big there, Chloe…one day, though. One day.

At any rate, I eventually settle on an outfit that I think gets the point across pretty well. It takes an embarrassing amount of digging, mind you, but I still manage to unearth one of my old black leather vests. It used to be a biker jacket, but I hate sleeves, so I just got rid of ‘em and let the frayed edges stay for the cool factor. Beneath that, I throw on a maroon tank top with some faded crow graphic, then combine that with ripped jeans, my beanie, and a beat-up pair of sneakers—and just like that, whaddya know? I’m ready to fucking roll.

According to Max’s last text, she’d be here in about 30 minutes—which meant I had some time to kill and a whole lotta nerves to soothe.

Seriously, should the anticipation be making me this jittery? It’s just Max, right? So…why do I feel like I’ve got the shakes from a bad case of nicotine withdrawal?

Shit, I think I need a special consultation from my dear friend Mary J.

“Now, where the hell did I put that last batch?” I think aloud. “I think it was—”

Knock knock knock. “Chloe?”

Ah, hell. Really, mom? Now?

Of all the times…

You know, why is it that whenever I’m doing fuck all no one seems to bother me—but, the moment I even think about doing anything even mildly important, I’m suddenly the talk of the whole fucking town?

“Chloe?” she calls again.

Alright, no need to panic. Maybe, if I just stay completely still and don’t make a sound, she won’t—

Aaaaand she’s opening the fucking door, god dammit.

When my mom (who completely lacks any respect for privacy, by the way) finally enters my room, the first thing she does is gasp at the top of her lungs and nearly jumps right out of her own damn skin. With how she reacts, you’d figure she’d just caught an armed burglar mid-robbery or something.

“JESUS! Oh what the heck Chlo, warn me next time! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry…” I sigh, not at all hiding the disappointment in my voice.

“Now where the hell have you been all day? I was worried somethin’ fierce. Wouldn’t answer ‘yer phone or nothin’.”

Oh great, the concerned mother routine. Just what I needed in the asscrack hours of the morning.

“I was out.”

“Out where?”

“I dunno…somewhere? Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re my daughter Chloe, and I have a god-given right to wonder where you run off to all the time.”

“I was seeing Rach, jeez!” I fume. “That a good enough answer for you?”

To her credit, my mom doesn’t push any harder. Instead, she simply lets out a harsh breath and shakes her head in that usual, ‘where did I go wrong?’ kind of way before finally speaking again in a much calmer tone. “I guess it’ll have to do for now…listen, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ‘cuz I need to ask—would you be able to drive me over to the Two Whales in a couple minutes? David had to leave early and I’ve been on my feet so much I ain’t sure I can make it to the bus stop without collapsin’.”

My brow furrows. “But…weren’t you just there until, like—two in the morning or something?”

“I was, yes. And now I’ve gotta go back in.”

“What? They’re seriously making you go back so soon? That’s fucked up!”

“First of all, language, second, it’s called havin’ a job, Chloe.”

“But—but—” I stammer. “Why not just ask for a day off or something? You’ve been working nonstop the last few weeks, you deserve a break.”

“Unfortunately Chlo, we don’t have the kinda money for ‘days off’. ‘Sides, I can’t sit in this house all day, I’ll lose my damn mind. Now, are ya able to take me or not?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I agree, albeit reluctantly. “I need to head down there anyway.”

And that definitely catches her attention. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Just…seeing someone.”

“Who?”

“Not important,” I add quickly. “Now come on, can we go already?”

“Alright, alright…thank you by the way sweetheart, I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…now seriously, let’s get going before both of us end up late.”

The drive over to the diner is…well—it’s fucking awkward. But, shit, what else did you expect from me and my mom?

We’d gone all the way from my room to the truck without saying so much as a single word to each other. And now, driving along the bumpy, pothole-filled roads of our neighborhood, we keep it going as if it‘s all we know how to do.

Normally, I’d just turn on some music to cut through all the silence, but the moment I even think about it, I reason it’s probably a bad idea.

Mom isn’t exactly the biggest fan of all my ‘crazy tunes,’ as she likes to call them. And while she’s definitely not as bad as David—a shithead who constantly enters my room without permission just so he can shut off my stereo himself—I know she'd still get pretty upset if I turned the radio on.

So, the silence just hangs—sticks around like the last few syllables of a cheap threat on a close friend’s lips. It drives me fucking bananas, to be honest. The kind of awkward insanity you can’t just whisk away with the calming sight of passing trees and various street signs.

But just as we’re about to pull into the town proper, my mom says something that makes me wish it would’ve stuck around way longer.

”David told me all the rude things you said to him last night,” she says, still eyeing out the window without so much as passing me a glance. “Really, Chlo? Name-callin’ again?”

Great.

Just great.

It figures mom would wait to give me that earful I was worried about until I was already trapped inside a two-ton metal box with nowhere to run. Of-fucking-course.

You know, if I wasn’t so pissed off, I might’ve actually said “well played, mom.” But no. Right now, it just feels like a low fucking blow on a poor defenseless daughter.

”Are we seriously doing this now? Here?” I ask.

“Hmm, I dunno,” she ponders, finally turning in her seat to look at me. “Let’s think: would you even let me talk to you about this without your ass runnin’ off to who knows where to meet with who knows what at any other time?”

I hate it, but she has a point. Goddammit I fuckin’ hate when people have a point.

”Well—no, but maybe that’s a fucking sign, mom…”

”Hey, language!”

”You just said ass!”

”And that’s because I’m your mother and I can say whatever cuss words I want whenever I damn well please to,” she declares, and she’s doing an absolutely fucktastic job at making even more angry bile rise inside my throat. “Now come on, Chloe…you’re way too old now to be pushin’ David’s buttons like that. I figured the last few years would’ve helped you realize that, but I guess not.”

….Okay, hold on, I’m sorry—what?

Ex-fucking-scuse me?

I almost can’t fucking believe what I’m hearing. In fact, it’s so ridiculous I almost wanna jump straight out of the truck just to make sure this isn’t another one of those weird, bizarro dreams I keep having. But no, my mom did actually just say that and yes, she really is that tone-deaf.

“His buttons? His buttons?!” I shout. “What about all the times he’s talked down to me like I’m a fucking toddler he’s trying to court martial?! Fuck, mom! Ever since he popped into our lives he’s done everything in his power to be an absolute piece of shit to me and you just expect me to lie down and take it like some kinda cheap hooker?!”

I can tell I strike a nerve the second she gasps in disbelief. It’s loud, shrill—the breathless, incredulous squeak of someone who’d either witnessed a murder or just barely dodged a bullet.

I’m doing my damndest to not look at her the whole time too (even though I really fucking want to), but I don’t have to see her face to gauge how she reacts. I can already feel the horror rolling off of her like fog on a lake as it is. And shit, the breath she takes in after the fact just lets me know I’m really in for it now.

“Oh for Christ’s sake Chloe, what the hell’s wrong with you?!” she shouts. “I know I didn’t raise you to speak like that! You’re—”

“What? Grounded?” I cut in. “Go ahead, I don’t care! Not like you can keep me in the house anyway. I’ll just ‘run off’ again, right?!”

A pause, then another long, exasperated breath.

“God dammit…” she sighs, and in my periphery, I see her placing a tired hand across her forehead. “See, Chlo? This is exactly why David’s so hard on you. You’re 19 years old and you’ve got no discipline, no idea what’s right and wrong—you need somethin’ or someone to keep you in line.”

I scoff. “Wow. Great speech, mom. David feed you that one?”

“And so what if he did? I say he’s got a point and he’s just tryin’ to be a good influence on your life. Lord knows you need it,” she says, grumbling that last sentence under her breath. “Why is it that even after four years you still won’t give him the time of day? He dudn’t hate you like you’re the embodiment of the Antichrist, Chloe…he just wants to help.”

Somewhere out there—maybe not here but somewhere—the fragile, paper-thin wing of a lonely butterfly just snapped in half mid-air, and in that very same instance, as if feeling the crippling reality of that break for myself, I go white-knuckled against the steering wheel.

I could tell her about the beatings. All those times David slapped me across the face or punched me in the stomach for talking back whenever he got all up in my business.

