Chapter Twelve
A/N: This chapter will eventually see Max go back to the Dark Room timeline. Keep in mind the trigger warnings for Chapter Six as you read.
I awaken in a cold sweat, and I immediately shiver in the cold autumn air. I'm still alive! That really was a nightmare! Thank dog. That means what Chloe and I have is real. She's not just a figment of my imagination.
I shiver again before I realize that I'm not wearing anything. I blink a few times and rub my eyes, trying to make the blurry world around me clear. I must have been really out of it.
As I come to, I find myself in a dorm room, but it's not mine. An arm is wrapped around me, and I turn over to see the Queen Bee only wearing a smile and a thin sheet as she sleeps. What the fuck? I should have been passed out in my room the whole time! How the hell did I end up here?
My heart beats loudly as I look over at Victoria. She looks so vulnerable right now, and that's just heightened by the unguarded smile draped all over her face. I'm so used to seeing her so careful with everything she does and says that I'm a bit taken aback by this private side of her. It's almost like I'm seeing her for the first time. I feel a smile creep onto my own face as I stare. Her short blonde hair does really enhance her beautiful facial features, her enchanting brown eyes. The soft snore coming from her is beyond adorable.
My smile broadens as I remember her unexpected kindnesses. The embrace on that awful Friday when I broke down in front of her. The Chloe photo album given while I was in the hospital. The way alternate Victoria was so encouraging with my photography. As much as she tries to hide it, Victoria is a wonderful person. I then recall the kiss that the Victoria from William's timeline gave me when I first arrived there. I close my eyes, and I can feel her lips on mine. I can almost feel the way I did then. Confused. Angry at myself. But excited and intrigued. Yearning for more.
Shit. This is going to make things awkward. She's totally into me, and now she thinks I feel the same way. I don't feel the same way. I'm just attracted to women, and she's just a gorgeous one. That's all. There's no way I can be crushing on her. Maxine has feelings for her, not me. I'm nothing like that monster. I'm not capable of the things that she is. I turn to Victoria, trying to divine some answer. I can't help but to blush as I see my former rival, and then I scold myself for it. No, there just can't be a crush here. I don't have feelings for her. Just Chloe. Right?
I am assaulted by fresh memories of the nightmare. Jefferson taunting Chloe as I kiss Kate, and Chloe's hopeless, betrayed expression. I know that it was just a nightmare, but I can't shake the feeling that Chloe must feel similarly after what I've told her about Victoria. It would just break her if she knew how much I was struggling with this. I never want to see that wounded look on her face again. I need to control myself.
I take a few deep breaths to regain my composure and resolve to figure out what's going on. Without waking up Victoria, I look around for my clothes, but I can't find them. I do find my phone on a nightstand by the bed and pick it up. I press in the code to unlock it, but I'm met with a buzz and a return to the lock screen. I try again and get the same result. I then notice that the lock screen has a message on it.
Hey Bitch,
You stole my life, so the least I could do was fuck with yours while I had some control. Enjoy, "whore."
Other me had control while I was in the nightmare? That would explain everything. What the hell else did she do? I need to get back to my room and think this over. Thank goodness it's still dark out. Maybe I'll be able to make the walk of shame without anyone noticing.
I gingerly lift Victoria's arm away from me and quietly get out of bed. As my clothes are nowhere to be found, I sneak over to Victoria's dresser and try to find an oversized t-shirt that I could use for the short walk back to my room. I sift through cashmere cardigans and designer jeans, but the hunt for a simple t-shirt is proving elusive. Everyone has an oversized boyfriend shirt! What the hell, Victoria? I finally find what I'm looking for tucked away in the corner of her bottom drawer. It's a shirt with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She was probably ashamed at having this, but she couldn't bear parting with it either. The shirt is big for Victoria, but it's going to be gigantic for me as she's much taller. I put the shirt on and it goes past my knees. I slowly open the door, hoping that I avoid any creaking that would wake up my friend. Fortunately, I manage to leave her room without making a sound. I really do feel like a Blackwell ninja now.
As I close the door behind me and make my way back to my room across the hall, I can feel a pair of eyes on me. I turn to see Kate blush and quickly go back to her room. Fuck. Another problem to deal with. It's pretty obvious what I was up to in Victoria's room.
I open the door to my room and walk inside, half expecting to see it in ruins. To my relief, everything's the same as I remember it. Still, other me had to have done something else to screw with me. I go over to my laptop, but I've also been locked out of it as well. Great, now I can't call or send emails.
