Inside, soliciting for an end with the cold reaching her fingertips. The apprehension gave the room a sickly feeling, made the air thick and filled her lungs with presentiment. Chloe was standing in the living room, watching. Listening. Trying to get her body to react to any changes, any signs of movement. Her hand was on the gun, ready to shoot Ethan. He had to be in the house, for he had to face his death. He may have been hiding, but he was present. The pain in her chest screamed it.

The room hid details of itself in the dark, only showing the most obvious interior. A red couch, facing a TV. A plant in the corner. Pictures on the walls. Wooden floors. It was like any other home.

A step on the carpet in the middle was stained by Chloe's muddy shoes and she placed herself. To the left was the entrance to the kitchen. To the right, the stairs. Ethan was hiding somewhere. Waiting with panicked breaths and eyes staring up, and she could only wait to move her lips mutely as she heard the breathing. As she watched the stare. Then pull the trigger without as much as a word to prepare him.

With a blank mind, Chloe kept her dream grounded in reality and turned to the right to walk up the stairs. The floorboard creaked and gave away her position, but would simultaneously strike fear in the prey, so she welcomed the giveaway. The first step on the stairs she took made her black shirt slide along her sweaty back and it shrunk around her neck.

The air got lighter with every step as if she became more accustomed to the thought of the impending kill. More accustomed to fear. And so, as she reached the final step up the stairs, she allowed herself to take a deep breath through her nose and held it while looking around. The interior walls were all wooden, but it had seemed to rot a few places, almost making a line of rot to the right side of the hallway, which she followed with attentive steps. The first open door to her left called to her as if the very house itself wanted the owner gone. She stepped inside to see a room that some might call an office. But it was more than that. Despite her numb core, Chloe felt slightly staggered at the amount of loose papers and documents lying around. Four stacks on the table against the wall, ganging up on a PC in the middle, which could easily add up to six stacks if the papers on the ground were to be picked up. An office chair in front of the table indeed indicated that this was the place Ethan spent most of his time. Working. Scheming. Planning.

The moonlight shining through one of the windows illuminated the room just enough for Chloe to be able to find her bearings. While curling her fingers in her hand, she examined the work table and read a few lines of the documents lying around. It quickly proved itself to simply be related to his actual job as a psychologist, with patient's names, a bunch of medical words that Chloe intentionally glossed over, and a few notes written in red pen at certain key points.

She continued to search with her eyes, not being able to tell what she was looking for or even hoping to find in the bundle of white squares. The PC was closed, presumably locked, so she skipped the effort of consideration. Her scanning eyes then fell onto a piece of paper that was different from the others, and she squinted as to make herself able to read the words printed onto the piece. The biggest letters were "CAR RENTAL" written in bold under a few smaller, less significant words. She took a step closer, caught with a cautious interest. As she saw the names of the cars and the prices printed next to them, her mind found its thoughts.

There's like six cars here. Why would Ethan rent that many? Or even one. He has his own damn car.

She continued to read, the atmosphere expanding the constructed mystery.

It says he only rented them for a day. The same date for each one. April 18th.

There was only one straight line to walk across, but she had to balance and so the walk was slow. Chloe opened up her eyes a little to release tension from her head.

Yeah. That's the date we were at the mall. Where he ordered his not-brother-but-crazy-fucker to blow up random cars.

Her face pulled a little to the side and her body soon followed along.

Or I guess they weren't that random. He really just blew up cars he rented?

Afraid of what she might feel if she continued to stand on this stratagem, Chloe pressed her shoulders down and stretched her neck before turning her attention to the couch up against one of the walls. A green polyester couch with the legs making space between the bottom and the floor. Space enough for a grown man to hide under.

