Chloe was halfway through her second pack of cigarettes before she even thought to try and cover the smell. With an awkward, unsteady quickness, she first went to the window and cracked it, then employed the usual trick of blocking the gap at the bottom of the door. She turned to Max, who was finally getting the sleep she needed, and a smile was pulled from the recesses of an otherwise chaotic and dark mood.

After Max's conversation with Nathan, they came back to the dorms and immediately set to formulating a plan on how to deal with Sean. Their efforts were interrupted by a visit from Victoria and Kate, obviously curious as to how everything went. She noticed how fidgety Max was at the beginning of it, and so she did her best to do most of the talking. After all, as far as they knew, she was the real reason why they had even gone. She allowed herself some pride at her improv skills, easily coming up with a story to convince them.

By the time Victoria and Kate left, she was happy to see Max much more relaxed. She didn't say it out loud, but the idea that they would completely abandon Max seemed extraordinarily silly to her. She understood, of course, having spent so much of her life terrified that every person she became slightly attached to would vanish, but still. Things were different now, and she knew both Victoria and Kate meant it when they said there was a bond between them that ran deep and sacred. Perhaps that bit of relief in addition to her already existing exhaustion was why Max was able to fall asleep so quickly.

Chloe didn't have the same experience. She slumped back into the desk chair and took a big gulp of coffee. It was cold, as she had premade six cups, but she didn't particularly mind. Her leg was bouncing, the back of her foot leaving the floor and smacking back down onto it with a muffled thud. Beside her, an open Ziploc was short three pills.

Come on, come on... How the fuck isn't there ANYTHING here?

She closed out of yet another tab, then returned to scrolling through the search results. It was real now – she and Max would need to confront Sean Prescott. It was not an easy thing to ask of someone. Sean was the most powerful person in Arcadia Bay, even with a failing empire. He didn't hold sway with the locals as he once did. He was under the increasing pressure of a very serious investigation. But even with all that, this was dangerous. They were expected to topple Goliath. Force him into explaining everything.

If he even can... It's bad enough with how much power he has now, what are we going to do if there's something...else going on with him?

She reset the search terms, then huffed as the same articles she'd read ten times flooded the front page. Most had to do with Nathan, and Sean was rarely mentioned. There were two that focused on the Prescotts themselves and the investigation, but they were short and spoke in vague terms. Everyone Chloe had talked to kept saying how Sean would be locked away once all his dirty laundry was aired, yet it was seven months later and there had been not so much as a sock to be seen.

Tell me you have a chokehold on the fucking internet, you piece of shit.

She lifted her fingers from the keyboard and massaged her temples, her eyes burning from the glow of the laptop screen. She took another drink of coffee and sat back, thinking it all over. It was ridiculous that someone she had hardly ever even seen in person had somehow become her nemesis. He certainly seemed to harbor an extra special kind of hatred that was for her and her alone, and she had grown to reciprocate those feelings. In a world without repercussions, she'd happily pummel him until he could no longer pronounce words. Sometimes she still thought of when Frank kicked the shit out of him, and it always made her smile.

Still... There was no denying the uneasy feeling she got anytime he was around. Every time, it felt as if she were transported back to childhood, paralyzed with fear at the monster under her bed. All of the terror of being absolutely, 100% certain that there was indeed a ghoul there, but nobody else believing you. Now, at twenty years old, Sean was proving to be the boogeyman she'd always feared back then.

And it wasn't like she was oblivious to the fact that somehow the Prescotts had managed to anger some sort of mystical force of nature. As far as she or Max knew, his stumble from power somehow allowed Arcadia Bay to grow beyond what should be possible. But she could only think... what sort of person would be able to do that? What could possibly invoke that kind of wrath?

She shivered, and drank from her cup once more. No, they couldn't go into this unprepared. Sean Prescott was dangerous. With a resigned sigh, she closed Max's laptop, then scribbled a quick note in case the girl woke up while she was gone. She thought it over and over: Sean Prescott was dangerous.

She had to be dangerous, too.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Frank called, raising his voice over the excited barking of Pompidou. The door to the RV swung open and, rather than engaging in their usual warm up chat on the doorstep, she immediately stepped inside. "Uh, hey," he said, letting the door flap closed behind him.

"Hey dude," Chloe said, "how's it going?"

"Same shit, different day," he replied, then he smirked. "It's funny how I don't even need to ask who's at the door anymore. I always know it's either you or Max." Chloe snickered and nodded, then directed her attention to the dog pawing at her leg, desperate for attention.

"Hello to you too," she laughed, lowering herself to her knees to pet him. "And how is my Pom..." Her eyes trailed to the side mid-sentence, as if magnetized to something. She stared at Pompidou's food bowl. Only, it didn't say Pompidou. The name 'Franco' was written in Frank's sloppy handwriting. She looked back down at the dog, happily panting and enjoying her pats. She yanked her hand away, a feeling of disgust grasping at her. It seemed to be the same dog she knew, but still, in that moment she could only see an abomination. Slowly, she stood up, then turned back to Frank.

Not Pompidou... Okay. Okay. Is anything else different...?

"You cool, Price?" he asked, his head tilted.

"Ah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry," Chloe responded. She glanced around the RV, trying to pick out any other changes. "What have you been up to?"

"Not much," Frank said, plopping into the driver's seat with the sound of relief that came with easing aching bones. "I'm ready for my day off. I've worked fifteen days straight." Chloe side-eyed him, calculating in her head if that information checked out. It did, and she relaxed a bit. "I just got Netflix, so I'm looking forward to doing nothing but watching nature documentaries for a solid twelve hours." Chloe snorted.

That definitely sounds like a Frank thing. Like...MY Frank's thing.

"Sounds like a good time," Chloe said, leaning against the counter, "you could use the break."

"Hear, hear," he responded, holding up a bottle of beer. It seemed that after everything, he still had a penchant for day drinking. At least now it made sense with his schedule, given that he'd usually be working during what would be considered the 'appropriate' drinking time. He took a swig, punctuating it with an 'ahhh.' "So, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just...meandering," she said. She nibbled her lip, then decided she might as well cut to the chase. "Frank, what do you really know about Sean?"

I don't have time to beat around the bush.

"Why?" he asked, immediately gaining a hostile look in his eyes. "What happened? Has he done anything else?" It was interesting how, regardless of who it was, that was always the response.

That's what I want to know. It sure seems like it.

"No," she assured, "I just...I don't really know much about him except that he's a scumbag. I feel like I should know." It wasn't the most convincing of reasons, but she also knew Frank didn't really need one.

"What I know about that asshole is that it feels like every bad thing that happens in this town is connected to him and his family," Frank spat. "Doesn't matter how far removed, it always leads back to the Prescotts."

Promising.

"Any examples?" Chloe asked, bracing her hands behind her on the counter.

"Shit, how much time you got?" Frank chuckled disdainfully. Chloe involuntarily winced at his wording. He brought a hand to his face and stroked his chin as if pondering. "I don't know how old you would've been at the time, but I was just out of high school. My friend and I were looking for work since college was obviously out of the question." She had the urge to argue the point, but decided against it. He slouched forward and swished the bottle around by its neck, creating a small cyclone of beer inside of it. "He got a job at the harbor and I...uh," he gave Chloe a knowing look, "stumbled into other opportunities."

Yeah. I know how that shook out.

"Right," she said, offering a sympathetic smile. "So...what does this have to do with fuckface?"

"Getting to that," he said harshly, but his eyes showed playfulness. "Anyway, Sean and his father were the major clients there. I guess it was more his old man in charge at the time. They sponsored fishing boats, shipped things like lumber, the list goes on. And there's one shipment where my friend's on board..." He looked at Chloe and she frowned. It wasn't hard to guess where the story was going. "Some freak storm or something, but it ended up sinking. No survivors."

Fuck...

"Shit dude," Chloe shook her head, "I'm sorry. You were close?"

"He was my buddy, yeah," Frank answered, pulling at the bottle. He held out his other hand conversationally. "Things like that happen, you know? It's shitty but...it happens. If I've learned anything in my life, it's that. But," he leaned forward even further, shaking his head angrily, "it was the way they handled it that made it so much worse."

"Oh?" Chloe glanced back at Pompidou, or...Franco, suddenly feeling guilty for how rudely she had reacted to him.

Sorry, buddy. You're still a good dog.

"They had this memorial service for everyone on board," Frank explained, "but it was clearly just a bullshit PR move to them. The service couldn't have been any chintzier if you tried. I remember just thinking, fuck, Styrofoam cups? Really?" He rolled his eyes. "Sean got up to say some words, and ended up focusing more on all the money lost in the accident." He snorted. "They didn't even spell my friend's name right."

