On Top of the Lake

"Mark, d-don't do this to me …!" Nathan breathed, struck dumb, feeling his heart sink when he realized what Mark just had said. He stared at him with widened eyes, not able to understand what was happening right now. Why hadn't he seen that coming …!? Nathan wanted this to be a dream, wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but now that Mark was standing in front of him, he knew that this was real.

But this wasn't the Mark Nathan knew.

"We're a team," Nathan sobbed, then he grabbed Mark's arm in an act of desperation, but he was unimpressed, "we, we're supposed to work together …! You can't do this to me!" Nathan felt the hot, burning rage in his stomach, and wanted to scream, wanted to jump at Mark, punch him in his emotionless face, but all he could do was sink to his knees like a child, begging Mark to spare him.

He waited for Mark Jefferson, his mentor, his father, his best friend, but nothing was left of this man.

"I saw you posing with Rachel Amber," Mark said, and his voice was so smooth and soft as ever, and he tenderly stroked Nathan's head when continuing talking, "at the outset, it really amused me seeing how vigorously you were trying to impress me and imitate what I did, and how little you understood my work. Then I saw the photos, and it was like a revelation. You might not have any talent as a photographer, but you do have some … as a model."

Nathan stared at Mark and his dark pompous smile, and the words hit him like a shot in the stomach. Mark, the only person he worshipped, he trusted, he admired, was standing in front of him, telling him that Nathan sucked at the only thing he loved doing. How could he do that?! What had Nathan missed?

"Don't cry, Nate," Mark said calmly while wiping away some of Nathan's tears, "my first and last male model, that's a huge honor. Now I see it clearly: your eyes, they reflect your true nature so well. So pure, honest, innocent … vulnerable. You're a terrible actor when you say you don't give a shit about anything. Your eyes are as blue as the sea your beloved whaled are swimming in, just like the ones of Max. But way deeper, more profound. Your look is clear, attentive, always ready to attack, but sometimes, it's dreamy and … absent-minded. Especially when taking pills or snorting some Peruvian flake. Am I right?"

Mark winked at him, and for the first time ever, Nathan didn't blush. In fact, Nathan started to feel terrified, and he couldn't recognize the man who was in front of him. "P-please don't make me do this," Nathan breathed, and warm tears were falling on the cold floor. Nathan closed his eyes, and startled as he heard Mark laugh, amused.

"Oh, I already did," he smiled, then he opened a drawer and took out some photos, and without having seen them, Nathan already knew what was shown. He fell back, almost knocking over a vase as he stumbled over the carpet. Mark raised his eyebrows, throwing the photos on the table, which were showing Nathan laying in the white corner of the Dark Room. Unconscious. Drugged.

"No," Nathan breathed, feeling his whole world collapsing about him, "that's … that's the last time I slept over …! But, we … what …?! A-are there more of this?!"

Mark shook his head, and Nathan looked into the hooded eyes of the man who had done the exact same thing to him, the thing Nathan and him had always done as a team. How could he betray him like that? Nathan couldn't feel his legs anymore; his whole body was shaking. This wasn't the Mark he knew! Who the hell was standing in front of him? Was that really the man he had spent his nights with …?

"B-but we had turkey and brownies and hot chocolate, a-and I fell asleep next to you on the sofa …! How …" Nathan wanted to ask how Mark had done this, but while opening his mouth, he already knew it, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

"… the hot chocolate."

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Mark said casually, laughing to himself, while sorting Nathan's photos, "I mean, it's not like I could just ram a needle into your neck. And no, I haven't done that before, so I'm even happier about the outcome. There's something … feminine, something androgynous and vulnerable about you, I mean, do you understand how well this works on a photo–"

"I trusted you!" Nathan yelled, then he took the photos and hurled them into the corner of the room, and his deep sadness and disappointment turned into an outburst of rage. "I trusted you, and you betrayed me! You didn't even ask me! What's with all we had and, and all we did?! It was me who gave you a fucking Dark Room, who drugged the girls and took them all the way to the Prescott barn, I did everything for you and this is how you thank me?! You're going in hella trouble for this, fucking psychopath!"