I could let her know it all, and maybe, that’d finally be the straw to break the proverbial camel’s back.

But I don’t. Because if I do—if I spill everything and tell her exactly what’s been going on right beneath her nose this whole time—it might hurt her more than David’s ever managed to hurt me. And as much as we argue, as much as we fight, I don’t wanna do that to my mom.

There’s still another reason, though, and that’s the small, microscopic chance that like with everything else David’s ever done, she wouldn’t care. She’d justify it, sit back and say I deserved it like she always did.

But if that ends up being true, then I don’t have any family left at all.

And, I’m not really sure I can handle that.

So, I stay silent. Grit my teeth and listen to the raging pulse of my own blood pounding throughout my eardrums all the way down to the Two Whales parking lot.

When we finally come to a stop, I roll my hands off the steering wheel and flop back into my seat with all the limp-surrender of a Toy Story character the second Andy walks into the room.

I say nothing, mom does the same.

We sit like that for a while, the dead-air between us way too heavy and way too thick for either of us to immediately break it.

I still don’t look at her, even now, but out of the corner of my eye, I can tell that, quietly, she’s passing quick, uncertain glances in my direction.

”…Don’t worry about pickin’ me up later,” she suddenly says. “David’ll be outta work by the time I’ve gotta leave anyway.”

I don’t reply, and a moment later, she’s opening the truck door with all the same silence from before, stepping away so she can head inside and get back to work. It’s reluctant, though, oddly enough. Slow and sluggish like she doesn’t really wanna go.

The last thing she says to me before leaving is: “I’ll see you inside then, sweetheart.”

With that, I’m all alone.

And fuck, do I need a cig.

As soon as I pull one out of my pocket, I hobble out of the truck and make my way over to the sidewalk so I can light it up and cool down. I barely think about it, really. Turns out, when you do something for long enough, the act becomes practically automatic. Muscle memory, and all that.

Is it kind of bad that lighting up one of these things is ‘automatic’ things for me? Probably. Do I care though? Hell no.

Besides, I’m sure you can sympathize, I need this shit more than anything else right now.

And sure enough, the sensation of all that hot, caustic smoke filling my lungs gives me a sense of calm I’d been needing the moment I stepped into that truck earlier.

Would be nice if I had some weed though…fuck you, drug laws. And you know what? Fuck you too mom, for interrupting my daily blazing sesh.

Eventually though, I burn the thing down to its filter and without really caring—or, of course, giving a shit—toss it to the ground and stomp it out with my shoe. Mom would probably get on my ass for littering in broad daylight or something like that, but for some reason, I’m starting to not really care about anything she thinks anymore.

I could probably head inside the Whales now if I wanted to, but honestly, waiting around for Max’s bus to arrive seems like the better option. Even if it is way more anxiety-inducing.

Just to be safe though, I pull out my phone and check my messages to make sure I won’t be waiting here for another billion years.

10:01 AM - April 23rd, 2013

Max: My bus should be there in about an hour. See you soon.

Chloe: k

That was around an hour ago now, and crazily enough, in an act of—what’s the word? Oh yeah: skullduggery, that surprises absolutely no one—she still isn’t here.

Don’t know why I ever expected Max to be any good with time. Even when we were kids she was always super late or super early to everything. “Chronically off-time,” my dad liked to call her. He’d tease her about that whenever he could.

Glad to see that, at least, still hasn’t changed.

But, of course, that’s assuming she’s simply running a little late and isn’t flaking out on me like she did with all my messages back in the day—haven’t ruled that possibility out for even a second just yet.

The thought makes my stomach churn, though. Imagine not only being ghosted through text, but also real life…

Wouldn’t that be just the funniest fucking punchline to end this whole saga with? One last betrayal from Max to really drive home the point that I’m too much of a sentimental idiot to learn a goddamn thing?

But hey, at least then, I’ll finally know it’s pointless to still miss her after all this time—which, by the way, totally over that—and I could just head back to Rachel. Wait out the next few months with her and spend all the time I can with my new girlfriend.

Speaking of which…

11:02 AM - April 23rd, 2013

Chloe: where r u?

Chloe: u coming or what

Aaaand, crickets. No response. Not even a little speech bubble with three dots at the bottom of the screen. For Rachel, that’s weird. Like—really fucking weird to the point where it kind of has me worried.

If what she said back in her room about wanting to meet Max was true, she would’ve been here by now.

Except she’s not, and it’s not like her to be late to anything unless it’s a party or a family dinner.

But, what if—

Nope. Fuck that. Not doing any of that right now, sorry.

…

But what if all that shit Max said about Nathan was true? What if Rachel spotted Nathan on her way out and got snatched up not long after you left?

Agh, I said fuck off with that horseshit already! I’m not entertaining any of this until I speak to Max, alright? Fuck.

And it’s with all the beautifully ironic timing of yet another cosmic joke against me, that the second I close that thought, the bus finally arrives at its stop.

You know when you’re about to go through something weird, or intense, or terrible and the inevitability of it all just makes your body freeze the fuck up? That’s what happens to me the second I hear the pneumatic tss of the bus’s parking brakes.

Shit’s loud, bellowing—makes it seem more like a lumbering monster than a moving vehicle carrying a bunch of perfectly normal and unassuming passengers.

Honestly, I think I’d prefer the monster at this point though. Because at least then, when it lashes out and attacks me with its claws, I would’ve known it was coming all along.

But this? How the fuck am I supposed to predict what’s gonna happen with this?

And— you know, maybe now isn’t the best time to bring this up—but, I’m really starting to think I don’t wanna do this after all. It might just be too damn much for me to handle.

I know what you’re thinking too: yes, I’m beyond stupid for going all this way just to think about chickening out at the very start. Believe me, I get it.

But fuck, there’s just something about that big blue charter bus that looks so…final. Inescapable and damning in a way I’m not prepared to deal with. I’d spent so much time wondering what Max had been up to without me that I never figured out what I’d actually do if I ever got the chance to see her again.

I’d never planned for this, never even imagined it was happening in my lifetime. Throughout the years, I’d only ever thought about all the things I’d say to her in my dreams—all the ways I’d chew her out or help her understand what she put me through.

Anything beyond that? It never even crossed my mind.

And there’s only thing I can really say to that: fuck.

Fuuuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I can’t do this. I need to go. Skedaddle. Book it all the way back to Blackwell with Rachel and call it quits right-fucking-now. Sure, it might be the sniveling little bitch thing to do, but at least Rachel’s safe. Comfortable. Nothing like the crippling weight all this stupid fucking stress and the nostalgic flames it’s going to send throughout my stomach.

But I don’t get the chance to do much of anything, because long before I even work up the strength to move, the doors of the bus swing right open.

And then, passengers start walking out one by one, single file style.

It’s about what you’d expect, mostly. Just a bunch of random, completely ordinary people looking to get off a bus they’d been sitting in for way too long.

There’s a small trio of older women talking about some random, wacko shit their husbands did on their anniversaries. A father and his son moseying over to one of the nearby stores so they can grab some groceries.

With each and every person I see, my eyes latch onto them with the same sort of jumpy-skittishness a stray cat shows a random passerby. Some of them give me weird looks, some of them don’t even notice—but either way, as more people funnel out of those doors, I still don’t see Max anywhere.

But maybe I missed her. I mean—knowing me, I have trouble focusing on all the important stuff at the best of times. Missing Max in a crowd? Yeah, seems like a very “Chloe Price” thing to do.

But even after scanning over everyone one last time, I still don’t see her face. No one in that crowd looks anything even remotely like her.

My body sags, and for a moment—a really small, terrifying moment—I wonder if Max had even bothered to show up in the first place. Maybe I was right after all. Maybe, she didn’t have the stones to face me after ghosting me for four years and pulling some bullshit prank on my girlfriend.

Like everyone else, Max Caulfield had become nothing more than a stupid, backstabbing, no-good liar. And like always, I fell for the bait hook, line, and sinker. Because goddammit I can’t seem to help myself.

Except, just as I’m contemplating beating the shit out of some impounded cars with a metal baseball bat, one more person steps off the bus.

A small, mousy-looking brunette with a freckled face and ocean-blue eyes.

And that’s when my body freezes up like never before.