"Jesus Christ, what assholes," Chloe said.

"No kidding," Frank replied. "After that, they dropped their output at the shipyard drastically, which was probably a mercy even if it did cost people their jobs. They treat their employees like they're not even people. Just pawns to move across a board."

"Yeah, that I've definitely heard before. Do you..." Chloe hesitated, trying to figure out how to word it, "do you really think it was a storm that sank the ship?" She wasn't even sure what she was implying. Frank narrowed his eyes at her, but something in them showed it wasn't as ridiculous of a question as she thought.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "It makes the most sense. It happens. But there's always been a nagging feeling."

Maybe a fucking kraken appeared and dragged it down.

"Yeah, I understand," Chloe said. "That's fucked. It feels like things are always connected to them, but that it's never...their fault. It's frustrating."

"Until Nathan," Frank corrected. "That little shit broke the cycle. But you're not wrong. It's fucking insane. And even what it's clearly their fault, they still wriggle out of it. Out of nowhere, a business suddenly not having all the right paperwork in place to be legit and, whaddya know, the Prescotts just happen to be interested." He looked at her in disbelief. "It's ridiculous. The home of someone the Prescotts dislike just so happens to burn to the ground?"

"Oh come on," Chloe scoffed, "that last one is so obvious."

How can I not find anything about this shit online?

"Not when you own the police," Frank said back. "Not when you can blind them with money and favors. They don't even pay much attention if someone happens to not make it out of the fire..." He closed his eyes, calming himself. "They always looked the other way. I think it was most obvious with all those accidents a couple years ago. Obviously his doing. It was such a..." he seemed to be searching for a good word, then smiled with a bit of pride, "saga."

"What accidents?" Chloe asked. She leaned to one side and twitched her fingers, beckoning 'Franco' to come back over to her. "It does seem like the police are officially out of his pocket, though," she was sure to add, grateful for all the support they'd given her over the past few months. Of course, she could also feel the ire of her former self's disapproval.

"I have a suspicion most of them might not have been too happy about being his puppets," Frank said, getting to his feet. Complimenting the police...or, at least cutting them some slack, seemed to cause him pain. "He probably became buddy-buddy with the chief or something and it trickled down. Or...something else, I don't know." He made his way past Chloe and opened the fridge, taking another beer out. "You want one?"

Ugh, yes. I wish.

"I'm good, thanks," she replied. He nodded, then pried the cap off. "What do you mean by 'something else?'"

"Blackmail or some shit," he continued. "That's what happened with all those truck accidents I was talking about. He'd force his drivers to go over hours, threatening to fire them and god knows what else if they didn't do as he said." As he paused to take a sip, Chloe added another tick mark on the 'blackmail' scoreboard. "So, there was this string of drivers falling asleep at the wheel and just smashing into the nearest thing. Some here in town, some in a different state entirely. All hauling Prescott's shit. It was kind of freaky. I think..." he thought for a moment, "you know that ray of sunshine trucker that's always at the Two Whales?

Oh, how could I not.

"Jim," Chloe said dryly. "He's like if an actual douche bag gained sentience." Frank bent over and slammed a hand against his mouth.

"That's a perfect description," he laughed, "Christ, I almost choked."

"Please do not," Chloe teased, "I have no idea how to do the Heimlich maneuver." She brought her hands together and held them against her abdomen clumsily in demonstration.

"That's fine, just leave me," he snickered. "Anyway, good ol' Jim has talked about it here and there. There were something like...shit, fifteen deaths between the truckers and people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Over a span of, what, six months?"

Wow, that's so fucked.

"But that's...clearly his fault," Chloe said, watching as Frank moved by her to get back to his seat, "but I guess the police reports were nice and squeaky clean, right? Just like Nathan's files were at Blackwell." He grunted and tipped the bottle to her in mock celebration, luckily not questioning how she would even know that information. She contemplated it for a moment, swaying back and forth against the counter. "You know, now that you say it, I think I actually do remember hearing about that. I always thought it was so weird that there were so many accidents so close to when..."

She went cold. She planted both hands on the counter again, stopping herself from giving into her gelatinous knees. Her throat tightened up, and her esophagus began working in reverse in an effort to eject the contents of her stomach.

"Close to...?" Frank leaned to the side, then gave her a look up and down. "You okay?"

"I...need to use the bathroom," Chloe heard herself say.

"You know where it is." He lazily waved a hand to the back of the RV. "You look like you're going to be sick."

She didn't respond, but made her way to the bathroom in a stiff, robotic fashion and went inside. She heaved forward, gripping the edges of the sink. She was breathing so fast that her lungs weren't able to properly take in air, making it feel as though she were suffocating. While most realizations are often depicted as a light bulb lighting up, this was more like...a sun blinking into existence. It seared, and screamed, and swallowed everything. She could feel tears gathering, ready to fall.

But they didn't. Instead, she stood up straight and glared into the mirror. The person looking back at her was terrifyingly calm. And somewhere in that calmness, sewn within the blue of her eyes, was a thirst for blood. Her breathing fell to its normal pace in an instant, and all of the prickling adrenaline in her veins dissipated. If she had any reservations about following through on her plan before, they were now entirely absent. She blinked once, slowly, then opened the door.

"Yo, dude," she called over to Frank, "you got anything I can take for my stomach? Tums or whatevs?"

"Probably in the back," he answered, his attention focused on petting the dog formerly known as Pompidou. "Just don't snoop around," he chuckled, "even I'm not sure what you might find."

Counting on it.

"Roger that," Chloe said, already with one foot in his bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door behind her, hoping he wouldn't look up. It'd be hard to explain the sudden need for privacy. Her eyes flickered around the room. As silently as possible, she opened several of his drawers, making restrained, frustrated sounds with each one. She stepped back and looked around again.

Please tell me you didn't actually listen to me and get rid of it. If I were Frank, where would I put it? Nowhere clever...

Before she'd even finished the thought, she was on her hands and knees, lifting up the blanket hanging over the edge of the bed. She let out a quiet gasp at the sight of a shoebox and she swung her arm out to snag it by the corner. Dragging it back out, her eyes lit with static when she saw its contents.

There you are.

She delicately lifted the gun out of the box and looked it over. It was colder than she'd remembered. She cradled it reverently with both hands, as if it were a holy artifact. And in a way, it was. It had power. Not the obvious kind – everyone knew a gun could destroy a life. But she'd seen it create one as well. Not just one, but many. One day, in a bland school bathroom in the middle of nowhere, she watched as a troubled boy pulled the trigger of a gun and created the world a million times over. It was the first time she'd really thought about it...

The Big Bang was real, and it had occurred between her ribs, doused in her blood.

Blinking, she cleared her thoughts and pulled herself back to the present. She opened the cylinder and grumbled when she could see the floor through six empty chambers. Digging back into the shoebox, she found a smaller box and flipped open the lid. Only a few bullets were missing, and she didn't stop to wonder where they'd gone off to. She emptied it into her hand and frantically stuffed the bullets into her pocket. Then, she crushed the box, flattening it out so it fit in her other pocket. Standing up, she made sure the safety was on, then slipped the gun in her waistband. The sensation of it against her lower back unearthed many very intentionally forgotten memories.

As soon as she had it situated, her phone beeped. She swore under her breath as she read the text.

Guess it was too much to ask for her not to wake up until I got back. Figures.

She pushed the shoebox back under the bed with her foot, then readjusted the blanket to make it more like how she'd found it. Though, she suspected Frank wouldn't have noticed.

"Couldn't find anything," she said as she came back out into the main area of the RV. She pouted exaggeratedly, earning a snicker from Frank. "I'm gonna bail so I can pick something up from the store. I feel pretty shitty."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Frank agreed, "you look like you've seen a ghost." Chloe opened the door to leave, then turned to him and flashed a hollow smirk.

Not yet.

"No more guns," she said self-mockingly, placing it in the glove compartment. She dug the bullets out of her pocket and held her hand out flat, letting them roll off one by one. The steady stream of 'tings' as each one hit the gun was much more melodic than it had any right to be. She lingered on it for a long moment, then slammed the compartment shut. With a heavy sigh, she fell back against her seat. Her certainty had faded so fast. Halfway through her drive back to Blackwell, her thoughts turned to Max and how soft she had made her. If she were to be less charitable, she might even accuse Max of making her weak. A sliver of her hatred for Sean Prescott broke away, dulling to annoyance at the fact that she was even capable of having second thoughts.

Feels like we're reliving The Week That Never Was... What the fuck am I doing? Do I even have it in me to pull that trigger anymore? I'm so...