But Mark just looked at him with this smug look he always had when he thought he was right, and Nathan loved and hated this look at the same time. He put one hand on his hips, then his lips formed a smirk.

"You killed a girl six months ago. See, we're not that different."

Nathan silenced in shame; he swallowed, then he clenched his fist as he suddenly felt the throbbing pain in his head which had just reoccured, and he needed to grab the table in order not to fall over.

"Hell, this young and already this addicted to drugs. And still smoking in the Dark Room. Considering that I'm 'like a father' for you, you listened precious little to me," Mark laughed.

Even though Nathan's stomach and the rage seething in it was almost killing Nathan, his tears didn't stop running. Mark smiled pompously, slowly approaching him. "See, now you're not this strong anymore. The development of your facial expression is incredible. I would've loved to capture this. And you're so pale. – Just as pale as sweet Kate Marsh the moment before she climbed onto roof and jumped … or Rachel."

The pictures of Kate's and Rachel's lifeless expressions hunted the corridors of his thoughts, and even though their death seemed so far apart, for this very moment, they appeared closer than ever. Nathan collapsed crying, and one part of him wanted to scream, wanted to yell at Mark for being so selfish, so obsessed with a good photo, and the other part wanted to jump and run into his arms, let his tears dry on his shirt, let his big hands cup his cheeks. Because he was all Nathan had, the only person in Nathan's life who was stable, who had listened to him, cared for him and knew him … the one he felt safe with.

Without Mark, Nathan was nothing.

And this was why Nathan didn't protest when Mark took out some black duck tape and positioned the camera. Then he let Nathan sit on the white background. Mark went on his knees and with a soft yet firm grip, he wrapped the tape around Nathan's knuckles.

"Thank you so much for posing for me tonight," Mark said tenderly while stroking some hair out of Nathan's face, which was red and swollen from crying, "this means a lot, and I knew you would understand. I'm sorry for testing how the photos would look like, and I'm also sorry for lying to you when I said we'd be sorting some photos. But I assure you that I'm not gonna drug you. This session will be sober, you don't have to be afraid. … And, I have a faint idea that you like bondage, don't you?"

Mark's smirk hurt in Nathan's heart, and this incredible sadness which had taken over his whole body refused him to smile. He swallowed, nodding lightly.

Mark took of his jacket and put the camera on a tripod, then he leaned over him, and Nathan's heart started racing. He was laying on the side, his legs were bent and taped together; the hard ground was hurting his shoulder. Nathan looked up, just to see Mark's face close to his one. He could see his pathetic reflection in Mark's glasses, and a pair of beautiful, dark and intimidating eyes behind them, which observed him eagerly. His lips formed a light smile, showing a bit of his perfect teeth. Nathan wanted to close his eyes, open his mouth and take it all back – now that it wasn't covered with duck tape, yet –, but the longer he stared into Mark's eyes, the harder it was to resist him.

"Oh, Nathan," Mark whispered, and he froze as he felt Mark's wiry beard on his neck, "you will be posing for me. There are so many angles I want to expose you with to the world."

Mark continued leaning forward, inch by inch, his body was getting closer to Nathan's. Nathan closed his eyes, hearing his heart which was pumping like it would jump out any minute. He sensed Mark's cologne, which transported him directly back to the times when everything was okay, when Mark and him had been fooling around with the camera, photographing girls and whales, when they had been going on journeys and playing billiard until 3 am. He could feel Mark's soft lips on his ear, and Nathan felt his groins burn as he heard Mark's deep voice whisper, "I can capture you over and over. You can be my model for life."

Nathan swallowed, holding his breath while slowly opening his eyes and seeing Mark leaning over him. His look was soft yet firm.

There's nothing I want more than you, Mark, Nathan thought and he feel his lips shake, craving for expressing the words Nathan had locked into his mind for ages, there's nobody who cared so much for me, helped me and comforted me more than you did. I cannot believe what you did to me, and yet there's nothing I want more than you. I want everything to be normal again, I want to fool around with Vic, go ape with Warren, I want continue photographing and spend time with you. Nothing on earth would make me happier than this being that easy.

