Chapter VII, Sin.


''Where's Nathan?'' I ask, the words filled with venom and pure hatred, lips pressing hardly against each other with fury.

''Ah . . . Yes, Nathan. I've noticed you two have shared an . . . interesting bond over this week. It was getting problematic, you see. He was getting more and more rebellious, but fortunately, he won't be causing any trouble now," he answers with a stoic expression, taking another, pathetic picture of me.

I breathe out heavily, resting my head against the chair, seeking its support. My body is beginning to feel paralysed and drained out of any energy I had left, due to the drug I have been injected with.

''Where . . is . . he?'' I repeat with great effort, sweat forming on my forehead, vision getting blurrier with each passing minute.

''Now, now, Max. Just relax, I'll be back to you in a minute.''

He turns away to walk off with the camera in hand, his shoes making a sound that's been haunting me for hours and I can't make it stop, can't get it out of my head . . . his footsteps mean that he's getting closer, coming to me with another dose, ready to begin another one of our sick 'sessions' . . .

I swallow uneasily. ''What did you do to him?"

"You know Max, I thought that's it for him since he's been disobeying me from the moment I've seen the two of you together. I was ready to get rid of him, but guess what happened, Max?" He looked at me, clearly expecting a response. "Guess, Max."

"I don't know."

"Well, surprise; he actually proved himself useful for once and buried your little friend somewhere."

Chloe . . .

I yank at the tape with my hands wearily.

"Of course, I could use a little helper, especially now, with so many bodies to hide," he smiles while looking at me. "And then," he shrugs. "Well. He'll be no longer of use to me."

I shake my head, forcing myself awake. Max, you can do this . . .

"Max, Max, Max," he steps closer, crossing his arms. "When I saw you and Nathan together, I knew he would sooner or later run his mouth to you, or worse - take your innocence away."

I close my eyes.

"So I had to step in, and ordered him to open the rooftop doors for our little Kate to use as an opportunity to . . . well, be a proud angel," he smiles again. "Of course, he didn't want to do it. But as soon as I mentioned you becoming my next muse . . . " He shakes his head, entertained. "You would blame him - an obvious choice, and he would be out of the picture. But no. No, no no no. No, Max, what did you do?"

I remain quiet.

"What did you do?" He shouts, getting in my face.

"I blamed you."

He rambles on in a raised voice, but I zone out. With the corner of my eye, I see a familiar figure approaching from behind the corner, shovel in hand.

Jefferson follows my eyes, and sees Nathan. I expect for him to be surprised to see him, but . . .

He was telling the truth. Nathan is working for him even now.

"Finally. What took you so long?" He asks, moving away from me.

"There's a big ass fucking tornado outside, if you haven't noticed," he answers angrily, chucking the shovel to the side.

"Ah, I've been rather busy," Jefferson simply exclaims, walking up to his desk.

I stare at Nathan in rage, unable to believe how could he do that. I was so stupid to believe that he's changed.

He looks at me, then at Jefferson. He then slowly pulls something out of his pocket.

I lunge forward, and manage to free one of my legs.

It's Chloe's necklace.

He settles it onto the table, and turns around to face Jefferson.

"Nathan," I say quietly. "Don't do this," I cry. "Please . . . I know you're better than this . . . "

"OK, Max, you ready?" Jefferson picks up a syringe, heading towards me.

"Wait!" I shout. "C-can you turn on some music for me, please?"

"Of course," he stops mid-track, and changes his destination.

"Nathan," I plead. "It's not too late yet. Please, help me and–"

Jefferson cuts me off. "Nathan, you're distracting my model; could you remove yourself from this room, please?" He walks up to me, jazz music filling my ears.

I look at Nathan, he remains still for a moment, and looks at me with neutral expression, then finally turns to leave. He really feels nothing, doesn't he?

"How about some water?" I ask panicked, staring at the needle in Jefferson's hands.

"You're not trying to stall, are you, Max?" He asks with a chuckle, reaching for my neck, causing me to force shut my eyes.

