Note – GUEST REVIEWS WILL BE HELD IN MODERATION FOR SCREENING FROM HERE ON OUT. IF YOU REVIEW AND IT DOES NOT SHOW IT IS BECAUSE I DELETED IT. I GET TOO MANY BULLSHIT, PAGE-LONG REVIEWS THAT ARE NOTHING BUT PROMPTS OR PEOPLE TALKING SHIT SO I'M NOT PUTTING UP WITH IT ANYMORE.
To those of you who leave behind actual reviews or encouragement, since I essentially spill my emotional guts in my endnotes, I'm sorry. I post these as a stress reliever and because I love LiS – I don't need the stress of people taking a crap on something I love to do.
The Day The Whole World Went Away
Song by Nine Inch Nails
November 15, 2012
"So, Max, how's the photography coming along? Getting back into taking pictures with your Polaroid camera?" Max heard Dr. Graves, her therapist, ask in a pleasant tone. Max hated the pleasantry, mainly because it all seemed too polite and endearing.
"I haven't taken a picture since I…woke up, I guess? Is that what you call it?" Max asked, blowing a strand of loose hair off her face. "Before you ask I can also tell you that I haven't played my guitar either. Never mind the fact that all I have is my old acoustic, the double-neck breaking in the…in the…"
"The crash? Would you like to talk about the-"
"No." Max felt increasingly uneasy, knowing where Dr. Graves was trying to go with this session. You always try to bring up that day, Doc. I know that you want me to "bare my feels", but what if I don't like the idea of talking to someone who's getting fucking paid to talk to me? Goddamnit, Dad, you know I hate this shit…
"Max, you're being awfully quiet today," Dr. Graves said, tilting her head slightly with a faint smile on her face as she sat on the edge of her desk. The office was stuffy from the heater and smelled dusty as Max sat on the single couch with her knees drawn up to her chest. Looking over her knees with a glaring expression, Max Caulfield looked as though she could leap to her feet and rip out her therapist's throat without a moment's notice.
"Aren't I usually quiet as fuck?" Max asked, smiling to herself as Dr. Graves winced at the use of swear words. Max knew that her doctor didn't like that, which only made her tormenting the older woman that much more fun. Max might've felt bad at pushing someone's buttons so much if it weren't for the fact that she found herself unable to care at the moment. "I mean, it's not like I fucking say a whole fucking lot, Dr. Graves. You know I don't want to fucking be here."
"You're trying to provoke me, Max. Please watch your language," Dr. Graves said calmly, glancing at the clock. "You've been silent nearly this entire session, Max, save for trying to antagonize me. You mentioned last week that your girlfriend was coming up this weekend to see you. How do you feel about that?"
"Like I'm gonna fuck," Max said, stifling a giggle as Dr. Graves let slip a sigh of mild frustration before Max's phone beeped. Session D-O-N-E, Doc. Thanks for nothing, as usual. "Such sad. Very lack of talk. Much fail at life. Wow."
"Max-," Max heard Dr. Graves start to say before she closed the doctor's office door with behind her. Smiling with a fake cheerfulness as she passed the psychiatrist's reception desk, Max waved bye and slipped her earbuds in before heading out the front door.
The cold afternoon air blew at Max Caulfield's face and she closed her eyes to relish the slight freeze on her cheeks. The briskness made her feel awake, which was better than being asleep. Her nightmares notwithstanding, Max sometimes wished she didn't have to sleep at all. I spent a month basically asleep. I should be allowed a few days here and there with no shut-eye necessary.
Despite her sarcastic pessimism, Max was typically nervous and afraid every time she closed her eyes to sleep; the idea of waking up to find another month or even longer had passed by unnerved the freckled brunette. Shivering at the idea of being catatonic again, Max stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and walked hurriedly to where she'd parked her jeep with "The Day The Whole World Went Away" by Nine Inch Nails blaring from the earbuds she'd plugged into. Thank you, car insurance. My jeep's airbag saved my ass, and you saved my jeep. Your prices fucking suck though, so I guess we're even.
November 16, 2012
This is not my home. Not really.
Max Caulfield felt that way every time she woke up in the place Ryan Caulfield had moved them to. Max knew that it had been her maternal grandmother's, left to her and held for safe-keeping by her father until she turned 18. Situated roughly an hour west of Portland, the rustic one-story home was along Route 18, allowing easier access to and back from Ryan's new workplace in the Marshal's office in Portland and providing Max much needed space. Of course, no one says we're here to give me some space to myself. Because I'm "goddamn fragile" or whatever the shrink told Dad. Fuck 'em.