But a silent "No …" was all that escaped from Nathan's lips.

"Christ, your expression is incredible," Mark said and his eyes were gleaming with excitement, "fuck, you have the most gorgeous face."

Nathan's stomach burned with a mixture of arousal and deep fear, and even though he tried, the pressure on his head made it hard to think straight. Everything felt like a blur, and the heat of his body made his body sweat, and suddenly, without thinking, Nathan opened his mouth, whispering, "I want to spend the rest of my life in your Dark Room, Mark."

Nathan, shocked to hear what had just escaped his lips, gasped, and he stared at Mark, hoping for him having overheard that one. But Mark just smiled, and his dark eyes were devouring Nathan.

"I know. We could be so happy together."

Then he lifted his hands and cupped Nathan's face, pulling it closer to his, and the next thing Nathan felt were Mark's soft lips on his. Nathan gasped, trying to concentrate while he was breathing deeply. The blush on his face grew stronger, and he tried not to hyperventilate, thinking about Mark Jefferson kissing him. Why had he done that? The feeling in his stomach had now completely turned into arousal, and Nathan hoped for his life that Mark wouldn't see how much this was exciting him.

But yet … why …?

"I know you desire me," Mark whispered, and Nathan could feel his beard on his cheeks, "is that what you want?"

"I … I just want everything to be normal again," Nathan breathed, and suddenly, his lips were speaking for themselves, "and I just want to be with you, and feel safe around you. You're the only one who knows me, the only one I have. … I love you, Mark."

Mark smiled softly. "We need to play catch-up on all the time we've wasted. Especially since there's nobody left in your life. I love you too, Nathan … And therefore," Mark said, and Nathan startled as he heard Mark grabbing something from behind, "I need to make sure that you keep pure."

Then, before he knew, Nathan felt the sharp pain of the needle piercing the flesh of his neck.

The next second, he passed out.

White dazzling light was waking Nathan, and he slowly opened his eyes. Everything was a blur, and his mouth felt dry and weird. His eyes were swollen, and it neck hurt terribly. His lips were chapped and had the taste of iron; it was spreading in his mouth, making Nathan retch. His wrists were red and rough, and his whole body felt rigid and cold, like he had been sleeping many days. Some sick nightmares had haunted his sleep, that punk ass Chloe making out with Warren, until they had been interrupted by Rachel Amber, who had risen from the death, hunting Nathan and demanding a kiss while screaming that the last one hadn't saved her, and Nathan had apologized while crying, admitting that it was true.

Slowly, Nathan started regaining consciousness. Where was he …? Everything around him was white and bright. He looked around the room, seeing that he was laying on a white underground, and suddenly, he knew.

He knew exactly where he were.

His head was killing him, and for a split second, he widened his mouth in fear, intending to scream for Mark Jefferson, who had drugged him. He laid his fingers on his neck, on the spot where Mark had inserted the needle. Nathan fought with tears again, thinking about the only real friend in his life, doing something like that to him. Making him one of his models, drugging him … using him. Nathan's body felt heavy and alarmingly cold, he had chills all over his skin. … Was that how Rachel and Kate had felt like? If Nathan had known back then, he would've stopped Mark and himself! … Right?

Don't stress, bro, Nathan said to himself, forcing himself to inhale deeply, while feeling his heart race, o-okay, think clear. No time for crying over the loss of your friend. You, you need to focus …! Y-you live, that's all that matters. Mark's not there, and he has already taken off the duck tape. There are noises upstairs, s-so he will arrive soon, that means you need to think of a plan fast!

Nathan ignored the unintentional tears running out of his eyes, and his heart was screaming at him, commanding him to go to Mark and beg him to just let him go, to forgive him and just forget what had happened. There was nothing Nathan desired as much as this thought, and as pleasant and pathetic it sounded, there was something in him, that felt like it wouldn't be this easy. Something hidden in his mind whispered to him that Mark wouldn't let him go just like that.

