'Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves .'

Confucius

I opened my eyes as a loud booming sound pierced my ears. My basic instincts made me gasp but I felt something was blocking my nasals, coming with a burning sensation right behind my eyes and a murky taste in my throat. Distraught and confused, it took a few more seconds for my brain to catch up with my body. And I realized that my face was submerged in a puddle of water. I quickly pushed myself up, supporting my body on my arms and my knees. I coughed and hacked as I tried to dissipate the disgusting taste of the muddy water out of my system and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my already wet shirt.

Next thing that welcomed me was the downpour of rain pricking on my body and face like needles, accompanied by a howling, relentless wind that brought a shivering cold down my spine. I wrapped my arms around me and rubbed them, trying to keep my body close and compact to gather whatever heat I could get. But the cruel and uncompromising wind had a different idea for me. I stood up. My whole body rattled as if I've been bashed and hurled by something. Ignoring my exhaustion and the aching of my body, I scanned my surroundings and realized where I was. I know this place, I have been here before. But something was different. No, not just something, everything was different.

The scene looked like those movies representing the aftermath of a huge catastrophe, end of times, a bleak and monotone dark world. Torrents of rain were hitting me directly, making me unable to see any further than the arm's length. Thunder was booming in the distance, the howling wind made everything feel ominous.

Fear engulfed me, I had to get away from this place. But there was just one path that went up the hill. A hill? I realized I was passed out at the mouth of a beaten path going up. Something told me, that I should run away, that I shouldn't be here. So, I turned around, but that momentary rush of energy in me dissipated as I saw the path behind me was broken… there was nothing. Complete darkness, void, like an abyss. Another surge of fear engulfed me and I tried to step back, but a little quicker than my brain could register my intentions, swaying my balance. I tripped on my feet and fell on my bottom.

I heard a giggle behind me. I felt my heart jump, almost coming out of my throat and I gasped, turning my head to the direction from where I heard that laughter. But there was no one there, the path going uphill was still empty.

Reluctantly, I called back. "H-Hello? Is anybody there?" I waited for a reply but did not get any. Looking towards the broken path one more time, I realized I have no choice but to go uphill and find a shelter or a cover from this downpour. I got up, and wiped my muddy hands over my already dirtied pants and started climbing the path. Something inside me told me it was a bad idea. But bad idea or not, I had no choice. Behind me was an abyss, nothingness, ready to drag me away if I kept staring at it.

As I kept walking, I kept glancing around at my surroundings again, but the overwhelming feeling of dread made me speed up my pace. Maybe, because I was scared and overwhelmed, I felt that something was lurking in the wallowing and screaming wind. I felt like whispers in my ears. Someone calling my name, telling me to hurry up. As if entranced, I felt I was losing control of my body, and my legs starting to increase the pace, and before I even realized, I was running up the path.

I didn't care if my breathing was getting heavier, and my lungs burned with the lack of air, and not to forget the shivering cold because of the rain that kept punishing me. But the whispers started to get louder and louder, making me want to reach the top as soon as possible. Something grew in me, a feeling, something that was akin to… loss. If I don't go there, I will lose everything. So, I ran and ran, but I wasn't able to reach the top, I was no way near it. I was sure I ran with all my might, but my destination didn't come any closer.

Confused and frustrated, I growled, clenching my hands in balls of fists. 'I have to reach there, I have to save them.' This thought brought a new confusion to me, 'Save them? How?' Again, my thoughts started to jumble up, confusion gripped me. 'What does this place still exists? Why does it keep dragging back here?'

"It's so like you to abandon us, Max." I heard a familiar voice behind me. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. An involuntarily sob came out of my mouth. I turned around and there, I saw someone. A figure, but blurry. I could barely see the face of that figure as it was blurred, the only thing I could make out was messy and disheveled locks of flamboyant blue. 'Chloe?' I wiped my eyes to clear my vision blocked by the rainwater, but the figure was not there anymore. 'No, wait!' I pleaded but the figure ignored my voice and faded into obscurity.