The walls were painted a dark green, carpet over hardwood floors. Rather than a window, the sliding glass door leading to the backyard provided any sunlight Max chose to let in through the blackout curtains. Walls bare save for a single mirror, Max only had her clothing, hygiene products, and laptop unpacked and situated after a month. Whenever Ryan Caulfield would ask his daughter if she thought about decorating like back in Seattle the twitch throughout Max's entire body would cause him to instinctively take a half-step back. My own father is afraid of me. That, or scared for me. One of Max's few regrets as of late was the deteriorating relationship she had with her dad, the brunette growing distant and cold shortly after Chloe had left for Arcadia Bay. Cracking her knuckles and popping her toes, Max slowly got out of bed and walked over to the dresser.
Max sneered when she looked in the mirror hanging over her dresser. Little more than a month had passed since she had awoken from her catatonic state, but Max still couldn't stand the sight of her own reflection. She wanted to punch the person looking back at her, the face that cried when she cried and screamed when she screamed like there was someone mocking her behind her own eyes. The mirror she was looking into presently was the third mirror to take up the space above her dresser.
"Maybe if I break you I won't get another," Max said absently at the mirror, running a finger along its wooden frame. "You really have no one to blame but yourself."
Max knew there was something going on with her but the grief and anger were too strong for her attention to be fully diverted to anything else. I should hate you, Max thought at the girl looking back at her, I should hold you in my arms and let you cry. Why can't you ever stop looking at me? Fragments of memory from her car accident, intertwined with the news of her mother's death, brought a rattling gasp from the depths of her chest as she stretched. Looking at her phone, the small device set on top of her dresser, Max saw that it was noon and shrugged out of her sleep clothes before heading into her bathroom. At least I get privacy. No one fucking coddling me, telling me that "everything will be alright" every hour on the hour. Max felt a pang of loneliness as she took in the quiet of her surroundings. Her dad was gone for the weekend, Ryan's job sometimes requiring him to be gone for days at a time, and Chloe was supposed to be at the house shortly.
"'Supposedly'," Max mumbled to herself, a scowl on her face as the shower peppered her skin with a near-scalding spray.
Chloe had left the Friday after Max had come to, her mother and Max's father adamant that she try to get back into Blackwell so that she didn't have to repeat her senior year. Max knew she was being selfish but didn't care; the brunette was genuinely angry at the hole left behind by Chloe's absence. It wouldn't be so bad if she'd just come up, but every time I asked she either cancelled or outright told me she couldn't. Chloe's hardly talked to me, and something's up with Rachel because she doesn't talk to me at all anymore. Fucking flake.
Done with showering and her morning hygiene, Max walked back into her bedroom naked and dripping with water before padding herself dry. Leaving damp footprints on the carpeted floor, Max changed into a pair of black jeans and a black-and-white flannel shirt. Rolling up the sleeves, Max idly scratched at the sleeve tattoo on her right arm that she had started a few weeks ago. A trail of butterflies and birds starting at her wrist, the intricacies of vines and black roses made their way up Max's arm before stopping just below her shoulder. I had to drive all the way to Portland for it, heh. Dad tried to sound pissed, but he was obviously just concerned. I wish he'd leave me the fuck alone, sometimes. I don't know what is worse, that I need him so much or that I push him away all the damn time.
"Tell me how you're feeling, Max," Max said in an imitation of her shrink's voice as she pulled her socks on, "Tell me about your mother."
"Wowsers, Doc, I think I kinda killed my mom," Max said with a mockingly surprised tone, "Well, I mean I didn't kill her. I probably just gave her the last nudge to her pills and booze. Still, I vented our shit to a live audience so there's that."
"But Max, it is good for you to find means of expressing yourself and your own internalized pain," Max continued on with her impression, "Blaming your mother-"
Max stopped and shook her head, angry with herself at the self-loathing. Mom killed herself. She got shitfaced and downed a bottle of pills. You didn't do anything, Max. You cry your eyes out over a woman who hit you and made you feel unsafe in your own home. You vented your pain because you needed to. Stop it. Stop blaming yourself.
But she was my mom…
"But I could have tried…," Max whispered, worried someone might overhear despite being the only person in the house, "…Fuck…"
"You did this," Max said, her voice quaking as she pointed accusingly at the girl pointing back at her through the mirror.
Leaning against the dresser once more, Max took one of her steel-toe boots and slammed it repeatedly against the mirror until it was smashed to her satisfaction. Screaming, Max continued to hammer away at the mirror's frame until pieces of reflective glass and wooden frame fell onto the dresser and floor. Throwing the boot aside, Max swept everything on top of the dresser with a wave of her arm as she cried.