I want to cry, but there's no point, no one to see my tears, no one to help me. I'm alone, not being able to count on anyone else. There's nothing I can do. Nothing.

So that's what Rachel felt. And all of his previous victims. There was no one to hear them, no one to bring them justice. No superpowers to save them.

Wait. What if I rewind and

I quickly open my eyes, only to see Nathan getting out a gun from his jacket and pointing it at Jefferson's head.

However, Mark uses the tripod next to him to smash it against Nathan's head.

"No!" I cry out as he hits the ground.

"Truly pathetic, Nathan. What a disappointment you are to your family," he wipes his nose with a sleeve, and bends to pick up the gun.

''Nathan, get up! You have to get up!'' I cry, trying to free myself.

''Time to shut you up!'' Mark shouts angrily, pressing the cold weapon to my forehead.

''Stop . . . I'm begging you, stop . . . just stop . . . " Nathan says with difficulty, and I try to control my panicked breathing.

He turns around abruptly. ''Don't beg! You always fucking beg, and you know I hate it!''

''Please . . . please . . . just stop . . . "

''What the fuck did I just say, huh?''

''Mr Jefferson!'' I shout, my whole body shaking, and I struggle to take a breath in, it's just like my lungs won't accept the air that I'm giving it. ''You like your objects tortured? . . . Innocent? Vulnerable? Put me next to him . . . and we'll give you what you want," I say, deeply disgusted with my offer, but I have a plan. At least I think it's a plan.

''Good thinking, Max . . . See, Nathan? That's what you need to learn, how to cooperate."

He frees me, gun in hand, pointing it at my head, making it clear that there's no point in running or disobeying his orders.

''Lay down on the white screen. Please, don't try anything; I wouldn't want the equipment to be stained with your blood.''

I slowly move forward, looking at the boy's face, a trail of blood making its way down the side of his head, tears now drying off.

''Nathan, Nathan wake up. You have to get up,'' I say, and the man growls, probably losing his patience. He yanks the boy off the floor to stand on his feet, but his expression tells me that he's not completely conscious and aware of the situation, so I help him get onto the white screen.

He doesn't look good, he looks like he's out of it, and I'm afraid that he's going to be gone soon.

''Nathan, can you hear me?'' I whisper, my hand gently stroking his cheek, wanting to keep him conscious as long as possible. He slightly moves his mouth, a quiet moan suggesting he can.

''Everything's going to be okay, I promise. You have to trust me.'' I reach for his hand, keeping it in my grip, and as the flash goes off, I speak again. "I will have no time to tell you this later, but I am going to rewind, and you have to shoot as soon as you can, OK?"

He squeezes my hand.

I hear door being slammed.

Jefferson's reaction is immediate, putting the camera away, quietly getting up against the wall, ready to attack.

Nathan's grip on me loosens, and I have to catch him before he falls to the floor. I lay him down, looking at the person who has just emerged from the corner.

It's David, oh my God, it's David who appears in the room, but Jefferson hits him with the same tripod that he used on Nathan, making him fall onto the floor, too. I gasp as he hits him again and the blood splatters onto the wall, the colour of scarlet now covering the white paint.

I rewind as much as I can.

I gather all of the strength in my body to kick Jefferson with the freed leg before he has the chance to hit Nathan.

The boy looks confused for a second, but seems to remember what happened before I rewound, because he places his finger on the trigger.

Staggering Jefferson quickly regains his balance, and catches Nathan's wrist just as he pulls the trigger, making it shoot the wall.

David runs from behind the corner, immediately charging at Jefferson, who manages to take the gun off of Nathan and shoots Madsen in the stomach.

Nathan punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground. He recollects his gun, and once again, points it at Jefferson.

''What're you gonna do with that, Nathan? Huh?" He says, yanking him by the leg, causing him to fall onto his back. "Nothing, that's what."

I feel blood running down my nose, a painful feeling that crushes my skull . . . I don't think that I can rewind again . . .

