Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~
A/N: First of all happy new year to all my readers. I'm sorry for the long stretch between updates. We're slowly approaching the end of this story and it's becoming quite a challenge to tie everything together. I hope you enjoy the ride as things finally become more and more intense here. ;) Once again I want to send a big thank you to my lovely reviewers FlukeShot, lunamoon531, tur1823, Debra Smith, Noie, ambernass25 and the guest reviewer. I love you all for your fantastic feedback and look forward to read each and every one. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Chapter 13: Painful truths
"Yes." Her voice was only a whisper yet Mark Jefferson could detect no trace of reluctance nor hesitation there, only determination. Max truly meant it. She was willing to stay at his side, to accept the man he was.
All this time he had believed that he could never reveal his true self to anyone else, thinking it was impossible. So it had become a role to play. An easy performance to hide behind the facade, to build up defensive walls to protect himself from harm. At the beginning of his career he had deemed it best to shy away from any relationships, to become this unreachable and untouchable man, to avoid exposing the face beneath the mask.
It all changed when his student Max entered his life. She became an integral part of it. An important part he didn't want to miss anymore. This young woman fascinated him like no one else before her. The more he knew about her, the more he craved to spend time with her. Seduction was the most effective method in his eyes so that she would yearn for his company. He had wanted her to starve of his presence, so that she would ache for him just as much as he did when she wasn't near him. Their meetings had felt like a slow dance where one had been seeking the other while his counterpart had tried her best to evade his subtle advances. First she had only regarded him as Mr. Jefferson, an authority figure and she had been mindful to keep an acceptable distance between them. So it had become his goal to further muddle the bounds of their teacher-student relationship.
This dance required patience and most of all time to break down these invisible walls which separated teacher and student. The gap between them was slowly closing in, their connection becoming stronger and stronger. And the deeper both progressed into the dance, the more he understood just how close Max had been to breach his mask. How she could stir something deep within him. How her passion, optimism and enthusiasm for photography reminded him so much of his younger self. A time where he had enjoyed the visual impact of his black and white images, giving them a sophisticated, high-fashion look yet also elevating his shots in terms of elegance and richness. The years passed by and he soon grew tired of his arrogant and cynical models after working for such a long time in the fashion business. His frustration had led him to question his own art, it caused him to overthink what he truly wanted to capture with his camera eye.
What he sought had been a true expression. A portrait that delved into new, unexplored depths. An image that was raw, gritty, stripped back and honest. A picture which allowed him to show the true essence of a person, their inner soul. Especially the eyes told him so much about his models. There was an intimacy between the photographer and his subject which helped him to establish a connection between them. The strong emphasis on the one he wanted to capture gave him this feeling to be somehow able to relate to his subjects. This intense emotion displayed in his new photography resonated strongly with him on a personal level.
His new and unconventional art would never be compatible with what was accepted in the mainstream. Mark was well aware that this was regarded as controversial, as niche photography and as much as he would have loved to publish his new work, it also filled him with delight, knowing these pictures were special, that they were meant for his eyes only. To revel in the fact that only he could truly appreciate them and understand the message behind them.
Unfortunately this obsession also had its downside because there was no one in his life who could share his dream, this vision and endeavor with him. And Maxine was everything he had hoped for. She represented the light in his darkness, the other side of him. Soon he came to the conclusion that they had formed a rare and unique bond.
At the same time Mark had also witnessed her metamorphosis. He had observed her gradual transformation with his own eyes and had discovered a depth there she had kept well hidden. A shadow was lurking underneath all that light. It lay deep within the folds of her heart, something she still had to realize, to acknowledge to herself. Innocence on the surface and a growing darkness on the inside. It was such an intoxicating blend. There was a readiness to follow in his footsteps, a will and boldness to push the boundaries like he did.
The more he learned about her, the deeper the cracks in his mask became. Max was a beacon of light. Pure, innocent and utterly captivating. Once he'd seen that spark in her eyes when she had captured an unconscious Nathan, the admiration he had felt for her only grew. He was certain she would be the one. The one to step closer to him in their slow dance, moving one step closer to tear off his mask and to fill that void within him. Someone who would end this ache of agonizing loneliness. There was always a stab of pain in his heart whenever he watched those other ordinary people who reminded him time and time again that there was no one else like him. That he was alone in this world, alone with his obsession.
Vivid images of their first night together came to his mind. The night he had made love to her under the light of the moon. He remembered the look on her face, so open, trusting and ready to receive him. He remembered the feeling of her smooth skin, the comfortable warmth of her embrace, her delightful shivers in every touch. Her soft and eager lips sliding against his own, their lips joining and melting into a deep, passionate kiss. He remembered the sound of her voice. The sweet moans and gasps of pleasure escaping her lips as the tip of his tongue had danced across her naked skin and had savored every inch of her body. He remembered how it felt like to be inside of her, how they had shared one last lingering kiss. He recalled this one moment he saw Max reach her climax, observing that wonderful explosion in her eyes. Those final moments of bliss were special in his eyes. Moments where he finally laid claim on her. He would never forget how it felt like to love her and not needing to hold anything back.
It seemed their dance had come to a sudden and swift end. Every glance, every single touch, every gesture, every time he heard her utter his name... it had been enough to cave in to his emotions, to know that he could never resist this urge to have her. Mark had finally decided that the time had come to shatter his mask completely and to reveal the truth about himself. This had been the first time he had ever felt this nervous in his life. To see his walls crumble like that, to show vulnerability in this manner, it had made him feel almost powerless yet at the same time it had thrilled him, it had been exhilarating. Like a hidden door that had been locked and closed for a long time had finally been opened by her. Their lives had become so intertwined that he knew there was no turning back now. It had been the perfect moment to bring her to his world, to show her every aspect of himself and to let her penetrate his mask.
