10:22, May 7, 2010 - Lumber train box car
"One day, I'm going to climb Everest..."
With this announcement, hazel eyes shifted to the punk sat opposite on the rickety train carriage they had hitched a ride on to ditch school. Determination filled her voice and gaze, deadly serious. It was hard not to feel a little inspired by the intensity of her proclamation.
And I thought moving away from Arcadia Bay was ambitious... The short haired punk mused, mind wandering. To think of herself anywhere else other than this shithole she so desperately wanted to escape from was… strange. She'd grown up here, the best -and worst- years of her life. Memories that made her smile, others that brought her to tears, mostly they just made her angry now for their bittersweetness.
For now, she shook off those feelings and focused on the here and now.
"That seems so far away... Like it barely exists..." Chloe replied, still bewildered. "And why would you want to go somewhere so cold?!" She let out a shiver.
The blonde seemed like the type to prefer the sun and sea, beaches and wild parties. Not freezing her ass off halfway up a rocky cliff face. Given, she didn't know the other girl that well, but still...
Rachel eyed the punk, pondering if she should reveal her reasoning. Deciding to take a chance, she took a deep breath.
"It's on my bucket list."
Chloe raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Your what?"
"My bucket list... You know, like the movie with Morgan Freeman?" The blonde wasn't sure if her new friend was genuinely unsure of what the term was or simply confused. "A list of things that you want to do before you die."
Looking down at her shoes, Chloe pondered the idea herself. "I remember the movie. I'm pretty sure I cried at the end." The young girl looked back up to her ditching partner. "I suppose my question is... what inspired you to make one?"
Rachel met Chloe's inquiring gaze and shrugged, not yet ready to explain the core of her motivations. "Just because." Predictably, the response did little to convince, so the blonde diverted the punk's attention instead. "What would you put on your bucket list?"
"Really? You have to ask?" The short-haired girl returned a disbelieving glare. "To get the fuck out of Arcadia! That's for sure..." She paused, realizing that was probably on both of their lists... "To see my friend Max again... To go to Paris... I'm with you, I want to explore the world."
Of course, she had always planned on adventuring with Max. As much as she wanted to keep on believing in that dream, she'd been let down too many times to put her faith in losing bets. So, maybe she should start looking for another first mate. Honestly, Rachel wouldn't be a bad replacement.
Giggling at the outburst, Rachel pulled out a pen and notepad. "What if we wrote them down, so we can complete them someday?"
Carefully, she sectioned off the paper to make a table. On the left side, she wrote her own name and bucket items. On the right, she wrote Chloe's name at the top, leaving the space below blank. The other girl watched her at work, intrigued to see how this would turn out. She had never been one for dreams, well not after… everything. The future seemed bleak and meaningless, fine to piss away.
Now done, Rachel handed the notepad to her companion. Deciding to humor her, the rebellious teen took it from her. Glancing down at the blank space under her name, she began to write. By the end, she had filled her side just as much as Rachel had.
The last item on both of their lists was the same sentence:
One day, I'm going to climb Everest.
00:09, April 24, 2013 - The Dark Room
Thump-thump.
Rachel's head was pounding, loudly.
Thump-thump.
It felt like a train had run over her brain. Repeatedly. Worse than any hangover she'd ever experienced. Not only that, but her hands were painfully bound behind her back and ankles constrained.
THUMP-thump.
Panic began clouding her mind as the model attempted to recall the prelude to this dire situation. A Vortex Club party. That much she could remember with ease. Both she and Chloe had gone, thought it would be fun. Why wouldn't it be?
Then… Nathan. He'd been leering at them - well, more than usual. The epitome of creepiness. After that, he had offered them drinks...
"Rach…"
The single, pathetic sounding noise made her freeze. She's heard it a million times before -sometimes angry, other times happy, and in a million other ways on the emotional spectrum- but never like… that.
Her eyes flickered open, a move she instantly regretted as she was blinded by a bright flash. Pinpricks of light pierced her vision, disorienting. Her throat felt dry as sandpaper, limbs heavy. Just what the hell was going on?
"Agh..." she groaned as the distorted spots danced across her eyes, recoiling all too late. "Chloe... Are you ok-?"