She’s in a pink hoodie over a white tee—a color combo that suits her more than it has any right to. Below that? The plainest most dime-a-dozen looking jeans I’d ever seen. And, to finish things off, she’s walking around in a custom-painted pair of black canvas sneakers that looked like they were on the verge of falling apart.

I guess even after four years, some things never really change. And Max? Her fashion sense definitely hadn’t evolved past the sixth-grade.

Now—I should probably go over and say hi to her, right? Walk up to Max, say “heyo, bitch,” like it’s no big deal and lead her into the two whales all nonchalant-like?

In my heart of hearts, I know that’s what I should do…but, for some reason, I just can’t move. Can’t even get myself to speak properly. It’s as if someone ran inside my skull and flipped the off-switch. All I can do is stare helplessly onward as the girl I know so well starts looking around in search of something—in search of me.

And when she finally spots me, her eyes go wide as saucers.

Now that I’m looking at her more head-on, I realize two very important things:

One, she’ssofuckingcuteareyoushittingmerightnow?! When the fuck did that happen?!

And two, she looks spooked the fuck out. Like she’s staring at something so frighteningly chilling it’s made her pale.

Do I seriously look that stupid? Come on, you can be honest.

Shit, for a second, I wonder if running away is still in the cards too, but then she starts walking towards me.

...Wait a minute. She’s walking towards me. Fuck.

FUCK!

She’s walking straight fucking towards me and here I am having a full-on crisis!

Shit, shit shit! What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Wait? Walk inside? Greet her? Fuck, why is this so hard?!

Before I can even begin to decide however, she’s suddenly standing right in front of me, staring into my soul with the big baby-blues I hadn’t seen since we were kids.

And god is it fucking surreal.

”Chloe…?” she breathes, and it sounds so much like a whisper I can hardly hear it over the sound of the bus door closing behind her.

…This is really happening, isn’t it?

Okay. You got this. Just—don’t say anything stupid, alright? Be cool. I repeat: Act. Cool.

“Hey, Max.” I start—and since I can’t fucking stop: “Nice hairdo. You uh…grow it yourself?

Look, I know you’re me, but seriously: fuck you, Chloe.

To make matters even worse, my mouth just continues stumbling and flailing over every word and syllable that flies off my lips. “Oh—I mean—obviously you grew it out yourself, that's not—fuck…”

I can’t help scratching at the back of my neck and breaking eye contact almost as soon as I say it. Here I am, my one chance—my one fucking chance to say exactly what I want out the gate, and I blow it like Rachel blows smoke rings.

Thank fuck I’m not looking at her directly anymore, because if I was, I’m pretty sure I’d pass out from sheer embarrassment alone.

“God, I’m so stupid,” I groan. “What I meant to say was that it looks good on you, y’know? I really like the bangs—”

My sentence gets cut off by the sudden thump of Max's body slamming into mine in a hug that feels impossibly tight for someone with noodle arms like hers.

She’s on her tippy-toes, arms wrapped around my neck in a way that makes me feel treasured. Shit, she’s even got her face smushing directly into my collarbone.

I think it’s in that moment I finally realize I’m one stupid motherfucker. Up until now I’d been so worried about everything that could’ve gone wrong, but here? Now? Squeezed tight by a girl I’d (alright I’ll admit it) been missing for years? I didn’t have anything to worry about.

I’m still pissed at her, of course, but at the moment, it’s just so fucking nice to see her.

And without saying another word, I wrap my arms around her too.

“Good to see you, Max.”

Max doesn’t say anything in response though, in fact, I think I feel her trembling a little.

Holy shit—no, she is shaking. She’s shaking like fucking crazy.

“Woah, hey,” I say at once, pulling away from her and holding her shoulders tight. “You good?”

Max only nods, smiling so widely her head looks like it’s gonna snap in half.

“Yeah,” she says, and the softness of her voice is like music to my ears. “I’m great! Better than great!”

Except, her bloodshot eyes don’t seem to agree, and I’m not sure if that’s just because she’s tired, on the verge of tears, or both at the exact same time.

“Well, if you say so,” I mutter. “Now come on, let's get inside. Mama’s hungry and a certain someone left a girl waiting.”

“Right, sorry,” Max says. “Just—before we go in—Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s…so nice to see you again.”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning all the same. “I know.”

Throughout the whole bus ride—all 14-and-a-half excruciating hours I’d spent traveling from Seattle to Arcadia Bay—I had a lot to think about.

Like, what was I gonna say when I finally got there? Or, how would Chloe react when I told her the real reason I even called her to begin with? What was I gonna do about Jefferson? The storm?

There was just so much to consider, and through all of it, I’d taken the time to run through every possible scenario my rattled brain could come up with—every answer to every question, every comeback to every quip.

But even then, despite all my planning, I‘d still ended up making one critical mistake: and that was thinking I’d be able to handle seeing an old Arcadia Bay again.

Well—okay, maybe that was only half true. I did think about it, if only for a couple seconds when I first got on the bus.

In my mind, Arcadia Bay was just…Arcadia Bay. Even if the town I knew back in 2013 was a little different from the one in 2024, I still figured seeing it wouldn’t actually be that big of a deal. Shoot, I’d even tried using my imagination to picture it inside my head—see my hometown through the lens of my own faded memories.

It won’t be that big of a deal, I’d told myself. Stop worrying your sorry butt over it and focus on the bigger picture.

But, as a photographer, I really should’ve known better. Seeing something through a lens and seeing it for real are two entirely different things.

Case in point: the moment I stepped off that bus, a massive wave of bittersweet nostalgia and desperate longing slammed into my body with all the force of a tidal wave.

And there was nothing I could do but helplessly fall into the current—let it carry me away until I found myself standing on the shore of a life I’d long forgotten.

There was just something so…vibrant about the place—a color I’d never noticed back when I was younger. The Arcadia Bay I knew—the one I’d visited every single year until I quite literally died—was bleak. Desolate. Grey and hollowed out like an old, dusty bone tossed to the side of the road. It was a place that had so much of its life slowly sapped away by the passage of time. But this one? This Arcadia Bay? It was bustling, teaming with energy. In every way, it felt so much more alive than it was in the future…or—would be?

Ugh, this is gonna get confusing fast, isn’t it?

Regardless, even as Chloe and I walked towards the diner together, a part of me still didn’t fully believe it was real.

I hadn’t exactly slept since going back in time either, so everything around me had this weirdly foggy haze to it—a lingering blur at the edges of my vision that almost made it look exactly like a dream.

Except it wasn’t. I was here. I was actually fucking here.

Wowsers…

I'd been right in the middle of staring down one of the old pawn shops across the road when Chloe finally stopped walking to hold the door open for me.

And of course, me being me, I didn’t notice it until she actually said my name.

“Uh…Max? You done gawking or what?”

“Oh!” I gasped. “Sorry! I—I just haven’t been here in a while. It’s…not how I remember it.”

“Ooookay…?” she said, and there was a tiny hint of confusion laced between her words. “I mean—not like it’s been that long but whatever. Now come on, can’t hold this door open like a gentleman all day now, can I?”

“Right.” I agreed, stepping up the small flight of stairs that led into the diner. “Uh—thanks, by the way.”

“Yup,” she replied, making sure to pop the P on the end of that word as loudly as she could. “Glad to see you’re still the same old daydreamer I remember, at least.”

Oh, Chloe…you have no idea.

Now, if seeing a young Arcadia Bay was akin to getting struck in the chest by a tidal wave, seeing the Two Whales again was more like…hm, getting hit in the face with a nuclear bomb.

It was different from how I remembered it, but in a good way. It wasn’t ‘Sailor’s Cove’ anymore, but the awesome, retro-style diner I remembered from my childhood.

I knew that checker-patterned floor like the back of my hand—could even tell you exactly how many scratches and scrapes were on each red-vinyl booth if I had the time.

But gosh, how I’d missed the look of that bar and its sleek chrome finish. And, who could forget the tired old 60s-era jukebox still proudly jamming tunes in the back? Honestly, I’m pretty sure even before the place closed they hadn’t updated its song selection since the 80s.

It was perfect. Right down to the greasy, oily smell of frying eggs and the mundane look of all those tacky souvenirs set up near the bathroom.