Hovering her hand above the gun in her pocket, grazing the metal with her thumb, Chloe walked slowly towards the couch while bending down slightly. "I'm going to shoot if you don't come out here and beg for mercy" She spoke as a lure, hoping to save herself the trouble from bending all the way down to look, which she eventually did in the absence of a response. Although it was dark, it became apparent that Ethan was not hiding underneath the couch, which brought Chloe right back on her feet with eyes closed hard to feel the pain that had centered behind her eyeballs.
She slowly opened them again, to see a small book lying in solitary on top of the couch. It had no title, no author, and solely because of that, it enticed Chloe just enough for her to move closer and grab it. It was light-brown, thin and small, with notable damage on a few select spots. As she opened it up, the missing title and author on the cover became a solved mystery, as this thing in her hands was a notebook. Words scribbled around with a pen on the white pages. The lead gently reflected the moonlight from the window and highlighted a few words, which Chloe's brain automatically read.

Max traveled three days back and returned at 11:20 PM. Her right hand was on her head, covering the right side of her face, looking down with notable pain.

Day one. The package: Max got 2 out of 4 questions correct at approximately 11:15 AM. I gave Ted the link, and he uploaded it on Twitter at 9:22 AM, making sure Max and Chloe were the only one to see it. They opened up the link at 10:02 AM, with the belief of the link being public.

The words she read went to her mind and she swirled them around for a while, like making a perfect soup, she got the temperature to rise and added a few ingredients to the mix. She then let it sit.

So the link on Twitter wasn't even published? He never intended to publish personal information and records about us?

Before her thoughts could wander any further, she blocked them off and put on the lid.

Bullshit. I got at least a dozen of strangers who wrote to me on Skype, saying they wanted answers and threatened Max BECAUSE they got a hold of the information that she destroyed Arcadia Bay. We got those only moments before he came into my house and pulled a gun on Alfred. So fuck you, words.

She gently asked herself not to care, and she believed that she didn't, but it was an uncontrollable cogitation that urged her to keep her eyes open for a little longer.

Unless…

Keeping the notebook open in her hand, Chloe retraced her steps back to the table and gave a second glance at the black PC lying silently in the middle. Two devices were inserted into the USB port. One cable and the other… the other was a portable Wi-Fi device. A little green light flashing under the white plastic. It looked disconcertingly similar to the one Ted had brought with him when they were driving around, searching for Chloe after Max had freaked out about Chloe mentioning something about suicide. And it very well could be. It most likely meant that he had used the PC recently, outside of a place with Wi-Fi.
She reached her free hand down and touched the surface. It was relatively cold.
Perhaps he had been using it in a car.

So maybe all those messages from strangers, was just Ethan… to keep up the pretense of the information having gone public?

She slowly curled her fist.

Whatever. The intention is worse than the outcome. It's not like the fucking news channel would say "BREAKING NEWS: Local douchebag, Ethan, has tried to trick two girls. Might do it again in the future. Also sucks cocks on a daily basis." So don't let this shit get to you.

With a rough scoff, Chloe made sure her urges were kept in place. She made sure that words, thoughts, and information, could not erase the burnt picture of Max screaming in pain that was so marked in her brain. Her attention went back to the notebook in her hand, but she made sure to distance herself from compassion and forgiveness.

Ted borrowed Joanna's purse and gave it to Tiffany with Cecilie's picture in it. She suspects nothing. At 01:45 AM, Ted made sure to get the purse back and then making it seem as if Tiffany forgot it in Chloe's car.

It seemed almost too convenient that Tiffany's name would pop up like that, explaining what Ethan avoided to do in just a few sentences. 'She suspects nothing'. Those elucidating words suggested that Tiffany had not been involved with any of the events, at least not purposefully, and that she was not working with Ethan. But again, it was too convenient. For all Chloe knew, Ethan intended for her to read this notebook at some point in order to mislead her. For all she knew, Tiffany could be standing right behind her with a gun pointed at her head. The thought tickled her neck, but she would welcome a bullet before letting her mind get the better of her. In mild annoyance, Chloe flipped a few pages and stopped when she saw a mention of her own name.

Current diagnosis:
Chloe – Panic Disorder. Survivor guilt. Insomnia. Varying Hyperthermia. Possibly hallucinations.
Chloe responds aggressively to mentions of her parents. She wanted them to be proud of her.
She has turned to Christianity due to fear and a meaning for her survival.