"...different," she finished out loud, looking over her hands. But even as she was questioning herself, she had an inkling of the truth. She didn't have it in her. Back then, she took it everywhere, ready to fire whenever needed. Ready to fire it with the thinnest excuse possible. But that was a thousand lifetimes ago, when malice was the fuel that propelled her through every day. She couldn't imagine a scenario where she'd pull the trigger.

Well, she almost couldn't. There was one, of course.

She wouldn't hesitate if she needed to protect Max. It'd be as easy as breathing. Maybe even easier.

"Do not force my hand, Prescott," she whispered. She checked herself in the rearview mirror and was pleased to find she wasn't nearly as pale as she was when she left Frank's. She didn't want to worry Max. With another sigh, she got out of the truck and began the walk back to Max's room.

On the way, she mostly ignored any of the commotion around her, but did look up at just the right time to catch Warren walking the opposite direction a bit further away. Their eyes met and she gave him an honest smile. He offered a wounded expression back, then looked down, averting his gaze. She was surprised at how much that hurt, but she shook it off and returned to Max.

"Hey cutie," she said as she entered the room. Max was sitting on the bed, a pillow clutched against her chest. "How are you doing?"

I'm sure this is fine.

"I'm not...mad," Max said carefully, not yet looking at her, "but why did you leave me? With everything that's going on?"

Dammit, why did you have to wake up?

"I'm sorry," Chloe replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing Max's hair out of her face, "I really wanted you to get some rest. I was hoping to be back before you were up." Max's lips scrunched to the side as she finally looked at Chloe. "I just went to see Frank and get what I could out of him about Sean. That's all." She didn't even realize she was holding back the whole truth until she finished speaking.

Ugh, shit. I don't want to mention the gun. She'll totally freak.

"It's okay," Max finally said, lying down with enough space for Chloe to join her. "Come on."

That's an invitation I'll never turn down.

"I uh, I like when we're in sardine mode," Chloe snickered. "Your little dorm bed."

"I don't mind it," Max responded, taking Chloe's hand. "What did Frank have to say?"

"Most of the same..." Chloe said, knowing it meant a hundred different things, then she shrugged. "Basically same ol', same ol'. The recurring theme seems to be that this whole Nathan thing is like the first time any of the Prescotts have actually been in trouble. I guess Nathan wasn't really wrong about thinking he was the storm. For Sean, he might as well be."

"I do feel bad for him," Max admitted, as if even acknowledging it made her tired. "It's just fucked up."

"Yeah..." Chloe had been thinking it over since Max told her what he'd said. "I think maybe I finally do, too. I mean, I do and I don't, if that makes sense?" Max nodded to show she understood. "I can relate to being changed by shitty circumstances. I think maybe we're all much closer to that breaking point than we want to admit? We just...pretend we aren't." She managed a chuckle. "I guess he's a pretty good motivator to take seeing a doctor seriously if I ever start to feel like that shit's getting to me again."

He's like a walking, talking cautionary tale.

"That's for sure," Max agreed. Her phone chimed beside them on the nightstand and she groaned. "Email. Probably another teacher asking why I'm not in class. I didn't really give an explanation for missing yesterday or today." She held her bandaged hand up, looking it over thoughtfully.

Her poor hand... I wish I could do something.

"You're busy saving the world," Chloe said, pecking her on the cheek.

"It's a thankless job," Max laughed quietly. She closed one eye and looked at Chloe accusingly. "Were you smoking in here earlier?" Chloe cringed.

Tight. Good job, Chloe.

"Yes," she said, "sorry." She kissed Max again, then got out of bed and went over to the desk. She picked up the ashtray and scowled as she dumped it into the trashcan, waving her hand when some of the ash poofed back into the air. "I was so in the zone that I just-"

"No," Max squeaked, "no, no, no..." Chloe turned to her and saw Max staring at her phone. She was shaking. She took a big gulp of air, and the phone slipped from her hands and clunked onto the floor. "No, no," she repeated, kicking her legs out as she scrambled back against the wall. In a blink, she went from dry eyes to guttural, red-faced sobbing, almost as though she'd skipped the first step of distress entirely. She shook her head, then sucked her knees to her chest. "Not that. Please, don't change that. Not that..." she was cowering, pressing her forehead into her knee, "anything but that..." A hopeless attempt at a wail bubbled from her throat.

What the fuck? What's going on!?

Chloe knew Max. She knew more about her than anyone. She'd studied the girl, committing every freckle to memory. She knew all the variations of Max's smile and laugh, and what each one meant. She could look her in the eyes and practically hear her thoughts. Over the months, she'd decoded Max's style of texting, and could explain in detail how one 'lol' differed from the next. She, quite frankly, was an expert. And yet...

She did not recognize the behavior happening in front of her. It was completely alien. She'd of course seen Max afraid before. There were countless examples to pull from, many of which demanded a level of fear most people would never come close to experiencing. But this, somehow, made all other occasions seem trivial.

"Max?" Chloe rushed back over to her. "What's wrong? What is it?" Max only cried harder, shrinking in on herself as she clutched her knees tighter. "Babe? What happened?" When she still didn't respond, Chloe snatched the phone off the ground. It was open to a short email.

"Max,

This is the second day in a row you've missed my class. I'm not angry with you, but I am concerned. It's very unlike you. If there's something wrong, I'd be happy to discuss it. Alternatively, if you're ill, please take care of yourself and we can make up work when you've recovered. Just shoot me a response so I know what's going on.

Mr. Jefferson"

Chloe's eyes drifted to the top of the page and she read over the email address. Then she read it again to make sure. And then again. And again. It was indeed Mark Jefferson.

Max was trembling, muttering 'no' to herself over and over, with desperate gasps for air filling in between her pleas. A distant voice in Chloe's head told her that she should be comforting her by now. Beside her, hugging her, telling her it would be okay. Telling her it was surely just temporary. She'd protect her. It was okay. Hug her, the voice said. Hold her. Kiss her.

But that voice was a quiet, muted droning from far, far away. It was Jiminy Cricket splattered on a windshield. The angel on her shoulder bound and gagged. All mechanisms of the subconscious mind held hostage a thousand yards away. She stood numb, holding the phone in her hands. The numbness subsided just long enough to feel like she'd been thrown into a casket of ice, then she was taken once more by a sensation of nothingness. This was something neither of them had ever considered. She wasn't prepared for this. She couldn't be. That futile buzz in the back of her head continued to demand that she take Max in her arms.

But slowly, forced through a pinhole of memory, details of The Dark Room trickled into her mind. Piece by piece, she remembered all that she had seen in her dreams. Max terrified, splayed out on the floor as the devil himself spoke in hushed poison. The snap, snap, snap of pictures stealing the image of her beloved. Duct tape holding her in place as her head lulled back and forth. Snap, snap, snap...

She didn't even realize she left the room. She wasn't sure whether she was walking or running. The hallway was suddenly gone and the sun beat against her eyes. Another voice joined the one commanding her to take care of Max, but this one entered through her ears. It sounded like it was crying, and she felt someone pull on her hand. It was pleading. What was it saying?

'Where are you going?' 'Please, come back.' 'Chloe, stop.'

Her movements were fluid, rolling over the Blackwell campus like fog. Her vision was filled with blurred shapes and throbbing colors futilely trying to reset her focus like a broken bone. The voice was there again. Maybe it hadn't actually stopped. There was more pulling, but she moved forward without slowing. The truck door opened. When did she take her keys out of her pocket? She felt more tugging. Then she heard the voice again, somehow wild and hysterical, but hushed. What was it saying now?

'Why do you have a gun?'

Her fingers worked calmly, loading the bullets into their chambers. With a flick of her wrist, the cylinder snapped shut. She heard her name in that same quiet screaming. A burning pain appeared where someone frantically clawed at her. Then, the voice broke through, clear and panicked.

'What are you going to do?'

"Kill him," she answered, emotion wrung from her voice. She tried to turn around, but two hands pushed hard against her chest. The ragged ceiling of the truck filled her vision, and a firm grip found her ankle, then bent her leg toward her. There was another push that seemed to ask for her to back up, and she obeyed without a fight. Then Max was above her, followed by the bang of the door. "I'm going to kill him," she repeated casually. Something hot fell on her face, then another. The heat choked her, yanking her back into the land of lucidity.

"Chloe," Max whimpered, staring down at her. Another tear fell onto her. "Please, you have to stay with me. Please. I need you." Chloe wasn't sure when the gun had been taken from her, but was now aware of how empty her hands were and how badly they needed to be full. She reached up and cupped both of Max's cheeks, then she moved one to her waist and pulled her down on top of her.

"He hurt you," Chloe whispered, now aware that she was also crying. "Max, he hurt you."

"I need you," Max repeated, "don't leave me."

