Chapter 01: From Scratch

Chloe was safe. The storm didn't come. I even managed to spare William and Rachel and went the extra mile to make sure Rachel and Chloe ended up together. Oh, and I made sure Jeffershit went down pretty much as soon as he got to Arcadia Bay. Might've even caught that one early enough to spare Nathan his evil influence.

Basically, everything was perfect. I managed to use my powers to make sure everyone lived and no one got hurt. But where did that leave me? Here I was, stuck in a foreign reality with friends I didn't know, and the people I did know, didn't know me.

Chloe was gone, too. She left for L.A. with Rachel. A full scholarship to some big-name college for her to continue her science studies while Rachel continued to pursue her dreams of fame and fortune. I wished them both the best and hated it so much that I just wanted to curl up in a ball and stop existing altogether.

I put what pieces I could together by using my journal, texts, and social media. This reality was closer to the one where Chloe was paralyzed. Why wouldn't it be? I did spare William, after all. Apparently, I was a Vortex Club mega-bitch again. But I didn't get a mulligan this time. I wouldn't dare throw this reality where no one got hurt away. If my happiness was the only casualty of my power… well, that was a price I was more than willing to pay.

Still, I had to pick up the shattered pieces of myself and the realities I destroyed to get to this point. Healing my relationship with my parents shouldn't be too hard. Pulling my grades up from abysmal to their usual mediocre standard would just take time and dedication. Putting my social life back together with five years of memories that didn't match reality? That… was going to be a challenge.

I had to figure out what to do to repair my relationships with my old friends, not to mention try to maintain those with my current clique. They weren't bad people—not even Nathan. I knew that. But I had spent months building these relationships and getting to know them. Months that I didn't remember. Not even a little. Worse, according to my social media page, I was in a relationship. As best as I could tell, it wasn't just some fling, either.

Reality set in, leaving me feeling empty and cold. I just killed someone's girlfriend. There was no blood or violence, but that person I was just an hour ago? She's gone. Without a trace. In her place was this broken husk of a girl with memories no one else remembered.

I shattered my own life to save the lives of everyone I cared about. And not one of them would ever realize any of it. People were alive now that wouldn't be. They would never know that or that I was the one who made it happen. They just got to live their happy lives while I tried to start mine over from scratch.

After getting my thoughts and goals in order, I set in motion a plan on where to start fixing things. I called Chloe, spoke to Rachel—damn was she amazing. They were so happy in L.A. It made me feel so happy and so fucking terrible. Next, I called my parents to apologize for being a bitch and to let them know I was going to focus hard on my studies until my grades were well above the point I needed to keep my scholarship.

Then, I headed out to a place I could center myself. American Rust was bittersweet for me. This was Rachel's not-so-final resting place. The place where Chloe was shot, twice. The place where Jefferson drugged me before dragging me to the Dark Room. But this was also Chloe and Rachel's haven. This is where I protected Chloe and started repairing the bond I so cowardly damaged. This is where I decided that it wasn't just going to be Max and Chloe taking over Arcadia Bay, but Max, Chloe, and Rachel.

I guess, even in a perfect world, that couldn't happen. I checked the hideout. It was actually in better shape than before. They finished throwing slats up to complete the roof and left a little battery-powered lantern hanging from the ceiling. It was cleaner than I remembered—Rachel's influence, no doubt. Though the dartboard was missing along with some of the posters. It made me wonder how much of their hideout they took with them back to L.A. Beneath where the dartboard was, my own name had a few tally marks, though not as many as Chloe.

Part of the reason I came in here was to add my name to the wall again. But right below Rachel was here was, in my own writing, Max was here once again finished out the graffiti trio. I was here in this timeline before. But now they weren't. They were in love, happy in a city a state away. My insides twisted painfully as I realized the karmic poetry of the situation. After all, wasn't this the exact thing Chloe agonized over for years? Only, Chloe was better than me. She actually still talked to my worthless ass.

