I blinked my eyes open. My eyelids brushed against a coarse material. I saw a blur of light against the wall of darkness which covered my eyes.

I attempted to stand but found myself frozen in place—any attempts I made to move were fruitless. I began to wiggle my arms. My movements grew in strength as my desperation increased. My bindings dug into my skin, causing pain to shoot through my wrists.

"Stop," A voice whispered, "that isn't gonna help."

Tears formed in my eyes. "What's going on?" I asked, my voice cracking with each syllable. "Where am I?"

"Shush! Keep it down. What's your name?"

"Max." I sniffled.

"Chloe." Her voice broke. "Look, I have no idea where the fuck we are. Do you—" She grunted. "Sorry. Do you remember anything?"

"N-no. I don't." My cries crescendoed.

"Dammit," Chloe growled.

I kicked against my constraints. The chair skidded forward. "We need to get out of here," I sobbed.

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Chloe hissed.

"Then do something about it!"

"You don't think I am? You don't think I have been for the—oh, probably several hours that you've been asleep? There's nothing we can fucking do."

Chloe's rant was cut short by a loud slam. Footsteps echoed through the room, each one closer than the last.

I clenched my fists and struggled against the bindings on my arms. "Help me!" I shrieked. "Help!"

"Shut it," Chloe commanded.

I kicked against the chair's leg. It fell forward, slamming my head into the floor.

A faint whispering started just outside of the room.

"Don't do anything stupid, got it?" Chloe whispered.

Before I could respond, the chattering suddenly stopped. Loud rhythmic footfalls echoed through the room, rapidly approaching us.

I looked up, straining my neck as I watched. I could make out two figures, but I couldn't pick out any identifying details. I began rubbing my head against my shoulder, trying to get my blindfold off.

"Let me go, dickheads!" Chloe boomed. "Fuckin'…"

Someone chuckled. It was a deeper voice—one I immediately recognized as a man's.

The footsteps continued to grow closer. Silence fell upon the room.

"Hey, fuckheads! Get me out of this, or… or you'll be sorry," Chloe bellowed. "Don't fucking touch me. Get your hands away from me, asshole!"

I heard a chomp, followed by a yelp.

"Fuckin' bitch," A familiar voice barked. "That hurt, you know that? I'm gonna…" He winced… "I'll kill you!"

Chloe growled. "Wait, I recognize your voice. Nathan Prescott, yeah?" She slammed her chair's arms. "I'll end you."

"Yeah?" Nathan let out a crazed laugh. "What'll you do, swear at me a bunch? Real fuckin' intimidating." His laughter grew. "You're crying, aren't you?"

I watched as Nathan's figure lunged at Chloe. He grabbed her neck. "What a bitch. You know, nobody would even miss your 'punk ass', would they?"

Chloe coughed. "Get away from me, psycho!"

"Make me."

Chloe struggled to break free, shaking her chair and clanging its legs against the floor.

"Pathetic," Nathan sneered.

A figure approached Nathan from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. They exchanged a few hushed words.

Nathan grabbed Chloe's head and pulled it to the side.

"Let go of me!" Chloe screamed. She continued her efforts to break free.

The other figure inserted what looked like a needle into a bottle. It approached Chloe's side and injected it into her neck.

Chloe's struggling slowed to stop. Her anger gave way to sadness as she began to whimper. Before long, her head fell forward, and her cries stopped.

The last thing I can remember is screaming. Lots of screaming, lots of struggling. There was a sharp pain in my neck, then nothing. Darkness. That is where my memories of that day end.

But this is also where my story begins.

When I finally came to, I was laying in the hallway outside my dorm room.

I picked myself up off the ground and stumbled into my room. The door fell shut behind me, and I collapsed onto the floor.

The floor was uncomfortable in every way imaginable. I felt cold. I felt dirty. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on my bed and forget anything had ever happened, but I couldn't find it within myself to move any further.

I laid there for hours, wallowing in my self-pity. I thought to myself, What if this is my fault? Maybe I did something to deserve this.