Of course he had carefully planned all this beforehand, how he would introduce her to his dark room, choosing and calculating each and every single word and move, trying to avoid any possible missteps. But he was also aware of the risks he had taken here, that the possibility still existed to face rejection and to lose his precious muse forever. So her firm answer to his question left him staring at her in wonder and adoration but there were also remaining doubts still nagging at his mind.
'Does Max even know what I want from her? Does she realize what it means to work together in this dark room?' He wondered in his thoughts, asking himself if she would be willing to plunge into even greater depths to be with him.
Mark gave her a scrutinizing look, his intense eyes studying her expression and body language. Even the slightest of her movements were beautiful to him. Sitting here together with her on the white plastic-covered sofa gave him the perfect angle to look at his student. The light highlighted her best features, her blue eyes, her cheekbones, her tiny freckles and her lips. Truly, an art of its own, incomparable to anything else. His Max seemed to remain calm under his thorough gaze. There was no sign of fear or tension.
"Max, you do realize what I'm asking of you. Do you?" He inquired, his brown eyes searching her blue ones in the faint, cold light of the room.
The young woman nodded slowly in return, a look of understanding and sympathy passing through her eyes as she replied. "I know that this...", she gestured at the studio area now and went on, "that this isn't right, that we both partake in something we shouldn't. But it is as you said. Sometimes we need to cross certain boundaries to achieve our vision. And now that I know the reasons behind all this, I can't, no, I don't want to leave you."
Her beautiful cheeks darkened in color even further as her words rolled off of her tongue without the slightest hesitation. "I love you, Mark. And I want to be with you. Even if it means that I have to wander this dark path together with you. I want this."
Mark could see the emotion conveyed in her honest eyes, looking up to him and feeling so strongly. This was almost too much. The thrill of her confession and seeing her loyalty and commitment to him almost made his body tremble in excitement. He could feel his own heart rate quickening, every beat echoing in his ears. This was everything he had always wished for. To have someone he could confide in, to be with a soul who was as deeply affected by the strong imagery of photography as he was, to have a companion in his life who shared his thoughts and experiences. In time he would show his muse who she could become through his guidance. He would make her what he needed, what he wanted her to be. A gifted photographer like himself, a talented artist he could shape and mold like clay in his hands.
His eyes glazed over as he once again admired the sight of her beauty, natural and raw without any noticeable makeup. He brought his hands up on either side of her face and stared into her eyes, speaking in a low tone of voice. "I can see a deep curiosity that lingers deep inside of you. This is the closest kinship I have ever felt towards someone else. You and I are very much alike and as I've told you before. Mere words can't express what you mean to me or how I truly feel for you."
He leaned forward, his right hand slowly sliding downwards to hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his lips parting into warm a smile. "I love you too, Max."
And with that he captured her lips with his own, hearing her moan with pleasure as he pulled her tight against him. He could feel how her delicate hands traveled down his chest, slowly and almost shyly. Both closed their eyes and allowed themselves to relish in these sensations of their lips coming together in perfect unison. Each press of his lips against hers left her shivering underneath his touch. Their kiss was a flame, blazing across his consciousness like fire. He was unaware of anything and everything, save for his lips on hers and more importantly, her responsiveness. It was intoxicating, knowing that she was offering her body and soul to him, that she was truly his and he couldn't help but devour her like a starving lover, stroking her lips in a timed rhythm. The longer their kiss lasted, the more he felt his own burning heat, his desire for his muse thrumming in his veins.
His arms had slowly wrapped around her petite frame and his hands now settled on the small of her back. His touch was unhurried and tender as his fingertips glided over the thin fabric of her t-shirt, exploring and memorizing her. As much as he enjoyed this intimacy, he knew that this wasn't the right time for these activities. There was still a lot they needed to discuss tonight.
He slowly pulled away from their breathless kiss, his face just an inch away from hers as he stared down at her with a fervent look on his face. With eyes that burned with lust not only for her but which also saw the possibilities of what else they could do and achieve together. "I am tempted beyond words to teach you what true longing is, Max."
Then the back of his hand brushed against the gentle slope of her face and he saw her lower lip quiver in response. The movement alone made it even harder to resist this want he felt right now, this want to satiate his stirrings of desire. It was so intriguing. Another sigh left his lips. "Yet I'm afraid we don't have the time right now."
Max was trying to catch her breath and her blue eyes were lingering on the outline of his lips as she whispered with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I-I understand."
"We both came here for a reason and I'm sure you still have many questions on your mind. Don't you?" He asked, his lips pulling into a gentle smile, the pads of his fingers grazing along her cheek.
The young woman tried to steady her breathing and her gaze moved towards the white floor and backdrop for a moment. When her eyes found his again, she seemed to poise her question very carefully. "I wonder... have you ever wanted to capture me here like one of your models?"
He moistened his lips and saw the questions and emotion that lingered in her eyes. After a span of a breath he responded calmly. "I would be lying to you if I told you that I've never considered this option. The possibility has crossed my mind several times, yes. Yet, I also had this feeling that a session in this room would never do you justice, Max. There is so much emotion lingering in your eyes. The azure color in your eyes is positively shining... radiating. I've wanted to see more of you, so I've envisioned another scenario for you. Another way to regard you through my lens."
Max pondered his answer and only nodded silently in return.
There was a pause then. Only the quiet humming noise of the ventilation system inside the dark room was audible now.
Flashes of inspiration were filling his mind with new ideas. Different postures, how he would frame her, which angles would serve best to highlight her innocence. Playing with his background or how the interplay of light and shadow could make Max really stand out in his shots. He could even see himself experimenting with colors. A deep shade of crimson perhaps? Or even a dark blue? His imagination knew no limits. What intrigued him the most though were close-up shots of her beautiful face, especially her eyes. It would pose no problem to let her pupils swim in the white of her eyes. This approach might surely produce some interesting results there.
Mark regarded her thoughtfully, his fingers scratched his bearded chin as he asked her. "Would you allow me to capture you here, though? In a semi-conscious state?"