"What do you expect? She didn't even care about any of us, anyway." Another voice, a little intangible and agitated. I turned around again and saw another figure with a shorter stature than the previous one. Her long strands of blonde were concealing her already hazy face, but what caught my eyes was one lonely blue jay feather dangling on the figure's right ear and dancing with the wind, and for a moment, I thought it was alive, and wanted to leave its owner.

I felt a pang in my chest, an ache like someone just clenched my heart and squeezed it, "No! I never forgot anything," my mouth moved and the words came out on its own. My voice was desperate, hurt, and my lips began to tremble. This feeling, this loss, it made my chest tighten and a clot was stuck in my throat, which I desperately tried to swallow. "I did everything I could. Please believe me." I pleaded to the figures.

I heard another voice from a different direction now. It was a timid voice but full of hurt and accusation, "You're a liar. You broke your promise. You should have died with us."

Died? Yes, I should be dead. I should have died that time already. "No, I have to make everything right. They cannot get away with this. I have to do it. I cannot die like this." Again, the words kept escaping my mouth without me even realizing. And then, I did realize, this was not me, this was not my voice at all. I looked at my hands and my body. My hair was longer, my chest was protruding three sizes more than I remember having. 'Wait? What is going on? Who am I?'

"So, now you are pretending you don't even know us or yourself. How depraved have you gotten, Max?" Said another voice, prompting me to turn my head to face the voice. I couldn't contain the eerie feeling I had inside me. Frighteningly strange, like a reflection in a mirror, I was standing right in front of me, holding a spiteful smirk on her face.

My counterpart raised an old Polaroid camera to her face and pressed the shutter button. A blinding white light flashed accompanied by a whirring sound, "Look at your face. That expression, it's Priceless. Get it?" I could feel the bitterness in my doppelganger's voice.

But before I could say anything, my vision was blinded by another flash and everything vanished. The whole scene changed. I was in a white room, sitting on a chair, I felt a sting on my wrist. I looked down and I felt my blood drained from my body, my eyes went wide, and a croaking scream escaped my mouth as I started feeling the pain. My hands were bound to the chair with barbed wires, and the razor-sharp spikes were digging into my skin, tearing into my flesh. Any slight moment was resulting in an excruciating pain. I screamed and called for help, but I felt my voice was muffled like my mouth was covered with a cloth or something, even though I couldn't feel anything in my mouth.

"Aah, Max, good to see you finally awake. I was worried if I had accidentally overdosed you. I might be losing my touch. But, anyways, now that you are up, we can finally continue our session." Again, I heard a voice but could not see anybody. But, I remember this voice. This sarcastic and cold voice belonged to him. It brought a new feeling to me. I felt like a fire was just lit in my stomach, making my blood boil. Even though I was in pain, I could feel myself scowling towards someone or something. A hatred burned in me and I gritted my teeth and my mouth moved on its own again.

"You bastard, you will not get away with this. I swear I will kill you with my own hands," I screamed at him.

The voice replied me with a chuckle and sighed. " Empty words, Max. You couldn't do anything before and you will never be able to do anything, ever. Should I jog your memory a bit?" His voice was jeering and full of sarcasm. Just hearing about it was making my stomach churn and I felt like gagging. The ridiculing voice continued. "Do you remember? You tried your best, you almost got me, but I walked free. You did nothing. You just sat there, crying pathetically, screaming. Do you remember, Max? They said Not Guilty."

True to his words, he did jog my memory. How can I forget that day? At the courtroom, where I sat helplessly, my dying screams buried under the loud jeers and confusion. That day, I lost everything.

A fresh set of tears started dripping down my cheeks despite holding a scornful glare at the direction in front of me as if I could see the owner of the voice. I felt an unwavering desire to hurt him.

