Max woke up, pacing, trying desperately to breathe. She gagged as air finally filled her lungs, the sweet freshness intoxicating her. She rested her arms behind her and looked around in panic to figure out where she is. She heard the voice of Jefferson resonating through the room, menacingly whispering illegible words into her ear. The sun hasn't shown its rays, morning would be a long away from then.
The bed next to her was empty, and the television mounted on the wall was showing muted overnight news on a local channel. The door to the hallway wasn't ajar, it was securely closed and locked. The memories began flooding over her nightmare and she slowly realized where she is – a cheap motel in Portland.
Max heard water falling on hard floor, which reminded her of the storm in Arcadia Bay. She took deep breaths, calming herself down that the storm was over, everything was fine. Chloe lied dead in the ground, killed by Nathan. Her friends survived the never appearing storm. She could still feel the trembling of Joyce as she stood over the casket of her daughter. "Chloe is dead." Max said as she slowly led her head back to her pillow and closed her eyes.
Chloe is dead?
She woke up again, worse than before. Tears flew from her eyes and her hair stuck to her skin in a sweaty mess. She wore her pajama pants and an old shirt, which felt rather cold as she threw the bed covers to the side. She shot up, and blacked out for a second, getting lightheaded. The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, she could see a faint light seeping into the motel room.
She pushed the door in slowly, and examined the room. The walls were painted yellow, while the lower half was fitted with tiles. The bathtub was a simple and old metallic bowl, rusting in the bottom. Water was running from the close-by sink, faucet of which was turned to face the tub.
A slow and steady thumping echoed in the bathroom as Max opened the door a bit more, and revealed a splotch of brown in the white bath, white bubbles, and yellow walls. She didn't know if she could call out, or whether she should.
A couple of names ran through her mind, but she ended up saying her own. "Maxine?" She called out. When she realized she said her own full name, she covered her mouth, and awaited the response.
"Max?" A man's voice resonated. She instantly recognized the owner as the dead Mark Jefferson. "I thought I'd never see you again." He said, standing behind Max.
"How could you be here?" Max asked. She spun around, facing the tall man head on. He wore the suit Max saw him wear every day to school. "This is impossible."
"Like how you can rewind time?" He asked back. "I know everything, Max. How you killed everyone in Arcadia Bay for your precious Chloe." He looked around, eyeing up the brunette. "She would've made a better model than you."
"You're not real!" Max cried out, tears flowing from her eyes. She broke out sobbing, hiccupping from the intense emotions. Jefferson took a step toward her, and towered above. He revealed a needle from behind his back, and held Max's head with his other hand. Try as she might, Max couldn't break free from his hold, and only could see the needle descent on her neck.
"Now, now, Max. Stay still, or this won't hurt." Jefferson said.
"No, no, no, NO, NO!" She cried out, sitting up on the bed. The bathroom door stood closed, the TV was off, and Chloe slept next to her on the bed.
Max heaved as she threw her cover off the bed to her right, and stood up. She tried to calm herself down as she placed her hand over her heart which beat fast as if she ran a marathon. She walked around the bed, and kneeled before Chloe. She couldn't see her eyes. They were dark, lifeless. Max leaned closer, Chloe wasn't breathing.
"How could you kill us, Max?" Warren asked from the direction of the TV. "I thought we were friends."
"What are you doing, Max?" Kate asked. "Wasn't it enough that you made me stay?"
"So you sacrificed us for that white trash?" Victoria asked. "Too bad she already died."
"First you, then dad, Rachel." Chloe said, as aspects of Warren, Kate, and Victoria merged into one. She stood tall in the room, showcasing her frame proudly. "You came back. Only to take away my friends, mother and David. Everything wrong that's happened to me, happened because of you." She said.
"No…" Max said, pleading. "You don't understand."
"Oh, I understand, Maxine." Chloe said. "You focused on me like with a tunnel vision so hard you didn't care who you leave behind. Including me." She turned on the TV, which broadcast the view of Arcadia Bay from the lighthouse. "Now I'll never get to see France. I'll never get to experience love. All thanks to you, Maxine."