She tried so, so hard to shake the images from her head. The way Max tried to move, her feet twitching to kick out but unable to. How Max's eyes fluttered in half-conscious acknowledgment each time Jefferson berated her. How the first labored word Max managed to say was Chloe's name. It felt like someone was digging into her chest. She hugged Max tight, sobbing and pressing their foreheads together.

Nothing was said for a long while, and eventually, the tears had run dry. Max still shook, but it was in waves instead of constant. Each time a spasm hit her, she clung tighter to Chloe. Chloe kissed her on the forehead, on her nose, on her lips, hoping she could chase it all away. Lying there in the truck, she watched as time took the sky from blue to pink.

She wasn't sure if she should be sickened or relieved by how quickly all of her uncertainty regarding the gun had evaporated. It was perhaps a mix of both, but whatever the ensuing concoction was did not feel good. Like a frenzied pendulum, she'd gone from one extreme to the other and back again. She was different now, absolutely. But how far beneath those changes did the old Chloe lie?

I was really going to do it. I...really was.

"Hey," Chloe said somewhat loudly, hoping that her voice might distract her from her own thoughts, "do you want to go to my place? We don't have to stay here. I don't want you within a hundred miles of him. If you want to-"

"This doesn't make sense," Max replied, her breath caressing Chloe's face, "how could he be here? How much is different? I don't-"

"My place?" Chloe interrupted, beginning to feel anxious. All she wanted was a yes. It couldn't be more simple. 'Yes, your place.'

"No." Max said it forcefully. "I… I need to know what's going on."

Please, can we just leave. Please.

"How can we do that?" Chloe asked. "Max, if you want to hunt him down just to check… I don't know what will happen if I see him."

"I know," Max said, kissing Chloe on the cheek, "I know you won't be able to hold back. We have to check another way. We…" She let out a defeated burst of breath and shook her head. "We need help."

"Uh, hey," Warren said, surprised to see them. His expression changed to one of concern as he noticed just how red both of their eyes were, as well as Max's still present shaking. "Are you guys okay? What happened?"

"We need to talk to you," Chloe said, stepping into his room without waiting for an invitation. Max followed behind her, not letting go of her hand.

This is so bad.

"Of course," he replied, closing the door and brushing the hair out of his eyes, "you know I'm here to help however I can." He offered a sad smile that almost made him seem embarrassed.

"Thank you." Chloe sat down on the couch and slipped her arm around Max, keeping a safe hold on the girl. "We need to ask you a question, alright?"

"Sure, yeah," he said, spinning his desk chair to face them before taking a seat. He looked more closely at Max and frowned. "Max? What is it?"

"Warren," Chloe snipped, seizing his full attention, "who is the photography teacher here?" He cocked his head.

"Um...Mark Jefferson?" He framed it as a question, unsure as to how he might manage to get it wrong.

Beside Chloe, Max let out an upset mumble that only made Warren more bewildered. He rubbed a hand along his arm, showing that he knew it was appropriate to feel a touch anxious, but he just wasn't sure why.

Dammit Max, why didn't you just let us leave? You're not up for this.

"What do you know about him?" Chloe continued. Truthfully, she wasn't feeling all that much better than Max at the moment. There was still a bundle of violent energy in her hand that she'd love to throw through a wall or a certain someone's face. But someone had to hold it together. Even if it was with the emotional equivalent of duct tape.

"I mean...I don't know?" Warren scratched the back of his neck as he thought it over. He was struggling to sit still. "Pretty cool, but not cool enough to make photography interesting to me. Kind of pretentious? I don't...I don't understand."

"And you...also know about all the time travel shit?" Chloe asked slowly, trying to string it all together in a clean, orderly fashion.

"Yes," Warren responded seriously, aware that something must be wrong in that particular area, "are you going to tell me what's going on? I've been worried about you guys. Please."

What the fuck? This makes...zero sense. How can he know about the time travel but not know about Jefferson? That's literally impossible.

"This is so fucked up," Max said, presumably reaching the same conclusion. Chloe gave her a gentle jostle, just to remind her that she was there, then she looked hard at Warren. His complete lack of understanding was just so...disheartening.

How do I...fix this? There must be some way to get this to fit together. Right? Come on, Chloe. There has to be something...

With some difficulty, she pulled her sight away from Warren and glanced around the rest of his room. Then, she spotted a hoodie hanging in Warren's closet that she recognized as Brooke's. At first, she disregarded it and continued to look elsewhere, but her eyes were torn back to it as an idea crashed through her thoughts. An idea that made her grimace.

"Why are you asking about Je-" Warren began to ask, but stopped when Chloe leaned forward and stared deep into his eyes. There was a subdued sound of panic beside her as she took her arm away from Max.

"Warren," she said carefully, "are you and Brooke dating?"

"Er...yeah?" He shook his head, not following the sudden shift in conversation. Chloe took in a slow, reluctant breath.

Alright...

"And, uh, how did you guys get together?" she asked. She was leaning forward even further, and could feel Max clutching at the cloth of her shirt.

"What?" he chuckled nervously. "Are you guys like...messing with me? You know how the whole thing happened!"

"Yeah," Chloe nodded, "but...do you?"

"Of course!" He sounded a bit offended, both from the question and the apparent refusal to explain what was happening. "It was...uh...it was..." He furrowed his brow and glanced down at the floor. "I...or, I mean, she..." He looked at Chloe, suddenly pale. "We were, um, it was..." He brought a hand to his head and wound his fingers through his hair as he thought. "I can't remember? I knew, but...I can't remember?" He swallowed audibly as he began to panic. "What? I don't understand. Why can't I remember? What's happening?"

Chloe looked over her shoulder at Max, who was staring at Warren with her mouth slightly open. It seemed she wanted to speak, but just couldn't find the words. She'd even stopped shaking.

Fuck, I don't want to...do this...

"I'm so sorry," Chloe said quietly. She slid forward off the couch and onto her knees, then moved close enough that she was kneeling right in front of him. He stared down at her with a sickly expression, and for a brief moment, she almost backed off. "Brooke, um," she steadied herself and held her arms out to him, "Brooke asked you out after Nathan shot me in the bathroom. And...and he did that because he was an accomplice to Jefferson, who was drugging and kidnapping girls."

Expecting it, she caught Warren as he fell forward out of his seat, wincing in pain. He gritted his teeth, and Chloe pulled him closer to her. She put a hand on the back of his head and gently guided his face into crook of her neck. He shook for almost an entire minute before going limp in her arms. Chloe had her eyes clamped shut the entire time. It pained her deeply to intentionally cause him harm.

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

"Warren?" she asked softly, pushing him back up straight. His eyes were wide as he caught his breath.

"I remember now," he said, his voice scratchy as if he'd just woken up, "I...remember? Wait, I don't..." He pressed his palm hard against his temple and wobbled. Chloe kept him upright. "What? That's... I'm so confused..."

"Are you okay?" Max asked, readjusting her own distress so that it silently rolled in the background.

"No. Or, I...guess? I think?" He fell back onto his rear and blinked several times. "What the fuck just happened?" At the lack of immediate explanation, he shook his head. "Guys, what was that?"

"It's..." Chloe started to explain, then turned to Max, begging for a sign of approval.

We need to tell him. Please.

"Warren," Max said, taking a deep breath, "we're going to tell you what's going on, but it's not going to be easy. This is your last chance to back out." She wasn't cowering anymore, but was still fairly coiled in on herself. "You understand?"

"I..." Warren looked down at his hands, then back up with conviction. "Tell me," he said, "I want to know."

"Okay," Chloe replied, scooting backward so her back was against the couch. "I'm, uh, I'm not really sure where to start with all of this."

How do we even go about this?

"Do you remember that other...me?" Max asked. Warren nodded, still wide-eyed. "And do you remember what she said about timelines? Her warning?"

"Um..." He looked to the side, contemplating. "About the timelines, uh, mixing together?"

"Yes," Max said seriously. He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "It's...it's happening."

"What?" Warren shook his head. "That's...that's crazy. I mean, how? Why? That doesn't-"

"Who's the photography teacher here?" Chloe asked again, interrupting him.

Have to make sure.

"It's..." he put both hands on his head, fighting off another prickle of discomfort, "it's supposed to be Ms. Waters. But it's...not. It's Jefferson. I don't..."

"Things have been changing," Max explained, "but no one's been noticing but me and Chloe."

"Changing?" He wrapped his arms around himself, shielding himself from a chill that wasn't there. "What do you mean?"

"Details. Things. I don't know," Max said, glancing at Chloe, "it's so hard to explain. One second, something will be one way, then different the next. The color of something, the logo on a shirt, or..."

"Or people," Chloe added somberly. "Entire buildings. And now...? I'm not even sure what to call this..."