"Oh, I like this look on your face, Max. Defiant as always." I heard him again, I wanted to say something back to him. Curse him, insult him. But again, my body and my mouth were not in my control at all. Suddenly, I could hear a chewing and crunching sound, like someone was eating something. "Hmm… this tastes good," he said, and I realized the sounds were coming from a side of the room. I tilted my head in that direction and I felt my heart stopped. I was frozen. Right at that moment, I wanted to scream and run away. Anything that could get me away from the horror.

The owner of the voice, it was not a man. But a large dog, rotting and hunched. Pieces of rotten flesh were dangling from its body, exposing its ribs. Either it was my brain playing tricks with me or I was too occupied to realize it, but the room started to smell rotten and pungent. The overwhelming smell burned my insides and I had no choice but to hold my breath. I was barely able to stomach the horrid scene.

I tried to comprehend if this was real at all or if I'd really gone mad. Maybe it was real? Maybe I was mad from the beginning because this being in front of me did not exist in the human world. It had the rotting body of a dog, but the face, clearly that of a man blurred and distorted. Its mouth was smeared with blood and frothy saliva dripping down its chin. A piece of flesh dangling between its teeth as it chewed on it. It turned its face towards me. This time a gasp escaped my mouth as the ghastly being grinned at me. Disregarding the pain in my wrists, I tried to move. My fading sanity told me to get away from him or it, or whatever that thing was.

"Oh, where are my manners," it spoke. I was trying to make myself believe that it was not the source of the voice, but I saw its mouth move and form the words. " Give me a moment, Max. I am just done with this one, and then I will tend to you. We have all the time in the world," it said and again grinned at me and went back to gnaw and tear whatever it was eating.

There, I saw it. The body of a young girl was laid there, smooth and pearly white skin, like a painted vision of an angel but also disfigured and gnawed by the beast who was feasting on her. A lopsided chignon with uneven streaks of dirty blonde, but despite the angelic appearance of the splayed-out body, there were no eyes, just two hollow voids. The longer I looked, the more I felt I was looking directly into a lifeless soul, also telling me stories of unspeakable horrors. Not a single thread was covering her exposed frame, save for a cross necklace on her neck. As I looked closely, I saw a few small bruised puncture marks, like needles on her neck. Her wrists were bound together with the same barbed wires as mine were.

I winced as I saw her wrists were even messier than mine. The skin was torn and tattered, and the spikes of the wires dug deep into her exposed flesh. Blood was pouring out of her empty void sockets as if she was crying blood. But then I saw her move, and a whimper came out of her mouth, weak and pleading. Oh god! She was alive. The monster was feeding on her as she tried to move. I couldn't bear it anymore and I tried to scream, plead to the monster to leave her alone. But my voice was not there anymore. I was sure I was screaming my lungs out, but my lips didn't move. I was still frozen at the sight.

And then, the girl stopped moving. The monster looked up, and with an agitated look, it snorted, "Incompetent! See, Max? This is why I don't like these subjects. They try to look so pure, so innocent. Just one push, one pill, and you see their depraved colors." His voice was full of malice and sneering. But so was my expression. I knew I was glaring at him but my eyes were burning, stinging.

I realized I was crying. The monster sneered at me and shook its head, "No, no, no. Max. You cannot show weakness. You are my most valued prey. You are far stronger than all the subjects I have tasted. But alas, I never managed to get my hands on you. You eluded me, but…" Its scowling face turned to a jovial smirk, and it leaped at me…

The silence of the room was cut with a shrieking scream and a figure sat up abruptly, heaving and gasping for breath, clutching her chest and looking around frantically. Distraught and confused, she looked at her surroundings and found she was in her room. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and ran her hand over her parched throat, trying to soothe the burning sensation. She waited for a few seconds to regulate her breathing, but the expression on her face showed only distraught and confused.

'Again, the same nightmare? What is it trying to tell me?' contemplated as she fixed her unkempt and disheveled platinum blonde locks off her face, swiping them back with both hands. She shifted to the edge of the bed and poured water from the pitcher into the glass and chugged it down. She sighed contentedly as the lukewarm water quenched her thirst. Placing the glass back on the side table. She picked up the small alarm clock from the side table and looked at the dull green letters, 06:25 am, Sat – Oct 6 – 2018.