I left. I had to. That was their sanctuary, and I was trying to live vicariously through them. I had to face my own life, to put it back together piece by piece. Would I be able to put everything back together? And, even if I did, just what monstrosity would my life look like?

My stumbling stopped when I saw a different monstrosity. One that filled me with nostalgia and a peace I hadn't felt since I came back from that last jump to prevent Chloe's accident. It was her truck. That old junker she fixed up herself. Of course, in this reality, she never needed to. Her parents bought her a truck for her sweet sixteen. It was years older than when Chloe tried to breathe life into it. It cost her thousands to keep it running into 2013. Could I really revive it? Should I?

Yes.

I added another task to my list of things to do to reclaim my life in this broken, perfect reality. It didn't matter that I didn't know the first thing about engines or cars in general. In that moment, all I wanted in the world—other than have Chloe in my arms—was to revive this rusted beast. This vehicle held so many memories. Memories only I had. Even if it was an inanimate object, I felt as though maybe, just maybe, it could remember, too.

I opened up the front door and popped the hood. Inside, all I saw was metal and tubes and… things. This was not going to be easy if it could be done at all. Maybe someone at Blackwell knew cars well enough to teach me?

"What the hell, Max?" I jumped, at the sharp, harsh voice. Turning, I saw Victoria stomping toward me with a frown chiseled into her face. "You couldn't have given me a heads up that this was a fucking junkyard?"

My girlfriend. In this reality, at least. I felt a great emptiness take hold as I remembered that I didn't remember anything that mattered. My face locked up when I tried to smile. I just couldn't do it, so I hung my head.

I shoved my head back under the hood, just so I wouldn't have to face her. Why did it have to turn out like this? This whole situation was too fucked up.

"Are you not talking to me now?" Her voice was softer, an air of vulnerability in her tone. "Look, I brought the—"

My hand raised between us to cut her off. "I… want to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer from you. No bullshit."

Her hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "Anything, Max."

"Would you still want to… to be with me if you had to start all over again? Even if it meant you didn't get the same girl you knew before. Just… a broken echo of who you once knew?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Answer me!" I shouted, not able to keep my shit together.

She frowned. Then, her slender hand took hold of my chin as she pressed her lips to mine. It caught me off guard. I couldn't even think to reciprocate before she pulled me away. "A thousand times, Max."

Part of me was sickened. As though the kiss were some betrayal of Chloe. The logical part of my brain knew that wasn't the case. Chloe was with Rachel, now. Engaged, even. The other part couldn't help but revel in the tingling sensation still hanging on my lips and the sincerity of her words.

"Then… then we'll start from scratch, Victoria," I muttered, my fingers tracing over my lips.

"What the fuck, 'from scratch?'"

"That envelope in your pocket," I said, stepping away from her as I wrapped my arms around myself. "I asked you to bring it so I could prove something to you."

Victoria withdrew the envelope, literally sealed with a kiss—her pink lipstick showing on the seal. "You told me to write something unique, put in three random words, and put a random item in here and bring it to you here at a fucking junkyard. Still don't know what the hell this is about, but—"

"I love you," I said, cutting her off. "I asked for three random words, those weren't random." Victoria's brow furrowed as she looked between me and the envelope. "The message is a love letter, and… it's one of the sweetest things I've ever read. And there's a picture in there. One of us together where I'm kissing your cheek."

"Okay, how the fuck did you know that?" she asked, waving the envelope at me.

"When you first walked up to the truck, you gave me the letter. I opened it and read it," I told her.

Her eyebrow raised and she shook her head. "No, you didn't."

"I did. It made me feel like shit, and then I reversed time so that you never gave it to me. That's why I asked you that question," I explained.

"Max, I don't know what this game is, but—"

"This isn't a fucking game!" I snapped at her, causing her to recoil physically. "I fucked with time. You need to believe me because I'm not rewinding again. You have no idea how dangerous it is for me to use my power!"

Victoria stared at her envelope for a long moment. I didn't know what to expect from her, but I would never have imagined her to force the envelope into my hands and say, "I meant every word, Max. I trust you. I… really don't know how to believe you, but I trust you."