Eventually I regained control of myself and picked myself up off the ground. I stumbled across the room and rid myself of my clothes, discarding them like trash. I changed into whatever I could find at the front of my closet and collapsed onto my couch.

With my head resting against one of the couch's arm and my legs propped up on the other, I returning to my thoughts. This time around, however, my thoughts were much less intrusive. Namely, I found myself thinking about the other girl, Chloe.

I recognized the name. I couldn't put a face to it, but I had heard things about a person with that name at Blackwell Academy.

Of course, it could have been a different person, but, somehow… I knew. From what I'd heard, she was the exact type of person to end up in that situation. But then, what did that make me?

Chloe's name was often the subject of many a hushed conversation, spoken with malice and disgust by the preppy students of the school. Their lips were poisoned with hate and their demeanor portrayed repugnance as they spoke of her.

However, their eyes betrayed them. Fear was hiding behind the mask of their hateful words. They were scared of Chloe. Of what, I don't know, but I wanted to find out.

Something vibrated underneath my leg. I grumbled and rolled onto my side.

I dozed off again, but the vibration happened again. "Go away," I muttered.

Buzz.

"Dammit," I grunted, reaching for the source of the vibrations. With my phone in hand, I flipped it open to find several new messages.

Kate: Max? Where are you?

Kate: Max?

Kate: Hello?

Max: I'm here, sorry.

Max: I was asleep. Why are you texting me so early anyway?

Kate: Early? It's almost noon

"Shit!"

I sprang up off the couch and darted to my closet. I changed out of what I was wearing and sprinted to my desk.

Grabbing my bag, I began digging through the piles of junk which occupied my desk. I searched every pile but wasn't able to find what I was looking for. With a clenched fist and gritted teeth, I swept my arms across the table, knocking everything onto the floor.

I wasted no time before diving through the pile once more. I searched for what must've been close to twenty minutes before finally giving up.

I rose to my feet and regarded the mess I had made. The gravity of what had happened the night before hit me like a train. I began to feel woozy – as if I could collapse at any moments. My knees shook under the weight of my body. I fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. My breathing sped up to unnatural speeds, fear pumping through my veins.

I have to get up, I thought to myself. I have to get to class.

It wasn't like I felt particularly weak. In fact, it was quite the opposite – The adrenaline running through my veins made sure of that. I just felt apathetic toward everything. The world had been so cold to me, so why do I have to play along with its rules? Why can't I just raise my middle fingers to the sky and say, "Fuck you, world! I'm playing by my rules now!"

A single tear ran down my cheek. Followed by another… and another. Before long, my tears had graduated to full-blown sobs. I pulled my legs against my chest and rested my forehead against my knees, ignoring the world around me, for it had treated me so poorly.

My mind was racing between thoughts. I contemplated the futility of my daily life. My time in school, the time I spent worrying about small things that had never truly mattered.

My mind turned to what had happened to me. Should I contact the police? I felt ashamed; I felt violated. What had those people done to me? Who were those people?

I still felt the bindings on my arms and legs. Everything felt cold, as it had the night before. My eyes were closed, but it was as if I could see my memories replaying on my eyelids.

I could do nothing but watch as I bickered with Chloe. Pain shot through my body from my pointless struggles against the restraints. Footsteps echoed through my mind. I heard people talking. Arguing. Screaming. Crying.

A familiar name caught my attention. Nathan. His voice was emblazoned in my mind. He was there last night, but why? Why did he hurt Chloe? What did they do to me? What did he do to me?

I gathered my thoughts and emotions, burying them deep within my mind. With a trembling hand, I grabbed my bag from the floor and prepared myself for the day ahead.

I stepped out into the morning sunshine. Sunlight shone through the trees, its rays lighting the area around me. Chatter filled the air as people strolled through the courtyard, preparing for their lunch break. On every account, it was a beautiful day.

But not to me.

I pulled my hoodie onto my head and over my eyes. I walked through the hordes of people, ignoring everything around me. I think a few people may have tried to speak to me, but I didn't care. I wasn't in the mood to deal with them.

A deep growling rumbled in my stomach. I ignored it as well; food was the last thing I cared about at that moment. Honestly, I don't know that I cared about anything.