"I-It isn't f-fair," Max choked out, wiping at her face only to have fresh tears spring up from her eyes, "I'm… Mom, I'm so sorry. Please. Please j-just come back and we can find a way t-to…"
Her body shaking from the fits of rage and grief she was experiencing, the small brunette quickly walked to her bedside table and pulled her pencil bag out. Putting a joint to her lips, Max lit the dope with a match and took in a deep lungful of smoke as she laid down on her unmade bed. Clamping down on the doobie, Max blew the smoke out through gritted teeth as she surveyed the damage to her room. Dad's going to be heartbroken. Again.
Clinically diagnosed with severe depression, Max was also being treated for symptoms associated with Bipolar Disorder pending a formal diagnosis, her violently shifting mood swings occurring with enough frequency to garner concern from the Dr. Graves. While Max could keep herself under control a fair portion of the time, it was mainly when the brunette was alone with her thoughts that the worst of the mood swings occurred. She had tried to get a job in one of the nearby towns, but every attempt fell apart when either an anxiety attack started up or her mood began to waver. The first job had ended the day it started, Max getting into a fight with one of her co-workers at a local diner. Usually, after a couple days at each job, Max more or less quit by using her mental health as an excuse to get away from the stares and whispers. Slowly getting back to her feet, Max opening the sliding door in her room and stepped out into the backyard. Taking a seat on the concrete step just outside the door, Max sat in her sleep shirt and boxers as she toked and tried to calm herself down.
Calming down enough after a few minutes that her head became clearer, Max mumbled a curse at herself when she realized that she'd forgotten to take her medication. This is what happens when you go from some pot and emergency meds to a fucking daily routine of pills. Heading back inside after flicking the joint's roach into the grass, Max walked into her bathroom and came back out with two pill bottles, one marked as Wellbutrin and the other as Abilify. The Wellbutrin being her second antidepressant after Prozac, the first leaving her completely numb, Max had more luck with the new medication when her Abilify boosted the other medication's positive effects. As a downside, however, it left her more prone to anxiety attacks.
Walking down the small hallway, Max entered the kitchen and took a glass from the dish rack before filling it halfway with tap water. Popping three pills into her mouth, Max took a couple mouthfuls of water before dumping the remaining water into the sink. I need to stop taking these with water, Max thought as the slight urge to gag subsided. They always taste like shit and I totally forget they're gross. Taking a bottle of orange juice out of the refrigerator, Max took a couple swallows of the overly sweet beverage before replacing the carton. Pulling out her phone as she leaned against the counter, Max swiped through her messages from Chloe with an odd mixture of resentment and anticipation.
Max didn't know if she should be mad at Chloe for the lack of attention or understanding because she knew that her girlfriend had dropped everything to take care of her while she'd been reduced to a vegetative state. I need a coin or something. Something to help me decide which way I should feel. Nah, I'm not a supervillain. Yet. Max sighed before starting a new message thread.
Max: U on ur way or r u not coming? Again.
Max: Chloe.
Max: I kno ur online ur indicator is green, Chloe
Chloe: I AM on my way, Mad Max. I miss my baby!
Max: I'm not a baby, Chloe, and I missed u 2
Max: Still pissed, tho. U bailed on me and it has been a MONTH
Chloe: Max…
Chloe: We talked about this, dude. I've been busting my ass, getting back in2 Blackwell just barely. I've done TWO months of classwork to get caught up and the first thing I'm doing now that I have free time is coming up to see my bae. :)
Chloe: Cut me some fucking slack, dude
Max: What happened 2 "NO EMOJI"? lol
Chloe: Special circumstances. Don't get any ideas, nerd
Max: …If everything is cool then y doesn't Rachel ever answer me?
Chloe: U'll have 2 ask her. I don't kno what is going on with her anymore. She's butthurt I'm coming up to see u nao that I'm caught up with school and we honestly don't talk much anymo'
Max: WTF WHAT DID I DO
Chloe: Max, don't be mad. Plz, I just want to be with my gf this weekend and chill
Max: Because I'm ALWAYS supposed to be fucking cool all the damn time
Chloe: I can turn around, if you don't feel up for company
Max: NO!
Max: …I'm sorry, Che. It's just…I don't know how to feel anymore
Max: About ANYTHING. Everything hurts, makes me mad or sad and all the bullshit that comes with.