I hadn’t actually been inside the place since…damn, I think it was 2017. I used to stop by and take pictures every year during my annual visit, but after Joyce left, I didn’t really see the point in coming back anymore.

I mean—what would I even do? Sit inside some random booth all by myself, poring over bittersweet memories until the sun came down? Would I sigh longingly out the window while I drank a shitty cup of coffee and chewed on flavorless waffles because Joyce was the only one who could make them right?

No thanks.

Seeing it now? Looking exactly as it always should’ve? It was downright cathartic. Healing, even. It felt like I’d finally come home after a long extended trip overseas—a salty-sweet familiarity that soothed my heart and warmed my core.

Fuck, was it good to be back.

But even better than that? Hearing an all-too-familiar voice call my name in a honeyed southern drawl.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Joyce beamed from behind the bar. “Is that who I think it is waltzing into my little home away from home?”

I don’t think I’ve smiled the way I did when I saw Chloe’s mom in a long time.

“Joyce!” I blurted out, immediately making a beeline for the tiny swinging gate that separated her from the rest of the building. A couple of older guys drinking their morning coffee looked between us with raised eyebrows, but I didn’t care. I wanted my hug from mama Joyce.

And she delivered, because the moment the gap between us closed, she wrapped her arms around me in the tightest, warmest embrace I’d felt in months. And—don’t tell my dad I said this—but, she always did give the best hugs.

I could practically feel my nerves settling down by the second.

“Maxine Caulfield, as I live an’ breathe,” she said. The only person in the whole wide world allowed to call me Maxine. “Four years, an’ you finally come back, huh?”

I wanted to say something, I really did, but it was pretty hard to string any words together when I was right on the verge of spilling tears I hadn’t had the chance to shed yet. So, all that came out of me was a tiny, fragile, “uh huh,” while I buried my head into her shoulder.

Long before I even got close to having my fill of motherly hugs however, I felt her pulling away from me and gently brushing a few loose strands of hair from my face.

She looked so unbelievably youthful now. Rough around the edges, sure, but still whole all the same. She had fewer wrinkles around her face than the last time I saw her, a healthy look to her skin that made her seem glowing by comparison.

This was a Joyce who hadn’t yet had two parts of her soul ripped away from her far too soon. A woman that still loved so deeply and cared so much.

Don’t worry though, Joyce, I thought. I won’t let that happen again. I promise.

“Oh, hun…how’re ya feelin’?” she murmured, her voice suddenly so soft and measured. “Ya look tired. You get enough sleep lately?”

And—fuck, how was I supposed to answer that?

Thankfully though, I didn’t have to—because right before the tears could actually start falling, Chloe reminded us both that she was still very much here.

“Ahem. So, are you two done flirting, or…?”

“Oh come on now, Chlo. Is it really so bad I wanna give my damn-near second daughter the warmest welcome I can give ’er?” Joyce chided, and yeah, that did make a warm feeling bloom somewhere inside my chest. “Besides, ‘seeing someone’? Really? Ya coulda warned me that meant Max of all people.”

”Well, now you know,” Chloe countered. “So can you please just let us sit down?”

”Alright, alright…“ she sighed, clicking the pen in her pocket and pulling out the tiny little notepad she always used to take peoples orders. “Though, before you two get seated I might as well get ‘yer drinks. Max, darlin‘? Whaddya want?”

Chloe merely rolled her eyes in response. Jeez, something had seriously pissed her off. “Same as always mom—she’ll have an OJ—“

“Actually, I’ll take a coffee,” I cut in. “…Please?”

And I didn’t even have to look at Chloe to sense the wide eyed stare she was giving me. Not that I could blame her, really—I never drank coffee when I was kid. My mom always said it would stunt my growth (not that it mattered. Thanks mom). These days though, I needed it for the sake of my own sanity. Especially right then.

“Well alright then,” Joyce nodded. “One coffee for the returnin’ Price-household soccer game champion.”

That actually made me smile. Chloe though? She just groaned in embarrassment.

“And, I know my moanin' Mary of a daughter will want the same thing,” she grinned. “Now go on, take ‘yer seats you two, I’ll be right with ya.”

“Thank you, Joyce.”

”No problem, sweetie. And Max? It’s real good to see ya around here again.”

Same to you, Joyce. Same to you.

And with one last warmly maternal smile aimed in my direction, Joyce disappeared behind the bar, leaving both me and Chloe to finally waltz over to our booth together. Our favorite one, to be specific—second from the back.

There was a definite edge in Chloe’s step as we walked, like something was still bothering her. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she and her mom had gotten into a big argument not long before I hopped off that bus.

Honestly, it made me kind of sad to think about. I’d almost forgotten how at odds the two of them always were when I came back to Arcadia Bay for the first time all those years ago. I guess it was easier for the both of us to remember all the good things in the end instead of the bad.

Not like we had any say in the matter though. Your brain has a way of doing that for you, whether you like it or not.

At any rate, a few steps later and the two of us were eventually sitting down right across from each other at long last. And, try as I might, I couldn’t quite avoid looking at her anymore.

Chloe Price—the girl I’d said goodbye to 11 long years ago, the woman I’d promised to never forget—she was here. Alive. Staring at me with that perpetually-pissed-off looking face like nothing had happened and no time had passed whatsoever.

It took everything I had back in that parking lot not to start violently sobbing the second I saw her again. Shit, my body actually trembled just trying to hold it in—still was.

But even then, as we silently eyed each other from opposite ends of the table, I could almost feel my internal dam of emotions threatening to burst at any second.

”Chloe,” I started, and I made sure to look her dead in the wonderfully-blue-eyes when I said it. ”Before I say anything, I just wanna let you know—“

”Don’t. Not here. Not now. At least lemme get breakfast first.”

I bit my lip out of pure reflex. “Right. Sorry.”

Awkward silence was probably what should’ve come next, but thankfully, Joyce saved us both from that sorry fate by arriving with our coffee just a few seconds later.

Except it was still pretty awkward—especially since Chloe was dead-set on staring out the window and saying nothing until her mom had left us to ruminate on our orders.

In the meantime, I decided to use my time wisely and emptied a sugar packet into my coffee…then another, and another and another and another and maybe one more just for good measure because you could never be too careful.

Chloe gave me a weird look as she watched me do it; eyed each and every packet until I turned my coffee into what was essentially a mug of caffeinated syrup. It made me feel pretty self-conscious, seeing her stare at me like that—but let’s be real, I didn’t really have the energy to care.

I think I was running on…what? Maybe two, three hours of sleep total if you count my flight to Arcadia Bay in the future? Since I got back, I’d been forcing myself to stay awake for as long as I could, and with each passing second, it was getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

So, a diabetes-inducing cup of coffee was pretty much exactly what the doctor ordered.

But fuck did it taste like piss.

”So,” Chloe asked, mercifully ignoring the puckered, disgusted face I made right after taking my first sip. “You finally gonna tell me what the fuck last night was all about or what?”

That’s when my body seized.

Crap…this was it—the moment I’d been dreading throughout the whole of my bus ride over.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if my heart rate was skyrocketing because of the coffee or my nerves, but either way, I was starting to feel a huge sinkhole threatening to open up inside my stomach.

I’d known this was coming, tried mentally preparing for it all the way from Seattle down to Tillamook, but now that I was actually here? Now that Chloe was asking?

Shit…

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t just because this whole thing was going to sound absolutely insane and make the girl I’d been grieving for most of my adult life think I was tripping on acid—it was the fact that when it came to a story about time travel and crazy conspiracies at Blackwell, I had no proof.

I wasn’t sure why just yet, but my powers hadn’t been working ever since I got back. I’d tried using them at one of our stops—put a camera up to my face and reached out in search of that energy—but strangely, no matter how hard I pushed, or how intensely I focused, they wouldn’t budge.

I knew they were there, at least. Could sense something electric buzzing along the surface of my skin as I held the camera—but for the moment, as far as powers went, I was practically useless.

I guess traveling back 11 years will put just about anything out of commission. So, until they came back or recharged, describing an unbelievable story was something I’d have to do on my own.

Calm down, I told myself. You can do this. You rehearsed this. Just stick to the story, tell her what happened, and you’ll be fine. Chloe believed you before, right…?