Max – GAD. Mild Agoraphobia. Mental self-harm. Stress response syndrome. Dissociative disorder. Severe depression (4/19).
Max is doubting whether or not she made the right choice when she saved Chloe. (EXPLOIT THIS).
Doesn't know loss the same way Chloe does and is generally more stable.

Max and Chloe are in a relationship. Unsure of for how long. Been friends since childhood.

4/19: Max and Chloe's relationship is crumbling under the fear and stress. Will presumably make Max more likely to change her mind about saving Chloe. However, Chloe wants them to stay together no matter what, as she feels her survival would have been for nothing if they part.

Her hands tightened around the book, the analytical words that seemed so proud of themselves provoking every part of her body. As if she and Max were nothing but freaks to be diagnosed. Nothing but moves to predict. It was all bullshit. Whether a truth or a lie, it was not something to be looked upon with such benighted eyes and then spoken with such certainty.
She flipped the pages yet again only to add to her hate. To make her fingers shake in the urge to kill.
The last words she could find in the notebook were in bold. Big letters with a shivering hand tracing the lines of words that he must have shouted.

YOU ARE DOING THIS NOT ONLY FOR YOU DAUGHTER BUT FOR THE LIVES OF MANY INNOCENTS!

THEIR SELFISH FRIENDSHIP SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO DECIDE THE FATE OF OTHERS. PEOPLE DIED. THEY HAD FRIENDSHIPS TOO. THEY HAD FAMILIES. DO NOT DOUBT YOURSELF. DO NOT HATE YOURSELF. YOU ARE DOING THE RIGHT THING.

Then a wide space. A pause. A moment of consideration.

BUT DO NOT KILL THEM! NO MATTER WHAT!

Chloe snickered at the words. Her eyes fell upon the exclamation marks and the snicker turned into a giggle. "Do not kill them". Her breaths followed each other in quick succession, nearly laughing.

Oh, you must be heartbroken then, Ethan. Because guess what?

She shook her head and closed the notebook.

You did kill us.

Taking a step back, her smile persisted on her curved lips as she threw the book back onto the couch.
She stood around for a little longer, dreading the fact that she didn't bring her phone. She wanted so badly to call Alfred and check if they got in contact with the hospital. To know if she should give up on clutching her heart in fear of it bursting.
A board underneath her creaked as she turned, but the sound was distant. Her feet planted themselves and her breath was held to observe the silence. The creaking wasn't underneath her. It came from another room.

Her feet lifted from the ground automatically as she pulled the gun out from her pocket and held it with both hands by her side and proceeded to take swift, quiet steps towards the location of the sound.
With her heart finally beating in her sore chest, Chloe was back in the hallway, already passing the framed pictures on the walls and saw a slightly opened door at the end with light she could have sworn wasn't there before, shining out as a temptation to enter. And she took that temptation and did not hesitate to open the door with a push of her shoulder. The gun was immediately raised but a quick scan of the room showed that there was nothing to aim at. Unless she had a burning desire to massacre a teddy bear with bullet holes. At first thought, it was an odd object she had taken notice of, but a second glance at the room proved that it was indeed suitable. The walls were painted a bright green with colorful drawings hanging from them. Against the far wall stood a tidy bed that was not nearly large enough for a person like Chloe to fit in. The sheets were pink, the three pillows red, blue, and yellow. The source of the light she had seen from outside seemed to be the small festoon hanging above the bed.
It didn't take long for Chloe to collect the flashing dots to tell that this was Cecilie's room. Ethan's daughter. An assortment of stuffed animals was gathered like a mountain in the corner next to a bookshelf that was presumably filled with children's books.

The air was colder in here, cold enough for Chloe to tense her muscles, to then shake her arms. It was like a breath that whispered demise. Her finger was held firmly around the trigger of the gun as she stopped breathing when turning her body slowly around. Her eyes caught a book lying flat on the ground, splayed open like a dead body. Unmoving, but placed.