"Changing?" Warren repeated, forcing it through his head. "How long has this been happening? How much is different? Why haven't I noticed?"

"We're not sure," Max replied, scooting to the edge of the couch, "but it could've been going on this entire time and we just didn't realize until recently. Sometimes the changes are just temporary, they go back to how they were before. But some have stuck around."

Mom... God, I hope she's changed back to normal. I...I can't think about that right now.

"Okay, okay," he said in a clear attempt to calm himself. "So, the most recent change is Jefferson being...here..." He looked dizzy again as he struggled to comprehend. "But that doesn't make sense for me to remember most of the other stuff but not the Jefferson thing. That's...paradoxical. It shouldn't be possible, should it?" He looked back and forth between them. "What does that mean?"

What it means...

"It means," Chloe said, the corner of her mouth twitching, "I, uh, I think it means that it's getting much worse. If it's creating these...scenarios that are literally impossible, then... I mean, that sounds a lot like things are really getting fucked up." She let out a sudden burst of crazed laughter, then grabbed fistfuls of her hair. "Hooooly shit, what the fuck do we do?"

I'm trying so hard to be positive about this but... fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck!

She looked back up at Warren, hoping he might offer a solution, though she knew it wasn't a fair expectation to have of him. However, she noticed he was focusing on Max. Despite holding conversation, she'd started slightly trembling again, and she kept stealing glances at the door. Warren's brow's knitted together, then his expression twisted into one of realization, then disbelief, and finally sadness. It took a moment, but she knew what he must be thinking.

Ah... Dammit.

"Max?" His voice cracked as he spoke. "You...you mentioned something about The Dark Room way back when you first told me everything. Did, um, did..." She turned to look at him, her eyes wired and glassy. He took in a sharp breath, then looked at Chloe.

"Don't," she pleaded in a whisper, reaching behind her to take Max's hand into her own. Just that one word was enough to explain everything, and for a moment, it seemed like he might actually cry. She felt Max squeeze her hand. "Hey," she said to him, "can you like...stick with us today?"

"Yes," he responded without hesitation.

"Okay," Chloe said gratefully. "And I have a huge favor to ask you."

"Anything," he replied, "anything at all. What do you need?"

"I'm going to take her back to her room," she said. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a reluctant sound clicking in her throat. "Can you go out there and...confirm whether or not he's actually here?" At first, he looked nauseous, but then nodded resolutely. "And...and can you do a quick check on Kate? Just to make sure she's okay?"

Pumpkin... Fuck, this is SO FUCKED UP. Please be okay.

"Of course," he responded.

Warren, you're a fucking hero.

"Thank you so fucking much," Chloe said. "Once you find out, come back to her room. There's still...a lot we need to tell you. A lot."

"I'm on it." He got to his feet and faked his best confident smile. "You guys go back and make sure you lock the door. Um, and text me if you need anything else. I'll report back."

"Thank you," Max added, standing up as well but not letting go of Chloe. "Be...careful. I don't think anything will happen but just...yanno. Be careful."

"I will," he said, then hastily gathered his phone, wallet, and keys. "See you in a little bit."

Chloe was just beginning to realize her knees were getting sore. She'd been kneeling in front of Max, holding her hands within her own since they'd gotten back to her room. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet and sat next to her on the bed.

"How are you? You're not shaking as much..." Chloe said, wrapping an arm around her.

"I'm okay, I think," Max exhaled the words. "It's not...real. It's just...a mix up." She gave a small shrug. "I didn't know I'd still be this scared. Really, I didn't."

I HOPE it's not real. I HOPE it's just a mix up.

"I think you have good reason," Chloe said sadly. She was going to add more, but first elected to listen to that far away voice she'd ignored earlier, and gathered Max more securely in her arms. She buried her face in Max's hair and kissed her. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"That's my line," Max chuckled. It sounded raw, like it might have been painful to do.

"I'm borrowing it," Chloe quietly argued back, kissing her on the head once more.

Around a half hour later, there was a knock on the door. Chloe unlocked it, and Warren stepped into the room.

"Hey," he said. It sounded like he'd been holding his breath. In one hand, he held a paper bag scrunched up at the top, presumably carrying the food he'd offered to pick up for them. However, Chloe was much more focused on his other hand, where he held a loose grip on a baseball bat.

Well...I guess that answers that.

"You saw him," she said, not bothering to make it a question. She shot a look at Max, who faltered for only a moment before regaining her composure.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a sigh, "in the classroom." He propped the bat against the wall, looked at it, then blushed. "I don't know," he explained, "I just wanted something in case...I dunno."

Your head's in the right place, War-War.

"I get you," Chloe replied. She pushed the door closed, then flashed him an uncertain smile. "Er, just so you know... There's a loaded gun in the room." He flinched, his eyebrows shooting high up on his face.

"O-oh," he said, looking back at the bat, "that's way more effective..." He frowned, turning back to Chloe. "This is crazy. Are we really...?"

Yes.

"If he comes here," Chloe said, her voice hard and serious. She leaned in close to him and whispered, "I saw what that monster did to her in one of my dreams. I. Will. Do. It." Warren paled again and glanced at Max, then nodded sadly. He handed the bag of food to her, and she sat down on the floor in the middle of the room.

"You okay?" Warren asked Max. In response, she gave a small smile that seemed to say 'not really.' He sat down across from Chloe, and Max joined them just a moment later. He took a deep breath. "So, Kate's fine. But, uh, I did...learn something else while doing recon. Something that's, uh..." His voice caught in his throat and he cleared it. Chloe perked an eyebrow. "Nathan...isn't here. He was arrested for...well, shooting you."

Wait, what the fuck?

"That..." Max looked around her, sluggishly unwrapping her sandwich, "that's impossible." She closed her eyes, thinking it over. "Isn't it?"

"It...is," Chloe said, watching to make sure Max was actually going to eat. When the girl took a bite, she relaxed a bit. "I mean, did he not rat out Jefferson? That doesn't fit here at all. It..." She stopped speaking and chomped into her own sandwich, mulling it over.

"I was going to ask around but I didn't want to like, recreate what happened with me," Warren admitted. "But I get the feeling it's not just because things went differently. Something about it seemed...screwed up."

Yeah. Screwed up is pretty on point.

"And no one else notices anything wrong with that," Chloe said. "Everyone's just living with these big fuckin' events missing from their heads." She snorted with caustic amusement. "They don't notice all the nature shit. They don't notice any of the time shit. This town is fucking stupid."

"Nature shit?" Warren asked, tucking his legs beneath him. Surprisingly, he was the one who seemed to be having the most difficulty eating. Though, Chloe couldn't imagine what it was like to have everything dumped on you at once. It probably did tend to shrink one's appetite.

"Yep," Max said casually, "there's something all weird about Arcadia Bay and now it's going haywire with nature. And apparently Sean pissed whatever it is off." She looked at him with half-lidded eyes, then made an 'O' with her mouth. "Oh, right, and they...as in, the animals and nature or whatever, might be the cause of all of this time shit. Maybe. Samuel and the other me both seem to suggest something like that."

"Uh..." Warren stared at her. "Can you...I don't know, give me the long version?"

So, Max and Chloe took turns trying to lay it all out as coherently as possible. One would often remind the other of a forgotten detail, which would open up an additional five to ten minutes of explanation. Max told him of what Samuel referred to as spirit animals and the surreal event she experienced the other night, making sure to show off her still bandaged hand for emphasis. Chloe recounted what she knew of Sean and how they'd been led to Pan Estates. They told him about her nightmares, about their visit with Nathan, about all of the changes they'd noticed. It took hours to go over it all. Warren remained mostly silent throughout the whole thing, aside from asking if it was okay to use the term 'spirit animals.' The look Max gave him ensured he didn't speak again through the remainder of it.

"Wow," Warren said after a large stretch of silence, "that's, uh, that's a lot to take in."

Even my head's reeling and I already knew all of it.

"Are you okay?" Max asked. Chloe was just about to ask the same thing. She worried there might have been even more adverse effects as they caught him up to speed, but was thankful that there didn't seem to be.

"I...don't know?" he answered honestly. "I think I'm really, really scared but it hasn't actually set in. I might be in shock?" He reached for a drink, then simply retracted his hand back into his lap when he noticed how shaky it was. He made a thoughtful 'hm' that seemed to confirm his theory.

"Yeah," Chloe agreed. That same layer of shock still held her as well. It fell away often enough, but always returned to push her back into a foggy awareness. She was thankful, as she knew she'd be too afraid to function without it.

"So, um, what are you guys going to...you know, do about everything?" He looked down at his half-eaten sandwich and frowned. It had been sitting there for hours now and lost all of its appeal.