This situation created an opportunity he would have loved to seize. Just the mere thought to photograph her here, in his dark room, it was enough to feel himself tingling with emotion, like being burned alive, a tremble shaking him to the core of his body. Yet he also knew that it was too early to indulge in these cravings. Max wasn't ready for this. The frown appearing on her face, her tense posture or her eyes avoiding his. Her entire body language spoke volumes, reminding him that this young woman was still at the beginning of her long journey.
She sank back into thought again and his soft voice interrupted her reverie. "You know you can trust me, Max. I would never hurt you or do anything you're not okay with."
"I know." Max said and her eyes found the tray again in which he kept his selection of syringes and different vials of drugs.
"How would you do it?" She wanted to know now and he was surprised that she showed an interest, that she wasn't afraid to ask him how he conducted his sessions.
Mark pursed his lips and began to explain. "Well, I always make sure that my models never remember our session. So it's essential to administer the correct dose to keep them in this unconscious state. I prefer to aim the needle at their neck. You see, this way the sedative works much faster but of course it's also possible to inject the substance into the upper arm instead. Although it may take a while longer for the drugs to take effect then."
She frowned. "I don't understand. Why do you have to apply this method? Wouldn't it be easier to ask your models if they would agree to participate in such a session? I mean, look at you, you're Mark Jefferson. You're a popular and world-renowned photographer. I'm sure there are many out there who would love to be captured by you no matter how you would do it."
He shook his head and let out a long and heavy sigh. "I don't doubt that many wouldn't be against the notion to be photographed like this. All the Victorias, Danas and Taylors of this world would surely stand in line to grasp an opportunity such as this one. But they aren't the ones I want to see through my camera eye. What I need to capture is tainted innocence, the beauty in suffering. The french painter Georges Braque once said that art is meant to disturb. It's not art if you don't feel anything. There must be a vulnerability, a fear in my model's eyes, yes. It's a feeling of losing hope, flickering like a dying candle. There's nothing that makes you feel so alive when you witness that stolen moment, that realization clouding your model's eyes. I must confess that this vision has somehow developed into an obsession of mine. An obsession which will last until that one moment where I can finally find an image which encompasses everything I seek. A perfect shot which will finally give me peace of mind."
Max appeared tense yet also attentive as everything was unfolded before her. She brought her eyes up onto his and furrowed her brows. "This obsession of yours... Will it never end? I mean, you would never stop doing this, would you? You would always need new models for your dark room sessions, am I right?"
Her concern was audible in her quiet voice and Mark carefully took her hand in his, trying to ease her worries and fears, assuring her in a gentle tone. "I won't need other models anymore. I have you now, Max. You're my muse. You inspire me so much and I wish to capture you over and over again. You're the first one who saw the real me. You're all that I want, all that I need. The question is, do you want this too? I know I'm asking a lot of you here but I also want you to realize what I'm offering you in return. I would quit my job at Blackwell for you and I'd assist you as your agent. I know this business inside out and I want to support your career in any way I can. You have a good eye and you possess that fire to capture life in a single moment. Although sometimes you are too modest and I fear you have a tendency to sell yourself short. All you need is that will to put yourself out there. To leave your mark for the whole world to see. Trust me, you possess all the qualities you need to become a great photographer."
She was clearly flattered and speechless by his words, blinking a few times and apparently not knowing how to react and respond to his incredible offer.
There was a moment of silence now and he could see something stirring in her eyes. "Honestly, I-I don't know what to say. You would give up your job... for me? I can't..." The words slipped out of her mouth and he knew she needed more time to process all this.
The older man hushed her, trying to relieve the tension. "Shh, it's okay, Max. There's no need to rush this and I don't expect you to answer right away. It's a lot to take in, I know."
His hand moved up and cupped her cheek as he gazed down into her eyes, telling her. "I want you to know that this, us, is important to me. You are important to me. You've become a crucial part of my life now and I can't imagine being without you again."
His confession left her smiling and both shared a familiar sense of warmth in that instant, a sense of belonging. After a moment's pause she admitted almost shyly. "I can't imagine a life without you too, Mark. I would feel privileged and honored to serve as your inspiration... as your muse. And if this can help you dealing with what you've been through in your past, I'd gladly do it."
He took off his glasses so that he could adore her truly, pressing his forehead against hers, his usual calm voice thick with emotion now. "Thank you, Max. I know all this must be overwhelming to you and your trust means a lot to me. As we both know, trust is the foundation of any relationship."
Moments passed between them in silence. There were no further words needed. Only reluctantly he pulled away and a quick glance at his wrist watch reminded him that it was about time to leave now. It was already too late and both would have to attend classes at Blackwell the next morning. They would once again resume their roles as photography teacher and student. Mark couldn't wait to watch her graduate so that they could finally be together in public. No more hiding, no more secrecy and no more lies. Their obvious age difference certainly made things more complicated but it shouldn't be a reason to disguise their love.
He gave her a small peck on her temple, leaned in closer and murmured into her ear. "I fear it's already late and we have to leave now. But I hope Blackwell's most promising student will finally hand over her entry for the Everyday Heroes Contest after classes are over. I'm still expecting your photograph although I'm aware you're better at taking photos than actually submitting them."
Max couldn't help but smile at this. "You won't stop bringing up that damn contest, right?"
Mark winked at her. "Well, I have to ensure you don't neglect your future career. As your mentor I can only say this, don't let this opportunity pass you by. You can't wait for second chances in life. Always remember my advice. The only one stopping you from achieving greatness is yourself."
"I know, I know." Max said, biting her bottom lip and looking as if she wanted to evaporate into thin air. This was still something they needed to work on although he was also aware that you sometimes couldn't force an artist to work.
Hand in hand Max and Mark stepped out of the barn, pausing a few seconds and inhaling the cold scent of the crisp autumn air. There was still a faint smell of hay lingering in her nose as they made their way to his sedan. The night sky was covered with dark, ominous clouds now, the first harbingers of approaching rain. Maybe this weather perfectly reflected how all this felt to her. Max had been on a quest to find incriminating evidence against Nathan Prescott and instead she had acquired unexpected knowledge about the man she loved.