The question was swallowed by sputtering, coughing and gasping as the air was ripped from her lungs. What felt like a pointed shoe had been rammed into her stomach, winding her. Struggling for breath, she curled up instinctively.
"Shut up, slut! How she is is none of your business!" a harsh voice demanded, agitated.
A meek whimper escaped Chloe's lips as the same foot collided with her own sternum. Rachel had never heard her make a sounds like that - so vulnerable and weak. It was more like the cry of an injured animal not long destined for this life, pursued by a pack of hungry wolves. That was not the Chloe Price she knew… and loved.
The voice she recognized… Nathan Prescott. He sounded very on edge, more so than usual. Probably strung out on some drug, an upper of sorts. That boy could have a veritable cocktail of highs running through his system. Footsteps from his erratic pacing echoed, burning itself into her mind.
When she felt brave enough, she slowly opened her eyes prepared this time for the harsh light. What she saw shook every fiber of her being, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Her cheek was pressed against some sort of white vinyl sheet, covering a concrete floor and wrapped up towards the smooth, black walls. It creased perfectly at the corners. Hazel eyes roamed towards the ceiling, a grid of black pipes and echo cancelling plates above.
That explains why everything sounds so muffled...
Bright fluorescent bulbs illuminated the majority of the space, but were amplified with blindingly bright photography lights and reflectors.
Somehow managing to lift her head, she spotted her blue-haired punk. Kneeling, stripped down to a shredded tank top and shorts, hair disheveled and limbs bound. Tear streaks ran down her cheeks, hours in the making. The cheekbone under her right eye was darkened, heavily bruised, as though she had been struck repeatedly. She thought back to when they first met all those years ago at the Firewalk concert.
A bruise had marked the start of their whirlwind friendship… and it might just end it all, too.
"Chloe… hang on…" she called out, finding enough strength to struggle against her restraints unsuccessfully. "Leave her alone, you fuck!" she spat, moving enough to bring their attacker into view. Tunnel vision took over, feeling nothing but pure hatred.
Nathan regarded her with a smug glance, shrugging as he picked up his camera. Crouching down, he brought the viewfinder to one of his icy blue eyes. His jacket laid on the back of the couch, leaving him in a pair of tan slacks and a white polo. Decorating the front was a sizable blood splatter, one of the sleeves ripped apart at the seam.
Once again, Rachel was blinded as the flash went off. As the camera shutter clicked, she began fading in and out of consciousness, brain overloaded with light. Right here, right now… this had to be hell.
Finally coming to again -after what could have been minutes or hours- she found herself slumped on the leather couch. Laid out of the coffee table like some sick exhibition piece were a series of photos. Of her and Chloe in various states of undress and torment. Some were black and white, others in color. All of them made her stomach churn.
How had she not picked up on the warning signs?
Vision much less blurry, her eyes focused past the coffee table. She noticed Nathan straight away, snapping shot after shot with growing fervor. When he did finally move for another angle, Rachel screamed as loudly as her lungs would allow.
He'd stripped the bluenette of her tank top, the pale skin of her torso dotted with deep, dark bruises. Blood oozed from her nose and a gash on her forehead. It trickled down off her chin and down her body, running like thin red rivers. However far gone she had seemed before was nothing compared to now. Worse than dead.
Too weak to even offer a hint of resistance, she barely registered the piercing scream emanating from her best friend. Had she been lucid enough, she would have worried for her friend's fate. Wondered what would happen next and fought. Right now… she just wanted it to end. One way or another...
"Now now... It'll be your turn soon enough, Miss Amber. Just be patient." Another sickening voice filled Rachel's ears. "Unlike how you spend your time in my class..."
The blonde's head shifted towards the voice, met with the cold, calculating stare of Mark Jefferson. He stood behind the couch, eyeing her up like a predator might its next meal.
"You... How..." Her voice faltered, starting to understand.
All the small details in the bigger picture she had glossed over. She thought back to his classes, as he'd talked about capturing the emotions of his subjects, and trapping the subtle details...
The monster looming over her leered, predatory eyes roaming every inch of skin he could find. She had seen that look in his eyes before, dimmed down to hide the intent. What was he after? His reasoning? Did it really matter?