Jefferson gets up and looks at Nathan with distaste. "I wish I had done this sooner," he bends to pick up the gun, but Nathan's quicker, and leaves the man in shock as a bullet lands in the side of the man's stomach, scarlet blood appearing on his white shirt, spreading like a web.

He struggles to keep himself on his feet, colour drained from his face, now looking completely pale and aghast, with disbelief watching his hand covered in red liquid.

''You . . . I gave you everything . . I taught you how to follow my path . . . and you . . . and you fucking shoot me?!'' He screams with fury, and watching Nathan's expression is just as painful as Jefferson's pathetic little speech. ''I was like a father to you! You had no one else but me! Who covered up after you fucked up with Rachel, huh? I did! I always had your back, you spoiled brat!''

''Nathan . . . '' I say, and he turns to look at me, eyes wide, unable to believe what he just did, like it wasn't his finger that pulled the trigger.

He drops the gun and runs both hands through his hair, not being able to control his breathing, and I know he's having a panic attack.

''Nathan, please, please get me out of this . . . '' I beg, feeling another wave of blood coming out of my nose, but both of my hands are tied up, and I'm unable to wipe the fluid away, taste of it meeting my tongue, turning my insides.

He jogs up to me straight away, undoing the stripes with shaking hands. I get up, immediately throwing my arms around him in a tight embrace.

''I'm so sorry . . . " He says, his voice cracking, fingers griping the back of my shirt, sorrowful and honest tears running down his face. ''I never meant to hurt anybody . . . I never meant it for you . . . ''

''I know . . . I know . . . ''

I let him go, seeing Jefferson crawling across the room, leaving a trail of blood behind him like a snail.

"There's no running away from here, Mr Jefferson," I say angrily, clenching my jaw.

What I didn't realise, is that he crawled to his cupboard for a gun. A gun that he points at me.

He pulls the trigger.

Nathan's body saves me from getting the bullet.

"Sorry," Mark speaks up through coughing. "I've only got one bullet," is all he says before catching his last breath.

Nathan looks at the wound on his body, and falls onto his knees.

I drop down next to him.

''Nathan . . . " I whisper, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "I've seen you get hurt too many times."

''I wanted to save you, Max . . . I really just . . . wanted to–''

''I know, Nathan . . . I know . . . " I cut him off, placing a shaking hand on his chest. ''You did save me. You did a hella good job," I smile.

''Max . . . " He says weakly, but I can't listen to his voice, so I lift my right hand up, ready to rewind. He grips his fingers around my wrist, not allowing me to. ''You need to stop this . . . You need strength, so don't waste it . . . on me . . . Please . . . Do it for me . . . Don't rewind . . . this time . . . ''

This hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

''If we never . . . get the chance . . . to talk again . . . you have to know that . . . "

A second passes; and another one, but he doesn't finish his sentence.

''What, Nathan? What?" I ask hopefully, but only the silence answers me, so I shake him, my lips trembling, tears dropping on his blue, now bloody jacket. ''Nathan . . . Nathan!''

Nothing.

I listen to his chest. Nothing.

He's not breathing.

Nothing.

My head is killing me, my heart is killing me, my power is killing me.

The world is killing me.

First Chloe . . . then David, and Arcadia Bay is next.

I slowly get up, my eyes looking empty at the boy. I take Chloe's necklace off the table that Nathan set it on, and I put it on.

Don't worry, Chloe, Nathan, David . . . I'll bring you back.

I have to fix this. I have to fix everything.


''I can't believe . . . I just can't . . . Nate, please tell me it isn't true, none of it is. Please, just say it, so I can stop thinking about it . . . " The familiar voice echoes in the room, but this time it's shaken, unsure, doubtful. It surely doesn't sound like the Blackwell's proud and powerful Queen's tone. But everybody can be broken, and they aren't beautiful at the times it happens. They show who they truly are, and most importantly; what they truly feel.