This dark room had possessed an eerie aura, like the Prescott barn itself. It wasn't a place that felt inviting or comfortable to her. On the contrary, the lack of color gave it a sterile, distant feeling and she had been somehow relieved when Mark had proposed to return to Arcadia Bay now. The clouds obscuring the night sky were a fitting image in her eyes. One could almost say they represented the veil over Mark's dark secrets. The ones he hid from everyone else to pursue his own artistic vision.
And although she was aware that this kind of photography was wrong, she couldn't blame his actions.
'I've captured Nathan in this same unconscious state and I don't regret anything. This session had been like a therapy for me. It took away all my fears, it gave me confidence and most of all strength. How can I claim that Mark's photography is bad when I had taken my pictures in a similar manner? If this is supposed to be evil, then I don't care. My life had been hell and Mark was the only one who was there for me, who always stayed at my side. I won't abandon him. Never!' Max thought, walking towards the car and replaying their past conversation in her mind.
There was still hope. If he indeed regarded her as his one and only muse, she might become a positive influence on him. Well, it might be a foolish idea but she hoped their relationship could be a further step to heal Mark's wounded soul. His terrible childhood experiences still haunted him and he had made sure to keep it to himself, not wanting to let anyone else see this other, this vulnerable side of him.
'Mark trusts me, he confided in me. Now it's my turn to help him in return.' Max thought and all these images inside that one red binder were resurfacing in her inner mind's eye. Of course she wasn't a therapist but it made somehow sense to her what he tried to accomplish here. To fight his inner demons he chose to face them head-on through his own photography. Her teacher sought to recreate a setting to process his own bad memories, to paint his models in black and white colors of despair, fear and helplessness, thus seeking his own tranquility, his own peace.
It was no wonder that Mark admired Ansel Adams so much. There was this one Adams quote which she couldn't get out of her head. You don't take a photograph, you make it. Mark meticulously followed this rule with his own approach when he himself became the creator of his own shot. When he became the one who put the fear into his model's eyes. And Max knew his obsession would only end if he'd be able to take that one picture which encompassed everything. Everything he was looking for.
At least it calmed her nerves to have his reassurance that he would never capture anyone else in this underground photography studio again.
Max only absentmindedly registered that she was now sitting in the comfortable and warm passenger seat of Mark's car. Quiet jazz music engulfed them. A swinging rhythm giving her a feeling of lightness. A content hum left Mark's lips as his fingers lightly tapped against the steering wheel, clearly enjoying the upbeat beats of the music.
Her eyes stared at the glass, watching how water droplets softly splashed against the car windows, the raindrops racing down as his car gained speed. The sight of rain combined with the quiet sound of his wiper blades and jazz music in her ears calmed her, it made her feel at ease after everything she had learned today.
"You must be tired." He remarked softly, throwing her a side glance and turning his attention back to the deserted street.
"I'm okay." Max assured him and leaned her head back against the headrest, her eyes still fixed on the road ahead, gazing into an endless darkness.
"Our investigation didn't give me the answers I was hoping to find there." Max murmured and couldn't hide the tinge of disappointment in her voice.
There was a pause and then, after a few heartbeats Mark grew pensive and asked in a curious tone. "And what exactly were you hoping to find?"
Max grimaced and exhaled in a fatigued way. "Strong evidence against Nathan, I guess. That disturbing drawing we found at Principal Wells' office clearly suggests that there must be a connection between him, the dark room and Rachel Amber."
His grip on the steering wheel tightened visibly, his knuckles becoming white. He gave her a challenging gaze, his interest piqued as he wanted to know. "Tell me, Max. What does your gut feeling say? Do you think Rachel is still alive?"
She compressed her lips to a thin line and lowered her gaze to her lap, evading his intense, questioning eyes which seemed to penetrate her. Despite the glass barrier between his eyes and hers she still felt slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. "I...", she began hesitantly and finally shook her head. "I have a bad feeling about all this... I don't know but I think... I fear... she's dead."
His index finger drummed against the black leather wheel again and he paused once more. When he next spoke some of the edge had left his voice. "I'm afraid you're on the right track here. Rachel Amber...", he let out a long sigh and his expression visibly darkened as he finally finished, "is no longer with us."
Max swallowed hard and stared at him with wide eyes. "How?" She asked in a surprised tone, her mind still reeling after receiving this shocking piece of information.
While she waited for an answer with bated breath, he was ever calm as if nothing could truly faze him. He ran the the tip of his tongue along the edges of his front teeth slowly and his eyes betrayed no sign of emotion as he replied in a slightly disappointed tone. "It was Nathan Prescott who killed her. The idiot gave her an overdose. It's a tragedy, really. The boy thought he could be an artist like me. That he could mimic what I do with a camera and subject."
Mark ran a hand through his dark brown hair and loosed an exaggerated sigh. "This incident clearly shows that Nathan is still an amateur and I'm afraid his mental instability and paranoia made him an unpredictable threat."
Max swallowed hard, trying to find her voice again. "All this time you knew that Rachel Amber is dead? Why didn't you contact the police? I don't understand..."
He seemed to consider her questions for a moment and narrowed his eyes. His voice sounded colder than before as he answered. "And what would happen if I tell the police about Nathan, Max? It's no secret that the entire Arcadia Bay police department is corrupt and in Sean Prescott's pocket. This man will make sure to get his son off without a trial and they will arrest me instead. It would be so easy for those cops to cover everything up and put the blame on me. The photography teacher who manipulated the lost, confused boy to commit murder. Add his bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and psychosis to the facts and it becomes even more plausible that he's the victim here and not the culprit."
The man chose to pull over to the side of the road now, the car headlights shining brightly into the night, its white light streaming into the rainy darkness. The sound of the pitter patter of rain became louder now, making her feel even more agitated.