I need to calm down. After everything that I just went through in the nightmare, I am definitely feeling frazzled. Getting my thoughts down on paper will help me sort through all of this shit. I look around for my diary, but it's nowhere to be found. Crap, crap, crap. If anyone read that, they would think I'm totally insane! What the hell is other me trying to do?
I feel so alone right now. I can't talk to anyone without a phone or my laptop. I can't go to Kate because she just saw me creep out of Victoria's room. I obviously can't go across the hall to see the Queen Bee. I don't even know how I am going to deal with that.
I guess this means I'll have to wait for morning before I can go see Warren and try to figure things out. He might have an idea on what to do with the rift in my room and what that fucking nightmare meant. No way am I going back to sleep now. Even if I wasn't so damn nervy after that screwed up nightmare, I am not prepared to go somewhere else now. I don't know if I could take being back in the Dark Room. Not to mention what could happen if other me regains control.
With nothing better to do, I take my guitar and start strumming "Crosses" to get my mind off this horrible night.
Morning light finally seeps into my bedroom after hours of waiting. I'm so tired, but this isn't a safe place to sleep now. Plus, I need to figure shit out.
I take a shower to help ward off the sheep jumping over fences in my head and then get dressed, wearing my usual hipster outfit. Putting on those clothes helps put me at ease as it's like greeting an old friend.
I sneak over to Warren's room, careful not to get caught as I'm not allowed over there at this early hour. It's like 7 am, and he's probably still asleep. I need a friendly face now that knows what I'm going through. I hope he'll forgive me for costing him some shut eye.
Warren's slate outside his door has a Stephen Hawking quote, and I smile at this reflection of Warren's inner science nerd. I gently knock on his door and predictably get no response. I knock again, this time with more purpose. I am greeted with some grunting and "whaa?"
"Warren, it's Max," I gently say to the door. "I need to talk with you. Please." I try not to sound too desperate, but I think the anxiousness in my voice has given me away. I hear some rustling on the other side of the door and within a few seconds Warren opens the door and shows me into his room.
I take a seat on his couch and marvel at the messiness of my friend's living space. Laundry coats the floor and is draped over the arms of the couch and his desk chair. Mountain Dew cans clog his nightstand and parts of his desk. Warren tells me that cleanliness just has a low priority for him. Between constantly studying and playing video games, he doesn't find the time to live like a proper human. I have to resist the urge to pick things up whenever I come over. One, I'm sure he would feel embarrassed. Two, I don't need to get into that habit.
Warren is in some blue pajamas with a solar system motif on them, and his expression is full of concern. "Max, what's wrong? You don't look well."
I nod at his observation. There's no point in trying to deny the obvious. I'm decidedly not doing alright. I tell him about my nightmares, even describing how freaked out I was over the San Francisco version of him chasing me through the city. Warren patiently hears my fucked up tale, and he his face gradually loses color as I go on. I don't think he can stand hearing some of the things that I've had to endure.
We remain silent for a while after I finish. I imagine it's hard for him to say anything to something so messed up even if he was fully awake. Part of me feels awful for just unloading on him like this. He's probably taking all of this harder than he should because I know that he still hasn't fully gotten over his feelings for me as much as he tries to hide it. I still catch him looking at me wistfully when he thinks I'm not paying attention. I still see his face light up whenever he first sees me. I know that he hasn't gone out with Brooke even though she clearly wants his attention. What am I doing to my friend? Should I just leave him alone for a while so that he can figure things out? I don't think I can do that though. These timeline jumps are screwing with me, and I need someone to talk to about them. Someone who won't think I'm just insane. Plus, only Warren could think of some way to stop this rift thing in my room. I'm so selfish. Do I have to be?
Warren breaks the silence with a yawn. He quickly apologizes, but I stop him and give him one of my own for coming by so early. I then explain waking up next to Victoria and how other me has fucked with me. Warren manages a slight smile as I finish. "I know."
"What? How the hell could you possibly know?"
"Other you and Victoria didn't try to hide what you two were doing last night…" Warren has a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He's probably imagining what went down in Victoria's room last night. Perv. "And word got around. Umm… everyone at Blackwell probably knows what happened by now because I'm usually the last one to hear about this stuff. There's a video shot outside of Victoria's room that has audio of you two. I might have seen it one and a half times." Warren gazes at the laundry on his floor as he sheepishly admits this.