Putting down the clock back in its place, she got up and walked towards the closet. She opened the closet and pulled a drawer. From the drawer, she took out a small wooden keepsake box and walked back to the bed. She opened the lid of the box and looked at the contents of the box with solemn, melancholic eyes.

In the contents, there was a picture of two young girls clad in pirate's costume. The blonde girl had a cheeky and energetic grin on her face, and standing next to her was a younger girl with a soft smile of her own. She picked the photo and ran her fingers over the blonde girls face.

"Good morning, Chloe," She said in a barely audible voice, though she couldn't help to hide the shiver in her voice or her eyes getting misty. She remembered the nightmare. She could still remember the accusation and a guilt gnawing at her, at her conscience, the survivor's guilt.

It's been five years, since that week. How a single gunshot changed everything she believed in. How the echo of that shot tore through her. How she had collapsed on the ground hiding her head between her arms and knees weeping silently as just a few steps further, the person who meant the world to her was fading away, yet she didn't have the courage to go against her final wish. She didn't have the courage to sacrifice a town and live with the guilt of destroying hundreds if not thousands of lives. But what did she gain from it, from sacrificing her? She lost to the cruelty of a biased and corrupt justice.

She lost more than she gained, her friends, her parents, her life, her identity. Yet, she was still here. Waking up every single day with the same nightmare, with the same accusation, with the same empty feeling of loss. Max Caulfield was dead inside.

Ignoring her bludgeoning thoughts, she shuffled through the small trinkets. A flip phone tagged with stickers, a folded beanie, wristbands, another photo of Chloe and Rachel. Her eyes fell on a glimmering triple bullet necklace tied together with a black band. She picked the necklace and looked at it longingly. Another pang of sorrow hit her, as her throat tightened. For a moment, the bullet reminded her of the gunshot echoing in Blackwell's ladies bathroom, prompting her to throw away the necklace with a hiss.

Immediately regretting what she did, she quickly sat down on the floor, picking the necklace again. 'I'm so sorry, Chloe, I didn't mean to.'

Cocooning the cold, inanimate memento in her hands, to her chest, praying that this was yet another bad dream, praying it to be over. That these five years never happened and Chloe is alive. But all of it was in vain. Every day she'd wake up to a cursed day and every day reminded her of her loss. Living a lie for a life. Max Caulfield was dead to the world.

'I should get ready,' She thought and as if right on cue, she heard a soft rap on the door, prompting her to turn her head towards it, "Y-yes?" She asked as she shifted a bit and lifted herself up. The exhaustion of the nightmare was still evident in her voice.

"Miss Alice? Are you alright?" She heard a worried and muffled voice from behind the door.

"I'm fine, give me a minute," Max fixed her hair again, and wore her gown, covering her glistening and sweaty body. She opened the door and saw the elderly housemaid standing up, holding a covered tray in her hands.

"Mrs. Ojeda, I've told you not to call me Alice when we are alone. Max is fine." The first thing Max did was complain and a pout. Her arms crossed over her chest. But she could not keep that face for long as she looked at the worried expression of the elder lady.

"And I've told you many times, not to call me Mrs. Ojeda. It reminds me of my nagging mother-in-law, may she never find peace in the afterlife," said the housemaid with a frown on her face. Max quirked her eyebrow up and put a hand on her hip. "Oh, don't give me that look young lady. You will know the devil known as mother-in-law when you get married."

Max rolled her eyes and groaned loudly, "Ugh! Not happening in this century, Aunt Fabiana. Come on in. Let me help you with this," she said as she extended her hand towards the elder lady.

"That's kind of you, Max, but if Master Bradford see you carrying the tray, he will chew me out. And I am too old to be told off," Fabiana objected and entered the room quickly before Max could take the tray from her hands. The younger woman shrugged and followed the maid, closing the door behind her.