"Let's… get out of here," I said. I turned back to the truck, slamming the hood shut.

Without another word between us, Victoria took me by the hand and led me back to her luxury car. She let me in the passenger side before rounding the car and getting behind the wheel. The car started, but she made no move to actually put the car in gear and take off. Instead, she turned the radio off and looked over at me. "Talk to me. If you need a little chemical assistance, I have a joint in the glovebox."

I took a deep breath in and out as I tried to organize my thoughts. "That question I asked you. It wasn't hypothetical. I meant it."

Her frown deepened. "What, about starting over from scratch? Max, whatever you did, I know I can forgive you." She reached over, her hand taking mine. I felt her thumb trace circles on my wrist. "I know you."

"No," I responded as I jerked my hand away from her's. "You don't know me. And I don't know you."

She blinked. And again. Her hand reached up, tugging at her emerald eyes. "Max, what're you talking about?" she asked, her voice hitching at the end.

"I don't remember anything, Victoria. I don't know how or when we met. I don't remember when we became friends. I don't remember when we became more than friends. I don't remember our first kiss. I don't remember if we've done more than kiss," I said, my words rushing out of my mouth. "I just… the only things I know about this reality is what I read in my journal, my texts, and what was on our social media pages. That's it!"

Victoria's head shook slightly as she absorbed everything I said. Her eyes bored into me, emanating a concern and kindness that seemed so alien coming from her. "I-I… Are you saying you have some kind of amnesia?"

I hung my head as my hands picked at my jeans. Inside, I felt my heart pick up just a bit as it got harder to breathe. "No. I have all of my memories. I just don't have any of your Max's memories." It was the truth. That fact did little to comfort me, given that Victoria wouldn't understand even a little.

"You are my Max," she said. Her hand reached out for me again, and again I flinched away. Not only did she pull it back like it had been burned, the anguish on her face told me that it did hurt. Physically.

"I'm not," I said, doing everything in my power to keep my voice from cracking. "Your Max is gone, and she's never coming back. All that's left is… me." I looked up, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall as I drew a ragged breath in. "I fucked with time. My abilities… my powers let me do that." I closed my eyes. Maybe it would be easier if I didn't see Victoria. "This picture," I said, holding the still-sealed envelope, blindly holding it out to her. "When was it taken?"

"A-a couple of months ago," I heard Victoria say. The envelope pulled away from my limp fingers, and I heard the rasping of tearing paper. "Our first date."

"If I… If I focused on that picture enough, I would go back to that moment and possess my earlier self. Just for a couple of minutes, but enough for me to change things," I explained. "For example, if I snapped at you. Made you hate me so we never dated." Finally lowering my gaze, I looked at the time on the clock: 12:57. "When my time in the past ended, I would come back to this exact moment. Twelve fifty-seven on October 13th. But it would be a different world. I wouldn't be in your car, because you wouldn't have been my girlfriend and I wouldn't have had you write that note. You wouldn't remember any of this, but I would remember everything up to the moment I went back, the couple of minutes I spent there, then I would be in the present again. But the two months between?" I looked over, making eye contact with Victoria. "I didn't experience them, so even though I would've acted like I should, I can't remember what happened."

Victoria's jaw clenched tight as she stared hard at me. "And I'm supposed to just believe that?"

"I can't make you believe me," I said, "and I won't demonstrate my power again. It's too dangerous."

I watched as her gaze tore away to look out the windshield. "I… You wouldn't lie to me like this. I know that, but I just… I can't believe this shit."

"I fucked up. I know." My hands balled up into fists in my lap. "But I… I had to. I erased the last five years of my life to save a life. Five years versus decades. And I-I'm not dead. Just different, with different memories. Broken."

"What the fuck, five years?" When Victoria turned her face back to me, I saw tears streaking down her cheeks, cutting through her layers of makeup.