"Fuck," I squeak out as I slump on the couch. An already awkward situation has just gotten even more so. How the hell am I going to explain this to Victoria? To everyone else?
"Well, look on the bright side," Warren hesitantly replies. "We can reset your phone and laptop to their factory settings so that you can get into them. You will lose all of your information, though."
"At least there's that." I dig into my pockets for my phone and then panic when I can't find it. "Shit! I must have left my phone in Victoria's room. I'm so not ready for that conversation."
Warren sits next to me on the couch. I can sense him wanting to hold me, so I scoot a bit further away from him. Hopefully he will get the hint, but Warren's not the most perceptive guy. It's actually annoying how oblivious he can be towards my feelings.
"I was hoping you would have some idea on what this all means or how I could make things better."
Warren scratches his chin. "I have no ranks in my knowledge: relationships skill, so this will be a pure intelligence roll. Good thing that's my main stat. Who needs dexterity, strength, or charisma?"
I give him an eye roll. "Not that silly. About what my nightmare meant. What the hell is going on in the asylum? Why were Dr. Price and Dean disagreeing about my treatment? Why did my Chloe want me to escape the Dark Room by any means necessary? Why was her reality so horrible?"
Warren hesitates a few seconds before responding, clearing considering whether to say what's on his mind. "I'm going to assume your nightmares mean something more than just a normal nightmare. They sound too complex, and who knows what effects your powers have on you? Plus, when you dream normally, you jump to a different timeline. You said that one of the timelines you went to was the Dark Room, right?"
I nod, unable to talk about it. I probably should get that shit off my chest, but I can only do that with Chloe.
"So that means there's another version of you trapped in that timeline."
I respond with another nod. Where is he going with this? Chloe asked me for help.
"And you just told me that one of the things the Chloe in your nightmare did was pull away from a kiss, explaining that it was like masturbation."
I connect the dots that Warren is laying out in front of me. "Shit. That was me. The version of me trapped in the Dark Room. It sounded like she was with a group in the nightmare. That means that group is probably just other versions of myself from different timelines. Why would they do all of that to me?"
Warren shrugs. "Bitches be crazy?" His attempt at humor just falls completely flat because it sounds so out of character, which is sort of funny in of itself.
I ignore Warren's failed joke. "So that was the other me who I trapped there after I left. No wonder she sounded so desperate, so alone. How could I just abandon her to that monster? I can't just leave her like that. Not when she's there in the first place because I photo jumped. I need to timeline jump again for her. " My expression darkens as I think about what she is having to endure because I needed to rescue Chloe.
"Max, be careful. I don't know what would happen to you if you…" Warren's voice trails off as he is having difficulty wrapping his head around the last word.
"Don't worry. I have no intention of letting that asshole win. I'm probably going there the next time I jump, but I will be ready this time. I'm going to escape." I almost fully believe all of this, though a voice in the back of my head tells me that Jefferson is so much smarter than me. That I'm doomed to fail. I banish those thoughts as I steel my resolve. I have to do this. She needs me. "I just wish I could prevent other me from taking over. Mind keeping an eye on me? Our safe word will be 'tacos.'"
"Tacos? That's a bit random. How about 'Geronimo?'"
I shake my head. "No. Better random so she can't guess it."
Warren nods his head in agreement, and I take my leave. I need to go back to my room and take care of this. The me in that awful timeline doesn't deserve to spend one more second trapped in that horrible chair. Maybe I can somehow play to Jefferson's ego to get him off guard so I can find an opening to send a message to David. I'm concerned that he hasn't figured it out by now.
I head back to my room. Thankfully, it is still early enough that no one else is around. I don't know if I could deal with people's judgment right now. I reach the cocoon of my room and close the door behind me, drawing a deep breath as I do so. I'm going to succeed. I have to.
I get into bed and quickly fall asleep.
Clank. Clank. Clank. Woosh. I hear metal scraping against something and then a release. I open my eyes to American Rust. I'm bound, sitting on the ground behind a man digging into the dirt. There's already quite a big hole, and I struggle against my restraints. The man turns, and I see Jefferson give me a smile. "Hi there, Max. I can see by the confused expression on your face that you have returned to me. Good timing because I was about to tire of the other version of you."
Jefferson turns around and keeps digging.
"What the fuck are you doing then? Stop this! I'm back."