''I've already taken care of the lawyers, the best ones you could possibly find–''

''You can't help me.'' The other voice stops the girl from speaking, a voice that makes my chest tighten with pain, but I'm not ready yet to see his face, talk to him like nothing has happened.

Everything we've been through . . . the sympathy and desire to help which I have developed for him . . . They can't just go away, and I know I need time to let it go. I know that this man has killed my best friend, and Rachel, which is a double murder. He is also mentally unstable, I have no idea what reaction would I trigger in him and what impact would it have on his health and attitude.

''I don't deserve your help,'' he continues, and judging by the tone of his voice, he's about to break down in tears. But I know he'll hold it in, like he always does, not letting the others in.

This feeling in me . . . it's relief. Happiness. I'm glad I've managed to bring him back, to hear his voice, have him alive. Maybe not in the best time and place, but it's better than having him dying in my arms with the person we both hated in the same place, the room that I and its victims will never forget about.

''Nathan, what are you saying . . . ?'' The girl asks quietly, and I know she's crying, probably wiping her tears away right now, but I can't see, instead I sit near the slightly opened door, my finger tapping on the knee, shaking.

''I don't deserve you . . . ''

I bite the inside of my cheek, hiding face in hands, massive lump forming in my throat, heart speeding up, giving me an awful headache that's becoming a migraine.

I don't know if I want to be here. I don't know if I want to listen to this.

''Nate, I'm still here, am I not? I care about you, you're like my best friend and you know it,'' she says, now with a complete voice crack, breathing out and in nervously through the mouth.

He deserves better. He deserves a proper mental treatment, not a jail, an evil place that could probably destroy him even more.

''And Mr. Jefferson . . . He . . . He was captured . . . . you'll be safe from now on . . . so why the hell would you want to waste your life in this . . . place?'' The way she speaks about Mark, it makes me uneasy, but I have to respect her view. She still thinks it's a mistake and he's innocent. Well, he was her idol, after all. I didn't suspect him either, but here we go, ended up in his Dark Room. She could of too, but I saved her. Ironic, really.

''You don't get it, do you? . . . This way . . . this way I won't hurt anyone. Besides, no one cares. Not even my father, not even– '' His voice is nearly impossible to hear.

''Max cares too. She came here with me to see you, Nate. And she's going to be the witness in your favour; after all, she was there, she saw that girl bring a gun with her and threaten you."

Silence. A long, expecting silence that makes me get up, numbness now in both of my legs, as I've been sitting here for what feels like forever. It takes me a minute to actually collect myself, and when I'm done, I slowly and unsure go in, the lighting focusing right on me, immediately making me squint my eyes to see properly, sending a wave of heat to my face.

A table is the first thing I notice. Small and simple, for the prisoner and the visitor to have a conversation over it. Two guards are in the room, one taking care of the door, and the other making sure nobody gets violent.

I look at Nathan, but he's facing the floor. He doesn't remember anything; I know, because when he saw me in the bathroom, he freaked out even more.

Victoria's sitting with her head down, probably not wanting me to see her crying, both hands linked, nervously fiddling with slender fingers, long neck now hidden, looking completely powerless.

Nathan lifts his head up to look straight at me, eye-lids slightly swollen up, dark, deep circles under his eyes, making his once deep blue iris' now looking darker, deadlier.

Look at them now. Once Blackwell's King and Queen, now stripped down from their pride and power, separated, vulnerable and weak. Just like me.

I know that the guard is staring at me, expecting something weird to happen, because he steps away from the wall, but I slightly shake my head as a sign that everything's alright. That's exactly what I'm talking about. We can't talk about stuff like Dark Room or Rachel or anything with them in here, because they could use it against him. And I'm still unsure if they're afraid he might turn aggressive or have an episode. Either is bad and likely.

''Hi," I say quietly, in nearly a whisper, stepping forward, hugging my arm closer to me. His eyes are tired but narrow, curiously and suspiciously following mine.

''What are you doing here?'' He asks, dropping his head down and placing both of his hands on top of his neck, an exhausted exhale coming out of his mouth, ripping my heart into pieces. No happiness, no smile, nothing. What would I expect, anyway? We've had nothing. There wasn't any 'us'.