"I know what you're doing, Ethan" Chloe whispered to her own vigilant ears as she took a step closer to the book. "Trying to get into my head. Fuck with my thoughts- manipulate me" the pages the book showed were partially filled with cloddish words that went above and under the ruling lines. "But there is nothing to save you. No one. Everyone has left you. Ted is in jail. Your wife divorced you. Your daughter is dead"
She put her foot on the open book. "For good"
Dug her heels into the pages and twisted it around.
"So keep your prayers silent" For she could tell what the book actually was.
"And let me murder you" It was Cecilie's diary.

The page got torn under her boots and she only stopped when the wounds on her feet began hurting.
Another step forward, her eyes glanced left and right, left and right. Her breath got shaky because she felt it. The atmosphere of another. The tension of peril. The temptation. Then silence.
And a sound came from behind her.

Chloe quickly flung herself around and before even getting a visual, pulled down on the trigger hard and shut her eyes close. No bang, just a click. So she pulled the trigger again. Click. Click. Click.
Her eyes were shot open but there was nothing in front of her but a painted wall. Her heart was thumping as she panicky flipped the gun to the side in the absence of triggered bullets. The safety was on.

The fucking safety is on.

Her feet stood still for a moment, but her body began trembling. Then shaking. Shaking so much the gun fell from her hands as she felt her thoughts leaving her to leave the damaged past behind. A pain impossible to get accustomed to.

Panic.

Panic because the trigger was pulled and she felt herself change without even firing a bullet. Without even killing a person. Simply the thought that appeared in the fraction of a second, was enough to bring her to her knees in a growl.

Her open mouth took as much air into the lungs as it could manage, and whatever liquid she had left in her body was used to make her palms sweaty. She would yell. She wanted to curse. Fuck, shit, bitch, crap, god-fucking-dammit. She wanted to yell it all out. Her body wouldn't have it. It was done. It had been under pressure for too long and it broke. Down on her knees, all she could move were her eyes that had fallen upon the open book she had stepped on.

9th September 2013.
I stay up late today. Daddy let me watch a movie with him and mommy. It was booooring. Just old people talking. Not even animated. NO ANIMALS! At least we eat popcorn. Daddy put some extra salt on mine because I like it that way. Mommy told him "No more salt!" so I didn't eat more popcorn. Mommy went to bed and daddy stayed with me to finish the movie. It got funny when he started doing voices like zombies. He think it was boring too. He read me a book about fairies again. I think he really likes fairies.

Her heart fell in synch with the rapid blinking of her soggy eyes. She heard the voice of the written words in her head. A little girl's thoughts written down in a diary. Just like Max's notebook.

23rd September 2013.
I am in my room. I don't wanna go downstairs because mommy is yelling.

Daddy came up to my room and said sorry for the noise. He was sad but told me he love me. I love him too! And mommy! I don't like when they yell. Sometimes they say my name when they think I can't hear them. I don't like it. Are they yelling because of me? Maybe I did something bad… maybe it was because I gave some of my food to Molly. I won't do that again.

Eyes stared at her neck as if the ghost of the girl were looking down on her. Chloe remembered seeing her face in the picture that had been in Tiffany's purse. A young girl with brown hair down to her shoulders and a cryptic smile.

9th October 2013.
I am going to grandpas tomorrow. I don't want to. I want to stay here in my room and play. All my plushies say they will miss me. I will miss them too. And mommy and daddy. Maybe they are sending me away because I did something bad. I'm sorry.

The voice kept going, but it transformed. Changed in pitch to match that of her own voice, and now she felt so endlessly small in such an endlessly big world. A little girl. Thoughts and visions extant.
It made her think of her own father. The person she used to call "daddy". There was so much love in those days, and so much willingness to care and protect. It made her wonder that if someone killed Chloe when she was just a little girl, what lengths would her father go to, to get the person responsible? How far would desperation take a shattered heart?

10th October 2013.
I'm with grandpa now. He said we should go for a walk to see Arcadia Bay. I don't want to but my room smells so I just went to the backyard. I saw two moons in the sky. It was pretty.

The hair on her neck rose when tears had found their home on the trail of her cheek as she read the words like a story with an end she already knew. An end she was responsible for.

