Life is Strange - Burning Horizon

by Steven Makrados

She reawakes in Jefferson's class just to find out that everything has amended. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't remember anything. She finds out, that she's a little petty element inside a bigger piece of a giant puzzle. Incrementally she is going to seek for the bigger pieces shattered alongside her new journey. The first event in 2013 changes everything. Suicide...

1. burning horizon - stains in mud

Notes:

"Burning Horizon" - originally an inane short story idea called "I'll never leave you here" - will now become a gigantic novel. With tons of references out of the game and inspirations from many other games, movies and songs, among them also the Gorillaz and Muse and also self-composed tracks. Burning Horizon is a rather depressing story which contains themes such as mental disorders, anxiety attacks, hallucinations and suicide. Burning horizon shows a possible happening, two years after the original plot of Life is Strange (Season 1). This story contains two different endings and the reader has no choice to make. The reader is inside Max's head.

Still, I don't know how to categorize this fandom. Some might read shaking their heads in disbelief and some might be hooked to the pages. There are also explicit events, such as violence against women, aggression, losing one's control, hard decisions about friendship, blood and other similar depictions of violence. This is my only warning. If you think, you'll suffer by reading this story, you shouldn't proceed. You can also ask me about the most brutal things that occur in this fandom for your mind's sake. After all, I'll leave the rating at 'Explicit'.

Burning horizon contains personal experiences and covers a wide area of my way of thinking. Contact me any time, you want to talk or know anything concerning the story.
Twitter: Makrados
Steam: id/Makrados/
Discord: Steven#1935
YouTube (quite inactive) channel/UC8bWXmjsuJdaeVwneuY2DwQ
Life is Strange wasn't a game that significantly "changed" me, neither personally nor mentally, like some others assert in the forums, on blogs, fansite, et cetera. At times it can be tedious and enraging reading rabid fan comments. People being toxic or even possessed by something (zealotism) or write absolutely convinced about certain events (e.g. the protagonists sexuality) out of the game (or myths etc.). Let this game just be a wonderful game. No fixation on anything is healthy, period! Apart from that, Life is Strange had covered similar thoughts to mine and it had proven me that there are still people who believe in supernatural, magical bonds. And that was such a blast! After finishing this game, I got an old pain wiped out of my system. It felt as though this game was loving me, comforting me and finally leaving me alone... which was the worst and most devastating aspect.

So, once a very good friend of mine said, "Writing a review only, is dull. If you really want to honor this game, do what must be done." Loosely translated into English. But he was right. Well, this fandom is the long love letter back. A reciprocation, my response to the abundant world that developer DONTNOD had created. Although, I disagreed with some logical errors and especially some decisions along the story, I can't help but admit that there are not as many games that remembered me to be a real human being.

Note that I am not an English (US nor GB) native. So, if you find any errors, misspellings or wrong grammar constructions (e.g. false tense), weird sentences (which are correct, but sound off) please let me know!
You'll notice a drastic improvement in fidelity as the chapters get more recent. That is because I haven't corrected the first twelve chapters, yet. My English skill level has been constantly increasing until today. Still, please let me know if something sounds off or wrong, so that I can learn and further improve my writing and language skills.

Bear in mind, that I'm currently a student of media art, working part time-job, learning academic English and working on my future bachelor (which is the utmost time consumer). So, it might take a while for chapters to be published.

EDIT March 2019:
My mother deceased February last year and ever since that happening, pain is eating away at me and slowing me down gravely. Chapters are being posted less regularly, because I am trying to take my next steps into the broad area of work, since I am an adult and hoping to live a decent life. My 3D-studies have significantly higher priority, because they are part of my graduation into the 3D photorealism field.

Every time, depressions are drowning me in a dark sea, I will edit this story, because currently, I am at the second half of the novel which is considerably darker themed and far beyond morbid. As much as I miss writing for my own story, I cannot publish chapters frequently like two years ago.

Love to you all - the readers
Steven

Story Summary:

An intricate system in which Max is trapped, she initially reawakes in Jefferson's class just to find out that everything has amended. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't remember anything and must get back on track.

Relocated in 2013, she finds Chloe with changed hair color, different friendships, modified time travelling powers inside a wholly altered reality. She understands that she is a petty little element within a giant puzzle that has gotten out of hand. Incrementally, she is going to seek for pieces shattered alongside her new journey.

The first event in 2013 changes everything. Someone important commiting suicide before Max can even comprehend the extend of her fresh timeline at her disposal.

Prologue:

In the eye of the storm, I'll watch my own reflection. Yonder, underneath the sun, a burning layer atop of the ocean is going to blur the entire image. Covered in sweat and tears, I'm going to finish this lot - a skewed reality. The havoc I had wreaked, the ravage which had been caused, mayhem amongst realities… they all work side by side against me. But they will lead me further to the goals I'm seeking? No, I'll reject their fatal outcome. I will jump through this endless tunnel of this entity and run away.

Don't you ever dare fumbling with time ever again! Entering this void inside this entity of uncountable layers of realities will interrupt this whole universe that I had created. Oh man, I am talking to myself, right? I'm getting too old for this crap. I need to keep track of my memory, although it's pointless to focus on something, which is inevitably going to be purged out of my system. Those thoughts of mine won't be valuable to anything, to anyone. Is my past approaching, or am I stuck somewhere, where time doesn't exist again? If yes, there will be no hope nor cure, just a captured moment that I can't escape.