She sat on the couch as Fabiana set the small coffee table for her. The maid got up and walked towards the windows, "Dios Mio, Max. Why do you always keep these curtains closed? It's so fusty here." She slid the curtains and opened the windows to pave way for fresh air and sunlight. The room brightened instantly as the yellow orb's piercing rays found their way in, along with a fresh misty smell of rain. All of a sudden, the smell reminded Max of the nightmare she had seen, and her body instinctively jerked a bit and shivered. She wrapped her arms around her as she looked on at the tray with a blank expression. 'Why does it not leave me alone. I am tired of being reminded.'

"Another nightmare?" Max snapped her head up as the maid asked her, again with a confused yet worried expression on her face.

She sighed and rested her head on the couch. "Yeah, same places, voices, the accusation of the people I couldn't protect. And him, that monster." She leaned in again and held her head in her hands and twined her fingers behind her neck, trying to dissipate the uncertainty. She felt an arm around her as Fabiana sat next to her. Max didn't say anything, only rested her head on the elder lady's shoulder, and exhaled despondently. "Aunt Fabiana, I am tired of this, of everything. The reminders, their voices, full of hate and accusation. I cannot bear it anymore. What am I supposed to do?" Her voice cracked a bit as she recalled the scornful voices tearing into her soul, accusing her of a treachery she knew she didn't commit yet she blames herself for it. What are they trying to say? What is she supposed to do?

Fabiana ran her hand through Max's hair and spoke softly, "Mi Pobre niña, I can only imagine what you are going through. Dreams and nightmares can be both a blessing and a curse. But, you have to try to speak to someone, you know, like those specialists?"

Max lifted her head up sharply and huffed, "Not that again, Fabiana. You sound just like Grandfather. I don't need any more professional help and their poking and prodding. We tried, it didn't work. End of story. If I have to live with these nightmares, then I'll do that. If it's a message and a reminder, I'll find it myself. Please do not tell me to go seek help. I am not mad, so you should not concern yourself with my issues." Her voice raised in a sharp agitation. It took her some time to realize that she was clenching her fists, with gritted teeth and scowling towards the elder lady, who looked pensive and shrunken, "I…I am sorry Aunt Fabiana, I didn't mean to yell at you. God, I am a mess." Max twined her fingers together and exhaled with downcast eyes.

"What are you saying, sweetheart. You, yourself had said this before. Alone, we are friends. So, if you think of me as a friend, then you are allowed to vent it out on me and talk to me. I will not let you suffer by keeping everything inside you. Lo entiendes, niña?"

Max nodded, and a smile formed on her face, "Si, Aunt Fabiana," she said. The elderly maid responded with a fond smile. "Is grandfather up?"

"Yes, and he told me to call you when you are ready." Fabiana got up from the couch as she informed Max.

Max sighed, her demeanor changed completely as if she became a different person all of a sudden. "Okay, thanks," she said as she picked up a toast from the breakfast platter. 'Why would he call me so early in the morning?' she thought as she chewed on the toast. She picked up the tablet from the table and browsed through her bookmarks. Stopping at an e-news site, she scrolled through few pages and stopped at one snippet. Her expression changed again, this time a scowl formed on her face. 'I see…' and placed the tablet back.

Done with her breakfast, she slid open her walk-in wardrobe door and browsed through her vast collection of attires. 'Let's see, let's see…' She picked up an electric blue silk Halter gown and hummed thoughtfully, 'Nope, too early for this.' Placing the dress back on the rack again, she tapped her finger over her lips and thought a bit more, sliding through a few more dresses. A gleeful smile formed on her face as she spotted one of her favorite bell-sleeved, round necked black above knee-length one-piece. Satisfied, she picked the dress and walked out of the wardrobe and placed the dress on the bed. Stripping out of her nightgown and panties, she dropped them in the laundry basket and entered the attached bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror and took a long glance at herself. Deep into her hetero chroma eyes, an asymmetrical pair of muted cloudy gray and deep azure blue. She didn't know since when but it had become a ritualistic habit of hers, to look at herself in the mirror as if she was looking for something, searching for an answer 'Who are you?' she asked herself and waited as if her own reflection would reply her. The person in the mirror was not her. It was not the reflection of a petite brunette girl she used to be. Science has done far more intricate research and evolution. A complete makeover via surgery was just icing on the top.