Nathan checked for his gun in his pants, and he gave a sigh or relief, feeling that it was still there. However this would end … he was able to defend himself.

Nathan carefully stood up, hearing some soft Jazz music playing, which meant that Mark didn't hear him that easily – but Nathan didn't hear him, as well. Where was his goddamn phone?! Nathan now didn't believe Mark a word, saying that he had needed it "just to be sure". On the contrary, it had been a trap, Nathan knew it. He knew Mark's tricks.

Nathan looked around the room, searching for his phone while stumbling across some of his photos. His look was as lifeless and empty as Rachel Amber's had been, and it hurt his heart seeing what Mark had done to him. Nathan would get his reverence, and it would be sweet.

Nathan, desperately sneaking around the room, couldn't find the phone, when he suddenly saw Mark's jacket laying over the sofa. He checked its pocket, and found it.

'glad you got one last look at rachel

nobody will ever find her again after im done' – Nathan

Nathan gasped. Did they know about Rachel …?! Even though he had already felt like Mark had tricked them, he hadn't known that he had actually been right! Fuck! Mark, this fucking liar, had told him that he had decided not to photograph her! Mark wanted to lure her to the junkyard …! He needed to warn Max!

Nathan typed in her number, and while holding the phone on his ear, he collapsed, gasping at crying at the same time. He had tried to suppress it, ignore the thought of what would happen next, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it got. He pressed his lips together, hoping that Mark wouldn't hear him crying.

Be brave, Nathan whispered to himself, seeing that Max didn't answer the phone; the sound was killing him, and he drowned in fear of what would happen to her if she didn't hear the mailbox … or what would happen to him. Be a Prescott! Be brave one fucking time …!

"Max, it's … i-it's Nathan," he stuttered, while looking around in panic, "I just wanted to say … I-I'm sorry."

Even though there had been nothing Nathan had wanted to say eagerly, the worlds felt as heavy as stone, and he needed to restrain himself to give in in his attack, to faint and fall on the ground because of the stress.

"I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or … didn't want to hurt anybody …! Everybody … used me. Mr. Jefferson … is coming for me now. All this shit will be over soon," Nathan cried, wetting the floor under his knees. He had done what Mark wanted, there was nothing he could do more. No more models, no more drugged girls, and his pathetic life would be a bit less shittier than it had been.

"Watch out, Max," he whispered, then he heard footsteps, "… he wants to hurt you next."

Nathan jumped and put the phone in Mark's jacket. 9 pm, the party had started for some hours. Max was alive, Nathan knew it. She had to!

Nathan saw Mark's feet appearing on the stairs, and he prayed for the first time in his life. He prayed for having saved Max's life with that call. … Because he had already taken one.

"Oh, you're awake," Mark said casually, and the sight of his dark smirk sent a chill down Nathan's spine. His back was sweating with excitement and fear of what would happen next. Nathan tried to glare at Mark, tried to be his old sarcastic, rebellious self, but he failed miserably.

"Have you seen the photos? They're great, really, you should take a look," Mark said, taking one and scrutinizing it like a holiday picture.

"And you should eat shit and die," Nathan hissed, and neither Mark nor Nathan could believe what he had just said. Great, Nathan thought breathlessly, now I'm completely insane.

"Well, looks like someone hasn't slept well," Mark laughed, approaching Nathan, who took a step back. His expression changed, then he tilted his head as he raised his eyebrows, looking at him in distress. "Nathan, what the – Are you still mad because of his tiny needle? Look, I just wanted to make sure you stay innocent. I mean, how could I guarantee a pure photo with you being aware of the camera? Please don't make such a big deal out of it, I–"

"Whatevathefuck! You promised, you stupid shit!" Nathan screamed, clenching his fist.

"I never promised you anything," Mark suddenly said, and there was a tone in his voice that made Nathan shiver.

"I hope you're happy now," Nathan yelled, passing by Mark as he headed for the stairs, "admit it: you wanted to do that for a long time, am I right?! Fucking hypocrite! I trusted you, I can't believe I was this dumb!"