I had been using myself as a vessel of destruction all along. Destruction not only to others…

Chapter 01 – Stains in mud
(Revision 02 - May 2018)
Theme Song: Frames – Don't Stay Here

I hear a loud shatter of glass and all the sudden I'm back here?

Water of the ocean. Waves splashing against brittle rocks of the bay. A seagull screeching somewhere in the distance. Why are my eyes closed? I open them; wow what a sight! I press play on my music player in my pocket. With both shoes in the right hand, I saunter down to the sea. Water surging up against the rocks creates a beautiful component along with the song on my ears. It is "Don't Stay here" by "Frames. I must grin, why is that such a sad song, but at the same time so perfect?

The sand around my feet gets wet the farther I walk towards the dusk. Water washes up and reaches for my bare feet. Lucky me, I've rolled up my jeans' legs. Hell yeah, this song is great, I thought. Why didn't I find this piece earlier? The sun sets to the famous golden hour. I'll have to take a picture of this magnificent moment. Whoa, this track is a hell of a big contrast to how I feel. Don't stay here… huh, I'd never leave this beautiful place.

I turn around half dancing half walking toward the boardwalk. Something, though, interrupts this wonderful image. Heading to a bench near the boardwalk, I've spotted two young women walking away from me. Through the vapor of the heat, they look kind of like transparent blueish silhouettes. One of both sits in a wheelchair, covered with a thick blanked. The other one, who's accompanying her, timidly follows her. Quite interesting to see wheelchair trails next to small footprints. The healthy woman looks concerned about something.

Well, I sit down on this pretty darn old bench and brush a few pounds of sand off my feet. My shoes are waiting just under the bench. Just look at this melting thing drowning in the horizon. I pause the music track right before the song could've climaxed and gone crazy. Wow, merely two minutes have passed. Time seems to slow down in this magic evening. I stuff the player into my dirty bag, which has sand grown all over it. After that, I grab my polaroid camera and flash the burning horizon. Can't wait to see the print.

Wooh, that's creepy. Kind of tunnel vision with an aura narrowing the image. Hella disturbing if you don't know what it is.

I hang my head and swing it over the back rest of the wooden bench. Watching the seamless gradient in the sky, I overhear the conversation between those two girls. They've stopped somewhere next to me. They're talking about whales. Huh, I know that whale hearts are supposed to be as big as a car. Nonetheless, I don't wish myself a heart as big as a damn car. Wait, what? They're talking about beached whales. I turn around to them. Even over ten foot away, they still look like a silhouette inside the heat. Something cruel must have happened recently. And I missed it. Considering one of them sits in a wheelchair is cruel enough if you asked me.

'Nuff said, there's no reason to think about such depressing emo bullshit. This day couldn't get any better, no poor girl in a wheelchair will drag down my mood. Now, how did my day start and where? How did I end up here on the beach? Fuck it, I don't care. My mood can't be better, so what?

I raise my head a little and stretch my body, which makes me feel like I could touch the endless calm and quiet sky. At the same time, I enjoy the gentle ocean winds around my arms as though it's trying to embrace me. The subtle noise of waves reaching the rocks and splashing into million little drops, each of them slapping on the cushy sand. Inside my head, all those noises of nature will continue.

Deep in my heart I knew, I'd never enjoy myself so much ever again. Before I can realize the stitching pain of divination, I've understood that my future is going to be agony. I feel nothing else anymore… I fall asleep on the bench with the relaxing world echoing in my head. Farewell…

-
I heard the chime of a bell…
-

The eye of the tempest watches my life slowly leaving my body. Sunken into the wet sand, there's a crackle in my ears. Earphones of an mp3-player. I thought, I'd have seen the burning horizon glowing before my eyes, but it appears to be gone. The skies above me have turned dark and gray in a heartbeat. Howling powerful gusts lash their carried weight in my face. Grain crumbles like little itching particles over my cheeks, as I rub them off my skin.

Like vanished ghosts, all of a sudden, dozens of ginormous whales reappear on the shore. Dead beached whales. The smooth dunes, which were just sprawling over the beach, are now bent down by the heft of the suddenly emerged animals. Dark craters inside this tremendous storm. Poor little things, who did this to them and why? What the eff is happening here? Is this a dream about the conversation from those two strange girls? I am dead certain, this is just the most vivid nightmare of my lifetime. From somewhere behind me, I hear one of those girls still speaking,

"None taken."
And those were the last words I've ever heard by those two. As I turn my head around, I see them both vanishing farther away on the boardwalk. I'm sure, I've seen one of both before… somewhere.

Holy, I'm feeling sick from watching these poor stranded things. Aside from those gruesome things, I also sense an unpleasant feeling in my gut. A sensation of misfortune. Who am I? What's my name? Strange, because I know the band and their title, I've just listened to, but my memory, it's gone. And why doesn't this scare the crap out of me? I feel normal… despite the disgusting knowledge in my gut.

Time for me to do something. I get up from the wet sand. Rain is pouring down on my body. It's getting colder, my clothes can't absorb any more water. Like an extra layer of skin, the fabric sticks like glue to my body. I see my own imprint inside the sand plus the mp3-player. I grab it. Someone's shoes are dwelling beneath an old bench just a few feet away from me.