Well, back then, she actually had proof I could do everything I said I could…would she still believe me even if—

“Don’t have all day, Caulfield,” Chloe interrupted, staring at me with a hint of annoyance glistening behind her eyes. “Can’t just leave me hanging after what you were raving about last night.”

”S—sorry. Listen though, what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, even impossible, but you have to trust me on this. Promise?”

”Yeah alright, whatever. Now cut to the chase.”

“You have to promise me, Chloe.“

”Alright, jeez! I promise!” she huffed. “Seriously Max, what the fuck is this about?”

”Okay…here goes.”

But I didn’t even get the chance to start, because right as I was gearing up to spill everything about my miserable little story, the door to the Two Whales opened behind her. And when I saw who stepped inside, my mind went completely blank.

In the past, er—my past—I’d only ever seen her in pictures before, and more often than not, it was one she’d taken with Chloe. Say, a fun night out together, or a candid selfie they snapped on their phone. Throughout the last eleven years, I’d seen Rachel Amber as a motionless face trapped in time. A lovely memoir of the person I’d learned so much about yet never got to meet.

Because of that, I already knew she was beautiful way ahead of time. She had the face of a model, a certain quality to her that made everyone's obsession completely understandable. She was Daniel’s muse, Justin’s skater buddy, Chloe’s angel—someone you can’t help wishing you could orbit.

But…to me, she was also the eyeless corpse I’d uncovered at the junkyard almost 12 years ago. The one I always saw in my nightmares. And if I blinked, I swear a part of me could still see the unspeaking, rotting body wrapped inside that trash bag. The one that always looked at me in a way that reminded me of all my failures.

I’d been mentally preparing to see her too. To differentiate the body and the photos from the real thing after all this time—put a voice to the face and hope I could save it from an untimely death.

Even then, I still knew I’d be surprised—maybe even stunned—to see her alive and moving with my own two eyes.

But never—not even in my wildest dreams—would I have expected to be completely fucking disarmed.

Her hair was so beautifully blond, each lock bouncing and flowing with every step she took towards us. Her smile was infectious too, the kind of easy, lighthearted smirk that instantly made a room feel ten times lighter than it ever did before. And her eyes—God her eyes—they were so cat-like, strikingly hazel and shining while they glistened in the sunlight.

And, unless my eyes were playing some sort of weird trick on me, I think her skin was quite literally glowing.

Unsurprisingly, her outfit stood out just as much: a black, low-cut shirt, cropped so you could see her midriff—and below it, a pair of ripped denim jeans.

But nothing, nothing stood out as much as that bright blue piece of jewelry dangling from her ear. The feather I’d always been so curious about. The one thing that would make me recognize her as Rachel Amber even from a thousand miles away. And she was walking towards us, wasn’t she?

Shit—she was moving towards our fucking booth!

Chloe noticed me staring about halfway through my sudden burst of panic, and when she turned around to get a look for herself, I watched her whole body visibly sag in relief.

“There you fucking are!”

“Yeaahhh, sorry I’m late. Got held up at the dorms,” she said, gaze fixed on me in a way that made my whole body prickle. I wasn’t sure what kind of expression she was making, exactly. I'm pretty terrible at reading faces. Thankfully though, she turned to greet Chloe long before that stare could get any worse. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“No, actually. In fact, Max here was just about to start telling me an, and I quote, ‘unbelievable’ story.”

Her eyes flicked back to mine. “Interesting…”

One beat, she said nothing. Two, she broke into a grin that was far too wide and much too sharp—some wild imitation of the Cheshire Cat. And three, she brightened like a flash of sunlight and rushed over to my side of the table.

Before I knew it, she was leaning forward, studying me as if she were the mad scientist and I was her most fascinating specimen. I’m not sure what kind of face I was making in that moment honestly, but if I had to guess, it was probably something close to a gaping, stunned surprise.

“Well holy shit,” she gasped, only pulling away from me after a solid five seconds of scanning my face. “And here I thought I’d never get to put a face to the name.”

And, determined to keep surprising me with as many quick, flashy movements as possible, she promptly backed away and happily held out a hand for me to take.

“Rachel Amber! Aspiring model, actress, singer, and—of course—Blackwell’s premiere law student!”

Her voice was so velvety and sweet—honey drizzled over a melody and oozed atop your ears.

Gosh, she was the same height as me too, I was sure of it. So...why had she felt so much taller?

“Oh, well—I’m Max…photographer?”

And no, I have no idea why I phrased that like a question. I think I’m just stupid.

Which is exactly why it took way too long for me to realize I’d actually left Rachel hanging there. For whatever reason, my brain had decided social cues weren’t going to be a thing it noticed today. So, all I ended up doing was sitting there and staring at her like a deer caught in headlights.

When it did finally click, however, I instantly gasped and clumsily reached forward to take her hand in mine.

And Rachel’s grip was surprisingly strong—truthfully, I thought she might crush my fingers for a second there.

“Good to finally meet, Max Caulfield, photographer. Shit, if I can be real for a sec—I seriously did not think this was ever gonna happen, honestly! I’ve heard sooo much about you, but I never figured we’d actually get to meet in person. God, all those stories Chloe’s told me—the crazy adventures of the ‘Arcadia Bay Pirates’—sounds like it was a whole riot back in the day. But, hey, between you and me, I still think she embellishes a lot of them so she comes off sounding way cooler than she actually was. We totally gotta chat later, swap all our best Chloe moments and see which ones win.”

“Hey! I can still hear you, you know that, right?”

“Oops, sorry Chloooo~” she sang, sweet as can be. Then she winked, pulled her hand away, and slid right beside Chloe in her seat. “Hate to break it to you babe, but this is just standard girlfriend procedure. Joyce’s already told me everything she knows about five times over now. A girl’s gotta outsource, eventually.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Chloe muttered. “And by tonight you’ll be swapping stories about all the stupid shit we did with my toys growing up.”

“Oh?” she said, eyeing me with a hunger that made an anxious lump form in my throat. “Now that’s a treasure trove I haven’t been able to access…please, Max, do tell.”

“Oh, um—”

“Ugh, don’t answer that, dude. The last thing she needs is more ammo.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” she snickered, gently holding Chloe’s face between her hands while she planted a gentle kiss against her cheek. “I’ll get her to crack eventually.”

And, nothing—I mean, nothing—could’ve prepared me for that.

“Now, let’s get this party started, huh?” she continued, smiling wide as if absolutely nothing had just happened. “Chloe said you were about to tell her an unbelievable story?”

In that moment, something inside me just—snapped. A quick, reflexive jerk, not unlike the feeling you get when you fall in a dream.

My story. That’s why I was here, wasn’t it?

Except, it seemed like a pretty daunting task now that I was being wildly overstimulated by Rachel’s presence. Even worse, her closeness with Chloe was making me feel a whole slew of emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with yet.

This was never part of the plan. I mean—I knew I’d have to meet her eventually, at some point, but that was supposed to have happened later. Preferably after I’d already convinced Chloe of everything going on and figured out what I was going to do to stop it.

But she was an unknown variable. Someone who was almost a complete mystery to me outside of the few things I’d learned about her in the past—er, future? Fuck, I don’t know! Who cares?!

I had no idea what she’d say or do, how she might react—how Chloe might react now that she was part of the equation.

And worst of all, my whole train of thought had left the station ages ago, zoomed away the second Rachel walked through those doors. I’d have to figure this out as I went along. And, as Victoria would put it, I’m absolutely fucking awful at improvisation.

But they were still both staring at me, still silently waiting for the mythical Max Caulfield to say something—anything that would help this make sense.

It sucked, but even if I was stupidly gawking at the two of them and had no idea what to do with my hands, my lips, my face, or my whole damn body—I had to say something eventually.

“Okay, alright, yeah,” I said, drawing in a slow, shaky breath to help ease my panicking heart. “Unbelievable story…you’ve got this. So, Chloe, last night I called you and told you something pretty crazy, right?”

Chloe passed a quick glance Rachel’s way before she responded. “Uh…yeah? That’s literally the whole we’re here, Max. Remember?”

Ugh, stupid!