Max: I just want to see you and feel like I'm not so damn alone :(
Chloe: Aww, babe
Chloe: I'll be there in MINUTES, I swear. Pedal to my fucking METAAAAALLLLL *air guitar solo* xoxoxoxo
Max watched Chloe's indicator go red and sighed. The slightest contact with her blue-haired girlfriend left Max in a state of ease that felt oddly uncomfortable. While she might've normally felt comfortable in having Chloe to rely on, Max had started getting used to her isolation over the past month. Her dad not home as often, Max had taken to busting into his liquor cabinet and heading into the woods with whatever she could get her hands on. Auto-destruct, engage, Max bitterly thought as the memory of hard liquor burning down her throat left the brunette questioning herself for what felt like the billionth time.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Max asked, combing her fingers through her hair in frustration. I'm not supposed to be like this. I'm supposed to be… fuck, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be like. Max was about to tear into herself once more when the sound of an approaching vehicle and car horn captured her attention entirely.
"Chloe!" Max's jaw dropped in shock, eyes wide as she realized that her girlfriend was actually here. Max nearly collided with a wall as she made a break for the front door, moving so quick that she nearly hit the front door before managing to open it at the last second.
Max looked as though she was flying when she came sprinting out from behind and past the house's front door, leaping off the front porch without missing a step. Running down the stone path, Max shifted direction towards a familiar old truck that had just pulled into the clearing where her home was situated. Her heart pumping in her chest furiously, Max felt like each foot, even so much as a single inch, from the now-parked truck was a lifetime until she saw Chloe come running from around the driver's side. Decked out in a black, sleeveless hoodie, her trademark beanie, and jean shorts, Chloe's combat boots had been traded in for a set of Chuck Taylors as she ran straight for Max. Tears running down her face again, Max choked back a sob as she half-hugged, half-tackled Chloe when they collided.
"Whoa, Max!" Chloe cried out as she backpedaled a couple steps from Max colliding with her, patting the smaller girl's back while chuckling at Max's enthusiasm. "Why are you crying, Max? Weren't you pissed off, like, minutes ago?"
"Y-You're here! You're r-really fucking here!" The giddy tone of Max's shaking voice mirrored the look of utter joy on her face at seeing Chloe once more. All negative thoughts and feelings shoved aside for the time being, Max nuzzled her smiling face into Chloe's chest as far as it would go before she began to kiss her way up to Chloe's waiting lips.
"Chloe…," Max said, kissing the bluenette softly only to repeat the action with every repetition of her girlfriend's name. "Chloe… Chloe… Chloe…"
"I love you too, Max," Chloe couldn't stop giggling, her happiness wearing off onto Max with a grateful smile as the brunette began to giggle to.
Max closed her eyes when Chloe leaned down to gently bump foreheads. I need this. I need you so badly, Chloe, you don't even realize how much I need you. Raising her hands, Max cupped Chloe's face and held their foreheads together as she sniffled. You're amazing, you're wonderful, and you're all mine. You are mine, Chloe Elizabeth Price. Opening her eyes to see Chloe looking at her tenderly, Max felt a flush in her cheeks before she leaned up to kiss Chloe again.
"Max, if you try to eat my face I will get hella mad," Chloe teased, letting Max get one more kiss before she turned back to the truck and grabbed her suitcase. "Got all weekend for nibblin' on each other, Maxaroni. How 'bout you show me your new place? A big city gal out in the boonies once more; you're a fucking Lifetime movie, Maxi-pad."
"Ugh, you suck. You know I hate it when you call me that," Max said, her expression deadpan before wrapping her arms around Chloe's free arm. Leaning her head on Chloe's shoulder, Max took Chloe's scent with a contented sigh. "You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood when it comes to you, Chloe Price."
"What can I say? I'm hot as fuck for Max Caulfield," Chloe shrugged, winking at her girlfriend with Max smiling in reply. "Shall we go inside?"
"Sure," Max said, not letting go of Chloe as they walked together towards the house.
"Wow. You and 'country living' is kinda hilarious, Max, but this isn't too bad" Chloe said as she looked around the Caulfields' home.
Max scoffed with her arms crossed as she leaned up against the kitchen counter. The interior had been renovated a few years ago after the property had been placed in trust for Max, Vanessa Caulfield choosing to modernize the rooms while maintaining the rustic appearance outside. Carpeted floors with walls painted a neutral off-white, much of the furniture from Seattle had come along with Max and her father. Situated in the living room area almost exactly the same as the brownstone, the TV was nestled in a corner with the living room set diagonally across. The kitchen, lacking the island from Max's Seattle residence, felt a little more open despite the reduced size. The dining room had been converted into an office, leaving the hallway towards the back of the house as access to the bathroom and both bedrooms. Max watched Chloe with an amused grin as the bluenette ran a hand along various furniture and décor that Ryan Caulfield had moved to their new home.