That day passed like a blur. Not because it went by quickly, but because I was paying no attention to it. In fact, it passed rather slowly; it often seemed like it would never end.

Before long, what normally would've been the best part of my day arrived.

I counted the floor's tiles as I trekked the school halls, my books gripped tightly to my chest.

For the first time in my life, I cherished my status of a social outcast at Blackwell. A few people had tried to talk to me, but for the most part, everybody treated me like shit, as they normally would. And I loved them for it.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I sped up my walking and hung my head lower.

They tapped my shoulder again. Once more, I sped up my walking, but they apparently managed to keep up with me, as they tapped me again.

"What do you want?" I snapped. I raised my head to eye level for the first time all day, whipping around to find the culprit.

A timid Kate was standing behind me. Concerned sparkled in her eyes as she regarded me with a hurt expression. "Are you okay?" She asked.

She reached for my shoulder, but I leaped backward. "Uh, hi Kate," I began. "I don't want to talk about it." My head dropped once more and I continued my journey to the photography classroom.

Kate shouted my name. She ran after me but got caught in the crowds of people. By the time she got past, I had already turned into another hallway.

I walked as slowly as I possibly could have. Looking back, I think I was scared. I didn't know exactly what I was scared of at the time, but looking back now, it's clear as day.

As I approached my destination, I saw my photography teacher, Mark Jefferson, standing just outside the classroom. He was off to the side a bit on the phone, talking discreetly and occasionally checking over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming.

Thinking nothing of it, I stepped up to the door.

With my hand on the cold metal of the doorknob, I hesitated. Goosebumps covered my arms as my heart began to sound the drums of fear in my chest. Something felt wrong.

I'm being stupid, I thought. You have nothing to be afraid of.

I gulped. I forcefully twisted the door knob and stepped into the room.

A few people were already in there. Victoria was sitting with her clique on one side of the classroom while Rachel sat on the other. My head still hung low, I sat down at my own desk.

Silence birthed thinking, and the thoughts that came were not what I wanted at that moment. Everything good seemed horrible, and what had once seemed completely out of this world became the subject of much thinking.

I'll be the first to say that my social life was lacking. Honestly, my life itself was lacking. I had a couple friends who I talked to occasionally, but for the most part, I just went through my life completely alone, following the motions of a generic student's life. It was easy. It was comfortable. It was horrible.

Maybe the predictability of my daily life was what led to my kidnapping? Was it my fault? Could I have prevented it?

I'd crumbled in on myself and forgotten what was happening around me.

"Max? You okay?"

I jerked my head up. My eyes wide, I looked for the source of the voice.

Rachel had pulled a chair up to my desk. Her features detailed concern. "What's up, Max?"

"Oh, nothing," I muttered. "Just thinking."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because you look miserable."

I'd been so distracted by my thoughts that I hadn't notice I'd begun to cry. I wiped away some tears. "It's nothing, really. Just tired."

I'd been surprised that Rachel cared enough to talk to me. We'd talked some in the past, but for the most part, I'd felt that she was too cool for me. Silly, I know, but the groups she ran with weren't particularly fond of me.

Rachel shrugged. "Alright, you don't want to talk about it. I see."

"Rachel, seriously, nothing's wrong," I assured. "Seriously. Don't worry about me."

"It's too late for that, Max. Just let me know if you want to talk about anything, yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I will. Thanks."

The door swung open, and in stepped Mr. Jefferson. He placed some books on his desk and got right into his lecture. I tuned it out for the most part; even thought I normally loved this class, I wasn't in the mental state to deal with anything.

"Max?"

Someone calling my name tore me from my sleep. I glanced around quickly to find that I was still in the photography classroom.

"Miss Caulfield, since you've clearly been paying such close attention, I'd like you to answer the question."

I groaned. "Uh, what was the question?" I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my hand.

Victoria scoffed. "Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes", a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror," She turned to me and ran a finger down her cheek, imitating a tear. "Now you're totally stuck in the retro zone. Sad face," She finished with a frown.

Taylor and Courtney laughed.