"We're going to find out what Sean knows," Max responded. "We need to dig something up or we are fucked."

"We need to act tomorrow," Chloe added, surprising Max. "If these anomalies that are literally defying possibility get worse, then I think..." she shrugged, "I don't know what I think. I can't like, imagine what that would do. We're running out of time."

It'll turn into a giant patchwork quilt of...history?

"Alright, okay," Warren said, waving his hand, "just to be clear: tomorrow, we're going to investigate Sean Prescott? The most powerful man in a really, really significant radius?" He said it like he was expecting them to correct themselves. Surely that wasn't the actual plan.

"Uh, no," Max replied sternly, "we are going to investigate him." She gestured between herself and Chloe very deliberately. "You aren't going anywhere." She sighed at his dejected expression. "I don't want you getting hurt, Warren."

Oh, come on. Stop this. We can't turn down the only help we can get.

"Max," Chloe said, placing her hand on the girl's arm, "he wants to help."

"I do," he stressed. "I have no fucking clue how I even can, but I want to try."

"Why won't anyone let me protect them?" Max whined, looking down at her lap where her hands were twisting together.

"Babe," Chloe said, almost mockingly, "everyone is always letting you protect them. You're literally trying to save the fucking world right now. I mean..." She held her hands out, presenting her point.

"And I'm not a child," Warren added much more softly. "You two are my best friends and you trust me with all this. Just let me try and help."

You're...technically a child, but I do agree.

Max looked back and forth between them, then pressed her palm hard into her eye and made a small sound of frustration.

"Alright," she said quietly, "thank you..."

"Hey," he replied, giving a shaky thumbs up, "don't sweat it."

From there, the conversation grew more spacious as the burden of exhaustion fell upon them. Warren remained somewhat perky, but the girls slowly lost steam in a manner comically similar to a windup toy coming to a stop. They spoke of the next day's plans, but the blueprints were vague at best and there was an underlying nervousness. What were they actually going to do?

Max pulled the blankets and pillows off her bed and onto the floor, offering one of each to Warren. Though he declined, she still set one aside just in case he changed his mind. Chloe sat on the floor, looking over the gun in her hands. The shape and weight of it once again summoned a squall of emotions. She looked up and saw Warren staring at her.

In way over your head. Me too.

"Scary, huh?" she asked in a whisper. He nodded, and she gave a tiny smile. "I know." She set it off to the side, then watched as he shuffled backward until he was propped against the door. Leaning to the side, he plugged in his phone, the pulled the baseball bat into his lap.

Blocking the door. You're a good guy, Warren.

"Do I look intimidating?" he asked, finally returning the smile.

"Hella," Chloe chuckled. Max snickered beside her, then snuggled herself beneath the blankets.

"Nice," he responded, "that's what I was going for." He rolled it across his thighs like a rolling pin. "How are you feeling now?" he asked Max.

"Better, actually," she said, wrapping her arms around Chloe as the girl laid down beside her. "You two make quite the bodyguards."

"You fuckin' know it," Chloe replied, kissing Max on the cheek. Then she peered over the blanket at Warren. "Try to get some sleep, man. I know it's kind of early still, but if we're doing this shit tomorrow, we're going to have to get to work ASAP."

"Aye aye," he said, letting his head roll back until it touched the door. "I'll just try to block all of the apocalyptic stuff out so I can get some shut-eye."

"Easy peasy, right?" Max quietly laughed. "I'm glad you're here to be fucked up with us, as selfish as that sounds." She yawned, and Chloe felt her hold on her grow a bit tighter.

"Yeah, me too," Warren said. "It's, uh, exciting, at least..."

It gradually fell silent, though it was clear nobody was actually asleep quite yet. Understandably, they were all deep in thought about a hundred different things. Chloe stared at the ceiling, watching the glow from Warren's phone dance along it. It was the first time all day she'd had enough silence to process everything that happened. It spilled in, messily coating everything in a paint darker than black. Reluctantly, she began sorting through it.

We're really doing this. I can't believe we're back here. I never fucking thought we'd be back here... God dammit, knowing that that freak Jefferson is out there somewhere just kills me. I've never wanted to hurt something so badly. And now we have to be careful that he's not still involved with the Prescotts. The last thing we need is him getting in the way. Sean's bad enough as it is... Oh. What Frank said. Could he really have been the cause behind...

She huffed quietly when she realized a tear was sliding down her cheek. It was frustrating, but it also seemed fair. She hadn't given herself the opportunity to cry about it earlier. Above her, the ceiling lit up with varying brightness. Beside her, she felt Max wriggle closer and clear her throat. She was reminded of what Ryan had said about why the Caulfields moved away.

Not even you could be that evil, right Sean? You couldn't take Max, Rachel, AND my dad from me? Right? You couldn't be that terrible of a person...right? There's no way you-

"I think it might be Sean's fault that Dad died."

She hadn't even realized she was speaking until the last syllable passed her lips. Her words hung above her in the air, absorbing what little noise was in the room. Nobody was responding, and she felt her throat constrict. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so exposed. Something about acknowledging it out loud put her right back into the body of the girl watching a casket being lowered into the ground.

Her fingers twitched as she considered actually reaching into the air to try and pull the words back down. She hoped that, maybe, they hadn't heard. Maybe they wouldn't acknowledge it. She couldn't begin to know why, but she actually felt embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" Max whispered. Chloe hadn't noticed the shadow blocking out the light on the ceiling. She felt Max's breath on her face. "Chloe? What do you mean?"

Too much to ask for...again.

"I, uh, I don't know," she responded. "Just something Frank was telling me about. I can't like, prove it or anything, but I just...it feels like I know it in my stomach."

"Frank Bowers?" Warren asked, aiming the light just to the side of the girls so it wouldn't blind them.

"Yeah," Chloe said, "he just said something about Sean being the reason a bunch of truck drivers overworked themselves and fell asleep at the wheel and...I dunno, the timing matches up and..." She sniffled. "I just..." Her voice bubbled in her throat, and her body went taut with an inaudible sob. She pressed a hand over her mouth.

"Baby..." Max said, and let her hands on Chloe do their best to succeed where words failed.

"I feel so stupid," Chloe half-sobbed, half-laughed, "I really kind of feel like I shouldn't be crying about him anymore. I thought...I just thought maybe I could be done with it..."

Why can't you just get over this already, Chloe? What the fuck is your problem?

"Chloe, you miss him," Max said, "of course it still hurts. It's always going to..."

"I don't want it to anymore," Chloe responded. "I want to be okay."

I want to be okay. Please. PLEASE.

"We will be," Max said soothingly, lying down again and touching her cheek to Chloe's. "It's going to be okay." She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "If he really was the reason..." There was so much wrath tucked within Max's beautiful, quiet voice that it was genuinely startling.

"Sorry, Warren," Chloe said in a hushed tone, still staring at the ceiling. "I know I'm supposed to be the super cheery one."

"Chloe, come on," Warren replied, "that's so not a thing. You're allowed to be sad. Nobody expects you to be a jester."

"Thanks, dude," she said. "I'm glad you still think I'm cool."

"Coolest person I know," he whipped back right away. She could hear the smile in his voice, and that was just enough to let her eyes fall shut.

"Get away from her, dude!" Warren barely had the words through his teeth before he was reeling backward. In the next breath, Nathan's hand was around Max's throat.

"Nobody tells me what to do," he snarled, biting off the words angrily. "Not my parents, not the principal, or that whore in the bathroom." A distortion clawed its way down his face before resetting. "Or that whore in the bathroom," he repeated.

Orange, bubbling and bending, fell from the sky. It disassembled, then reassembled the world.

"Man, I can see the headlines now..." Chloe taunted.

"Leave them out of this, bitch," Nathan snapped back, still not looking at her. His body was tense, all of his strength funneled into his vice on the sink.

"I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!" she continued, leaning in even closer to him. She spoke with such conviction. Such foolish confidence.

He pulled the gun on her.

"You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!" he shouted. Chloe threw her hands up, all of her bravado draining in an instant.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked as she was pinned against the wall. "What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!" Her hand went for Nathan's wrist. She tried to push him away, but he was stronger.

"Don't EVER tell me what to do!" He jabbed the gun into her stomach, and slammed the wall next to her head with his palm. "I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"

"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs..." Chloe tried to reason with him. Or at least, scare him into changing his mind. But she knew. She could see it in his eyes. He couldn't even hear her.

A ripple passed through the room, followed by a piercing 'caw' as a crow appeared, perched regally on Nathan's shoulder. Max peeked from behind the stall, and leering from behind her was a doe.

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?" Nathan bellowed, his breath hot in Chloe's face. Her eyes grew wide, and her shoulders shifted as she prepared to push him. The crow cocked its head.