Jefferson sighs but continues his work. "Don't be scared, Max. Like I said before, I can't kill someone with a gift. This hole isn't for you. It's for a meddlesome security guard."
With that, I look to my left and I stare at David's lifeless eyes rolled into the back of his head. I resist the overwhelming urge to scream. I can feel the sound begging to be released from the back of my throat, but I can't let Jefferson know how fucking scared I am right now. My hope for someone else to rescue me is lying dead next to me. Shit. David didn't deserve to be killed by a psycho teacher and buried in a shitty junkyard. What the hell is Joyce going to do without him and Chloe?
After some time, Jefferson finishes his work and wipes some sweat off his brow. He then sequesters David's corpse into the fresh grave and covers it. "There, now they can be a family again." Jefferson smiles to himself, quite pleased with his work.
What the hell happened? Did David find the Dark Room only to be killed by Jefferson? I think back to that fateful Friday when David saved my life. How many times did I see David die then? I remember how the shock of it quickly wore off as I kept rewinding to find some way to save him. Seeing Jefferson brutally murder David over and over quickly lost its shock value on me. What does that say about me? How could I so calmly direct David even though I knew the consequences of failure? That seeing him die didn't really phase me?
Now it's different. I guess because it's so final. There's no way I can use my powers to take this back. Seeing him there lying beside me… I can't help but feel that somehow this is my fault. That I could have done something different. That I should have found some way to escape the Dark Room without my powers so I wouldn't create a timeline with another version of me helplessly trapped there and abandoned.
"Well, now that job is done, it's done to return to my real work. Let's go, Max. I'm sure your friend misses you." Jefferson helps me up, leads me to his car, and gently places me in the back seat.
I'm strapped back in the chair. Again. It seems that no matter what happens, no matter what I do, I always end up back here. Is this some cosmic karma for screwing up so much when I try to fix things? It's time I set things right here. Somehow.
Victoria is passed out on the couch. She's still alive as I see her breathing deeply, but I can only guess at how she's doing. How does anyone cope with all of this? I've been okay only because I cheated and found a way out with my powers. I definitely would have lost it by now had I been forced to be here for days on end. Other me has strength that I will never know.
"Mr. Jefferson, could you wake Victoria up?" I hate asking this asshole for anything, but I need to know. "I would like to see how she is."
Jefferson sighs heavily. "I would advise against that, Max. She's not quite the same person since you left. I haven't put her out of her misery yet because of you. I think she would welcome it by now."
"I need to speak with her. Please." I shoot Jefferson a stern look. Not sure what good that's going to do. I'm powerless against him, and he knows it. At least he'll understand that I'm serious about this.
"Fine," Jefferson groans. "You are lucky I have a soft spot for you, Max." Jefferson goes to the couch and shakes Victoria, perhaps much more violently than was necessary. Jeffershit quickly goes to cart and preps another syringe as the Queen Bee groggily squirms on the couch.
A few second pass as Victoria gradually becomes aware of her surroundings and pushes back the drug-induced fog in her head. As she does, Victoria starts screaming. It's the most desperate, cringeworthy wail that I've ever heard. I try to talk to her, but the Victoria I knew is no longer there. It feels like she's missing more than just her ear.
Jefferson returns to the couch and looks at me with the needle in his glove-covered hand. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Forgive me, Victoria. I nod at Jefferson, and he puts my friend back to sleep.
"I tried to warn you, Max. You know, I could prevent her from feeling that again." Jefferson looks at me expectantly, perhaps wondering if I have it in me to order the death of a friend. I shake my head vigorously. Jefferson sighs. "Pity."
My former teacher moves Victoria to the other side of the couch and takes a seat, facing me. "Max, Max, Max. What am I to do with you?"
I squirm in my chair. "What do you mean?"
"As useful as your powers are, I'm running out of my posing aids, and I don't have my protege around to procure more. You can understand that having you around is a bit of a liability. Just think if you were ever to get out. I would be powerless against you. And you know that I'm just a bit of a control freak. So, Max, we find ourselves in an awkward situation." Jefferson studies my face as he speaks, probably trying to see if my expression changes as he implies that he needs to kill me. I try hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing a terrified look draped on my face, but I can't tell if I was successful. Jefferson doesn't give any hint if he was satisfied with my reaction.