His expression grew stern as he leaned forward in his driver's seat and added. "You've seen it with your own eyes, remember? Even at Blackwell Academy you've experienced this injustice yourself. Nathan is practically untouchable. His father owns this entire damn town and he can do as he pleases."
Max wanted to speak, but bit back what she had in mind to say and began again. "But-but Nathan is dangerous! Jesus, he even killed Rachel! We have to do something or-or he will hurt Chloe too."
"I doubt Nathan would hurt your friend. It seems she found a way to soothe his emotional pain. He even told me that he likes her." He remarked in a level voice, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and lightly squeezing it.
'How can he be so sure about this? Nathan attacked me and even drugged me like Rachel! This asshole is a crazy lunatic! Or worse, a psychopath!' Max thought, feeling her body stiffening and her unease only increasing.
"I don't know, Mark. I would feel more safe if we would actually do something about this. I mean, he killed another student. That's horrible! We have to stop him!" She urged him, her face betraying her fears and concerns.
"No." Mark said firmly, a fierce light coming into his brown eyes. "Do you really want me to lose everything? Do you think I should rot in jail for Nathan's crimes?"
There was another silence between them where both just stared at each other. Max didn't know what to say. He was right. It had happened to her before, twice even. Nathan had hurt her and in the end he always got away scot-free. It was so unfair.
She locked eyes with him and whispered. "No, I don't. But there must be another way."
Mark gazed at her and his expression changed, becoming softer as he assured her. "Let me handle this problem and I promise you Nathan Prescott will never hurt you or your friend again."
The young woman saw him giving her a reassuring look. It was a look she knew so well by now, telling her that everything would be alright and that he would lift all her worries.
"You know I trust you, Mark." She said, holding his gaze and just watching his intense eyes alone brought color to her face.
He locked eyes with her. "And I trust you, Max. So I can only hope you won't betray that trust I've placed in you. Because if you do and act against my wishes, I'm afraid we'll never see each other again."
Max remained silent for a long moment. This seemed to be like a test. A test to find out if she was really trustworthy in his eyes. It was fairly obvious what was at stake here. His entire career, his reputation, his future and most of all his freedom. Would she be willing to give it all up just to have one tiny chance to see Nathan Prescott behind bars? Mark had dragged her into his world and now she had secrets to keep, lies to tell. Her life would never be the same again.
His eyes were appraising her and a cold sinking feeling ran down her spine. The seconds ticked by and she was wrestling with herself, trying to make the right decision here. Her brain pushed her to get in touch with the police as soon as possible yet in her heart she wanted to entrust this issue to Mark.
She could feel her stomach in her abdomen now as she asked him. "What would you do? Would you kill him?"
The older man paused to regard her, his voice without any emotion as he explained plainly. "If he leaves me no other choice and if it's the only way to protect you... yes, Max. You see, Nathan is mentally unhinged and sometimes it appears that he's disconnected from reality. This often happens when he refuses to take his meds and turns to drugs instead. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a cold-blooded murderer. I prefer to leave the people I have to deal with unscathed. This method is safe, discreet and it doesn't raise as much commotion as a trail of missing persons. Also I wouldn't be able to pursue my own vision if I were that careless. Anyway, what I want to clarify here is to which lengths I'm willing to go... for you."
Max's facial expression hardened and right now she only felt hatred towards Nathan. Even a small part of her wished she could get rid of him herself so that he could never hurt or kill anyone else again. And if his life would end she was certain she wouldn't even shed a single tear for him. Not after everything he had done.
Max shifted in her seat and remarked carefully. "I still don't understand this. Although you knew what he did to Rachel you still gave him these private tutoring lessons? Why? Why didn't you abandon him?"
"I've told you before I'm not perfect. I've been confident that I could solve this problem on my own. Believe me, I've only wanted to help him. Photography can be therapeutic, especially in Nathan's case. His morbid monochrome shots reflect the abstract chaos raging inside his mind. Maybe it was a reckless endeavor to aid him finding his way back to reality. It's fairly obvious that he needs professional treatment. Yet, I was also the only one who tried to do something here. Even his own psychiatrist couldn't get through to him. So you see, this whole situation is a lot more complicated than it might seem. Sean Prescott is a shitty father who only pressures his son and who never shows any kind of affection. I guess this is why I became some sort of father figure for Nathan. I became the family he so desperately needed and I had to seize this opportunity. Do you understand?"
She leaned back against her passenger's seat and studied him uncertainly. "It makes sense, yes. Though if things would have been different then maybe... maybe Rachel's death could have been avoided."
Mark took a deep breath and his gaze shifted back to the front window pane, his eyes staring into the impenetrable darkness outside. The rain crashed through the clouds and tumbled down, crackling like stones against the windows. When his eyes returned to her, his lips parted into a sad smile. "We will never know, Max. And it won't get us anywhere to dwell on the past now. What's important is to focus on the future, on the here and now. Okay?"
For a moment the young student remained silent, turning away and watching the rain pelt down on the windshield. 'He's right. We can't change the past. Rachel is dead and nothing will change that fact. I should only worry about Chloe now. She's closer to Nathan than anyone of us and this can put her in serious danger.' Max thought and gave him a nod. "You're right. So what now?"
"I think it would be best if I get you back to Blackwell now. You need rest and I'm sure you also need some time and space for yourself to process all this." Mark suggested and started his engine again.
A calm washed over her now as their eyes met once again. In those brown irises she could see her own reflection. A pale and tired expression on her face. After a long pause she finally had the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at her mind for some time now. "How did she... die? Please, Mark. I need to know."
"Are you really sure you want to hear this?" He inquired, tilting his head and looking worried.
"Yes." She reassured him and Mark exhaled deeply.