"This place is hella nice, Max. I mean, it's out of the way like Tucker & Dale vs Evil or The Cabin in the Woods but that's not always a bad thing," Chloe said, returning her attention to Max as she walked over to join her girlfriend in the kitchen. "You say 'y'all' and shit like that yet? You about to wear straw hats and swear off all things good and pure like weed and booze? You goin' country on me, Max Caulfield?"
"Coming from Southern Belle Jr. I'll take that as a compliment. I still remember when we were little, your mom's accent rubbing off on you. 'I ain't needin' no fuckin' flu shot, Ma!' And no, I don't say y'all," Max retorted with a smile, nudging Chloe with her hip.
"Ah do declah, Mizz Caulfield, that you have committed an offense against mah honah!" Chloe said in an exaggerated Southern accent, hand to her chest in feigned shock.
"Pistols at dawn, or do I need to slap you with a lacy glove first?" Max asked, eyebrow raised.
"Nah, smartass. Not necessary," replied Chloe, dropping the accent as she shrugged, "…I get up hella late on the weekends and I know you do, too. It's gotta be kinda lame, being an hour from anything cool when you used to be minutes from kickass shit in Seattle."
"It is teh lameness most of the time," Max conceded, nodding as she leaned her head against Chloe's shoulder, "I guess I just have to settle for teh wackiness that is my brain at the moment. There are perks to living out here, though."
"Oh?" Max caught the look of concern on Chloe's face before the bluenette feigned a piqued interest. Joyce would be proud, such a quick save. "What might these interests be, Lady Caulfield?"
"I get left the fuck alone."
Something about the creeping harshness of her tone altered the dynamic for a moment between Max and Chloe as the brunette felt her mood begin to sour a bit. Thoughts of the sidelong glances and hushed discussions when she came into a local restaurant or store in one of the nearby rural towns always set her on edge. I get that these people are not in the city, but we're an hour out of Portland for fuck's sake. The highway is practically at their doorstep, and they get nervous when a teenage girl sporting tattoos shows up but only wants to be left alone? I am not a source for gossip, you back-asswards morons. Feeling a hand on one of her clenched fists, Max pulled back in alarm before seeing the look of worry on Chloe's face.
"Chillax, Max. You rage-spaced, dude," Chloe said, putting the same hand on Max's shoulder. "Hey, what's going on with you? Seriously, babe, what's wrong?"
"It's stupid, Che. No worries." Everything, Che. Every fucking thing. Max felt like a phony as she smiled. I'm just alone here most days, left to the mercy of my fading sanity and growing homicidal rage. Y'know, the usual. Her euphoria at seeing Chloe dwindling, her angry and confused disposition from earlier was slowly returning. "Just stupid fucking people."
Max saw that Chloe wanted to push the matter further, but the brunette quickly deflected by opening the fridge and producing two beers. Handing one to Chloe, the bluenette lifting the beer for a toast in thanks, Max pulled her girlfriend down the hallway and into her room. Last time I showed you my private space, you were all wide-eyed and awestruck. Sorry to disappoint, Chloe.
"Watch the glass and bits of wood," Max said as she gestured for Chloe to take a seat on her bed while she grabbed a broom from the utility closet. Sweeping up the broken remains of her mirror, Max saw fractured reflections of herself look back up from the bedroom floor. Leave me alone. Stop it. Fucking stop.
"Who won, you or the mirror?" Chloe asked jokingly. When Max didn't respond, Chloe's tone became more serious. "Jesus, Max. You busted up the fucking mirror? Why?"
"Why?" Max's tone was icy as she looked at Chloe, the taller girl's brow furrowed in confusion. "I can't fucking stand the sight of myself, Chloe. That's why. I see the girl looking back at me and want to punch her so I do that. I punch her and punch her, hit her with things until she goes away. She disgusts me."
Tossing the dustpan's contents of glass and wood into her trash can, Max turns around to see Chloe just watching her with the beer bottle nestled between her long legs. Please don't look at me like that, Chloe. You…You don't know what it is like. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Ever. Walking over to the bed in resignation, Max flops down across from where Chloe's seated and pops open her beer. Bringing the bottle to her lips, Max watches Chloe reach out and hold the bottle in place.
"What the actual fuck?" Max's sneering face not shaking the serious look from her girlfriend. "Gimme my beer, Che."
"No, Max. We… You need to talk, and I think we both know this shit is hella bad for what's going on with you right now. Booze is a no-go at the moment." I've never heard you so serious, Chloe.
"'Why so serious?' Stop being the responsible one, Che. That's supposed to be my job. Seriously. G-Give me my damn beer, Chloe." Max tried to jerk the beer away but Chloe's grip and strength only cause her to budge it an inch or so. "Give me my motherfucking beer, Chloe Elizabeth Price."