Jefferson nodded. "Very good, Victoria. The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800's onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait was done by Robert Cornelius. You can find out all about him in your textbook, or even online."

I'd nearly drifted back to sleep when the school bell rang, signaling freedom from the purgatory I'd found myself stuck in.

Jefferson continued speaking, but I ignored it. I grabbed my books and shuffled toward the door, trying to keep a low profile.

I stepped into the hallway and began walking toward the front of the building, pushing through the groups of people talking around their lockers along the way.

I heard people talking all around me. The occasional sounds of lockers closing and shoes squeaking on the tile floor reverberated through the halls. I found the rambunctious nature of it all relaxing in a way; it served as white noise to preoccupy my mind and distract myself from my thoughts.

I considered listening to music, but I decided against it. Music is a great distraction, but they distract in a different way; they foster thought, which is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

Finally reaching the entrance to the building, I exited the building. I ambled down the stairs into the courtyard.

It was rather silent outside – compared to inside Blackwell, at least. A few people were scattered about the lawn, sitting around the fountain or at benches nearby. Clouds crowded the sun in the sky, threatening to unleash rain upon the world below at any moment.

I inspected the area, looking for Chloe, but couldn't find her. With a sigh, I continued down the path to the dorms.

The path grew shorter and, before I knew it, I had made it to the girls' dorms. As I rounded the corner to face the building, something caught my eye – something blue. A girl sat hunched over on a bench just past the building's entrance, facing away from me.

I approached her apprehensively. "Um, hi," I rasped. "Chloe, right?"

She quickly glanced over her shoulder. "What do you want?"

"I'm Max, I—"

She groaned. "I know who you are, now answer my question. What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk about what happened," I answered. An awkward silence filled the air. "Can I sit down?" I finally said, wanting to break the silence.

Chloe sighed. "I don't want to talk about it," She muttered.

"Chloe, we need to talk about what we want to do!" I glanced around to make sure that we were still alone. I leaned forward. "Should we tell the police?" I whispered.

Her posture shot up. She turned around with wide eyes. "No. Don't you fucking dare tell them about this."

"Why not?"

She turned around to face me, still sitting down. "Uh hello, Nathan was there?"

"So what? He isn't above the law."

Chloe laughed. "Are you new here or something?" She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Well, let me tell you something. The Prescotts own this town, and the cops along with it. You tell them a word of this, and they will make our lives a living hell. Got it?"

I gulped. "Yeah." I nodded. "I do."

"Good."

I gripped my forearm. "So what do we do, then?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Just forget it ever happened," She said. "It'll be better for all of us."

"How could you ever say that?" I stepped closer to her. "Nathan shouldn't get away with what he did."

Chloe jumped to her feet. "Well, he will, and there's nothing we can do about it. Don't poke the fuckin' bear, hippie." She turned away from me and scoffed. "You've got a lot to learn about this town."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she began walking away from me before I could gather my thoughts.

"Chloe, wait!" I shouted.

"Leave me alone," She responded.

She entered the dorms, leaving me alone outside.

I kicked the bench. "Dammit," I muttered.

I gripped my head with my hands. Holding back my tears became somewhat difficult, but somehow, I managed.

What do I do? I thought. Should I listen to her?

I sat on the bench and lost myself in thought. Was Nathan really immune from punishment, or was Chloe lying to me? Well, of course she wasn't lying to me. After all, what would she gain from that?

Well, she is known for her drug use. Maybe she's afraid of the police because of that?

Rain soared from the sky above, wasting no time in drenching me.

Muttering profanities, I picked myself up off the bench and sprinted into the girls' dorms. As I travelled through its halls, I began to wonder why I even cared. Chloe seemed so unphased by it all, maybe I was letting it affect me too much?

Maybe Nathan really would get away with it.

Author's Notes:

I had an idea for a first person biographical retelling of events, so I built this story around it. I'm going to try to keep this on an update similar to my other currently ongoing fic, so this will usually update every 1-2 weeks, given I have the time to write.

Also, I feel that it's worth mentioning that this is a Pricefield fic at its core, I just plan to focus on the story much more than their relationship.

Thanks for reading!