"Nathan had been infatuated with Rachel but she never reciprocated his feelings. So he decided to kidnap her and accidentally administered an overdose. He had called me late at night that day but it had been too late. When I arrived I could only determine her death. Her face had been very pale and I assume she must have suffocated in her own vomit. There were traces of its substance still dripping from her open mouth. I'm sorry that she had to die under these dreadful circumstances. But then again I feel she was never meant to live a long life anyway."
Getting to know all the details concerning Rachel's death made the blood run cold in her veins. She felt like the walls were closing in, like the darkness all around her was overwhelming and swallowing her. She could barely breathe, her throat felt dry and constricted when she asked him. "What-what do you mean by that?"
Mark adjusted his glasses and kept his voice calm and even. "Well, Rachel had already faced a lot of problems in her young life. Family issues, relationship problems, drug addiction, the pressure to succeed and to be perfect in everyone's eyes... it was all there. Those who have been close to her knew that she was set on a path of self-destruction and I fear sooner or later these troubles would have ruined her. Trust me, her downfall would have only been a matter of time. It would have happened sooner or later."
This was all too much. Max felt sick and dizzy. She was breathing but the air didn't want to go into her lungs, as if a heavy weight was being pushed down on her chest. All of a sudden her panic rose and all her instincts screamed at her to get out of the car, to get some fresh air. It was a feeling of moving underwater when her hand reached out to open the door.
With her last ounce of strength she dragged herself outside into the pouring rain and leaned her tired body against the side of the car, closing her eyes and feeling how the cold water soaked through her hoodie and t-shirt, reaching her skin. Max let the precious air fill her lungs as if she could finally breathe after a very long time. For a moment she could forget everything. Everything she had learned today. As if each drop of water could wash away her anxiety and fears and cleanse her.
Soon Mark hurried to her side and without saying another word he just took her in his arms. His embrace was so strong that she could feel every ounce of his body pressing into hers. Sinking into his inviting warmth the world around her ceased to exist and only he was here with her. She hugged him tighter and allowed herself to relax, listening to his steady heartbeat and reveling in the feel of the fabric of his white shirt against her cheek. Inhaling the familiar scent of his sandalwood cologne was more than enough to ground herself again.
He rested his chin on top of her head and his warm fingers danced across the small of her back, his fingertips drawing circles, giving her comfort.
"Are you okay, Max?" She heard him ask softly, his concern audible in his voice.
"I-I just needed some fresh air. I'm okay, really." Max muttered and couldn't help but sigh when he pulled her into him, into the broadness of his chest and wrapped his black suit jacket around her shoulders to protect her from the heavy rain.
Her teacher peppered her forehead with soft kisses and whispered against the shell of her ear. "Max, I know you're shocked and I know you've been through a terrible ordeal with what Nathan had done to you. But don't let your worries overtake you. You have to stay strong."
Max felt his hot breath only inches away from her and looked up at him. His intent eyes were studying her face, seeing the tears shimmering in her blue eyes. Max knew he was right and she could only nod in return.
Mark gently smoothed her brown hair back and rested his palm on her cheek, suggesting in a calm tone. "Come, let's get you back inside. I don't want my favorite student to catch a cold, okay?"
Silence hung over them as the sedan cruised down the lonely highway, its headlights blurred in the seemingly neverending rain. Both were dealing with their own thoughts now and all Max wanted was to get back into the safety of her dorm room, to bury herself under the cozy sheets of her bed. It would surely take time to process all this and to think through everything very carefully. Maybe she wouldn't find any sleep tonight. Her mind was a total mess and she couldn't discern anymore what was right and what was wrong. All the lines were blurring.
As the car came to a sudden halt she was pulled out of her thoughts. Her eyes scanned the area outside, recognizing the familiar surroundings of her campus.
'Home sweet home.' Max thought with a lump in her throat and slowly released her seat belt. Mark turned towards her to address her and his hand traveled down, seeking her own and grasping it. "Are you scared, Max?"
His question made her nervous and her eyes flickered up to meet his as she whispered. "Yes."
Mark came closer, his inquiring eyes looked deep into hers as if they were trying to pierce straight into her soul, questioning her. "Of me?"
A considerable moment of silence passed between the question and the answer.
"Of myself." Max finally admitted quietly and knew it was true. She had changed so much in these past few weeks that her own thoughts began to frighten her, that she was even considering to kill Nathan herself. For a second she felt like being lost, teetering on the edge of nightmare and reality.
Her honest response seemed to surprise him and she could feel his hot breath ghosting over her skin as he told her firmly. "Don't be, there's nothing to fear."
He reached forward, brushed some strands of hair away from her face with his index finger and went on. "Frederick Douglass once said that there is no progress without struggle. This road you're going down will inevitably change you, yes. But you will also discover a new world and you will also see yourself with new eyes again."
"Believe me, I know what you're going through, Max. I see you. I see all you are and who you can become. Let me be the one to push the boundaries of what you're capable of. Allow yourself to challenge the norms like other artists did before you. Let me guide you. Let me help you understand yourself." Max's eyes were drawn to his and she let his words slowly sink in. If there was a darkness residing in his soul, didn't she harbor it as well? Maybe this was what he always wanted her to realize, that they were both artists who were not so different from each other after all. All she needed was him. Mark had become the only constant in her life. He was her rock in the middle of a stormy, roiling sea. The only person she could rely on.
Still, there were doubts lingering in her mind. He had lied to her about himself, about Nathan. Of course he had done all that to protect himself but could she trust him now?
"I need you, Mark. But I also have this feeling that I don't know everything there is to know about you." Max added in a hushed tone, not knowing if she went too far here, questioning him like this.
To her surprise Mark didn't seem offended at all. A playful smirk appeared on his lips and a light shone in his brown eyes as he informed her. "There are many layers behind a mask. And I intend to lift them all for you. But you must understand that this unmasking is also a painful process. So let's handle one layer at a time, cool?"