I breathed in, and out. It did next to nothing to ease the pressure in my chest. "I had to go that far back. To save everyone and maintain my friendship with Chloe." A bitter laugh found its way out of my chest. "I guess I didn't think that one through. Fuck. Another five years apart. Even in this world, I couldn't get that shit right."

"Max, you're rambling," Victoria said, her hand again trying to take one of mine.

This time, I didn't pull it away, though I didn't return the reassuring squeeze she gave me. "I don't expect you to understand. I don't even expect you to really believe me. So let's just… start from scratch?"

A ghost of a smile touched her lips as more tears slipped from her eyes. "Like I have a choice?"

I didn't know there was a little cafe in the better part of town, where all the fancy houses sat secluded in the wooded hills overlooking us peasants in Arcadia Bay. It was a nice, little shop. Both cozy and quiet. Aside from Vic—something she insisted I call her—and me, there were only four other people. And that was counting the barista. If it weren't for the exorbitant prices and secluded location, I might have considered this my new hangout. Vic must've known I would love this place. Maybe I did, and I just couldn't remember.

"You don't like it?" Vic asked, twisting her cup in her hands as she looked at me. I could see something in her eyes, but I couldn't wrap my head around it. Just that it made me sad.

I took a sip, and a wonderful burst of coffee, cinnamon, and spices bit my tongue with the familiar sweetness of sugar. "It's really good!" I said, more than a little surprised at just how much I liked it.

"It's your favorite… or it was." This time, Vic's gaze tore away from me as she stared down at her own cup. "I suggested you try it. You really don't remember?"

Taking another sip did little to clear the lump in my throat. "I… I told you. All my memories are wrong. Nothing in the past five years matches reality." I gave my head a little shake. "I'm so—"

"Stop it!" she snapped at me. "Stop telling me you're sorry!"

"So—I… I mean… Okay."

"Tch," she leaned back, an arm hanging over the back of her chair as she held her drink in her other hand. "Was it really worth it? Just answer me that. You willingly set your life on fire, and for… what, exactly?"

I hesitated. Did she really want to know all the fucked up shit? No. No one wanted to open that box of nightmares. Sure, it was in an enticing package, alluring to those who didn't know the mindfuck within. That Pandora's Box should stay inside my head so that my mind was the only victim of that rot.

"It was worth it. I'd have died for this outcome," I said, struggling to keep my voice firm to try and impress the fact that I was resolute. "I get to live, too. Even if I am a stranger to the world and to myself."

She frowned at that. Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, staring me down like a predator that had it's quarry cornered. "You dodged the question."

I shrunk under her gaze. 'I…" My mind struggled to come up with a lie, a distraction, anything. Nothing came, so I gave as generic response as I could come up with, "Everyone is alive in this timeline. No one died. It's worth it."

That gained me an inquisitive look as a perfectly-manicured eyebrow rose. "Who died?"

Everyone.

"I… five years ago, Chloe's dad would've died in a car accident. That's why I went so far back. To save him. To spare Chloe that pain." It was the truth or at least a part of it.

Vic set her coffee down and crossed her arms over her chest. Though I didn't think it possible, her frown deepened. "You didn't say 'he is alive' or 'he didn't die,'" she pointed out, her eyes watching my every move. "You said 'everyone' and 'no one.'"

Images of the storm crashed through my mind. Houses, filled with innocent people, being ripped into the air and shattered to dust. Chloe getting shot. Victoria pleading for her life on the floor next to me in the Dark Room. Rachel's rotten corpse.

I tried to blink back the tears, but I couldn't make them stop. "Everyone." Dropping my cup on the table, my hands rose to my face. Sobs escaped me as I hunched over. "Everyone died. I killed them all. Or-or got them killed! Everyone!"

Just as I surrendered to the tightness in my throat and cried, I felt a pair of slender arms circle around me and draw me in. I couldn't help but to latch onto the fleeting comfort, wailing incoherently into her designer sweater. For an ice queen, Victoria was so warm. She cooed soft words to me as she held me.