"Don't you need me? Just think what you could do with my abilities. How rich you could become. How you could avoid detection when you work. You do need me, Mr. Jefferson." I am almost pleading with him. I'm so disgusted with myself for this, but I can't let him kill me. What would happen to me? Would I die? Or would other me pay the price as I would find myself in my dorm room? I don't want to find out.
"I already have a good amount of money from that lottery ticket you provided for me. Plus, you were kind enough to ensure that it wasn't an exact match. No one cares who has a ticket with most of the winning numbers. I appreciate that, Max. So thoughtful of you to keep me under the radar." Jefferson gives me a mocking laugh. Motherfucker. He's lucky I can't do anything to him. I can't stop thinking of how satisfying it would be to take Jefferson's syringe and plunge it into his eye, knocking off his dumb hipster glasses in the process. Then I shudder, cursing myself. Did Jefferson make me have violent thoughts? Or was it something I already had in myself?
"But you could use me to prevent yourself from ever getting caught! That has to be valuable to you. The ability to do your work without worry." I hope this argument works. Otherwise, I don't like where this is going.
Jefferson's mocking laugh grows much deeper. "I don't need help to avoid incompetent law enforcement. I'm way too smart for them. You don't know how long I've been making art, Max. Longer than you have been alive. I don't need assistance from a little teenage brat, even one with a gift. Nobody knows about me unless I allow them to know. Nobody. Not even you and your dumb slut of a friend knew about me. That is, not until I decided that to let you know with a gunshot." Jefferson's voice gets louder, up to a yell. "Christ, the audacity! You actually think that you can be of any help to me? Don't you know who I am? I'm Mark fucking Jefferson! I don't need help from spoiled art school kids! I already got what I needed from you, Max. You were an excellent subject, and you gave me a fund to replace the revenue stream I lost with Nathan's unfortunate death. You are just a liability, Max. It's time to end this."
Jefferson goes back to his cart and refills his syringe. "Don't worry, Max. This won't hurt… much."
No, no, no. It can't end like this. What am I going to do? This guy is so full of himself that there's nothing I can give him, right?
Jefferson practically dances as he approaches me with the syringe. He must be enjoying this so much. I'm sure he's relishing this, defeating someone with superpowers with just his intellect. Or maybe it's just the fucking sick pleasure he must get when he takes a life.
Suddenly, I hear a crash as one of the tripods falls over. Jefferson looks over and sees a spiked bracelet. "How did this get here?" He shrugs and tosses it aside and then resumes his dance towards me.
"What about not being able to kill someone with a gift? Were you just bullshitting me like you bullshit everyone else?" I'm grabbing at straws here. What the fuck do I say to him to stop this? Can I stop him? My god, I'm about to die. Here in this goddamn bunker. Chloe will never know what happened to me. All she will know is that I abandoned her yet again. That thought is almost as depressing as my imminent death.
Jefferson stops his approach. "It's true that you do have a gift, Max. And I'm not just referring to your unusual ability. You have an innate talent in finding great shots. You just can't teach that. Poor Victoria here has great technical ability, but she will never be in your class when it comes to composing an interesting photograph. It really is a shame that it has to end like this. You have such great potential like me when I was your age." Jefferson says that last bit with what seems to be genuine regret.
Jefferson sees himself in me? The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine. How could I possibly remind him of himself? But that gives me an idea. There is one thing I can give him. Escape the Dark Room by any means necessary. Chloe's plea comes back to me, a mantra that steels my resolve. "Mark." The name is like acid coming off my tongue, but I need to get his attention. "I can be the student that Nathan never could be. Please. We both know that even though I've said some harsh things to you lately, I admire your work. I came to Blackwell just to learn from the best. From you."
My "admission" stops Jefferson in his tracks. "Intriguing. I did so enjoying passing my expertise onto Nathan, but he was no artist. Sure, he had a gift with shadows, but nothing more. I want to believe you, but it's still too much of a risk." Jefferson resumes his march back to me.
"No, Mr. Jefferson! I really want this. Please!" I'm now reduced to begging for my life with a complete psychopath. I'm so sorry other me. I don't know where you are now, but I hope that you found some peace.
Jefferson answers with a smirk as he reaches my side. "Even when faced with death, you still maintain your purity. Goodbye, Max. It has been a pleasure." No David to save me this time. This is how my life ends. I try to fill my head with thoughts of my girlfriend. I want her to have my final moments, but I can't stop thinking about that needle. About the end.