10th October 2013.
Grandpa is watching the news all the time. He gave me some candy. Yum.
Daddy called to ask if I was okay. I am not okay. I want to go home to mommy and daddy. There are dead birds here. I want to go home.

She fell silent while a muffled howling noise passed her ears, but the words spoke louder than any sound and in her head, she kept her voice. To sharpen the knife she held so dearly to her gut when she continued reading.

11th October 2013.
It's raining so much. The people on the news are yelling. I'm scared. Grandpa looks scared too. Daddy will take me home tomorrow. I miss him.

And that was the last line. The last sentence. The very last thoughts the little girl were able to write down, before being killed by such a violent storm. It had been a life gone to protect another. But it wasn't just the one. She could now not only feel one set of eyes watching her, but hundreds of wet eyes judging her. All the people who died in the storm so Chloe could be spared of her own cruel fate. Some were consoling her. "It's okay" a spirit would whisper. Some were screaming. "I had a family! I had loved ones as well!" they yelled.

The howling noise returned, less strangled than before. It gradually took Chloe out of her drowsy state, and slowly dragged her into the future world, where even the tools to fix were broken. Still down on her knees, Chloe wiped her cheeks to rid the tears and took a purposive breath. The sound was louder than she thought when she was dragged back from out of her head. In this little girl's room, she could hear sirens coming from outside. Getting nearer by each second, telling her to hurry up, but freezing her body in the process. Her thoughts gathered too quickly to become comprehensible. Just in a few seconds, the police would be here to arrest Chloe for a murder that she did not want to be marked with 'attempted'. She had to act quickly, but a sting held her back. A dissonance between the image of Max that brought upon rage, and the image of herself that brought upon heartache, for she could no longer recognize herself.

Her heart made another thumb, but it was a reaction. A single footstep came from behind her, making her turn her head quickly to see the figure of a man, prompting her to sever her restrains, shut down her thoughts for a second and react.
Chloe quickly grabbed her gun and jumped up to her feet while turning, her muscles burning when she grasped the grip and pointed the gun at the figure that now had become clear.
Her heart beat in her chest as she quickly flipped the safety off with her thumb.
The hair on her neck rose.
The air around her clinging to her skin.

Ethan stood only ten feet in front of Chloe. And he just stood there with such a serene look on his pale face with his arms down his side. His eyes were red, his mouth half-open. The look he gave Chloe was so still, almost awaiting. He swallowed thickly while allowing a tear to escape down his cheek as his lips trembled when he whispered, "Chloe, please…" he did not move. He didn't even seem to acknowledge the gun pointed at him, but only kept looking directly at Chloe.

And Chloe looked back with a stiff finger on the trigger of the gun.

And what she saw on the man's face, for the first time, was not the face of a psychotic monster.

But instead, the face of a desperate father.

And then she pulled the trigger.

A bullet escaped the barrel with the scream that Chloe couldn't muster. A flash of light as she blinked that unveiled everything for just a split-second, the look of shock in his eyes, the shockwave of anger she wished would have never been, the frightening satisfaction stemming for a dark place. All before the bullet made impact with Ethan and pierced through his face. A splatter of blood immediately bursting from behind his head and hitting the green wall behind him. Time moved so painfully slow, forcing Chloe to perceive every detail of her actions, as a mixture of stupor and desire forced her to keep her eyes open. Ethan's neck drooped backward as his body went limp. The wail of the shot muted the sound of his body falling against the back wall, before sliding down on the ground.

Her hand fell down her body as her legs went weak. Chloe watched the mutilated face of Ethan. His limp body against his daughter's wall. He was finally dead.
Chloe uttered a gasp but the air never went down her lungs. Her eyes were red with tears flowing down her face and her skin crawled. It was done. It was over.

A rummaged sounded from inside the house as officers had run inside following the gunshot. They passed yells around, but Chloe caught nothing in her hear but the ongoing sirens. Her legs finally gave away, and she fell to her knees while whimpering. Everything hurt but her mind was truly blank. It didn't feel real. The smell of blood, the sounds of the police running up the stairs, the sight of a life she had taken, and the feeling of her evanescing self. No one to remind her of who she was. So nothing was real.

"LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!" Someone yelled from outside the door, just a few feet from Ethan's body.
They all stood outside with their hearts pumping adrenaline through their bodies. They could have kicked in the door, but knew she still had the gun. The gun she had already used, and so they feared what she would do.

But what would she do?

Down on her knees, with death hanging above her. One more death holding her down. One amongst hundreds. Just enough to push her over the edge. And now she was falling. Only waiting to hit the ground. Only one place she wanted to land. One place she could finally find peace.

The police outside were waiting for her to say something. Anything. To give them some sort of go-ahead.
But her words were drowned out by the whine and so, with a shaking hand, Chloe pulled the warm gun back up, her eyes unblinking, unchanging. Her finger was on the trigger as she aimed the barrel of the gun against her own temple.

And then they heard her speak.

"CAN I STILL GET INTO HEAVEN IF I KILL MYSELF?!" She pressed the gun against the side of her head as the smothering air surrounded her.
"WILL I BE SENT TO HELL?! CAN I EVER BE FORGIVEN?!" She cried out in despair.
"CAN I SEE MY PARENTS AGAIN?! CAN I SEE MAX?! IS SHE THERE?!" The name that was yelled out made her eyes twitch.
"CAN I SEE THEM ALL AGAIN IF I KILL MYSELF?!"

The excessive air from her hyperventilation made her dizzy and she felt the finger slowly falling down on the trigger. Another gasp and all the heat went up to her head, pushing the veins against her skin.
The intense fear she created burst in her stomach as the door was kicked open, sending small pieces of wood flying across the room as several beams of light entered. She was blinded by the light and deafened by the shouts. One last thrust of her poor heart to decide. One last tear to show the world what it had done. One last scream to show the world what she had done.
One last memory of Max daring to show itself in her mind as a goddamn joke.

And then… with Max's smiling face being the only thing visible in the array of light, Chloe dropped the gun from her hands. Letting it drop to the wooden floor as she closed her eyes in frustration of her own cowardice. In a living nightmare surging with fear; it was that exact same fear that kept her here. Kept her alive.

She barely felt it when one of the officers pushed her from behind and pinned her to the ground on her stomach. Her whole universe persisted of only a paralyzing breath that numbed her from the inside out as handcuffs were forcefully locked on her wrists. Even though her heart continued to beat, she still felt dead, for she did not feel, did not perceive, did not care, when she was lifted up from the ground and carried out of the room, past Ethan's dead body and past all the dismayed police officers.

The present, immutable, the future, corrupt. It left her with only being able to handle to think about the past. Her mom. Her dad. David. Rachel. All those people eventually lost. Now herself. Everyone in her life, now gone. It would only make sense, would only stand to reason that Max was amongst them. She was left with thinking about how her own choices had led her here, and how she could have prevented losing them all.
She had the chance. For every single one.

But despite that hope had come and gone, slammed the door loudly behind her to show off its anger, she was still alive, yelling through the door, calling out the unfairness. Showing hope and fate that it had betrayed her. How was it fair to anyone that this would be the end for her?

She had tried.

But Chloe was ultimately right. This was not a world where she and Max could sit back with smiles on their lips and have the past be a foregone memory and nothing else.

This was a world that punished a girl because she tried.

Because she had failed to live up to the unfair expectations.

Because she sought justice in an unjust life.

Because she dared to show her tears.

Because her heart could only stand the force for so long.

Just because she fell in love.

But she could feel it on her face. The way her lips were stretched in a smile that changed the path of her tears.
She felt free. Loose from the shackles that had kept her close to her fears. Free to wander in a place she belonged. Despite being in handcuffs and forcefully escorted to a police car with blood on her hands, she finally felt like her own person. Not a hollowed out tree to home the lost, but the bird that leaps from the branch and flies to the sun without the fear of getting burned.

"Look at what I did" She whispered with a smile in the ear of the officer carrying her.
"Look at what I am capable of" She chuckled with the flash of red and blue in her eyes.
"Aren't you proud of me?" One last taste of the salt from the tears on her lips, and then she stopped.
She was all out of things to cry about.