She snorted at the imprudent thought and moved away from the mirror while releasing her long blonde hair from its loose knotted constraints. Her hair submitted to the gravity, falling on her slender shoulders and back. Turning on the shower and feeling the temperature for a few seconds, she walked in and closed the bi-fold door behind her.

Max knocked on the door and twisted the knob, pushing the door into the room. A hypocritical thought ran through her head from the earlier event as the housemaid did complain about the lack of luminosity in her own room. Perhaps all of the residents of the mansion liked to be concealed in dark rooms. There was not a single light turned on in the room save for one window where the sun was firing its rays in, to dispel the darkness. A lone man stood by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. She flipped the switch next to the door and the room brightened, spilling light in every corner of the spacious room.

It was a combined bedroom and study with antiquated and elegant furniture sprayed out in an artistic placement. The walls were plastered with beige wallpapers imprinted with mild green motif patterns insinuating a class of its own The porcelain ceiling and polished wooden floor of the Bradford Mansion, built on the outskirts of rural Sacramento, California, showed no signs of aging, despite being at least five decades old. A king-sized bed, akin to the fashion of the whole room, was placed in the center of the room, with a small study desk on the right side. Half circle table on its left which hosted a pair of photo frames of a couple and an adolescent slightly chubby girl with a joyful smile on their faces. A small coffee plus dining table was occupying a few paces in front of the bed paired with three cushioned chairs surrounding it.

He turned around and his solemn visage turned to a warm and refined smile befitting the lord of the manor. Harrison Bradford, even though he was in his pajamas, with a satin sleeping robe hugging his frail and thin body, his expression held an appearance of ambiguity and lost pride, concealing hundreds of thoughts. The swept back hair, its volume still like in his prime had dulled into a silvery matte, showing his experience in life and age. Max sometimes wondered what secrets that cordial smile was hiding.

"Good morning, Grandfather," Max greeted the elderly man, showering a fond smile of her own.

"Ah, Good morning, Alice. Fabiana told me you had another nightmare, how are you feeling?" Bradford asked with a hint of worry in his voice but his expressions conflicted with the words coming out of his mouth, almost stoic.

'Fabiana had to do it. I told her many times not to tell him about it.' "I am fine, grandfather, it's nothing bad," Max replied quietly.

He walked towards the chair next to an antique Victorian-era looking desk and sat on the chair. "Alice, you know these recurring nightmares are not good for your health, perhaps you should think about visiting your psychiatrist again?" he asked while his back turned to Max and pulled one of the drawers.

Max bore her eyes on his back with a frown and pouted. "Please, Grandfather, don't start with this again. I told you, I am fine. Those are just dreams, I am used to it now." So she said, but in reality, her nightmares have been becoming more frequent and disturbing. They felt so real to her sometimes that she would wake up and still feel like she was stuck in the fabricated world of her disturbed mind.

"Besides..." she continued with a vexed demeanor. "It's you I am more concerned about. Have you been skipping your medications, again? You haven't fully recovered from your stroke, grandfather." Her brows furrowed in a mild temperament.

Bradford turned back, with an envelope in his hand and smiled towards Max. "So, nothing is obscured from you. I can imagine you have put that lousy woman to spy on me."

Max closed the distance to the elderly seated man and knelt down in front of him, putting her hand on his and said in an imploring tone. "Please, Grandfather, you have to take care of yourself. Your doctors told you that another stroke could be fatal to you."

The elder man grimaced at this. "Oh, don't show me this long face, my dear child. Those doctors just speak obloquy. I am as healthy as my youth, they just prattle those medical lingos and want to make a fortune out of a chance ailment. Do not worry about me," he said as he affectionately ran his wrinkled hand over Max's head.