"What the fuck is going on with you, Max? Talk to me. I love you and I want you-"
"You love me?" Max asked, her tone sarcastic as a frown creased the other girl's face. "Who the hell could ever love me? I don't even love me, and I'm me."
"…You're already drunk. Great." Chloe sighed, hanging her head a bit. Feeling her beer get snatched out of her hand entirely, Max mumbles a curse at the bluenette before heading out the sliding glass door. Hearing a sigh from behind her, Max looks over her shoulder and momentarily wilts at the forlorn expression on her girlfriend's face. "Where are you going, Max?"
"Well, since I can't even fucking drink in my own goddamn home, Imma go somewhere else, fucker."
Not getting a reply, Max felt a pain in her chest as she regretted what she had just said. She came to see me. She's concerned about me and I just threw it back at her and laughed before gut-checking her. I don't understand – why do I get like…like this? Kicking at rocks with her boots as she walked through the tree line and into the forest, Max stuffed her hands in her pockets after lighting up a cigarette. The nicotine didn't help much, but Max didn't want to run through her daily allotment of joints before the evening. Following a faint trail of grass that had been hacked through by herself only a couple weeks ago, Max headed toward the other property that belonged to her family.
A single-room cottage, isolated in the woods, had caught Max's eye weeks back when she had been having a particularly bad day. Nearly getting hit by a car in the neighboring town after its driver had cut her off, Max had sped after the car for roughly five minutes before heading home. Ryan still at work, Max had grabbed a bottle of whiskey before going exploring. Drunk and crying softly to herself, Max found the shack by accident. A loft bed accessible by ladder with a compact kitchen and single couch, Max pushed at the window until the latch inside gave way. Ugh, it smells like mildew and old people had been Max's first thought until she realized that she had just found her own little place to escape to. For days after, Max would trudge through the woods and hack a path to her new hideout with a bucket of cleaning products slung over her back. With several air fresheners, various spray bottles, and a hand vacuum Max had a place that she could actually call her own.
"Home motherfucking home," Max said to herself as she opened the window and climbed inside, locking it before closing up the blackout curtains. Fumbling in the dark and cursing herself as she stubbed her toes a few times, Max turned on the oil lamps she had recovered from the main house's basement. A soft amber light filled the small cottage as Max laid back on the couch, reaching underneath it to pull back out the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Uncorking the bottle with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes, Max lifted her head up just enough to get a swallow of the burning liquor. Sighing in bitter relief as the now-familiar burning sensation gave her something else to focus on aside from the self-loathing and disappointment, Max laid back and stared at the ceiling.
"I didn't want this," Max said to herself, eyes blinking slowly as she seemed to look beyond the ceiling and roof, "I never wanted to be like this. I want to be back in Seattle, hanging with Kristen and Fernando at Local 360 while chatting up customers. I want to be on pins and needles as I wait for a message from Chloe about what we should do when she comes up for a visit. I'm only 17; what did I do to deserve this bullshit?"
Max took the bottle at "bullshit" and threw it at the ceiling, watching it clunk against the ceiling before heading right for her as it fell. Dumbass! Max thought to herself as she narrowly missed being hit by the falling bottle, the solid glass container bouncing on the old couch before rolling on the carpeted floor.
"Wowsers." Max snorted at the word, not able to recall the last time she'd actually said it. Feels like another time, like something that doesn't belong here. Shaking her head at how idiotic and funny her tossing the bottle was, Max reached down to pick it up when she heard a knock at the door. Max froze, giving the door a sidelong look with her lips thinned only to jump as a second knock was promptly followed by a third.
"Max…?" Chloe asked from outside, "Hey! Are you in there, Max?"
"…Uh…" Shit! Max hurriedly tucked the bottle under the couch only to roll her eyes at the smell of spilled liquor now permeating the cottage's interior. No use hiding it now. Nice going, Caulfield. "J-Just a sec! The door's kinda jammed shut, Chloe. Come around to the window, yeah?"
Pulling the blackout curtains open, Max squinted and hissed a little at the bright sunlight before jumping in fright when a serious-faced Chloe Price came around to look at her through the old glass. Shit. I pissed her off. Wait... Should I even fucking care at this point? She's probably just letting me know that she's leaving, that she's going and not coming back. Things would probably be better off for her if she did... Reluctantly putting a hand to the glass, her expression heartbreakingly sad, Max was surprised when Chloe met the gesture and tapped at the window with her fingertips.
"You gonna let me in, Maximillian?"
"Depends, I guess. You mad?"