"I tried!" Max cried out, rushing toward the apparition of Chloe.
"See you on the other side, Maxine." Just as she could reach her, Chloe opened the window of the room, and jumped out.
"NO!" Max cried, hitting her head on wood. She laid on the floor barely wide for her, between the wall and the bed. She reached for her nose, and swiped a patch of blood from over her lips. Her heaving voice echoed in the sparsely populated room. She felt her stomach retch as she looked up at the ceiling. She sat up, one arm leaning on the bed to her left. She felt a breeze of warm air hit her back which contrasted the October winds coming in from the slightly open window.
The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, allowing the yellow fluorescent light to shine into the small motel room. She wore a pink t-shirt with a doe and short blue pants. The TV was on, showing an overnight news broadcast with a breaking news from around Portland. The door to the room was closed, but the wind banged it against the frame in the lock periodically.
She sat up on the bed, which waved below her without a counterweight on the other side. The bed was messy, covers thrown around on her side while the other side was neatly put away, so someone must've laid in it. Looking in the mirror, she saw her face wrinkled, tears mixed with heavy sweat that set her hair disheveled. Locks of her hair were stick to the side of her cheeks, pulling as she furrowed her brows.
She grabbed at her phone, still shaking from the nightmare. It was 2:14 in the morning.
Mom: I prepared the spare room for Chloe, so we're ready for you.
Max: I think we'll sleep in my room. We'll build pillow forts, it will be like old times! :)
Mom: Alright, alright. It'll be so good to see you two again.
Max: You too, mom. We'll be there soon.
She typed some texts to her classmates, not because she expected them to reply, but to calm her conscious.
Max: I'm very sorry.
Max: I wish I could've done something.
Max: I cry myself to sleep thinking what could've I done to save everyone.
The water's sound from the bathroom stopped, which startled Max. She didn't noticed it as she woke up from the nightmare. She remembered what happened though, so she stood up, and looked around first. She made sure the door was locked, she even tried to open it. Next, she grabbed the fire extinguisher from behind the bed, and entered the room slowly.
She heard a low banging sound at a tempo around the bathroom. A blue splotch of hair shone in the white bubbles, white tiles, and yellow walls. Max lowered the red fire extinguisher.
"Chlo… Chloe?" She said on a voice barely more than a mouse's squeaking.
The blue splotch in the bath flinched, and Chloe raised from the tub, shoulder down wet. She wore her underwear, for reasons unknown, and her earphones.
"Max?" She asked. She pulled out the earphones, and put them down on the floor. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry… Uh, fuck, why? Why, why, why?" She asked herself, closing her eyes and banging her head on the white metallic edge of the tub.
Max collapsed on the tile floor, and she let go of the fire extinguisher, which snapped on the floor. Only then Chloe really looked at Max, who was in tears, noticeably messy, and on the verge of falling.
"Max!" Chloe exclaimed as she jumped out of the bed, and caught Max before her head hit the floor. "Max, please, talk to me." She pleaded. "Max, don't do this to me. I need you. I can't—I can't…"
Max fell limp. Without drying herself, Chloe picked up Max in a bridal fashion, and placed her on the bed, carefully placing her head on the pillows, and tucking her in with the sheets. She coughed now and then, until Chloe laid next to her, stroking her hair pulling it out of her face, and planting kisses on her cheeks, around her eyes, and where her tears flowed.
"Everything's okay, Max." Chloe laid next to Max until the morning, only getting up to dress, spooning her, sometimes watching how her chest raises as she breathes, and sometimes lying back, smoking a cigarette.
Chloe: Yo, Vanessa, tyvm for letting me crash with max.
Vanessa: Chloe, everything for you. This is the least we can offer after everything you went through.
Chloe: don't say that im gonna cry.
Chloe: fuck… I'm crying.
Vanessa: Stay safe, Chloe.
Author's note: Please excuse mistakes I made regarding sentence structure/grammatical tense. It is a known Achilles' heel to me, but I hope I get better at it. The story is mostly focused on how Max and Chloe handle the aftermath of the storm. Bae over bay, Broken!Max, Pricefield.