Max blew a puffing air and shook her head. "You could have made a better excuse, Mr. Harrison Bradford. So, nope, I am not buying it," she said as she got up and looked around the room and found his breakfast tray untouched. "And you haven't had your breakfast. Do you really want me to force on you, you old coot." She held his hand and lifted him up. "Come on, up, up."

The old man sighed, being dragged to the coffee table and sat down as Max uncovered the tray, and handed the assortments of pills to the elder man. He grimaced at the amount he had to ingest before he could even eat anything, but he had no heart to refuse the ardent behavior of the younger girl, so reluctantly, he popped the pills in his mouth and washed it down with a few gulps of the citrus juice. On dissimilarity of his age, he made a gagging face which made Max chuckle but she was contented.

"What is this, grandfather?" she asked the older man while seating on the chair next to him as she eyed the envelope curiously. She tilted her eyes to match with the old man's and observed his expressions again had changed something she seldom saw on his face. He extended the envelope towards her, which she took casually and flipped it and saw her name on the outer envelope.

Ms. Alice Carlson

She tilted her head and looked towards the old man with a confused look and he replied with a nod, with the same petulant expression. Max opened the envelope and took out the card. Her eyes followed the gold embossed printed words.

'We are delighted to invite you to the formal gathering for the P&C Photography Exhibition. Showcasing the latest masterpieces by the striving and talented photographers,

Victoria Chase and Nathan Prescott.'

Cocktails, Hors-d'oeuvres, and Dinner

Saturday, October 6th, 7:00 p.m.

The Mitz-Sheldon

582 Stockton Street, San Francisco, California 94108

RSVP: Mark Jefferson +1 xxxx xxx xxxx

By the time she was done reading the invitation card, her jaw jutted out, her face was red and her eyes were burning, throwing daggers at the piece of laminated paper. She clenched her eyes and held her breath for a few seconds as she rested her head and let out a cold and airy sigh. She flicked the card on the table and stayed in that position for a few moments, finally opening her eyes and looked towards the older man, who was observing her blankly. She picked up the card again and asked. "Are you sure about this?" The cheerfulness of her voice was gone, replaced with a mixture of a wary and a belligerently cold one.

"This is the only way, Alice. It has to be, you know we need this." Bradford kept the same stoic face and his voice had the same deep tone unlike Max's who felt a bit irate of the sudden development in the room.

Max sighed and nodded. "I understand. I'll go. But, grandfather, I am surprised you managed to get an invitation. I mean I was sure. But still, how?"

"I have my means, dear girl. It was not easy to get an invitation to a private party involving Sean. But let's just say, all will be worth it in the end. You wanted a chance, so this is it. Will you manage?" The older man asked with

She scoffed at the old man's insinuation, "Of course, grandfather. I've been waiting for this for a long time. This is our chance." A snide grin grew on her face which the aged man replied with a smile of his own but turned serious again as his mirth died and he put his hand on her knee.

"Alice, make me proud," he said but his voice held a hint of authority as he looked into her eyes.

"Yes, grandfather," replies the platinum-blonde girl as she eyed the card again, 'Chloe, it's time.'

AN: So, you cuddly hairy, beary friend, back with a story. Firstly, I am sorry for the delay on Metamorphosis's chapters. In my defense, I have few valid reasons, 1: Depression, 2: I've been spending and wallowing my time in a psychiatric hospital and been coping with the said depression. But more on that later and hopefully I'll be back to full health mental and physical and continue meta.

But right now, let's talk about Forgotten Sins. I've published this before, but then I spent a bit more time on laying the foundation of the story and discussing with my good friend LonesomeBard, I came to a conclusion that instead of an OC character as the protagonist, why not shift and tell the story differently. So I have Max but also Alice. Why is Max being called Alice, you all might've already figured out, and those who didn't, please stick with me and find out more about the five-year gap, what has happened in those five years.