As I contemplate the scenery, I've come to the realization that all of it seems more than familiar to me. Marks of the wheelchair have remained on the boardwalk. The storm slowly but surely wipes them off and mixes them with grain and dirt altogether. Sand flies like a blanked of particles over my head, looking at me like the eye of a beautiful girl. All this agitates me and makes me believe that I'm just dreaming or hallucinating. Now there are only two things to undertake: Either choice doesn't sound as it would help me out. One, just run away; Two, viscerally follow the vanished girls. I look back to the pair of boots lingering under the wooden bench. Somebody else must be here - watching my every step as I think and act.

All of this forces me to rethink my arbitrary strategy. To randomly follow a wheelchair's trails in a treacherous storm. What about the out of nowhere appearing whales at the shore? What about the vanished girls on the boardwalk talking about exactly those? I reckon, one of the girls had known something about the forthcoming storm, the calamity immediately before my eyes. Her mere existence filled my mind with disquieting pain, experience, choices, actions, sorrow and grief. Holy, that's a lot of weight to carry. Interestingly enough, I feel a striking resemblance to her way of thinking in my own way of thinking.

The sand under my feet is wet and soaked up with water while I'm running back to the boardwalk to gain a more stable stance. Tracks of the wheelchair are fading, but I follow them. Like someone dragging a cord, the wind blows the trails away as I'm chasing them. The marks reach a jut in front of the raging ocean. Very far away, a tornado summoned. Ginormous, alive, terrifying and beyond my understanding. I fall on my knees, grain digs into my skin, although I seem to feel no physical pain. The gigantic threat hovers over the sea and raises its waves higher than a hundred yards. The spinning entity made its ocean its very own little toy to play with. What on earth has spelled this unholy incantation? What's underlying?

For some reason, there still is a stitch inside my chest that tells me to move on, seek something particular. A mental pain that moves between my ribs and twinges with every new heartbeat. I glance up to a muddy pathway. At the end there is a lighthouse. Not too far away, I recognize a young girl entering that pathway. Obviously, she is on her way up to the lighthouse. I guess, she's running away from the unsacred menace and searching shelter. She is blue-haired, tattooed and damn skinny.

Considering all the waste and leaves revolving around me, it is a bloody hurdle to follow her. Fallen trees and drenched pathways don't make that easy. Some mud splashes up while running up that hill and sticks like glue to my legs. All of a sudden, this weather fogs the entire environment. A white translucent disguise condensing the air rendering me almost blind. What's this distinct chilling prickle on my body? Snow? It's too hot for snow to fall. It's immediately evaporating on my skin.

As I arrive at the lighthouse, I look at the girl standing next to the wooden bench facing the never-ending rage of nature. She stares at the tornado. Out of nowhere my strength has gone. My nose bleeds gravely and my head hurt terrible. No physical pain, yet. It's all in my mind, although the blood seemingly flows out of my nostrils and drips off my lips. I can't take it. My legs succumb to the intrinsic horrors and I plummet to the muddy soil. A melody of whales hangs in the air.

There are so many unbearable, tattered memories circling inside my head. Nothing tangible, nothing clear. It's a blur that fades to black. My throat aches as though someone chocked me. I open my eyes and see Arcadia Bay. It looks so small and helpless. The town seems to beg for mercy as the jeopardy approaches the city. Yet, the eye of the storm stills hovers over the sea, dancing with endless waves around it's gray undulations. However Arcadia Bay looks, it seems dead to me. No escaping people nor running animals, no flying birds. There is only one soul alive in here. And I also remember her name.

The girl's name must be Chloe. I mean, the girl in the wheelchair. Her voice is so distinct and clear, it almost refreshed my memory. How much I liked her and loved her. But this young woman next to the bench stands on two healthy legs and her hair is dyed blue. I try to keep my head upright, but my view turns into mush. Even the subtlest movement of my head smears the already prevailing blur into a mess beyond recognition.

I just assume, the girl next to the bench is Chloe, too. Waterdrops dripping on her neck during the wind elegantly pushes her hair back and forth. A wide blanket of sand particles flies above her head. It twists like a mini tornado and ripples around the lighthouse as if it were a breeze to tear it apart. After that, the blanket of sand particles hisses to the blue-haired girl and dances around her body, without touching her skin with the tiniest granule. She grabs into her pocket and takes a photo and looks at it while saying,

"I'm sorry…"

She let the polaroid fly off, as she opens her hands. A swarm of sand particles carries away the photograph. It leaves the lighthouse and floats to the shore. The girl turns around after the thin layer of sand particles has left her. Now, deep inside of me I acknowledge that she is a Chloe, too. Another iteration. I fight against the weakness inside of me and roll on the ground with no power to get back up. It is torture trying to keep my eyes opened. I heard something whispering,

"Miss Caulfield, can you hear me?"

A manly voice I can't remember. Either way, anything right now is a bloody mess. What am I to do? What to I have to do in order to put an end to this? What underlying meaning am I missing? This can't be real? Either I'm just dying or having the worst nightmare ever…

What's over there? On a tree stump, there is a gleaming object. As if a bright light source was beaming at it so that it reflects and blinds my eyes. That object sticks into the wood, but subtly shakes to the jerking winds.

Suddenly, this thing leaves the stump and hovers a few feet up. By an unknown force it illuminates and stays dangerously unmoving in mid-air. Visually ungraspable fragments are absorbed into that gleaming object. A disgusting sound bellows above the girl and me. All energy leaves my body. I fear to lose consciousness and die inside this unholy nightmare. Why the hell am I so unspeakably weak? Lying on the ground, I steadily focus on my limbs and their corresponding muscles. First the finger, then my hand, after that my arm, and finally my upper body; until I've focused on every possible muscle to get up back on my feet.