Nathan, whose blood was running cold when he saw the cellar door standing open, held his breath. He expected Mark to come for him, but he was just looking at the photos, sighing. Even though Nathan's look was straight forward, he fearfully listened to every sound Mark made, and the suspense was almost killing him.

"What a shame that you don't even want to take a look," Mark said calmly, like everything was under his control, "they're really good. Better than Rachel's. But I mean, no offense, that's not that difficult. Still, I don't quite get why everybody fancied her. She was average looking, your typical rustic beauty, and, what should I say, choking on your own vomit isn't very charming as well."

Nathan was about to open his mouth and yell at Mark that this wasn't the time to run down a dead girl, when he suddenly paused.

"… What did you just say?" Nathan breathed.

"Looks like the drugs fucked up your ears as well," Mark said, annoyed, "I just said that you shouldn't fancy somebody who died by choking on their own–"

Then he silenced, and it was the first time Nathan saw Mark Jefferson being shocked. His look changed, and he laughed lightly, rising his head and looking at Nathan, whose face was frozen with horror.

In this moment, Nathan had understood.

He knew it by heart, had went through the steps a thousand times in his head. He had given her an overdose because he had panicked when she had woken up in between, he hadn't endured the clear look on her face, he had seen his pathetic face in her tired eyes. Her nose had started to bleed, and dazedly, with her last ounce of strength, she had asked him for a photo of herself, but Nathan had lost his mind, had seen the consequences of drugging her within a second … had been ashamed of himself. He had grabbed another needle, and had rammed it into her neck. Later, she had been poisoned, had been vomiting blood, then she had been quiet, and Nathan had tried everything to revive her, had felt her cold lips on his when she had been laying lifelessly on the wet ground. Then he had called Mark, since had been losing his mind.

Mark had arrived … and had sent Nathan out. But she had died because of the overdose, not because she had been choking on her own vomit.

"… she wasn't dead when I called for you," Nathan breathed, and his body was paralyzed with shock.

"I knew you would find out one day," Mark said, smiling with resignation. "I never thought that I would tell you this, but … I thought that she was dead as well. I was wrong. She regained consciousness a few minutes after you were gone. She begged me to help her, but she couldn't speak probably."

"And you didn't help her," Nathan breathed, not capable of believing what he had just heard, "instead, you told me she had died …! My whole life had been all about the fact that I killed her …! I, I can't sleep at night because of my nightmares, I h-hear her voice in the dark, and …! My life got destroyed after this night, and now you tell me that … that …"

Nathan couldn't cry anymore. All he did was staring into Mark's emotionless eyes, which were glaring at him. Cold, like the ones of a murderer, a psychopath. Without any trace of sympathy. This man … was no human …!

"You destroyed my life, you SICK bastard!" Nathan yelled, and he needed to grab the railing again in order to keep upright. "I did everything for you! I helped you with the photos your fucked up mind had planned, and I drugged innocent girls just to please you! Do you have any fucking clue what you did to me, you PSYCHOPATH!?"

"I didn't destroy your life," Mark said calmly, unimpressed by Nathan's outburst, "it had already been. I fixed it, if at all. You call me a psychopath, but let me tell you that we're more alike than you think."

This man wasn't the one he had know. The old Mark was dead, Mark had killed him himself, just like Rachel. Nathan stared at Mark's smirk, and although one part of him wanted to pull out his gun and shoot him in his fucking face, he couldn't do anything but shake his head in shock.

"No, we're not. I'll never be like you, it's true, I never understood your sick work. I couldn't do what you did."

"Oh, you already did," Mark said, and his hooded eyes were glaring at him, "to Kate."

Nathan gasped. "No! No, this was different," he said breathlessly, while feeling the shame crawling up his back, " I … she …"

"You knew she would harm herself. And still, you and your friends continued."

"I-I just did what you wanted, you made me do this!" Nathan yelled desperately, but Mark smiled, softly shaking your head. "False. You did this all by yourself."