It took me a couple of minutes for me to compose myself. I just had to keep reminding myself that no one died. None of that nightmare was real anymore. It was erased. I erased it.

Once I got my shit together, I pulled away from Vic. Snatching some napkins from the table, I wiped at my face and blew my nose.

"Come on," Victoria said as she latched on to my wrist and led me from the table. Her voice wasn't demanding, it had more warmth than that, but still, I couldn't muster any resistance and let her lead me away.

As with the rest of the upscale cafe, the women's restroom was both pristine and well-stocked. It even smelled nice, having a strange combination of lavender and coffee. I washed my face in one sink while Victoria struggled to get my snot and tears out of her sweater. Every few seconds, I could hear her mutter some curse.

"Sorry," I muttered, drying my face as I chanced a glance over at her.

"I told you, you don't need to keep apologizing to me," Vic replied, her verdant eyes never leaving the mirror where she studied her sweater. "If anything, I should apologize. I pushed too hard. Just… you can tell me when you feel ready, okay?"

"Okay."

I left the bathroom and went back to sip my now lukewarm coffee while Victoria touched up her makeup. Sitting there, I couldn't even bear to look up. There was no telling how many of the people here saw my meltdown. I couldn't help but to feel humiliated.

I embarrassed Victoria, too.

"I'm such a fuckup," I muttered.

"It's nothing the cleaners can't fix," Victoria said as she took her seat across me. She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling in perfect posture. "You, on the other hand, may take some work."

"Sorr—I mean…" I just hung my head in defeat. Any words other than apologies completely eluded me.

I felt her hand on mine. "How can I help you?"

My eyes stayed glued to our hands for probably totally too long. I could hardly believe this was the same Victoria. She was so nice and patient and… warm. "I… why don't you tell me about, you know, anything in the past five years?"

I swear I saw a pained look on her face for a split-second before she gave my hand a squeeze and smiled. "What do you want to know?"

Pulling my hand back, I nursed my drink with both hands, trying everything I could to just disappear behind the cup. "How did we… I mean, how did you meet your Max?"

She sneered at my mention of her Max, but just what the expression meant was lost on me. "We met in the dorms on move-in day. Of course, I already had my room, since I was a returning student. I hated you at first sight."

That got a smile out of me. At least something in this timeline made sense. "Now, that sounds familiar. In the original timeline, you marched into my dorm to assert your dominance or some shit. You pretty much just spent five minutes telling me how much better you were than me and poking fun at my pictures."

She frowned. "That's… not how it happened at all. Rachel was flaunting you around the dorms. I was… jealous. Here was this lame little hipster from Seattle, and already you were best friends with the most popular girl in school."

"I guess if I kept in touch with Chloe, I would've been friends already with Rachel, too," I surmised, trying to imagine what that might've been like. Wait. "That doesn't make sense, though. Rachel graduated by the time I would've come to Blackwell, right?"

Victoria's brow furrowed, "Rachel was only a year ahead of us."

"Yeah, but I didn't get into Blackwell until senior year."

She blinked. Twice. "Max, you got into Blackwell during our junior year."

"What?" That was… news. Did Chloe or Rachel someone convince me to get into Blackwell earlier? That would've been before they got famous for their big arts expansion. But after the funding. I bet they did convince me to come. That would even explain some of the stuff at the hideout. The three of us probably had a blast together before Rachel and Chloe graduated. Memories I'd never know.

I caught sight of Victoria reaching toward me, causing me to flinch away. I wiped my face, smearing away a couple of tears that slipped free. Victoria withdrew her hand, looking away. "I… I'll try to keep my hands to myself," she muttered.

That made me feel even worse. I was uncomfortable in social situations, and even more uncomfortable with all the touching Victoria kept trying to do. Still, I was supposed to be her girlfriend in this timeline. It was supposed to be normal for her to do those things. For me to do those things for her. But it all felt so… alien.

"I'm sorry." I flinched as soon as the words left my mouth. It really was like those were the only words I could say. "J-just take it slow. Okay?"

"Sure, Max."