"…Is that a meme reference or are you legit asking?"
"Legit."
"I'm…I'm upset, Max, but not pissed. I just want to talk. You're not just my girlfriend, Max. You're my best friend, like I'm hopefully still yours. Lemme in?" Despite Chloe's crooked grin and wink, Max flinched at the words left unsaid between them. Max knew the bluenette could be trusted, but Chloe was uncertain where Max's heart was at the moment. That makes two of us, Che. Turning the latch, Max lifted the window open and motioned for Chloe to come inside. "This your new hideout?"
"Welcome to the Legion of Doom, Chloe. Membership of one at present," Max said, a sardonic grin on her face as she motioned for Chloe to take a seat. She tried to not outright laugh when Chloe's nose wrinkled at the smell of spilled liquor, the mirth more self-deprecating and ironic in how broken Max felt. Max hadn't just fallen into her depression; she had nose-dived in and through it to something that felt even deeper and engulfing. The alcohol numbed her to the outside world sometimes, but it only left Max feeling even more trapped inside herself. Watching Chloe recline on the couch, Max willfully set her thoughts aside and raised an eyebrow when the bluenette opted to take up the entire couch. "And just where the fuck am I supposed to sit?"
Chloe eyed Max with an amused look for a minute, letting the tension she could see on Max's face settle before the brunette thankfully started to giggle a bit. When Chloe patted her lap after sitting up, Max walked over and chose to sit by Chloe instead. Not entirely sure that's appropriate right now, Che. I'm decidedly on the naughty list right now, so Chloe Claus will have to be put on hold. Seeing Chloe pout with puppy eyes, Max rolled her eyes.
"Really?" Max asked with a weak chuckle when Chloe followed up with her hands lifted up like a puppy's, limp-wristed and curled up into fists. When Chloe made a whining noise and nudged at the brunette's shoulder with her nose, Max hung her head and eyed Chloe before giving in. "You are the worst. How dare you go into full Chloe puppy mode?"
"B-But puppy," Chloe said, her voice soft which resulted in Max's disposition weakening even further. "I'm the world's greatest puppy ever, nerd. Recognize." Chloe wrapped her arms around Max's waist and pulled Max over. The smaller girl huffed in surrender before nestling into her new seat on the bluenette's lap. Max looked to her side and saw Chloe's furrowed brow from earlier return after they exchanged quick smiles. "Max, I-"
"I'm sorry, Chloe," Max said, shoulders slumping as she leaned over so that her head partly buried in the crook of her girlfriend's neck. Desperate for a connection to anything outside her own head, Max felt herself drawn in to the warmth of Chloe's face and the reassurance in her embrace. "I-I don't know how to act anymore. Everything feels so…so off, like I'm a beat late in a song or a picture that is just out of focus. I'm happy when I feel like I should be sad or angry, and my mood goes to total shit like someone just flipped a switch in my head. The meds help some, but it feels like I'm a goddamn bomb and I'm just…I'm just scared, Chloe. You…You went away and I had to deal with my mom being gone by myself and everything is just fucking shit!"
Max's voice becoming increasingly loud with each sentence, she felt her body tremble as pain kept to herself under a shell of avoidance moved closer to the forefront. I can feel it, the need to just let everything out. It's like bubbles behind my skin, or something writhing inside me. Am I even still me anymore? Is the person I was lying in wait for me to give up? Max thought as she tried to get up from Chloe's lap only to be drawn closer by a tattooed arm. Looking over at Chloe, Max felt her heart sink at the look of sadness in her girlfriend's eyes. Not covered up by a smirk or hidden away with a joke to misdirect, Chloe's eyes conveyed a sad empathy as she leaned over and kissed Max softly on the cheek.
"Are you that eager to fucking get rid of me?" Max held her breath at the naked vulnerability in Chloe's voice. She knew how difficult, sometimes painful, it was for Chloe to leave herself open, so Max sat in quiet as her girlfriend continued to speak. "You're not alone, Max. I-I was the same way you are now for a long time when my dad died and you left. I was hurt and hella pissed, and I still kinda am. I wanted to just give you and Joyce the finger for leaving me to my own goddamn misery. …Do you know how many times I tried to run after you left?"
"W-What?" Max asked, the image of a 14 year-old Chloe walking along some lonesome highway. I figured after Seattle, with everything that you told me and showed me, that you had tried to run off at some point. "H-Wow did you get?"
"I usually only got as far as Portland. Joyce realized after the first couple tries what was going on. My dumb ass used the same highway each time, I was so stupid. I hitched mostly, bumming rides so that I could save what money I had for a bus ride to Seattle. I wanted, needed, to see you."