Jefferson plunges the needle into my neck. I close my eyes, tears flowing freely now that I know I've failed. The world recedes around me.
Chloe smiles at me. I'm so nervous, but I know we'll make it through this. Together. As we always have done.
Dog, she's so beautiful. I can't believe I got her to wear a dress for this. Of course, it has a punk flair to it. She almost insisted on wearing her beanie, but after I gave her a look and told her that I would not have a bunch of photos with that beanie in them, she relented.
It seems like it's taken forever, but we are finally here. I've been counting down the days with a calendar that Chloe constantly mocks, but it's happened. I've never been happier.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Chloe Elizabeth Price and Maxine…" Pastor Preece grimaces as I'm sure he just realized that he screwed the one thing up that I begged him not to. Then again, I can't be too angry. I'm lucky he was willing to do this for us. Not many are so open. Plus, it's nice to have him here. He could do a pretty mean Larry David cosplay if he wanted. "Err, Max Caulfield."
I look to the front row and give everyone there a huge smile. Dad is trying very hard not to get emotional, and mom has her head against his shoulder. Joyce looks radiant in her light green sundress, and she's proudly looking at Chloe with tears squirming out of her eyes. William reassures her with a touch. William. I'm suddenly very, very happy that he's here. Why is that? Of course he wouldn't miss his daughter's wedding. We are going to be such a happy family.
William calls out to me. "Max!" The hell?
"Max!"
"MAX!"
"MAX!"
I groan and slowly open my eyes. Am I going to open them to heaven or something worse? I don't know which I deserve. The first thing I see when I come to is Jefferson leaning over me. I guess it's that other place. Great.
"Good to see you are awake. I was afraid that I accidently gave you too much. That would have been such a waste." Jefferson shoots me a wide smile.
"Wha…?" I manage to spit out through the grogginess.
Jefferson continues to give me a creepy smile. "I'm sorry for the theatrics, Max. I wanted to see how you would react if you thought you were going to die. Plus, I needed you knocked out so I had time to think about your proposal. Like I said, I want to believe you, Max. Make me believe."
He clearly does want me as his student as he has kept me alive. How do I convince him that I'm being genuine? Maybe I can just appeal to his vanity. "It's true, Mr. Jefferson. Please. I know I have some talent, but my photos are mainly just stupid selfies. Your images are so much deeper. They are truly art. They reflect the world as it really is, not just the shallow veneer that everyone else convinces themselves is reality. Please. I need to know how you do it."
Jefferson smiles at me. "Thank you, Max. Part of me knew that you understood. We are so similar, after all. Only a fellow artist could appreciate my work. While you were out, I've prepared for a photo shoot." Oh god, who has he captured this time? Can I really do this? At least he seems convinced that I want to learn from him. I just don't know if I can go through with it.
"Once you get your bearings, Max, it will be time for your first lesson. Your first real lesson." Jefferson looks practically giddy with excitement. I've never seen him like this before.
He waits a few moments and then moves my chair around and pushes me towards the couch. "I'm afraid I can't let you move around to frame your shots just the way you want to. I hope you understand. I still can't trust you yet, but maybe we'll get there. Or maybe I will realize that I made a mistake earlier by not killing you. Your choice, Max."
What the hell is he going to make me do? Will I have to take sick photos of drugged women? Am I going to be the cause of more pain and suffering? What have I done? Escape the Dark Room by any means necessary. Chloe's… err… my words echo in my head. I need to keep up this charade long enough to figure out how to escape. I've found a way out once before. I can do it again.
I hear Jefferson move to the other side of the plastic divider and drag something towards me. Oh god. Who's that? How am I going to fix this?
The first thing I notice is the overpowering stench. I've smelled this before in American Rust. With Rachel. What the fuck? Jefferson's smooth voice brings me back from my thoughts. "I had to improvise with your models. You aren't ready for a live one, and where would I get one in this ghost town?"
Oh no. This can't be what I think it's going to be. Please no.
Jefferson drags a body in front of the white screen. The body is wearing a bag on its head, but I already know who it is. That familiar punk outfit is still on her corpse.
Jefferson removes the bag from Chloe's head, and I am struck by her lifeless eyes, still open in shock. The bullet wound is still prominently displayed on her forehead. Her body is stiff but otherwise in decent shape. The awful smell is the worst part.
I retch after Chloe's face is revealed. I'll never be able to get this image out of my head. Jefferson seems disappointed after he notices the fresh vomit on the floor. "I see that you don't have what it takes to be a great photographer. Pity."