"Okay." The brunette smiled in return, seemingly content with his answer. One part of her longed to solve this puzzle Mark Jefferson represented. This man was like a book shut with over a thousand locks and she sometimes had the impression he only let her see what he wanted her to see. Another part of her was drawn to this dark, mysterious aura of his. It was his darkness which made him attractive and alluring in her eyes. It fascinated her. It made her heart pound wildly in her chest and it titillated her like nothing else. Maybe there were some secrets that should never be revealed. And maybe it was better that they would forever remain a mystery.
The moonlight spilled into the darkness of his home office room, its silver beam illuminating the man sitting alone at his huge rosewood desk. The blackness of the night soothed Mark Jefferson. He had this feeling he could blend into the shadows, become one with them. Many underestimated the color black. An absence of color that held so many secrets like he himself.
Sleep wasn't an option right now. There was too much weighing on his mind which kept him occupied. It had been a huge risk to reveal the truth about Rachel's demise. Had it been too early to share this particular secret? He couldn't really say but he also knew there was no other way. This was necessary. It was Max's final test and he was more than curious if she would pass it or not.
What a strange turn of events this was. Of course Mark had anticipated that his muse's nosiness might get in the way of his plans and could complicate a lot of things. So he deemed it wise to present her a few breadcrumbs of information which would turn her attention towards Nathan Prescott instead. But he hadn't expected Rachel Amber of all things to become the proof of Max's loyalty to him.
'Rachel Amber...' He repeated her name in his thoughts, tasted it like a very old, exquisite and almost forgotten vintage. There were times where he still missed her. On one hand he would have loved to learn more about her. Mark knew she was special. This young woman had been able to brighten up an entire classroom, just with her mere presence. She was a free soul who didn't let anyone dictate her life. Yet, this wasn't what had caught his attention in the first place. Rachel had possessed the rare gift to melt into any group or crowd and to become the center of everyone's attention.
She was an actor, a human chameleon who could be as manipulative and cunning as he was. Mark knew that the stronger her light was, the darker her shadow became. Beneath that angelic face and all that makeup had been so much more lying underneath the surface. Negative feelings like sadness, bitterness, anger and rage had been boiling deep inside of her. To bring all that pent up emotion out in a session would have proven to be an interesting challenge. There were many layers of her personality which had only been waiting to be uncovered by him.
On the other hand he deeply regretted all those lost opportunities to capture her through the lens of his Hasselblad camera. It would have been so satisfying to unveil her completely, piece by piece, layer by layer. A sigh left his lips. It was all in the past, like a fleeting memory. What truly mattered now was to set his entire focus on Max Caulfield.
He hoped and anticipated that the outcome of his test would be positive but he couldn't say for sure which decision Max would reach. All this was a gamble. A gamble which could mess up all his plans and preparations. To calm his nerves he poured himself a whiskey, swishing the amber liquid around in his glass. The familiar fragrance invaded his nostrils and he paused for a moment, thinking to himself. 'What will your decision be, Maxine? Will you betray me or will you choose to stay at my side?'
Mark narrowed his brown eyes and took a small sip, allowing the liquid to rest along his tongue and to savor its scent. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the flavor for a few seconds before he finally swallowed it, feeling a burning in the back of his throat. When he opened his eyes again he immediately spotted the lyrics on his wall. Words which always served as his motivational source and kept him going. 'It's a new dawn. It's a new life. For me. And I'm feeling good.'
A knowing smile spread across his lips and the photography teacher downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot. 'It will be a new life. For us. Isn't that so, Max?'
Max could find no sleep that night. Her mind was filled with chaos and whenever she tried to close her tired eyes and allowed sleep to overcome her, strange images of Mark, Nathan and Chloe haunted her in her dreams. And then she would always wake up and gasp for air, feeling drops of sweat run down her forehead. What she had learned thus far had been enough by itself to set her heart racing in her chest. The thin line between right and wrong was vanishing. Drugging his models to create his art was a questionable method, yes. But was it really so wrong to do this? No one had ever been harmed or would ever remember any of those weird sessions. And what about Nathan? Of course it would only be reasonable to alarm the police but what would happen then?
'Mark is right about this. The whole police force is corrupt. It would be a foolish attempt to accuse Nathan of murdering Rachel. There's also no evidence left. We don't even have a single clue where that psycho buried her dead body.' Max thought and breathed out a heavy sigh.
'But can I just sit here and do nothing? No, I need to save Chloe at all costs! I don't want her to become the next Rachel Amber.' The fear to lose her closest friend hung over her head like a executioner's blade. This uncertainty and Nathan's unpredictability made her extremely nervous. She had to do something to protect Chloe. Maybe she would need to acquire a weapon. Just in case.
'Desperate times require desperate measures, right?' Max justified her decision with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
Although Max now knew what she wanted, she didn't feel any calmer. On the contrary, this damn restlessness wouldn't leave her. It was no use. Her hand grabbed her earphones and mp3 player on the nightstand. Soon the soothing melody of Syd Matters flowed through her and seemed to relax her somewhat. The strumming sound of the acoustic guitar created a wonderful refrain and sang to her. Losing herself in the music she could finally find some sort of rest, letting exhaustion overcome her and allowing herself to slowly drift off to sleep.
The smell of weed and cigarette smoke permeated the air of Hayden Jones' small dorm room. The damn windows were closed and Nathan had this feeling to be surrounded by fog and dense clouds which made him more than just a little dizzy. This room was a video gamer's paradise. It didn't have much furniture, only a bed, a desk, some shelves filled with games and a comfortable couch. Countless cables ran across the whole beige-colored floor and bits and pieces of hardware stuff just lay there scattered on the ground. While Nathan preferred to keep his room tidy and clean, Hayden's gaming lair was just one fucking mess.
His buddy was chilling on the brown leather sofa together with him, being extremely high as always and only babbling nonsense in his ears.
"Man, I'm so stoned. I'm supposed to study for exams but you know what? Fuck that crap! We came here to party, right bro?" Hayden slurred, nudging him with his elbow and smiling like a fucking idiot.