I hear the girl screaming a name into my direction. However, across the storm it appears to be more of a desperate whistle than a cry for my name. She has called me Max. Blurry and hollow appears the shape of her body inside of this white disguise before the lighthouse. A translucent silhouette just a few feet away from me. She's shivering, and not even clothed for such a weather. Which makes me think if she even knew about what was coming. It strengthened my belief that we are trapped inside one's dream.

Half-standing on my shaky feet, I concurrently feel the first physical real pain. Coldness; all limbs quiver and my teeth chatter as they are gritting to one another. My knees give way, the rest of my body follows along. Now my face is covered in mud. Weariness in my bones grows bigger as I'm reattempting to get up. I raise my hand to the blue-haired girl, since my bond to her feels somewhat real and tangible. But instead of falling again, my hand instantly grasps something cold and solid inside the palm.

Without even seeing what's going on, I know that I'm currently holding that gleamy iron thing that has been hovering above us just a minute ago. How in the world did I manage to suck this thing into my hand? What magnetic force am I bearing? It is a knife. Whereas everything remains a blur, the knife is even sharper to see. My lids feel like a big weight tries to shut them again. My body doesn't feel any different. This knife has numbed my arm. The other arm follows. I'm falling back on my upper body and feel the mud splashing into my face. Good thing, my eyes are closed.

When I reopen my eyes, I can recognize the young girl in front of me. A blur, but who else should be there? Very determined she stands a few inches in front of me as though she knows what's standing ahead of us. All sounds reduce to my breath, the storm sounds like a mute flow of blood pushing through my veins and whistling into my ears. I'm becoming deaf, the flow of blood now sounds like a calm ocean. The soil under my right ear shatters. Apparently, Chloe has fallen on her knees to help me up or… She grabs my head and rotates my body so that I lie on my side. Finally, my eyes reopen by themselves. Her face looks beautiful.

Almost begging, she folds her hands and prays with her eyes being all red. Is she crying because of something? Does she know me? I don't remember her bond to me, but I remember my love to her. She bows in front of me, although I am the one helplessly lying on the ground, fighting with her own body. Inept and pathetic. She speaks,

"Max, you're back. How? I'm not worth this bullshit!" I'm half deaf, but I vaguely sensed her words.

This is nonsense. All of this crap has a reason to exist. How often have I caught the same paths over and over inside this big maze? I don't know, but Chloe maybe knows what the hell is going on. She must know about this maze that I forgot entirely. Her cold fingers touch my arms, although her shaking doesn't feel like she's cold, instead she seems to be afraid. Aside from that, I regained some of my energy back. I try to move my legs to get up.

The sudden regain of my power has had a source. This source comes from the dagger, feeding me with an occult energy which senses akin to little bugs crawling inside my arms. A disgusting energy that I cannot refuse. Its flow doesn't stop from entering my body. It mingles with my blood and itches in my chest as it reaches my heart. I feel stronger than ever, but not by my own willpower. The volition is triggered by this filthy blade inside my hand, forbidding me to let go. Every attempt to open my hand, results in a piercing pain through my wrist. The dagger prevails over me - I'm its vessel.

The added flow in my veins pains like an undertow dragging you to the ground. But I'm standing firmly now. Chloe, still on her knees, looks up to me with one or two tears leaving her lower lids. I can't tell if it's rain or tears. The fog around us clears, no snow falls from the sky, the tempest, however, grows bigger and howls louder than before. Our surroundings are desaturated, even Chloe's hair seems to fade. The contrast between black and white squishes. Despite the dwindling colors, I can finally hold my eyes opened without feeling a weight pulling them down.

Flying particles of waste and grain spins around us. A small tornado revolving around us. His bigger brother has raised up and beyond the gray sky. Flashes cut inside of it and seems to feed it. It grows bigger. The ocean obeys and succumbs that giant monster. Chloe breathes faster, her carotid leaps under her skin.

A deafening screech occurs. I'm going blind at the same time. Chloe has stopped breathing. Not only that…

Although I've sensed no movement, I somehow know what has happened. Faster than light, my hand has been moved to her chest. The hand carrying the lethal sharp blade. No muscle tic, no other movement has been done. It's not my fault. My hand has been forced to cut into her. The white disguise on my eyes vanishes. Chloe's head lies motionlessly on my shoulder. The soft hair cushions the weight on my body.

Time is paused. Nothing moves any longer. I don't sense the dagger's power anymore. I release the hilt of this disgusting tool. Without looking at her deep wound, I embrace her with my now freed hand and spot all of her blood all over my arm. No matter how much it's going to hurt, I must look what I have caused.

Blood courses down the blade and drips on the dirty soil down from the hilt. How can I stop this? I merely hope, that Chloe didn't feel the dagger. Maybe the stitch has caused this pause of time. Her body stays in this same frozen position; however, her blood continues running out of her body. I touch the blade to remove it out of her body, since she wouldn't feel anything. Just as I touch the hilt of the blade, I hear an atrocious loud scream of her voice. A frozen scream that keeps on shouting in pain. It doesn't stop. The blade sticks firmly in her chest. I remove my hand, the scream goes off.

By instinct, I raised my shaky hand and closed my eyes.

