Really dark story, I don't normally write this stuff but I decided to give it a go. Hope that I don't get too many flames from the Chasfield community for this. Either way I've always been interested to see what would happen if Max was a little, wait… no, scratch that, a lot more unstable and was willing to express it in an… external form.
Max had always been a very patient girl. After all, it took a lot to last as long as she did in Blackwell while living directly across from Blackwell's queen bitch. The day had started badly as most shitty mornings do, being reminded that there was nothing that you could do to help poor Kate and then being subjected to another of Victoria's bitch sessions.
However today things would be different. Max had a feeling, like a whisper on the wind, whispering little lies one ear before passing on as though they were never there. Text-talk with Chloe helped some but it couldn't shake the underlying tension from her system. Like a coiled knot at the centre of her being.
It was anger, pure and simple. Unadulterated and undiluted hatred.
For so long the 'king' and 'queen' of Blackwell had lauded their positions of superiority over all others in Blackwell. Torturing all those who they deemed to be of inferior make.
But today Max had had enough.
Hearing the dark, haunted but worst of all, defeated tone of Kate's voice in the bathroom this morning had simply been the worst, especially when comparing the Kate of today to the bright and bubbling girl who had always believed in the good in people and was always willing to give a smile, no matter how shitty the day.
Today, something was going to change. Something had to change. Could fate truly be so cruel as to give the hint, the taste of change, of justice and freedom, only for it to be snatched away as only fanciful dreams and illusions. No. Today something was going to happen, Max new it.
Max already knew something bad was going to happen when she heard the triple set of footsteps which always brought misery and pain to all that they passed. The voices of Blackwell's primary tormentors.
"Well well, if it isn't the selfie hoe of Blackwell. I can't believe you honestly thought we would be friends."
Victoria's smooth but undeniably sarcastic and mocking voice washed over her ears, and suddenly all of Max's hopes, dreams and illusions of earlier melted away. Replaced only by the bitter and personified reminder that short of a murder, Victoria would never leave them alone, Victoria would always be there to rub salt into our deepest wounds while preparing a knife to create another one.
"Leave me alone Victoria, I need to get to class." Max replied in her own muted and dulled monotone. It seems that Kate's own brand of depression had already spread.
As Max prepared to shoulder her way past Taylor and Courtney, a creamy heeled foot hooked itself around her back leg. And suddenly the ground was rushing up to greet Max with its own customary punch to the face. A plastic crunch from the camera bag on Max's hip signified something breaking inside. There was only one thing inside her bag which could break with such a sound.
Quickly throwing open the flap of her camera bag she beheld the shattered remains of what had once been William's camera. A cracked camera lens wedged in between the pages of her journal while countless metal and plastic fragments littered the bottom of her bag.
At this sight Max felt like breaking down and crying there and then, Victoria and her slaves be damned. Fate had not lied, today had brought change, but it would not be anything good. And suddenly her despair disappeared just as quickly as the now retreating forms of Victoria, Taylor and Courtney, only to be replaced with something else. Something darker, something far stronger that brought strength to her tired limbs to stand once more. Her anger resurged within her once more, the fire in her chest stoked to a towering inferno that reached to the skies.
They had done this, sown misery and despair with nary a thought for the consequences. And then had the nerve to laugh in her face. For fate had not lied to her this morning. Change was coming to Blackwell, and she would be its instrument.
The trip to the Blackwell cafeteria had been a quick one. Pick up some food on the way back to her dorm along with a cup of coffee to build her nerves. No one had noticed the slightly extra time she spent at the cutlery table before moving on in the direction of the dorms. A steak knife tucked away in her paper food bag.
And now the moment had come, at first she had put it off a little. Some time to eat her last meal that she had purchased. But now faced with the task that she had set before herself Max could not help but be overcome with nerves in the face of the terrible but just act which she planned to carry out.
But the faces of her friends damned by Victoria's callous behaviour reignited her burning desire for justice, no, not justice. Justice implied a fair system in which the opposition would be afforded some opportunity to defend themselves. No, Max wasn't out for justice, Max was out for revenge.
Max could still hear their high-pitched voices in the hall-way. The thin walls reminding her why her hifi system was always set to volume 10.
Max briefly considered simply opening the door and walking in to carry out her dark task. However that didn't bring about the message that she wished for. No, she wanted shock and horror to be their last memories as she brought the knife to bear.
The flash of red caught the corner of her eye. Yes, the fire extinguisher would do just perfectly for what she had in mind.