Nathan shot him an annoyed glare and lit his own cig now. His fingers trembled as he took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out between his lips. His dark blue eyes watched the gray tendrils of smoke swirl up in the air and he was waiting for that familiar buzz feeling now, that short moment of comfort when he thought that all his problems would just vanish into thin air with each and every drag of his cigarette.
Yet deep inside his heart he knew it wasn't so. He was still Nathan fucking Prescott, a failure and disappointment in Sean's eyes. Nothing would ever change that fact. But this time it didn't irk him as much as it usually did. On the contrary, since he met Chloe Price, the blue-haired punk without memories, he had felt freedom for the first time in his life. Nothing seemed to bother him anymore. Not his dad, not Mark, nor his fucking psychiatrist Doc Jacobi or the jealous chatter of those dumb brats at Blackwell Academy.
Hanging out with his mate Hayden felt almost alien to him. This wasn't the place where he wanted to be. No, his place was at her side, sitting together with her in that one white hospital room. In that one tiny, safe bubble where he could just be himself.
Oh, how he wanted to go there now. Nathan had finally made up his mind. He wanted to tell her everything about Rachel. Chloe showed the first promising signs that increased her chances to fully regain her memories. Fragments of moments spent with her friend Rachel Amber were coming back to her at last. On one hand it made him incredibly happy to see how she celebrated every little success like a jolly child. She would laugh, jump up and down on her bed and then fall into his arms with tears glistening in her eyes. It was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind forever. Moments of pure joy and sharing that feeling with someone she loved. Every new memory was a treasure, a victory for Chloe.
But on the other hand he feared that she would remember everything soon. That was why he couldn't wait any longer. He had to act now. He had to tell her the truth. Chloe deserved to know what had happened to her angel Rachel and maybe then, after he confessed all his crimes and sins to her, he hoped she would forgive him. Her forgiveness would mean the world to him. It would show him that he wasn't such a fucking asshole after all, that even he could do something right in his messed up life. That he was willing to turn his life around and to start anew. And maybe then he would get another chance. A chance to find a place in someone else's heart.
His thoughts about his friend Chloe were interrupted when Hayden began to sing very loudly. "Oh, baby. I love for you to call me baby. Come on, you retro selfie master, squeeze me real tight. You make wrong things right."
'Max fucking Caulfield. That fucking dyke can go to hell and stay the fuck there!' Nathan thought and snarled. "Don't you ever mention that fucking Jefferson groupie here, bro."
"Shit man, what's wrong with you? Don't yell at me like that! Did you forget to take your fucking pills or what?" Hayden hissed back and blinked his eyes in confusion. Nathan's sudden outburst must have caught him completely off-guard again.
The young Prescott froze and rubbed his temples with his fingers, murmuring in an irritated voice. "Listen, I hate that nerd chick and her shitty selfies, okay? She's just lame, average and boring. You shouldn't give a shit about her, really."
Hayden sank back against the couch and took another sip of his beer, babbling. "Hey, chill. It's okay. Didn't know you hate Max that much."
"That bitch is just annoying. That's all." Nathan grimaced and searched his inner jacket pockets for some weed.
Hayden grinned and gestured at them both. "Whatever, bro. There are many other hot girls here at Blackwell and they're just waiting for us Vortex boys to shake that sexy booty."
Nathan sniffed at that. "I don't need a girl. I already have one."
"Congrats, mate." His friend spoke with a slur, raising his beer bottle and giving him a suggestive smile.
"Yeah. Anyway..." Nathan paused for a moment and stared at the ground, looking pensive all of a sudden and muttering more to himself, "I'm about to do something. So maybe..."
His facial expression became very serious now as he turned to Hayden and continued. "Maybe we'll never see each other again."
"Whoa, wait a sec, dude! You talk some crazy shit over there. Don't tell me you took those fucking red pills again. Those are bad, man. Really, really bad." Hayden told him, his head swinging from side to side like a drunk man trying to keep his balance on a tumbling ship.
"I'm actually sober." Nathan confessed and also knew that he had to be. He would need a clear head to get through the next fucking day tomorrow. It won't be easy. His withdrawal from drugs had many undesirable side effects. Sometimes he had a fever or had no appetite at all. Other times his whole body shook uncontrollably or he bathed in his own sweat. The worst thing were those fucking headaches which made it difficult to think clearly.
Yet all this was nothing compared to the upcoming task of facing the one person in his life who had a grip on him like no one else. His mentor. There was no way in hell that he could avoid Mark's powers of observation in class. Photographers like him had a knack for picking up the smallest details. This man could read him like an open book. He couldn't hide a damn thing from him.
But there was also something else. Nathan felt he owed it to Mark to tell him about his decision. Their partnership would soon come to an end and his teacher deserved it that he gave him a head start. He was aware of the consequences if he would tell Chloe all about Rachel. The possibility was high that she would call the cops. Yet at this point he didn't really care anymore. He had nothing left to lose. The world felt like a nightmare. Reality was like a sick joke. Just when he thought he might lose it entirely Chloe was the one who woke him up again. At last. But even she couldn't help him to cope with this emotional turmoil, with this nauseating feeling of guilt that weighed him down.
There was no turning back now. His path was set. Would Mark understand his reasons? The man always placed his vision above anything else. Having a clear conscience didn't really interest him. What counted was only his work. Nevertheless Nathan couldn't deny that they also shared some warm, genuine moments during their partnership. Sometimes it had been a soft pat on his shoulder, other times an encouraging hug or simple words which always filled the boy's fragile heart with pure joy. Maybe even a man like Mark Jefferson possessed a soft side hidden beneath that cold, polished and calm exterior.
Tomorrow's meeting would tell him if the teacher he looked up to would show understanding in this matter. Only Mark knew how much Rachel's death had been tormenting him in these past few months.
Be that as it may, the Prescott boy didn't need Mark's consent to do this. Nathan had already made up his mind. This was what he had to do. To set things right again and to finally find some sort of redemption in his fucked up life.