A ghastly metal rattling during all things begin to move in reverse. I hold my eyes shut, because I perceive a backwards motion which I don't want to interrupt. I stop this sort of rewind, because my head feels like someone wants to rip my head off with a hook pierced through my skull. A muffled wind chime in the back of my head fades.

I open my eyes. She has been moved away. Gone, vanished. But, this world plays in a forward motion again, so, where is she? Stains of blood remain on the ground where I've just stabbed her. I mean, where this thing has stabbed her with my hand. The dagger has found its place on the stump. Solely looking at it makes me sick already. This way or another, the lighthouse's mere sight has turned much more threatening than before. It appears to be much bigger, kind of looming over Chloe and me.

How did I rewind time? How did I do this? I just realize, that I'm suffering from amnesia. I don't remember anything. I can't even remember who I am. My legs shake again. The lack of power has returned. As horrible as it sounds, I need the dagger again to regain my energy. I support myself with the right hand on the ground. I sense my hand plunging inside a puddle. It's not water but Chloe's blood. I crawl forward and raise my chest, so that this blade will thrust into my chest. It should be I who dies, not Chloe. Yet, another memory shoots back into my mind. An emotion that rejects my death wish. Nothing breaks this one word - this one word breaks you. Love.

Now it's I who's feeling hot drops of water leaving my eyes. Tears mixing with the rain. Chloe faces my direction and bows down to help me get up. Her appearance mollifies all anxiety at once. I embrace her devoid of commenting on anything that has happened before. The same screech echoes through time, once again. I'm blind all over. A white layer atop of my iris. Nothing has happened with me, but with her. It has occurred a second time. The blade has been thrusted inside her chest without me knowing that I was been holding that thing the entire time. I've stabbed her in her back. I must, because I embraced her. Both my hands were lying on her back.

I'll rewind for the very last time. No more blood…

I've rewound as far as I could. Stopping the backwards motion, I cough as if somebody has been constantly chocking around my neck. Chloe has just entered the pathway and stops, since she sees me kneeling in someone's blood. Blood that courses down the pathway like a tiny river. I hurry to her as long as my legs can carry me and my body doesn't give up. Everything hurts. My face, my throat, my eyes; every tiniest fiber of my being feels like acid has been showered over me.

My right hand is still imbued with her warm and fresh blood. The rewind hasn't cleaned my ensanguined hand. My nose starts to bleed as I dart to, the frozen in shock, Chloe. I try to remove the blood under my nose until I notice that it's my bedaubed hand which can't be rinsed. The heavy rain, that drenches our hair and our clothes doesn't seem to clean the blood of Chloe. A fixed stain on hand and arm. Instead of trying to explain the little river of blood running down the pathway or my ensanguined limb, I ask her,

"Chloe, you wanna… stay here… watching the ocean? Please?"

The storm howls even louder on the boardwalk. I embrace her tightly.
"I'll never leave you!" I say.
Chloe does not answer, hasn't rejected my embracement whatsoever. Suddenly, I hear a hiss occurring from somewhere above. I know that I'm just wait out the inevitable. I have no idea on how to defend her from that thing. That knife is a sign, a symbol which is deeply connected with… me.

"You are no murderer!" Chloe says half stammering with dejected eyes.
"I've seen you… dying, Max. You have to get away!" she adds.
"Get the hell away," she says and her voice is drowned in pain.
"I won't be mad," her hair flutters in the wind.

Cold mysterious words, but I refuse surrender. Just as I decide to run away with her, the dagger snaps like a magnet inside my palm and pulsates its ominous energies into me. This sick power slowly moves my hand toward Chloe's body. For a change, I'm capable of dragging against the dagger's force. But no matter how hard I try to tug it away from her, the unknown force clearly has an edge over me.

I use my left but clean hand to even the odds. Senseless, it's beyond my strengths. After all, something must've changed. Time hasn't frozen, which makes me believe that I have altered anything. Focusing so much strength into my arms, causes my legs to languish. My heartbeat outruns the endless hammering drops of rain on my skin. Blood races through my veins as all my arms and torso stiffen. Incrementally, inch by inch, heartbeat per heartbeat, the dagger gets closer to Chloe's head. Slowly the blade reaches her throat. She doesn't move away, run away or anything. She seems to know this thing or… I don't know why the hell she doesn't care to survive as much as I do.

I change my gaze from her face to the blade. In its reflection, the world seems immaculate. Neither are there whales on the shore nor any tempest or other fierce events to speak of. The clean reflex of the sharp blade happens to show a pristine world. Not even Chloe shows up in its reflection. I see the boardwalk and there ware the soft and almost vanished indentations of the wheelchair whereas the reflex doesn't contain any of that. Another component that is innocent and clean seems to be my very hand holding the knife. A blood smeared hand which is rinsed inside a mirror.

I fight even harder. A searing pain in my back grows wider while I'm pulling that thing away from her face. The more power I lose the higher the number of tears that run down my cheeks. Along with the cold raindrops they feel like the cry of fear that nobody will ever answer. My eyes must be red like fire, but in the daggers reflection they remain white and clean. The only red color inside my face are my tired bloodshot eyes. Counting those billion tears falling from the skies, I can't find Chloe's own warm tears on her face. There is too much rain between us.

I know I will lose this fight against this horrifying weapon. I remove one hand off the hilt. It doesn't change the strength of the force I'm fighting against. I use my left and clean hand to touch her face. Hundreds of waterdrop mingle in my palm. Few of them are her own waterdrops. Warm drops, that I didn't see, because they all look alike.