'Caw!'

Destroyed. Created.

"What if they catch us?" Max whispered, creeping down the stairs behind Chloe. The small girl turned back around and smiled.

"Yeah right, we're ninjas," she responded. She stopped and thought it over, then held her hand out behind her. "Come on, I'll lead you."

"Okay," Max took a deep breath, "we can do this..."

Carefully, they reached the bottom of the stairs, then scurried on their hands and knees into the living room. Soon, they were behind the couch, completely hidden from sight. Victoriously, they engaged in the world's quietest high-five. They split up, with each of them peering from opposite sides of the couch.

The movie played for only a few minutes before a 'meep!' came from Chloe and she withdrew back behind the couch. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and then...she started crying. The image of the crocodile on the TV went still, and Ryan poked his head over the back of the couch. Maybe he was going to reprimand the girls for sneaking downstairs past their bedtime, but instead, he simply smiled as he watched Max wrap her arms around Chloe to console her.

A wave of orange broke across the memory.

"You won this battle, Max," David said. He was looking over photographs of Chloe, his arms hanging limply at his sides. "You broke up my family. I salute you." He turned to leave, but Max stopped him.

"David," she responded, "I didn't try to hurt you. Ever. But I won't let anybody hurt Chloe."

"Too late, isn't it?" He looked her up and down. "You just...better be damn careful with her." His voice was strained, trying its best to not show too much of his heartbreak. "Don't you wander off into the dark..."

He vanished, then the room spun into somewhere else.

The only light in the room was the gentle glow of a nightlight. The clock on the nightstand read 3:42. It would have been the most perfect demonstration of silence were it not for the stifled crying coming from the girl sitting in the center of the bed. She had a hand over her mouth, blocking as much sound as she could while her whole body shook. Finally, she sighed and picked up her cellphone.

Max pressed a button and brought a new light into the room, making the redness around her eyes much more noticeable. A cursor blinked in the block of a blank text message set to be sent to Chloe. She only stared at it, her thumb refusing to move around the number pad.

A single strand of orange lanced through the room, and everything sped up, as if someone had hit fast-forward. After a moment, it returned to normal speed, but...everything seemed exactly the same. Max sat in the same spot, her eyes still lingered on the phone. She was still crying. There were still no words typed in the message.

The only difference was that the clock now read 4:38.

Everything disintegrated, and began anew.

"Don't look so sad," Chloe said, her voice so gentle that it forced Max to look at her differently. Think about her differently. It was such a subtle reaction that it was almost impossible to notice. "I'm never leaving you."

The memory faded to dust, then rebuilt itself.

"Please, don't leave me," Max whimpered, clutching Chloe as tightly as she possibly could. Chloe ran her hands along Max's body in an attempt to comfort her, but the action was clumsy and foreign to her.

"Shh," she whispered, "I'm not going to, Max." She hesitated, uncertain if her next move was the right one, and then left a kiss in Max's hair. "Never, ever, ever. Okay? I won't." She held Max's head against her chest, and she 'shh'd' again. She closed her eyes, readying herself, then looked through the truck's windshield at the wreckage. At the bits and pieces of home that surrounded them. Her lip quivered, and she kissed Max again. "It's you and me forever, alright?"

Orange stormed from above.

"I don't even know if I like fishing," Max murmured as she plodded along, the handle of her fishing rod dragging through the dirt. Chloe shrugged and looked back at her.

"Our dads like it. It must be cool, right?" She jostled the tackle box with an impish smile. "Worst case scenario, we play with the worms. We can race them."

"You're gross," Max chuckled, hastening her stride to catch up. "What if we caught a..." she elongated the 'a' as she thought, "shark!"

"I think we'd need a bigger rod," Chloe joked back. She jolted Max playfully with her elbow. "What about a whale! I want to see a whale."

"We should get food after," Max said, patting her stomach at the mention of whales. "I want chicken fingers."

"Okay, we can do that," Chloe replied happily. "Then maybe Dad will take us to the movies!"

"Yes!" Max pumped her fist in excitement.

Behind them, following their footsteps, was a ghostly doe. Then it was all gone.

"Chloe! Look out!" Max screamed, reaching out for her. Her fingers barely moved, grasping at the power that would not come to her.

"What the fuck!?" Chloe reached for her gun as she whipped around, but she was too slow. Everything about it seemed glacial, like she was caught in slow motion. It was the speed of futility. Of having no chance at all. All of it was just too slow, except for the way her head snapped back with the impact of the bullet. That was instant.

Before Chloe could hit the ground, she was reversed back onto her feet. Her bed was beneath her, and the junkyard twisted and turned until it resembled her room. There was a cigarette in her hand, and smoke billowing around her in a frozen cloud. Max stood just before her, slipping William's camera into her bag. Then, things began to move again.

"This song fucking rules!" Chloe bounced on the bed, her body moving in such a way as to make Max quite confused. "Can't dance, hippie? Come on! Rock out, girl!"

Terrified, Max reluctantly began dancing. For a brief instant, her face was red with embarrassment, but it vanished almost immediately. She smiled and clumsily swiped through the air. Max was far too shy to ever attempt to dance in front of anyone. Yet, she did. And Chloe would never pass up an opportunity to get a sarcastic jab in about someone's awkward dance moves. Yet, she didn't.

"Yes! Break it down, Max!" Chloe encouraged.

"Chloe, are you up there?" David called from downstairs.

His voice shattered the memory into a million pieces.

"Why are you pronouncing it like that?" Max asked, her head cocked to the side. Chloe adjusted her pirate hat, then held her hand out as if about to chop.

"Because it's like pirate karate," she explained matter-of-factly, "get it? Pie-rah-tee."

"I am...so sure that's not a thing," Max responded. Despite her skepticism, she was mirroring Chloe's stance.

"So? I'm making it a thing now," Chloe said, somewhat offended. "It's why Bluebeard's so scary."

"Right," Max snickered, "I'm quaking in my boots." She inched closer to Chloe and narrowed her eyes. "You think you can beat me?"

As soon as she'd finished her taunt, she was tackled to the floor. Chloe loomed over her with smug look on her face.

"Totally," she said with a grin. Max feigned offense, then giggled. A second passed, then another as silence fit between them. They simply stared at each other. Finally, Chloe cleared her throat and rolled off of Max. "You, uh, have...cool...eyes," she murmured.

Reality scrambled itself.

"Get away from her, dude!" Warren said, pulling on Nathan's arm to block him from getting to Max. Nathan glared at him, then jabbed a fist into his nose, breaking it instantly and summoning a downpour of blood.

It paused, then reversed. The blood retreated back up through Warren's nostrils as his face met Nathan's fist once again, then he was steady on his feet.

"Get away from her, dude!" Warren yanked Nathan's arm, and the boy took a wild swing at him. Warren managed to duck underneath it, then brought his knee hard into Nathan's abdomen. He careened to the floor with a shrill 'fuck!'

It dissolved in the burning air.

Jefferson grabbed at something on the shelf, then spun around an unloaded the gun into David's chest.

"Sorry, Madsen," he said darkly. Orange coated the memory and both Jefferson and David were reset. When it resumed, Jefferson snatched the gun again and jerked around. As he did so, The Dark Room crumpled and was replaced by the junkyard.

"What the fuck!?" Chloe shouted, and then she fell into an ocean of orange.

"I don't wanna die here!" Chloe frantically pulled on her ankle. The rumble of the train raced toward her, blotting out her voice. "Please, get me outta here!"

Max tore a crowbar from its place and bolted to the front of the small building. She pried the door open, then dashed inside. The train's horn bellowed once more, loud enough to rip clean through the sound of the engine.

"Max!" Chloe screamed, gaping in horror at the oncoming train. She was about to call for Max again, but there was nothing left to produce any noise.

Erased. Rewritten.

"Nathan, stop!" Max stumbled from behind the stall, her hand raised in front of her. Startled, he spun away from Chloe, and an ungodly sound undid the room in a haze of orange.

It came back together.

"Oh Christ, look at that perfect face..." Jefferson said as he positioned Max's leg. He snapped a photo, then examined it in his viewfinder. A disgusting mask of joy covered his face, showing just how pleased he was with the photo. Max moved, barely an inch, and his demeanor broke. "Hold that stare there!" he shouted as he swiped at Max's side. "Stay still!"

He took another photo, and the flash was all orange.

Max plucked another chocolate out of the heart-shaped box and popped it into her mouth. She undid her ponytail, then listlessly slingshotted the hair tie across the room. Jack and Rose spoke passionately to each other, and Max mouthed their lines flawlessly with a bored look in her eye.

A flash, and then rain.