Shit. I can't give him any excuse to kill me. I better take this back and pretend everything's alright. I raise my right hand and rewind my reaction away. The vomit returns to my mouth, and I'm forced to swallow it to remove the evidence. It's fucking disgusting, but I need to be strong. For other me. For Chloe. Escape the Dark Room by any means necessary.
I return to the normal flow of time and put on a mask of indifference as Jefferson removes Chloe's bag. Jefferson gives me an excited grin. "I'm glad I could reunite you with your partner. You should be able to come up with some great shots as you had a connection with her."
Jefferson ties a rope around both of us and then removes the restraints covering my hands. I stretch my arms out, and Jefferson hands me one of his digital cameras. "Lesson one. It's time you stopped using a toy for your work. Now, take some shots. I'll be your hands. Direct me to pose your model."
Oh god. I'm going to have to do this. I'm sorry, Chloe.
I have no clue about what to do. I'm not some sick pervert like Jefferson. I should just imitate him. That will feed his ego. I grit my teeth and direct Jefferson to pose Chloe in ways that resemble his photos while I take some shots. Throughout, Jefferson gives me a few "good, good" as feedback. After the shoot, Jefferson comes to me and inspects my work. A smile creeps onto his face as he looks over the images.
"I knew that you learned something from me," Jefferson proudly comments. "I started out similarly to this, taking shots of lifeless models. It's nice to see my good taste rub off on you." He then looks up from the camera and smiles at me. "Portraiture is one of the highest forms of our art, Max. You know that there is a tradition of family portraits. Let's see you continue in that tradition." Jeffershit then walks behind me, and I can hear him moving something past the plastic sheeting separating the Dark Room from its antichamber.
Soon, David appears next to his stepdaughter. This is so fucked up. I summon all of my willpower to avoid looking upset by this perversity. I have to continue to be strong for others. I continue to direct Jefferson to pose the two similarly to how he would. I take some more shots, and I start thinking about how I'm going to get out of this. Maybe I can get myself out of this rope and away by constantly rewinding. I'm not sure I'll have another chance to have my hands free. Once I am out of this damn chair, I can use my rewind to run away.
I'm going to need to distract Jefferson for a bit so I have the opportunity to rewind without him noticing. I'm going to need to do something awful. Please forgive me, Chloe and David. "Umm… Mr. Jefferson?" I meekly ask.
Jefferson looks up at me. "Yes, my student?"
"I was thinking… maybe it would be good to subvert the family photo and have them… do things to each other that they wouldn't do while alive." The thought is repulsive, but I can't let him know that. Escape the Dark Room by any means necessary. I inwardly strain to avoid letting my true feelings reveal themselves on my face.
"That's a good idea, Max. I knew you had an eye for this work. What exactly do you want me to do to them?" Jefferson smirks as he asks the question. He must be getting off on having me describe this to him. His fantasy of corrupting me is exciting him.
"Well, you could sort of have them together in an intimate embrace." I spit this out awkwardly, but that's likely fine as it feeds into the idea that my purity is getting slowly corrupted.
Jefferson's smirk grows wider. "Very good, Max. I'll do as you instructed." He begins to pose the lifeless bodies of Chloe and David as I asked, and I wait a few seconds to see if he's sufficiently distracted before I start undoing the rope tied around me. I go into Blackwell ninja mode, carefully working the knot as quickly and quietly as possible. I need to be fast as I don't think I can rewind with this thing tied around me and Jefferson. It's too bad I wasn't in Girl Scouts. I could have used those rope skills right about now.
Jefferson carefully poses the corpses in many different positions, and he mutters to himself about finding the right shot. His back is to me, and he seems to not notice me busy undoing the rope. He tied this pretty tight, but I'm making significant progress. Only a few more moments and I'll be free of it. Then I can start abusing my rewind to free my legs. Sweat begins to form at my brow as the stress of the situation begins to wear on me.
Suddenly, Jefferson looks up from his work. I hastily place the camera in front of the knot, hoping to obscure my work. "Max, are you okay? You seem a bit on edge."
Shit. He must see just how nervous I am. I need to give him something to throw him off. "Well… I was really attracted to Chloe when she was alive, so this is rather awkward. You know… seeing her like that." It has some truth to it, so maybe it will sound believable?