Dirt splashes up, more wind flogs us with grain and sand. Steadily the dagger approaches Chloe's neck and pushes against the outer layer of her skin. So, the throat it will be… instead of her chest. More and more energy leaves my body, my fingers tingle because I can't feel them any longer. Chloe inhales deep and says, "I told you, 'Don't stay here'…"

This is it. I'm not going to make it. The blade in my hand is stronger than I. What else can I do with my leftover power? Yield and kiss her. Without knowing what the hell has happened in the past hours, days, months, god knows, years, it is indifferent. I remember my name and love to her only. That's fair enough. If I can't change her fate, I'll say sorry the best way I can.

Even if I cannot remind myself of anything else, the kiss feels eerily familiar, like a million other kisses with her. Then, she suddenly moves her tongue in my mouth all by herself. My initial timid little contact with her lips is nothing compared to what she's making out of it. The blade digs deeper into her skin but doesn't cut it open yet. Drenched lips with hundreds of new teardrops falling from the sky don't quit touching mine. Her tongue reaches mine and gently spins around it.

Despite from my hand feeling paralyzed along with all fingers, I am definitely sensing the slow cut into her skin. It's all in vain. So I merely focus on my last gift to her, this desperate kiss. First little streams of blood leave her neck. She doesn't budge, but instead bites on my lower lip and exhales out loud. Warm wind out of her nose tickles on my chin. A warm movement of air within this nightmare of a storm - and the nightmare in my hands being bloodthirsty.

Chloe's bite on my lip hurts, but I accept it. I deserve much worse, and even the bite feels somewhat mollifying. Raindrop land on her upper lip and flow into my mouth. As each drop reaches my lips, they are warm already making it impossible to distinguish between rain or tears. She pets my wet arms. Rain collects in her palms and slips down on her own arms. Digging her fingernails into mine, forces me to focus less on the blade in my hand but on her. The cut on her neck tears more of her skin. So much blood coursing down under her shirt, the imprint of the ouroboros imbued. Seemingly the only color in this godforsaken world. Red.

The knife finally drops out of my hand and fell on the bottom with a jarring clink. Beneath the blood covered blade have been the trails of the wheelchair. The painful pressure of her teeth has released. She's still alive, the time hasn't stopped. Nothing here makes any sense, everything feels forgotten and vanished out of my head. Just the wonderful remaining raindrops crashing on our skulls create some kind of composition. Their rhythm as they hammer on the ground happens to conclude a song which I can remember.

The storm intensifies, the horrific rain smashes our bodies like ginormous drapes. Her bite's pressure releases, her strength abates. I see, she's not fighting against death. She exhales one last time through her nose and pushes her lips against mine. I can surely feel the lack of strength in her body. The firm grasping of both her hands around my arms goes away. Her head slowly drops on my collar bone. Both her hands slap to the ground. Moaning in pain, she fights against the lack of power in her body. Chloe raises her head and says one last time goodbye.

With hardly sensible pressure, she pushes her lips against mine. This time, blood leaves her mouth and enters mine. I turn my head away, because I didn't expect this to happen. Her head falls onto my shoulder. I grab her head with both my hands and return the kiss. This time by leaving a little gap between her lips and mine to separate the blood which then streams out of our mouths to a little red line. She coughs once and some drips of her blood reaches my pharynx. I quit the kiss and embrace her almost lifeless body and press her head near my shoulder and neck.

An itch on my arm occurs. On my right arm, someone is drawing letters with a pen or so, but there's no one around except for Chloe whose life will end in the next few heartbeats. Now, the rain doesn't feel good anymore. The sensation has changed to a excruciating blanket of needles flogging at my skin with a subsequent burn.

Gradually, she inhales her own blood and fills her lungs with it. Blood of grief. Somehow, she manages to raise her right hand to touch my left cheek for one last time. Her fingertips have become cold. I look down to her face. The eyes become marble. Her jaw opens and even more red paint touches my body. It's running down and spreading around my chest. Some of her kissed blood comes out of my mouth and drips onto her head, painting a red streak into the left part of her hair.

I wish, I could tell who I am, where and why. Nothing matters to me except for Kate, my parents and my blue-haired angel bleeding out on my chest. Has it something to do with this uncanny knack of being able to rewind time?

"I'll never leave you alone," are my last words to the empty shell which has once borne an entire soul. Time freezes in this world again. There is no other movement than my own body or Chloe's flow of blood. Apparently, the only indication of time in this hell. Is there anybody else? God, too many questions in my head and it is sure to be unanswered. After all, I have an answer to an ungiven question,

"Will I leave Chloe here? – I'd never leave her. This derailed dimension is my legacy…"

I grab into my bag and pull out a music player. One track is shown paused on its blueish glowing display. Another existing color inside this desaturated space. The song name reads, "Don't stay here" and there is this pause-icon. I hit resume and can't believe the impact of this song.

My eyes burn like fire, a searing twinge inside my chest, a cold chilling pulse shoots through my bones. I cry my eyes out in deepest pain. I can't handle this amount of grief all at once. No cure in this devastating dimension will help me out. My heart aches like hell. Chloe, I'm sorry, but I messed it up. In my heart it feels like I have lost decades ago. All of this feels like an ongoing process that I have utterly forgotten.