Victoria Chase was bored out of her mind. Normally the company of her slave 1 and slave 2 brought a welcome diversion from the ongoing monotony of life at Blackwell.
Boredom, it was partially the reason why she so delighted in causing the misery that she did. The picture of perfect despair painted in a most genuine way and forever burned into memory in the way that only a serious photographer could do. Mr Jefferson was right, while it was almost too easy to achieve, there was something truly captivating about that moment in which a subject reveals their pain and vulnerability.
'Bang.'
The quiet chatter of the room was shattered in an instant by the door to Victoria's room bursting inwards, one of the hinges snapping free from the wall. As the door swung inwards it revealed a figure that Victoria had most certainly not been expecting to see.
"MAX, WHAT THE FU-." Was all Victoria managed to get out before seeing the grim look which sent chills down her spine, and even more terrifyingly, the ugly form of a sharp, serrated metal steak knife in her hand.
The next moments passed in a horrifyingly slow manner, and yet, they passed with such speed that Victoria had difficulty recalling some of it not even seconds after they happened.
First Courtney stood looking as though to push Max out while railing on her new psycho status. She had obviously not noticed the knife yet. With painful slowness and yet still too fast to shout a warning, Max plunged the tip of the steak knife into Courtney's chest, right between two of her ribs. The shock registering clearly on Courtney's face before turning to agony as Max took the protruding handle with both hands and sawed the wound wider before removing the blade once more and running it quickly across her throat.
Taylor now backed away, crawling further and further into the comfortable white couch, her legs drawn up to her chest and her eyes wide with horror. The now blood-drenched form turned towards her the knife glistening with freshly spilled blood.
"Please, please don't do this. I'll do anything, please don't kill me." Taylor pleaded with a fearful and wobbly voice. But to no avail as the knife descended on her calf, slicing easily through muscle and sinew and staining those perfectly creamy white legs with blood, red and hot. Taylor's screams of agony echoed throughout the entire dorm, her arms shot up and grasped Max's wrists, preparing to wrestle with the girl for her survival. However the pain had weakened her and the blood coating Max's hands and wrists made for slippery purchase. As Taylor's grip slipped the knife descended once more, slicing deep into her chest, coming to a final rest in her heart. Taylor's grip slowly loosened from Max's hands as her heart tore itself to shreds around the serrated edge of the knife.
And finally there was one. Victoria had watched in horrified fascination as her friends were both slaughtered in front of her, their blood scattered across the floor.
"Why, why would you do this?"
However Max did not answer, she turned to Victoria now the knife blade now presented towards her. Victoria whimpered and cried muttering unintelligible pleas for mercy as tears streamed down her face.
"Please Max, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, please don't kill me, please," Victoria sobbed.
"No Victoria, you're not sorry, you don't have my permission to be sorry yet. But once you see the finality of your handiwork, when watch three bodies being dragged from this room on stretchers, then you may be sorry."
Victoria's eyes widened at the mention of three bodies being dragged from the room, however they widened into even greater shock and if possible greater horror as Max now turned the knife away from Victoria and centred it above her own heart before plunging it in.
The pain, the agony was absolute as Max's whole being was wracked with sharp and unending torture. She did not feel the ground meeting her knees as she collapsed, nor her face as she finally collapsed side on presenting Victoria with a perfect view of the protruding handle in her chest, the vicious knife wound squirting fresh blood with each dying beat of Max's heart.
For the first time in years Victoria shed tears of regret and sadness. The new tears pouring down her face and mixing with the old as she surveyed her once tidy room now turned horror-show. Blood pooled underneath each of the three corpses now arranged in various poses around the room. As shock began to set in she curled up once again in the corner of her bed and rocked herself into unconsciousness.
Okay, now I normally don't write stuff like this, but I was inspired by another story in which Victoria is way bitchier than even in the actual game. Now I just want to say that I am genuinely not a violent person and I am in-fact extremely squeamish to even seeing people in pain. I would also like to say that I genuinely like the DONTNOD version of Victoria. While she is a complete bitch at the start, the scene with her in the darkroom and the talk at the Vortex club really started to change my opinion of her. It was almost enough when compounded with Kate's total adorableness to make me sacrifice Chloe and save Arcadia Bay. Almost. Anyway, you'll probably never see me writing another story like this again, in-fact you'll probably never see this account writing anything ever again, I am making a new account for this story so that my friends don't start booking therapy sessions for me. Cya, or well… probably not.