"Really?" Jefferson asks with a note of surprise. "I didn't take you for a deviant, Max. I guess you aren't as pure as I thought. It's a shame really. It makes so much sense now. They way you two looked at each other in the courtyard. How you paused before referring to her as a friend. That she said she would be your date at the party. How could I not see your perversity before now? I must really be blinded to you, Max. I should have killed you earlier."
Jeffershit abandons posing the corpses, leaving them holding each other, and he moves towards me while shaking his head. Fuck. I need to move. I throw the camera at him, and this time I hit him in the head. I don't have time to savor his reaction as I quickly resume untying this knot. Only a few more seconds, and I'll be free.
As I am about to undo the last part of the knot separating me from freedom, Jefferson reaches me and slaps me hard. Blood flows from my nose, and he quickly reties the loosened knot. "YOU STUPID BITCH! You just ruined a very expensive camera. Oh, I'm going to have fun with you now."
That monster goes back to his cart and prepares another syringe. "Don't worry. There's not enough here to kill you, Max. I need to show you just how impure you are first." I struggle against the new knot, but I can't loosen it very easily. Jefferson returns to my side and plunges the needle into my neck. He then removes the rope and takes me out of the chair, placing me next to Chloe.
"Oh, before I forget," Jefferson says with a hint of delight. He goes to his cabinet and retrieves his gun. "Time to put her out of her misery." He shoots Victoria in the head, her blood staining the white couch. He places the gun on the coffee table and picks up a camera.
"NO!" I try to yell out, but the drugs make it sound more like a forceful whimper. I try to rewind, but my powers are blocked. She's really dead now. Another person I couldn't save.
"Now, give your girlfriend a kiss, Max. Show me how utterly depraved you are." There's no way I'm doing that. At this point, he's going to kill me anyway.
"C'mon, Max," Jefferson taunts me. "You will enjoy it, you pervert." I lay still, unresponsive. "Fine. I'll make you." Jefferson moves my lips onto Chloe's. I try to scream, but no sound escapes my throat. Her cold, rotting mouth is unwelcoming, and I try but fail to distract myself with thoughts of my Chloe. I retch all over her, and Jefferson laughs.
"That's no way to treat your lady, Max. I'll have you clean that up with your mouth." After he says this, the metal door to the Dark Room creaks open. Jefferson quickly scampers back to the coffee table to retrieve his gun. Has someone come to rescue me?
Soon, an older woman calls out for David. It's Joyce. She must have seen David's files and came to look for him after he went missing. Oh god, she's going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it. Joyce turns the corner into the Dark Room and screams when she sees the grotesque scene before her. She drops the gun she was carrying, and Jefferson takes the opportunity to shoot her in the stomach. Joyce falls to the floor wounded, and Jefferson grabs her weapon.
"You dumb cunt," Jefferson gloats over Joyce. "Did you honestly think a fucking waitress could possibly be a match for me?! That stomach wound should give you some time to reflect on how pathetic you are before you die."
Jefferson then turns to me and mutters something about there being too many loose ends. It seems like Joyce's intrusion really did upset him despite how much he tried to pretend otherwise. Fucking asshole.
I try to crawl over to her to help, but my limbs are frozen. I hear that monster say that it is time for a family portrait, but that I can't be a part of it. Then he says something about it being time to get rid of his liabilities. I can feel the barrel of his gun pressed against my temple. I breathe short, shallow breaths as I start to panic. The gun remains rested on my head, and Jefferson laughs, clearly enjoying this. Joyce says that she loves me, and that she will be with me in the next life. I close my eyes and wait for the end.
Suddenly, I hear a crash and then a familiar voice tells Jefferson "always take the shot, dickhead." No. I must be really out of it. That cannot be. Jefferson is completely shocked, and he asks how this is possible. He turns to aim his weapon at the shadows. A gunshot rings out.
"NOOOO!"
A/N:
Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but I did warn that it may take longer than usual. I have some of the next chapter written, but I'm not sure how long it will take to turn it around. I want to maintain a weekly update schedule as I am looking to complete the story by the end of December, but I may be forced into a biweekly schedule as the story is picking up. I would rather take my time than sacrifice quality.
In the game, Jefferson readily believes Max when she asks him to take one last photo of her because she wants to be his best subject. He makes a remark along the lines of he almost didn't believe it, but he knows that she finally learned something from him. Jefferson's ego and his eagerness to teach someone led him to believing Max even though up until that point she was really defiant.