It's cold without her. It's cold when time is frozen. It's cold, when you are the only existing soul inside a nightmare. It's cold in your heart even though your best friend's head lies exactly there. I'm shaking like a leaf, and only Chloe's blood seems to be warm. Her head, arms, upper body, it all cooled down after her death. I had it coming to me. Although I cannot remember jack shit about anything, I feel a very present type of guilt in my gut. I well up with tears and press my face on Chloe's cold scalp. I kiss her there, although she'll feel nothing at all.

Fighting against yet another fit of tears, I rub away the blur on my eyes to contemplate the shiny dagger on the grainy soil. Stains of blood are all over the boardwalk. The dagger lays inside a little puddle. I focus the blade and see my own reflection, all of a sudden, a visual distortion flashes into my eyes. I wince but keep up my line of sight with this unholy thing. I pick up the dagger and regard the reflex even further. On shore, I spot the outlines of a person. She is too far away though, meaning all I see is a blur. I look into my own swollen eyes and yet another visual twitch occurs. I sense something deep inside of me… like the surfacing after a long dive. Am I waking up?

I'm lying on the ground. Slowly, my senses regain the normal human being functions. My memory feels like an engine slowly accelerating and recollecting the dots that I was missing all along. A flash wakes me up, the mud under my face is wet. My body feels warm again, although a phantom imprint of Chloe's face remains on my chest. My clothes are clean, no blood whatsoever. The hovering tornado is back at the far distance on the ocean. Less threatening than before… I'm at the same place, the same area, however, it feels like another reality. Like a new chance.

A big and soothing shiver is send down my spine. I know, it sounds odd, but I really sense some kind of hope in my gut. A promising start. I have to get up back on my feet. I'm trapped in a storm I seem to remember. How did I get here? …and where is "here"? A light shows up at the tip of the hill. … The lighthouse… I'll be safe if I can make it there… The rain hurts my eyes like stitching needles. The storm flogs trash and dirt around, but the hope in my chest prevails.

I somehow know this place better than the other dimension I came from. Okay, this is creepy. I've reached the tip of the hill, near the lighthouse. Another oddity is the leftover blood from before. Whatever 'before' means. This feels wrong. A sawm of sand particles carries a photograph. Too far to catch or even get a glimpse. A boat bursts into the lighthouse and… holy shit! One big wreckage breaks apart and… whoa, no!

Someone is holding my hand, but I'm not sure if that's real or just my imagination.
I black out. Nothing but emptiness… I can't see a thing.

The sound of a bell chimed…

I flinch and wake up in Jefferson's photography class. That was so surreal. I'll have a quick look around. Everything seems to be… fucked up as it always was. I hear Mr. Jefferson saying,
"Alfred Hitchcock famously called film 'little pieces of time' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was."

Okay… I'm in class… Everything's cool… I'm okay… Jefferson continues,
"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro… Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human..."

I didn't fall asleep, and… that sure didn't feel like a dream… Weird, I still feel her head on my chest. A phantom impression? That was more like a dream within a dream and… horrible amnesia. God, I can feel my head pounding.

Victoria answers butt-kissing as is, "Diane Arbus."

Mr. Jefferson nods his approval and looks around in class,
"There you go, Victoria! Why… Max… what's up with your nose? Damn… see a doctor Max."
I feel the typical pain in my head. I'm a lot wiser, smarter, older, and yet, I'm inside of my 18-year old body. No white disguise around me, which means I'm not within a time travel concoction again. That means this dimension won't collapse the same way. I reply,
"I'll go to the toilet, if it's ok"
"We'll talk about the competition later. Don't you forget about submitting a photo."

I can't stomach this atrocious voice. Jefferson turns around and walks back to the empty table, where he has always been rambling his bull. Anyhow, Taylor throws the balled-up piece of paper against Kate, although I cross its trajectory. I remember Kate being bullied. I catch the paper frowning at Taylor for bullying.

She looks up to me, as though I was about to lose it. I can't believe I know this entire event back and forwards. I cover my nose to prevent it from drippling on the floor. I'll cramp the paper that I was almost thrown at in my pocket. You'll never know when you could need it again…

Victoria whistles,
"Nice catch. Selfie-powers?"
"Gee, stupid whore is fucked up."
Taylor utters to Victoria almost inaudibly.

I leave the classroom and hurry to the toilet. I know this timeline is fresh and new. So, now I can do whatever I like without focusing polaroid images. Weird, I had to focus an ancient looking dagger to come back here. What's the underlying meaning? I feel the grave headache growing bigger. But at least, I'm not palsied on my limbs and have to kill my blue-haired angel. Oh no… can I still rewind time?

Argh! A battering pulse to the sound of a chime ports me. Something chokes on my neck. A fast blur smears the vision.

Back in class again, at my table. Jefferson poops out of his filthy mouth,
"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow;"
he walks to the windows, a wide stripe of sunlight casts on his face,
"from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro…,"
he heads back to his table, a cloud outside masks the sun,
"Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human."

Oh my, this isn't as good as I expected. Being back feels great, but I've forgot about the main menace in this very room which is either Jefferson or me. I don't want to have this gift at my disposal again. I can now remember the damage that it has caused. Talking about this gift, I somehow don't rewind, but teleport. Not only that, I've also shifted time. I literally jump in this timeline. My nose bleeds again…

The consequence being that Mr. Jefferdouche immediately interrupts Victoria's attempt to kiss his ass,
"Max? God, your nose. We'll hold our course," he approaches my table.
You Max, come with me and we'll consult the school medic!"
Oh, no! I've messed up. He can't go with me.

A pulse ports me with a backwards motion.