Then Mark tilted his head, smiling while putting one hand on his hip, "Let me put it this way: All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad. … You like Moby Dick, don't you?"

Nathan ignored Mark's quote. A great book like Moby Dick shouldn't be dirtied like that by Mr Jeffershit quoting it.

"I'm going to hand myself in, and then everybody will know what a sick bastard you are, and you will rot in jail," Nathan hissed, trying to intimidate Mark, who kept calm.

"No, you won't."

Nathan, at the end of his tether, impulsively took out his gun, pointing at Mark. Now, the day had arrived … the day he was threatening the most important person in his life. With a gun.

"Do it. Fucking pull the trigger, you're too weak anyway," Mark hissed, and his sharp words were burning in Nathan's heart like a cut, "I'm the only one left of your shitty life. Shoot me, and you have nobody . Your family doesn't want you, your friends don't want you, hell, not even Warren Graham wants you! I'm the only one who can take care of you, who listened to you, who spent time with you. Killing me would mean killing your last purpose of life."

Even though the words hit Nathan like knives thrusts, and Mark just wanted to provoke, Nathan couldn't help but cry again – for the hundredth time this day. The old Mark would have hugged him. But not this Mark.

"Jesus, stop crying, you little bitch," he said harshly, "you really think I did all of that for you? Did you know that you're the easiest person ever to manipulate? Sometimes, I just thought it was too easy."

Nathan's hand was shaking when he closed his eyes, forcing himself to pull the trigger. The pictures of Rachel's dead body were hunting his thoughts, and the rage in his stomach was blazing. He would shoot him …! Shoot the man who had made his life even shittier than it had been before, who had used him and had betrayed him, who had destroyed his life .

… and had fixed it.

"So you like monochromes," a voice said behind Nathan's back, and he turned around, seeing Vic's photography teacher standing behind him. Nathan blushed; hell, he was even more attractive than she had described him. His smile was stunning, and he had this intelligent look in his eyes that gave Nathan chills.

"Oh, Mr. Jefferson," Nathan said, forcing himself not to grin like an idiot, "yes, I do."

"Wait for me, Mark!" Nathan yelled in a mixture of excitement and joy, trying to keep up with Mark, who was dashing down the hill on his bike. "Holy shit," Nathan grinned, pedaling like mad, "shit, I've … I've never been this fast!"

Mark stopped, winking at him,"The loser will pay the ice!" – Nathan grinned, "Challenge accepted!"

"Hope you're feeling ok. Dinner at 1?"

Nathan looked at the tiny piece of paper Mark had given him secretly while passing by in school. After his last panic attack, Nathan had really feared to have lost him. But he never gave up on him. Not Mark. After eating, they wanted to visit the Sea museum. Nathan couldn't wait for bragging about his whale knowledge.

Nathan felt the gun getting heavier, and slowly, his hand was sinking on the ground. He wanted to do it! He, he wanted to shoot Mark so bad, stop all of this pain, but … he couldn't …! Mark was a part of him, and he was right. He was all Nathan had. … Nathan opened the eyes, seeing Mark's firm stare resting on him; in his hands, a gun pointing at Nathan.

At this moment, Nathan knew that Max wasn't the only one Mark was planning to kill.

Nathan inhaled deeply, and never had something been this difficult for him, "I won't let you kill another girl." Then, he squinted his eyes, pulling the trigger, begging the old Mark for forgiveness.

… But nothing happened. Nathan froze, seeing that his gun was unloaded.

"Did you really think I didn't notice the gun in your pants? Christ, Nathan, you really haven't learned anything ," Mark hissed, "you really would've shot me, stupid twat. I'm sorry, Nathan, but I haven't set all this up just so you can fuck it up."

The shot was loud and shrill, almost splitting Nathan's ear. He dazedly looked down, noticing warm blood flowing out of his stomach, floating the ground under his knees he had sank to.

Two shots followed, and after the third one, Nathan's body fell into its own pool of blood, which covered his face like the ocean waves softly covered a whale, washed up on a shore.

Later, a girl got faced with the hardest decision in her life.

And she made a choice.