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” Rachel added. “From what Chloe tells me, you said my friend Nathan was going to drug, kidnap, and kill me…? I mean—I’m not the type of girl to just believe any dime a dozen accusations some rando throws out into the wild, y’know? So, I’m curious: what made you get that idea? Do you have any, say…evidence, to back that up?”

Well, that was gonna be pretty hard, because, uh, I didn’t. Not yet anyway. And while I might’ve had a small flicker of confidence beforehand, it was pretty much gone by now. Something told me Rachel wasn’t just going to accept a story about time travel.

Oh man…this was bad. I had a whole preamble about this floating around inside my head on the way over here, but I couldn’t quite remember it now. It’d just left me—zip, zap, zilch, straight out of my skull like confetti in a hurricane.

It’s not like I had a whole lot by way of options though. So, as bad as it might’ve been, I had no choice but to go for the hail mary—it was either now, or never at all.

“The reason I know is…” I started, licking my lips. “Because it’s happened already.”

The annoyed crease in Chloe’s brow only furrowed. Rachel, however? She just looked plain old confused.

“You, uh…sort of lost me there, Max,” she said, and her sympathetic smile was only making this worse. “It’s already happened? As far as I’m aware, I’m still here.”

“I know. I’m saying it’s already happened because…because I’m kind of from the future and I came back in time to prevent it.”

Silence. Complete and total silence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop on the jukebox behind me.

For what felt like entirely too long, Chloe and Rachel simply stared at me wide-eyed. A few seconds later, when they finally finished processing what I’d just said, Chloe took it upon herself to suddenly burst out laughing.

It didn’t have an ounce of amusement in it. Just bitter, hollow disbelief.

“Of-fucking-course…”

“Chloe, listen: it’s like I said, I know it sounds unbelievable, but—”

“Unbelievable?” she scoffed. “Unbelievable?! You know what Max? That really is an amazing fuckin’ word to describe all this horseshit! Un-fucking-believeable!”

Exasperated, she sank deep into her seat and placed a weary hand across her eyes. “Why the fuck did I even give you the time of day? Four years of fucking nothing and the first thing out of your mouth is some shroom-induced time-travel story straight from Donnie Darko.”

I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes. They stung—burned like hell and ached even worse. But that was nothing in comparison to this.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, she was supposed to believe me.

But, you have no proof. Nothing except your word (and let's be honest that's really starting to mean less and less with each passing second). Why did you even think it would go any other way…?

“Chloe…” I said, tiny and frail like I felt. “I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me! Rachel was supposed to die last night—you’re supposed to die six months from now! I’m here to stop that!”

Rachel cut in before Chloe could say anything else. “Okay, okay—hold on for a second, let’s just cool down. Get our bearings. Now, Max? Clearly something’s going on here, but let’s assume for a second that what you’re saying is true. Do you have any way to prove the things you’re saying?”

She spoke to me with the same kind of tone and cadence a mother might use on her child. Rachel was trying to make me see the error in my own logic, have me work it out for myself as if this was all just some weird misunderstanding.

“I—I did, but for some reason my powers won’t work, I—”

“Powers? Fuckin’ great,” Chloe groaned. “What’s next, Professor X pick you up back in Seattle?”

“Chloe,” Rachel chided, and…I think she kicked her under the table at the exact same time.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Let’s chill out and let Max explain, alright? I’m sure there’s a totally reasonable explanation for all this.”

Now, I may suck at reading a room, but even I could tell Rachel didn’t believe that for even a second.

God dammit—fuck! This was all wrong! Neither of them believed me, and nothing I could say or do would matter—not as long as they thought I was completely whacked out of my mind.

Why the hell had my powers chosen now of all times to go on the fritz? Months upon months of working to suppress them and the one time I actually needed them they were fucking gone.

What was I supposed to do? How could I make them believe I was from the future without my rewind? How could I convince them that I knew about something that hadn’t happened?

Wait a minute…

“Okay, look,” I said quickly. “Chloe—you owe Frank Bowers around three grand because you needed the money to fix your truck. He wants it back, but you don’t plan on paying him because you and Rachel are gonna leave town soon and head to LA.”

That got Chloe to uncover her eyes, and even better, she was gaping at me incredulously.

“You both have a hideout at the junkyard with a dartboard inside, and Rachel always beats you. Your step-dad is David Madsen, a Blackwell security guard who’s a total hardass and hates your music. Your phone background is a black-and-white photo of you and Rachel! How else would I know all that if I wasn’t telling the truth?!”

“I can think of a couple reasons…” Rachel murmured, suspicion quickly tightening every one of her perfect features.

And that made my stomach drop.

“Wait, Rach, hold on…” Chloe interjected, sitting up a little straighter now. “Don’t you think it is kind of weird she knows all that? I mean—even if Max was up to…other things, the fact that she knows about my phone and the dartboard at all is straight-up crazy.”

“Chloe, please—”

“Think about it! Like—just last night—when I came to get you, Hayden said Nathan was looking for you. How did she know about that?”

“Um, probably because he’s always looking for me, Chloe? We’re friends. It’s just some weird coincidence he was trying to reach me at that specific time.”

Her gaze then immediately snapped back to mine. “I’m gonna need some more concrete proof than that if you really want me to start believing in time travel, Max. Much less that my friend wants to kill me.”

Chloe sadly nodded in agreement, her face drooping into something almost defeated. It was only a beat later, however, that she suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree—the same vibrant, brilliant sort of way she always got whenever she had one of her classic Price epiphanies.

“Wait—uh, proof…okay—Max: who’s winning the superbowl this year?”

“I don’t watch football, Chloe, you know this.”

“Fuck, you’re right…okay, what about hockey? You’ve always been kind of a hockey nerd.”

“Uh…I’m pretty sure the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup this year.”

“Uh huh,” Rachel sounded, clearly unconvinced. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t we?”

“Guys, listen—I promise you I’m telling the truth. I really am. But, I can’t prove it to you yet. I…I just need more time.”

“Time? Shouldn’t you have that in spades already if you’re a time traveler?” she pointed out, tossing some pretty heavy air quotes around the words.

She meant it as a gotcha—a callout to prove I wasn’t thinking clearly and that my word couldn’t be trusted.

But honestly, that whole sentence was so ironic I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah…you’d figure that’d be the case, huh?”

She just rolled her eyes at that. Not like I could really blame her for it—if I were her, I wouldn’t believe me either.

The truth was, I could prove it to them. Right now, even. All I’d have to do was tell Chloe to drive us over to that barn on the outskirts of town and show them Jefferson’s bunker. But without my powers—without knowing where he could be and accounting for the fact that he had security cameras set up inside the damn place—it was way too risky. And I couldn’t afford to mess anything up this time.

Which brought me right back to square one.

“God…we’ve just been going in circles this whole time, haven’t we?” I muttered, leaning back in my seat. “I already told you about Nathan last night. But the truth is…it’s not just him. I don’t know how long—a year, at least—but Nathan’s been working with Mark Jefferson to kidnap and drug high school girls.”

And that, finally, got Rachel to pause.

Something deeply powerful burned behind her eyes right then. Something fierce—deadly. A threat or a blade wrapped within a simmering hazel glare. Normally, I have a hard time looking into people’s eyes, but here? With Rachel? They were so intense they were the only things I could see.

As soon as she opened her mouth however, someone thankfully came to save me.

“Alright girls, now—oh hey there, Rachel,” Joyce beamed, giving the girl in question her softest, most caring smile.

Rachel’s demeanor flipped in less than half a second—lips quickly curling into a winning smile. “Joyce! Hey!”

She’s good at that, I thought. Scary good.

“Didn’t realize you were comin’ hun. You three want me to wait a little longer for ‘yer orders or are y’all ready to go now?”

“Aw, I’d really love to, Joyce,” Rachel said meekly. “But, I actually have to head out for now.”

“What? Now?” Chloe said, slightly wounded. “Thought you’d have a little longer than that…”

“Shit, I wish I did too, babe…but, duty calls. Dana needs me and we both know how she gets when things don’t go according to plan.”

“Well, now that’s just too bad…” Joyce sighed, though, it was laced with a lighthearted suspicion. “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to tell me the food here sucks…”

“No way! Never! Promise I’ll eat a whole plate of pancakes next time I’m here, ‘kay?”