Back outside on the empty hallway of Blackwell. Jefferson continues his course without knowing that I've left. Really? Hell yeah! I can definitely use this teleport ability. I mean, it hurts around my neck, but it has now saved my ass. I take my camera out of my battered bag and shoot a selfie in this empty hallway of lockers and randomly placed posters. Back to reality, with some minor changes. Hopefully, this selfie could be a point of start everything over again. Good thing, I've taken this photo outside instead of the classroom. I'd be better off without seeing that big asshole.

If this pulse-technique really is my new ability, I should find out more about the possibilities I can undertake. Forward and backward, from point A to point B. Great… I feel like a dumb version of Einstein. Compassion level over nine thousand. There is no such thing as past and future. Only our actual perception of presence. In my case… it's a little different. I am just a little girl on some boring ass planet which is unimportant among billions of starts and other unimportant planets… just with one little job to do. Save Chloe and rekindle the friendship the way she wishes.

Whoa right, talking about her, I've totally forgotten, that she will be in danger soon. I have to run outside and warn her… but I'm still the same clumsy as before. I've run into someone's drone. Goddammit! I fall on my back… time rewind, maybe? How did I mange? Clench my fist, close my eyes and…

A pulse shoots me to the sound of a chime to the toilets. It appears to me in a forward motion.

Wow, I didn't mean to port myself here. However that is, let's take the notorious picture of the blue butterfly on the galvanized bucket. Strangely enough, the windows are shut. The cleaning stuff is still there but in a different position than I can remember. I don't get it. I turn around to leave the toilet. Just as I open the door, a shot bangs through Blackwell. What? Neither Chloe nor Nathan are present as it should be. Did he shoot her elsewhere?

I clench my fist to pulse with a backwards motion. The strangling on my throat is hurting me.

Wrong spot… I'm in front of Brooke. She hasn't recognized me yet. How doesn't she see me. The strangle on my neck hurts badly. I cough and crouch down in pain.

"Max, are alright? Oh, your nose!" Brooke now realized my sudden existence and holds my shoulders so that I don't fall.
"I'm okay. I'm just feeling… dizzy," I gasp for air.
"I see. Here, use this and relax,"
she hands me a tissue.
"Thanks, Brooke,"
The anxiety about the unknown throbs with my increased heartbeat. This new weird kind of rewind won't bode well if I overdo it.

"I heard that nosebleeds mean you have a crush on somebody," Brooke smiles warmly.
"But nosebleeds of boys?" I look up to her and shake my head in disbelief.
"Oh, right… girls blush," she crouches down to me.

I'm trying to sit straight, but this comment ruins it. I'm starting to giggle. Haven't done that in a while. "Oh Maxi, why's everybody just so mean to you?"
"Eh, what?"
What does she mean with this? The shot occurs, again. A truck at the parking lot starts its engine. Damn, I need to pulse again.

I pulse backwards again. My neck feels like it would crush every moment.

I'm at the parking lot. Hiding behind a car. I can't think about what Brook has just said. I must find out, where the hell the shot has come from. I see Chloe and Nathan arguing. Nathan yells something at her, what I can't quite understand. He leaves her enraged and slaps her face.

Ouch! That hurts by listening to it. She shivers but stays there to have a cigarette. Let's wait a minute. Nothing happens. Alright, I use the situation to skulk behind her and,
"Surprise, Chloe!"
I jump at her and embracing the back.

Chloe startles and shakes herself free. She looks into my eyes,
"Who the hell are you? Yeesh, you've painted me with your nose goo!"
Chloe still looks the same, but doesn't remember me, at all? I've really painted her shirt red… I thought I wiped everything off with Brooke's tissue. Time to rewind.

Pulse back behind her. I get a feeling for this, but the ugly sound of a bell and the choking on my throat is the worst.

"Surprise Chloe," I jump covering my nose this time. Chloe startles and shakes herself free. She iterates, "Who the hell are you? Yeesh, look at your face, get the fuck off!" She is too agitated to talk with her. I start coughing harshly. Chloe enters her car and leaves me. Well, I have to try another way. I'm well trained after all.

I pulse backwards. The strangle palsies my consciousness.

This has been one too many. I've had a blackout. The first perceivable elements are the chirping of the birds in the treetops and some students talking to each other. I'm back on the lawn while Brooke is taking care of me. I cough a little. She pets my head softly. I slide my head up onto her lap.

"First Warren, now Max… I'd better stay here and look after you," she brushes through my hair. I stare up to the deep blue sky and unpack my music player. I hit the resume button. "At the end of the day by Amon Tobin" begins. Okay cool, didn't know I owned music by him.

I answer to Brook,
"Yes, stay please," I see Hayden in the corner of my view in his harem of girls. Some things never seem to change. Nathan crosses our way and looks down to me pretty aggravated. I almost feel guilty… students are nudged away whom stand in Nathan's way.

However that be, I glance up into the depths of the deep blue sky with one treetop in the bottom left corner. What a nice imagery. Brooke's fingers are massaging my head. I figure, she had never been so kind to me. The shot occurs a little later. A swarm of birds escapes the treetops. But, I don't give a crap. Brook looks concerned... Well, I listen to my song till the end and enjoy the massage.

"The fuck was that?" Brooke reacts anxiously.

The engine of Chloe's truck growls. These random noises together with all electronic instruments in Amon Tobin's track suit my situation. The birds are one additional set in the composition. The day is far from over.