Offering a twisted smirk, he proceeded to walk around the couch. He was done with her. He made his way to kneel by Nathan, tapping the younger man on the shoulder. "Nate, I'm leaving for the night. I do have a class to teach today. One I fully expect you to attend."
Nathan looked up at the middle-aged teacher, a sick grin on his face, and nodded. "I know... I know... I'll be done in a bit. I'll clean up and get these two taken care of." He sighed nonchalantly, as if he was being admonished by a parent for being up past his bedtime watching TV. "I'll see you in the morning, Sir," he finished, before turning back to Chloe with the camera.
Jefferson shook his head with a soft chuckle and stood back up, turning towards the captive blonde on the couch. "Miss Amber, you've been an exceptional model tonight. I look forward to working with you tomorrow." The way he was examining her now - eyes roaming the exposed flesh of her body hungrily as if he wanted to devour her - made her feel ill.
Instead of replying, she held his gaze with a death glare that would have unnerved the average person. For whatever reason, he seemed to take some sick pleasure from it - offering a twisted grin before walking to the entrance of this horrid place.
A few moments later she heard a heavy door slam shut, the chamber being left in pure silence with the singular exception being the clicks of the camera Nathan kept using.
"Nathan..." Rachel croaked, her throat raw from her previous scream.
The clicking stopped.
"Nathan, please... Leave her alone... Take me instead..." she pleaded desperately, trying to struggle to get free. "I'll do anything you want... Just let her go..."
The boy stood up, turning to face her. "Anything, skank? Really?" He began to walk towards her, and set down his camera on the coffee table, covering some of the pictures from this night of hell.
Surprised he was even listening to her requests at this point, she nodded vehemently. A single tear rolled down her cheek, one of the last she had left to give, as she prepared herself for whatever that sick and twisted mind of his would come up with.
Anything... I can take anything... Just so long as he leaves her alone...
Her eyes momentarily met Chloe's - pleading for her angel to be left unharmed. As hard as this had been, nothing would compare to seeing Rachel hurt in any way, shape or form.
"Rach... Don't..." That single mumbled thing was all she could manage.
Closing the final space between them, he grabbed her by the roots of her hair. Fingers tugging, he forced her into an awkward sitting position, her legs off to one side. When he was satisfied she would stay 'seated', he let go. Blue eyes met hazel, a mad glint overshadowing any remnants of sanity.
"How about I make you watch as I kill her instead?"
Rachel's eyes went wide, realizing he was never going to accept her terms. "No. No, no... NO! You sick bastard!" The blonde's screams were muffled by the echo canceling tiles. "Leave her alone you fucking sadist!"
Her enraged words fell on deaf ears, the blond boy skulking over to one of the side walls of this chamber. A number of blades stood on display, light reflecting off metal. Fingers hovering over his choices, he settled on a short sword. Hefting it in his hands to get a feel for its weight, he turned back to the defeated bluenette spread out on the vinyl sheet.
"Fuck you Nathan! Fuck you! I hope you rot in hell!" came the desperate screams from the couch.
He closed the final steps and looked down at his subject. Slowly, he brought the sword around and trailed it across the skin of her stomach, stopping in line with her spine.
The punk looked up at her tormentor, and gave him a final glare. "Go fuck yourself, Prick-scott..."
A hollow laugh escaped his throat as he shoved the blade through her, meeting some resistance. Unfazed, he pushed until a sickening crack resonated through the room as he broke through the bluenette's lower spine.
With that sound, the room grew eerily silent save one horrifying exception…
The guttural gurgling escaping Chloe's lips.
All Rachel could manage was a silent scream, her entire world crumbling before her very eyes. Tears flooded her sight, blood rushing past her ears deafening her in shock. Her mind and body refused to accept reality. It all had to be a terrible nightmare… except it wasn't.
So traumatized, she never even registered the splatter of blood and brains now decorating the wall behind her own perfect blue butterfly.
Authors' Notes:
And here... We... Go...
I don't know how okay I am right now, and I don't know how okay I'll be when this is over... I might not be okay at all... I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Currently no idea on total length nor rate of release.
-TjwCroft
*Placeholder for Liv's notes*
-Nothing_You_Can_Prove