“I’ll hold ya to it.”

“Wait—where are you going?” I asked.

“Ah, gotta help the drama club with a few things,” and when she said that to me, it was as if all the animosity she was previously showing had vanished without a trace. “Musical’s happening pretty soon and wardrobes are almost finished.”

“Are you…playing in it?”

“Me? No,” she laughed. “I’m not technically allowed to since I’m already past my senior year—Mr. Keaton made it a point to say he ‘wanted the newer kids to shine for once’. So sad.”

“Well, what musical is it?”

“Mean Girls. God if I only I could’ve tried out…I’d make such a good—”

“Lemme guess, Regina?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” Chloe and I said in unison, which made Rachel look between us with a strange face.

“Noted. Well thankfully, I won’t be gone for long. So, I guess I’ll see you later Max! Again—really nice to meet you!”

Now that had to be a lie.

“Nice to meet you too, Rachel…”

And for me at least, I did actually mean it.

With that, Rachel stood up from her seat and slowly shimmied out of the booth. A moment later, she was stepping outside the diner with a loving wink and a playful wave pointed in our direction.

It was only right after that Chloe decided she needed to sit up too.

“I’ll uh…I’m gonna go walk her to the bus.”

“Okay,” I muttered. I wanted to say more, but with Joyce here, I figured that probably wasn’t the best idea. “Do you…want me to order for you?”

“Yeah—sure—fine,” she added quickly. “Be back in a minute.”

A few seconds later and Chloe was gone, leaving me to sit alone at the table with nothing else but a full cup of coffee to keep me company.

Dog…that would’ve made such a good shot, I just know it. Strange to think that even then, I was still feeling the itch.

“Now, I know what Chloe wants,” Joyce said. “But, what’ll you have, honey? Your tastes change at all since you were little?”

“Not at all,” I smiled. “One plate of waffles, please.”

“Comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

Look, before anything else happens, I have three very important things to say.

One: what.

Two: the.

And three: fuuuuuuuuckkkkk.

Honestly, I’m kind of surprised my head doesn’t just outright explode the moment I step outside. It’s weird, really…against all odds, I’m somehow not screaming Bloody Murder at the top of my lungs.

Shit, I’m not even on the verge of passing out or going into some hysteria-induced coma either. Which is odd considering what just happened was an absolutely batshit cocktail of insanity.

I mean come on—time travel? Superpowers? The idea that Nathan Prescott is secretly being manipulated by, supposedly, the hottest teacher at Blackwell (Rachel’s words, not mine)? What kind of bargain-bin Shyamalan universe did I suddenly end up in? And better yet, what the fuck did I ever do to deserve all this bullshit in the first place? Hoping my ex-best friend hadn’t changed that much since I last saw her?

Because seriously, if that’s all it takes, then by all means—strike me the fuck down right here and now. Put an end to my misery and save us all the trouble before I actually do lose it and go on a fucking spree.

…Okay don’t actually, but you get what I mean.

It’s just…too much. And if I’m being real I think I’m in shock more than anything else. I mean—how else are you supposed to react when you hear you and your girlfriend are supposed to die, right? It’s not exactly something you’d find in your average family-friendly Hallmark special.

God, just saying that makes this whole thing seem so damn stupid!

And you know what? It’s sort of like a monkey’s paw situation now that I think about it.

You know, that old horror story about the literal monkey paw that grants you wishes with huge consequences? It’s basically the same thing. Except this time, instead of making my kid die for a few bucks, the Catch-22 is that I get my best friend back at the cost of her being absolutely fucking nuts.

So, that’s great. Remind me to never wish for anything ever again. Thanks.

What I know for sure though is that I can't handle this alone. Right now, I need Rachel.

And as it just so happens, Rachel’s about to leave.

“Rach! Wait up!” I shout, and—question: is she a fast walker or am I just slow? How the hell’d she get so far so quickly?

Ah, forget it. Probably has something to do with all the cigarettes I go through. I’m quitting this year though, promise!

What matters is that she hears me and stops right in front of the parking lot. Gives me time to close the distance and recover from the mini cardio workout.

Even from afar, I can still see she has this certain look in her eyes—a restlessness that tells me something’s brewing inside her head. She always gets that way whenever she’s deep in thought or working through a problem, focusing.

It’s kinda hot if you ask me. But…yeah, probably not the best time to be thinking about all that.

Still, it’s pretty damn hard not to, because right when I catch up to her, she gives me this tiny shimmering smile—one so warm it makes me wanna bring her to bed and kiss her all over again.

“Was hoping you’d join me,” she says, her blonde hair gently drifting in the breeze.

“You know…I wouldn’t let you go…without saying goodbye…” I huff—sounding a lot more like a dying puppy than an actual person. Fuck, maybe those cigarettes are screwing me over more than I think. “Figure we gotta talk for a second.”

“I figure we do too. Walk with me?”

And when she asks, she holds out a hand for me to take.

For a moment, the two of us don’t really say much of anything to each other—we just sort of meander towards the bus stop a little ways away while intertwining our fingers together. If I’m being real, the only reason I don't start talking immediately is because I need to relax and catch my breath a bit. And—hell, maybe it’s that and the fact that holding hands with Rachel is making me blush like a fucking schoolgirl.

But if nothing else, it at least gives me time to think. And what I think is that something fucked is going on and for the life of me, I have no idea where to even start.

“So…” I finally say, turning my head to look back at Two Whales behind us. “Any thoughts? What’re you thinking?”

“Well, she’s not lying.”

And I have to stop moving because that sentence makes me do a fucking double take.

“...What?!”

“She’s not lying,” she repeats, stopping right along with me.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” I say, pulling away and shaking my head just in case it’s somehow gone completely whacked without my knowledge. “So, you’re telling me you actually believe all this shit about time travel and Jefferson being a psycho?”

“I didn’t say that, I said she’s not lying. Besides, why are you the one grilling me here? Seemed like you were eating that story up just fine considering how much you were entertaining her back there.

“Never said I believed she could time travel,” I counter. “But something weird is going on. Ya gotta admit that, at least.”

She sighs now, turning to look at me with a furrowed brow and a puzzled expression on her face. I almost never see that from her. Usually, Rachel’s not the kind of person to ever feel ‘puzzled’ by much of anything. At worst, she just needs a bit of time to think. But right now? She looks completely fucking stumped.

And somehow, that’s way more chilling than anything I‘d just heard.

“Well, whatever’s going on, she one-hundred percent believes what she’s saying without a fraction of a doubt,” she goes on. “She wasn’t showing any of the usual tells—no weird looks, strange gestures, nervous fidgeting…at least, nothing that doesn’t seem like one of her natural ticks. Side note: do you think she knows she bites her lip that much or is that just a quirk?”

“Fucking—forget about that for a second. So, you’re saying she believes all that? Why? Is she…”

“On drugs? Could be. But if it’s not that, then the only other options are that she’s a crazy stalker—”

“No way.”

“Or…that time travel exists.”

For a moment, I merely blink at her—gape into her eyes like she’d just slapped me across the face and left me standing at the terminal in some shitty romance-flick from the mid-90s.

But it’s within that fraction of a second that everything finally fucking hits me.

And all the dread I’d been feeling spills out of my chest in an instant.

Of course…God, I should’ve fucking known from the start. I mean—all the signs were there, weren’t they? I was just too stupid to acknowledge them. Or maybe worse—I was too naive to believe it could’ve even been possible.

Fuck, now I feel like a total idiot. Played like a fiddle in one of those mopey musicals Rachel loves so much—Lay Misery, or whatever it’s called.

If her plan was to make me feel like a total loser, then she sure as shit did a good fucking job.

“Ooookay,” I say, stepping back now with raised hands. “Ya got me, Rach. I’ll admit it.”

“...Huh?”

“You must’ve thought you were so fuckin‘ clever, but I figured it out. You can cut the bullshit now and get Max out here to start the laughing sesh. Come on Rach, I can take it.”

“Chloe, what are you talking about—”

“Gotta say, this was some of your best work yet. I mean sheesh, having Max come all the way out here just for this? Crazy. And—fuck—that whole story? Time travel? Your death? Fucking genius, must’ve taken forever to rehearse.”