''Visiting? Have you ever heard that word before?'' I ask, trying to sound laughable, but instead it just comes out as pathetic, cracking voice.

''Yeah, like you give a shit," he says casually, making my eyes blurry from the tears. No anger in his tone. None. Just simply not-caring. Like he doesn't care what will happen to him. He gave up.

I sit down, biting my lip and focusing on anything but him. The silence is killing me, and I know it doesn't help Victoria either, as she's crying her eyes out right now, desperately trying to stop.

I reach out to pat her on the back, but she gets up and leaves in a hurry, leaving only me and Nathan along with the guards and bunch of cameras focusing right on us.

I'm not great. I'm not even his friend. Victoria is the one who could actually help him, with the money and influence her family has. And what can I actually offer? Nothing. That's it. Nothing. It has no sense, no point in being here.

I get up and turn, knowing I'm not being helpful at all, but his voice stops me.

''Max." He's in pain. How I hate seeing him like that. Because I know that he's been worse, and I haven't been here to help him. I've never been.

''Yes?'' I turn around again, but the image is too blurry, and when I blink, it becomes clear again just as the tear runs down my cheek.

''Why . . . Why did you come here?'' He asks, smiling, but it's the kind of smile you try to do to stop yourself from crying, and I know that too well. The way his eyebrows are twitching in pain, his expression sorrowful and full of things he'd love to tell someone, but he can't, because he has no one, makes me go back to the table and try to calm my breathing enough to answer him, but it's impossible because both of us are just staring, both in tears and speechless.

I know I have to calm down, so I bite the inside of my cheek so hard it bleeds, the taste of blood making my insides turn, remembering the instant nosebleeds and headaches I had just nearly a week ago, because of my misusage of the powers I've been given to have a chance to let Chloe know that I love her so much and I care about her . . . but now that's she's gone, I have no one. I have nothing.

''Because I . . . " I swallow hardly, reading myself for the biggest sin I will ever commit. "Because I saw that girl threaten you and . . . and I have to help you out, it wasn't your fault that she pulled the trigger on herself."

He stares at me, dumbfounded.

"Tomorrow's trial will go in your favour, you'll see," with that said, I leave, rushing to the toilet. When I get there, I throw up, sobbing uncontrollably.

I must be crazy in his eyes. Insane. Talking without sense.

I will officially set the murderer of my best friend free . . .

Chloe, wherever You are . . . Please, please find the strength in yourself to forgive me.

I lean back, wiping my face with a piece of paper.

What am I doing? He should serve fucking justice.

But–

I need someone. I need him. I have no one else. I already lost my best friend.

"Ugh!" I push my head into my knees, curling up into a small ball.

I don't know what to do . . .

But I'll figure it out, right?

I'm Max Caulfield. I stopped a giant tornado from wiping out Arcadia Bay. I can figure this out.

I wash my face with cold water, and leave the bathroom to meet Victoria outside.

Raising hand, she clicks her car keys, and with a familiar beep, we both look around to find her car and enter it. None of us feel like talking, but I've had enough of dead silence, so I turn the radio on, switching between the stations to find something relaxing.

''Thanks for taking me with you,'' I say, putting the seat-belt on and pulling my head back to finally close my eyes and exhale with relief. I need a serious time-out. A break from everything and everyone. Especially school and this place.

''No problem. I need everyone I can get to show Nathan that we care,'' she answers, shifting in the seat and starting the engine. As soon as I called her from the police station, she immediately got here. I was desperate, and asked her to come, because I had no one else to call.

I'm not sure what I expected. Maybe . . . maybe I expected him to remember everything, or anything . . . he had the vision, he was or still is, somehow connected to me and my power, so there must be a chance, just a slight one, that he knows and remembers. If not, then I'm not sure if I can make it without Chloe . . . I just don't think I can . . .


A/N: Guess what? Rewritten.