"C-Chloe…" Max's lip quivered but was held still by a single blue-nailed finger.
"Hush, babe. No worries for me, okay? This isn't about me. I'm here for you, and I'm not leaving," The tenderness in Chloe's voice caused Max to frown and was met with a kiss on the lips. Warm, soft, crushing were Max's thoughts as she felt Chloe's lips on her own. I don't deserve you, Chloe. I feel so wrong and you're being so goddamn sweet. Oh, it's been so damn long, Che. How can a month feel like forever? "I was going to Seattle… I was going to apologize. For all the hurtful shit I had said."
When Max found herself lost for words, Chloe responded by gently bringing the smaller girl's head back into where it had been resting. In the crook of Chloe's neck, Max stared off absently as Chloe's situation from four years ago and her current situation paralleled each other. William died and I left. My mom died and you left. We had no control, and only ached more from the emptiness. How long were you like this, like I am now? Months? Years? Are you still like this and just don't show me, Chloe?
"No, Chloe, I'm the one being a hurtful shit. I'm the one who should-"
"Max, let's just saw we both suck, okay? I didn't even realize what me taking off for Arcadia meant for you. My mom and your dad were hella driven to get me back into Blackwell and I just caved. I spent a month watching you seemingly fade away, looking after you. I guess I was scared, too. Heh, more like terrified." The fatigue in Chloe's voice brought Max's hand to her girlfriend's face as she gently kissed a cheek. Wiping away the tears on the bluenette's face with a thumb, Max's love for Chloe was equal only to her own self-loathing.
"I don't deserve you," Max said, the coldness in her voice making Chloe flinch as she rose from the other girl's lap to begin pacing the length of her hideout. "You want to make things better, Chloe, and I really want you to but there are some things that I can't fucking change back. I can't go to how I was."
"I… I know that, Max. I'm not saying-"
"Do you know how much I hate myself?" Max asked, looking over to see the shocked expression on her girlfriend's face. "Do you know how much I wished that everyone in my life who gives even half a shit about me could hate me, too? There are times when I feel that it would be easier for everyone to hate me, so that I wouldn't have to deal with how hard it is to take in all your love."
"Max, I-I-" Chloe reached out towards an increasingly angry Max only to have her hand brushed away as the brunette cut her off.
"What happens when I get to be too much, anyway, too much of this," Max gestured at herself with a revolted expression, "to keep you? Chloe, why can't you just hate me like I already do?!"
"M-Max-"
"I k-killed my mom, Chloe! I-I said those things to her and I never g-got a chance to take them back! She hit me, made me feel like shit, but… Chloe, why did she h-have to die? Why do such awful goddamn things happen? Where's my mom?"
With the last question, Max felt to her knees and broke inside. The despair she'd held in check with anger overpowering her, Max leaned down and buried her face in the carpet as gut-wrenching sobs nearly made her vomit from the strength of each violent cry. Moaning in anguish, Max slammed a small fist into the floor as she cried out for her mom. I didn't want you to die, Mom. Why did you have to leave? Why did you have to go?
"WHY?" Max's raised voice wasn't angry or pained; the lack of tone reflected the simplicity of her question. A desperate query from a desolate girl, the question seemed to shake Max to her core as the crying only intensified when no answer came.
Max's numbness was so encompassing that she didn't realize Chloe was holding her until they were both seated on the couch once again. Feeling strong arms wrapped around her, Max felt the slight rocking sensation as Chloe softly hummed with her chin resting on the brunette's head. Max buried her face once more into the other girl's neck and clutched at the bluenette's shirt fearfully.
"I-I don't know what'd happen if you left, too," Max's voice was hoarse as she fought her body's hyperventilating, "I-I can't do this without-"
"You're not doing any of this without me, Maxaroni," Chloe's whisper soothed a bit as her dry sobs turned into a nearly-muted whimpers. "Hey, is your dad going to be home while I'm here?"
"W-Why?" Max asked, looking up from her resting place on Chloe's chest to see a resolute expression on the punk's face.
"He and I need to real talk."
Author's Note –
First, I am so sorry if this generates too many feels. I wrote Part one, put it out, and realized that I couldn't just pull a happy Part 2 off. I wanted to, Goddess knows I did, but I also wanted to continue my realistic approach. Plus, well, how Max acted in this chapter mirrors how I've been in the years since my deployment. The goading of her therapist at the beginning is a pretty close bit of dictation to how one of my final counseling sessions in the active military went. When you get tossed around in the system for years, you tend to no longer give a shit about playing along.
Read, review, and I will see you here for Part 3!
Stay hella, Cinnamon Rolls!