“Oh my god…” Rachel groans, crossing her arms and staring at the sky as if she’s somehow lost all her patience.

Even for her, it’s pretty damn believable—so much so that I don’t even feel pissed about it, just impressed. Despite me figuring everything out, she’s still really trying to play this up.

Gotta hand it to her for showmanship, at least.

“Play dumb all you want, but it looks like in the end, I still saw right through all your shady schemes” I continue, and just for the added flair, point an accusing finger in her direction. “It was fun, but I’m sorry Rach, the show’s over.”

For the next several beats, Rachel remains completely silent. Closes her eyes and mutters a bunch of inaudible bullshit beneath her breath. I can’t really hear them, but judging by the annoyed look on her face and the light shaking of her head, I’m guessing it’s not very nice.

“Wow, you really got it all figured out huh, Sherchloe Holmes? Case closed. Great job!”

“Hey, listen, don’t be mad just because I—”

“Want me to grab you a few things from the drama club’s costume closet too? A big cap? A monocle, maybe? A huge pipe you can suck on?”

“...Okay I know you’re making fun of me right now but honestly, if you could get me all that, that’d be so sick—”

“CHLOE!” she shouts. “What the fuck are you on?! Do you seriously believe I set all this up just to prank you?!”

And, okay, yeah—the sudden burst of anger does throw me for a second. But I still hold my ground anyway.

See, I know Rachel. Probably better than anyone around. And if I know her, then I also know she’s an amazing actress. One who can keep a bit going for hours on end if she really wants to.

But, that’s the thing…she’s also scary good at making you doubt yourself too.

Which is why it’s with a quick scratch of the head and an annoyed grumble that I finally break eye contact to mutter, “I dunno, I don’t pretend to know all the googly-moogly bullshit that goes on inside your brain…”

”Okay, first of all: never say that again. Two: my brain neither googles nor moogles, thank you very much—it schemes. And three: why in the ever-living fuck would I do possibly that?!”

”Hey, don’t look at me! It’s not like this is the first time you’ve pulled some nasty prank on my ass,” I point out. “Remember the junkyard ghost? Or that time you got Dana to flash me so you could swipe my last gram when I wasn’t looking?”

”Those were gags, not pranks. Big difference.”

”Tomato fuckin’ tomato.”

”Look, whatever—forget it,” she says, waving her hands around dismissively. “Let's just assume for a second that you’re right and that I’m pranking you right now. What would be the point? What’s the punchline? That I’m dead? That you’re going to die? That’s not funny, Chloe. It’s not even—clever, it’s just…fucked up.”

And, as much as I hate to admit it, she kind of has a point. God, have I mentioned that I hate it when people have a point?

As plausible as it is, this whole scheme—assuming it is one—feels way too crazy, even for Rachel’s standards. Her pranks can get wild, sure—but they’re never so cruel she’d resort to making fun of me with the help of someone she knows I’ve been missing for four years.

But at the same time, if this isn’t just one big joke—some stupid act Rachel had set up months in advance to toy with me—then, something really is going on with Max.

Which is a thought that’s way scarier to me than the prospect of potentially dying in the next six months.

“Then…then what the fuck is happening right now?! Why would Max say all that crap? And don’t you dare say she’s a stalker again because I’m not having that shit either.”

Rachel relaxes this time, but that still doesn’t stop her from rolling her eyes at me. “Look, I don’t know. I mean—she did seem a little tweaked out, right? Maybe she’s not really…all there right now. Doesn’t seem like she’s slept in a while.”

”Yeah…” I agree. “Which only makes this whole thing sound so much worse. You think she’s in trouble? Got mixed up in something she can’t get out of on her own?”

That at least earns me a genuine look of sympathy. “Maybe. But, what if…what if she’s not comfortable saying anything in such a public space?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. If she’s in trouble, then maybe she’s scared to say what’s really going on while she’s surrounded by a bunch of random people. We were just in a diner caught in the middle of its morning rush. She probably doesn’t want any prying eyes or ears snooping on her.”

“Okay, but if that’s the case, then what do we even do to get her to open up?”

“I dunno,” she mutters, but then, randomly, her eyes light up again. The ghost of an idea flickering across her face. “But, you might have the best chance at getting something out of her.”

”And I’m supposed to do that, how…?” I ask.

“By using her trust in you. Obviously.”

“Oh, come on—don’t give me that look. Throughout our whole conversation, she was looking at you with this crazy desperation on her face, you can’t tell me you didn’t see it. No matter what, she was really hoping you’d believe her—even if no one else did.”

I’ll admit, it takes me a second to fully wrap my head around what she’s saying, exactly. But, when I finally do…

Max…still trusts me after all this time? Fuck, why does that make me feel all warm inside?

”Shit, I’d even bet good money she was about to say something really important but chickened out at the last second because I showed up. Remember how she freaked out when I first walked in? She was staring at me like I’d just killed her family or something…if she’s gonna spill the beans to anyone, it’s gotta be you.”

”Okay so, what do you think I should do?”

But then our convo gets cut off, because right after I ask that question, the crawling, mechanical groan of another bus rumbles in our ears.

God dammit…why do we always run out of time?

Rachel deflates like a sad old balloon the second it hisses to a stop and opens its doors. And when she looks at me, there’s an apologetic smile sadly curled on her lips.

She doesn’t wanna leave either, I can tell, but I guess she also knows she doesn’t really have a choice.

”Me and my dramatic exits…” she says, and it sounds so sad coming from her. “If you want my advice, Chloe—go eat breakfast with her, bring her around town, get her nice and comfortable. Be the friend she wants you to be. And when the time’s just right, sit down somewhere quiet and ask her what’s going on.”

A good plan—makes sense, feels right—practically guaranteed to get results.

Rachel’s always been so good at plans.

But there’s one thing she isn’t accounting for, and it’s making my insides twist themselves into knots.

”What about you though? When will you be back?”

”Few hours, give or take? Should give you guys plenty of time to sort things out.”

I just hope my sigh isn’t too pathetic. “Right…I’ll uh, come pick you up when you’re ready.”

”Thanks. You’ve got this, alright? Don’t overthink it.”

I nod, deciding not to say that I’m not so sure about that aloud. It’s nice, knowing she has faith in me, but at the same time, I still think I need her here.

If I didn’t have her emotional support or the calming air of her presence to get me through all this—I’m pretty sure I might just crack before I have the chance to get any answers.

…You know, sometimes, I really do wonder if she knows just how much I need her. That, if given the choice, I’d hold her tight and hog her forever if I could.

But as I’m so often reminded, the world doesn’t exactly work that way.

HONK HONK!

Stupid bus driver.

”Shit…” Rachel mutters. “Gotta go. Just—keep me updated, okay?”

”Yeah.”

But before she can turn around to leave completely, my body acts on its own and rushes forward to grab a hold of her wrist.

“Wait,” I say, and I pour every last ounce of emotion I have straight into each word. “I love you, okay?”

And when Rachel spins around to kiss me, it feels like the most naturally wonderful thing in the whole damn world.

It doesn’t last as long as I want, of course—even gets interrupted by a few hoots and hollers from the passengers inside—but when it’s done, Rachel and I both open our eyes and I find myself staring at the most beautiful, blushing smile I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Sunshine in the fucking rain.

”Don’t think I‘m ever gonna get used to that,” she chuckles.

”Me neither,” I grin. “But—it’s good though, right? Us? This?”

”The best,” she says, and without another word, presses her lips to the back of my hand and runs off toward the bus.

It’s only a minute later that I’m finally left alone again on the sidewalk, nothing but the passing sounds of speeding cars and the sloshing crash of distant waves to fill the air.

Eventually, I have to look back at the Two Whales. And just seeing it—knowing who’s inside—it makes me feel…

Fuck, I have no idea how to feel.

A part of me is still pissed off—angry at Max for ghosting me, playing around with my emotions, and selling some bullshit ghost story about time travel, complete with annoyingly cryptic warnings and all—

The other half? It’s just scared. Scared Max is in trouble, scared she doesn’t know what else to do, scared that I won’t be able to help her when push comes to shove.

But either way, I still have to try. Because after all, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?

“Alright, Max. Let’s figure this thing out.”