"What about your mother, Kate?" Max asked. Her fingers twitched nervously as she restrained the desire to grab Kate off the ledge. "You'll destroy her! She doesn't care about a video! She loves you..."

"You don't know my mother. At all," Kate said bitterly. It was so strange how, even in the pouring rain, her tears were so visible. "She already thinks Satan has me on the fast-track to Hell. Let's prove it..."

Kate turned away from Max and vanished over the edge.

"No!" Max shrieked, reaching out like, maybe if she tried hard enough, she could still catch her.

The memory rewound until Kate was back on the roof and facing Max.

"I saw that cute photo of you with your sisters in your room this morning," Max said. Kate's eyes went a little wider. "I can see how much your little sister loves you by her smile."

"That's Lynn..." Kate glanced down, "she's only ten... She does have the best smile ever..." It was surely unintentional, but Kate conjured a little smile herself as she pictured it. Then it faded to a more thoughtful expression. "I would hate to see her sad..."

Max reached out for her and the sky held its breath. Kate finally took her hand, then stumbled off the ledge into Max's arms.

"I'm sorry...sorry..." Kate cried.

"What are you talking about?" Max asked as she held her. "You saved me from talking in class..."

There was a flash.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!" Chloe shoved Nathan backward, and the gun went off.

Another flash.

Max pressed her palms and nose against the glass as she marveled at the instant camera in the storefront window.

"Max, sweetie," her mother giggled, "you're going to smudge the glass."

"Oh, right!" She blushed and peeled herself away, but continued staring.

"You're smitten, aren't you?" Vanessa asked with a knowing look. Max simply turned to her and nodded. "Well, your birthday's coming up. You never know..." She let the sentence fade out with a positive implication. Max smiled wide and clapped her hands together, then looked back at the camera.

"Wow..." she said, and all the wonder in the world was tucked within that single word.

Flash.

Pompidou rushed at them, and Chloe instinctively raised the gun. There was a bang, and a yelp, and the cry of a heartbroken man. And then, just a moment later, another bang.

Like figures being toyed with by a god, each of them were moved back to their original positions.

The scene played out exactly the same, ending with a lifeless Frank and Pompidou on the ground.

They were reset once more, only now Pompidou was nowhere to be found.

"How do you like my blade, kid? Huh?" Frank snarled, and took a heavy step toward Chloe.

"Woah..." Max backed away, then lurched forward as Chloe tried to wrestle the knife from Frank's hands. "Chloe!"

"Get off of me!" Frank shouted, his body bent to the ground as he struggled.

"Motherfucker!" Chloe growled, then jumped backward when Frank tumbled onto his rear. She looked at her empty hand, then at the knife plunged in his thigh.

"You're both fucking crazy! What do..." Before he could finish, he was gone. So was Max, Chloe, the RV, the sky...

Flash.

"I'm so proud of you for following your dreams," Chloe said sleepily, "don't forget about me..."

"Never," Max responded, sniffling as some tears ran down her cheeks.

"I love you, Max," Chloe's eyes drooped closed, "see you around..."

Flash.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

Flash.

"You okay?" Max asked, opening her arms to accept Chloe's hug. She buried her face in Chloe's shoulder, unable to hold back the tears of fright any longer. The train was no longer visible, but its roar could still be heard.

"You saved me again," Chloe said, squeezing Max even tighter. "Crazy. Now we're totally bonded for life!"

There was hesitation from both of them to break the embrace, and when they finally did, they still held each other by the arms. Max looked up at Chloe and finally let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Damn, that was close," she said.

Flash.

Max stepped between the chatting critics and looked on in awe at her Everyday Heroes photo, blown up and framed on the wall of a real gallery for all the world to see.

"Hey, and there she is to save the day," a woman said, nodding to her respectfully.

Flash.

"It's not a...bad idea, per se," Max said, pushing her locker closed. She turned around and leaned against it.

"But...?" Chloe lowered her head and searched Max's eyes.

"I just think there may be better ones?" she offered with a smirk.

"Oh, come on, Maximus," Chloe groaned, then roped an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Mom and Dad just got me the new ride! Cars are for driving! Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," Max replied with a hint of frustration, "god only knows why."

"Because," Chloe jostled Max and bonked their heads together, "I am the smartest."

"Alright, smart one." Max pushed against Chloe's head in a show of playful reluctance. "But you're the one that has to explain it to my parents when they inevitably catch us."

"Easy peasy," Chloe waved a dismissive hand, then flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. She bared her teeth. "Portland, here we come!"

Flash.

"She's never leaving me!" Chloe replied with utmost certainty. Further down the hall, Max quietly watched as William made his way to the door.

"That makes all of us," he said, with that same exact amount of certainty.

Flash.

"What the fuck!?" Chloe turned. The gun went off. She fell to the ground. The doe gazed down at her body.

Flash.

"Come on, babygirl!" Chloe hopped onto the hotel bed, then took a several generous gulps from the bottle of champagne. "Let's get our rockstar on!" She swung her hips side to side, her movements causing the champagne to rocket out of the bottle and spill all over the sheets. Max unleashed a huge grin, and smoke leaked between her teeth.

"Don't waste all of it," she teased as she brushed the end of the joint on the ashtray to extinguish it. Chloe shrugged and continued to dance, taking another swig as she did so. Max pulled her shirt over her head, then prowled toward the bed with a predatory smile.

Flash.

"Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation," Jefferson said, striking a casual pose as he leaned against one of the tables. "And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?"

The class listened to him with varying degrees of interest, but no one was as attentive as Max. She sat back in her chair, one hand folded over the other. Her eyes were dark, brewing with vengeance. Jefferson's lecture stuttered for a half-second when he noticed the look on her face, but he continued on.

Max's eyes never left him.

Flash.

"Nathan hurts people," Samuel said with a shake of his head. Max crossed her arms.

"What do you really know about him?" she asked.

"Not enough to help you, Max," he replied. "I truly wish I could... I see what you're doing..." Worry flashed across Max's face, but she shook it off. He couldn't possibly know anything.

"I definitely have questions about what's happening to the animals in Arcadia Bay," she said. As she spoke, several crows settled in the branches of the trees behind her.

"Oh, many do," he responded. A squirrel hopped up on the bench beside him and craned its neck to look up at Max. "These poor creatures have no choice in what happens to them..." He looked to the side for a moment, as if double checking the truth of his statement. When he looked back, he didn't seem like he'd reached a definitive answer.

"How can anyone explain all those poor beached whales?" Max frowned at the thought of them littering the coast.

"My dad was a fisherman and he'd take me out to hear the whales sing..." he hesitated, "now they just cry." Something enormous dropped out of the sky and landed on the roof of the dormitory. A slick, finned tail drooped over the edge.

"They're not alone these days..." Max said, "I feel so powerless."

"Oh no, you're the opposite of powerless, Max," he replied.

"You think so, Samuel?" she asked, a bit surprised and suspicious of his encouragement. He looked deep into her eyes.

"You and Arcadia Bay are connected by time and tide..."

Flash.

"Oh, Rachel, no, no!" Chloe cried, "please, not her!" She flung herself away from the hole they'd just dug and wretched. Max was beside her in an instant.

"Chloe..." She wrapped her arms around her.

"Rachel...why!?" Chloe sobbed as she convulsed.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Max whimpered, "I'm so sorry..."

Flash.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!" Chloe pushed Nathan. There was a bang.

It rewound.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!" Push. Bang.

Flash.

"Sooo, how was the big date?" Max asked, her phone pinned between her ear and shoulder. She was on her stomach, swinging her raised feet from side to side.

"I don't know," Chloe said, and a tired sigh came through the receiver, "he was totally sweet and everything. I was just...bored."

"Really?" Max asked, flipping onto her back. She absentmindedly kicked the pillow at the head of her bed.

"Yeah, man," Chloe giggled. "I just kept thinking how much I'd rather be there with you."

"Really?" Max repeated, though her tone was quite different.

"Duh, of course," Chloe responded. "Next time, you be my date, alright?"

Flash.

"I double dare you," Chloe teased, mischievousness tugging her lips into a smile, "kiss me now." Max glanced to the side, giving the situation a careful, but quick, analysis. Then she placed her hands on Chloe's shoulders and brought herself onto her tiptoes. Their lips met, and Chloe took a step back. "Damn, you're hardcore, Max," she chuckled to cover her surprise, "now I can text Warren and tell him he doesn't stand a chance..."

The scene paused, then rewound.

"I double dare you," Chloe said, "kiss me now."

Behind her, the wall was covered with blue, luminescent butterflies. They were mostly still, but when they did move, it gave the appearance of a shimmering ocean wave rolling from one corner to the other.

This time, Max didn't hesitate at all. Instead of Chloe's shoulders, she took hold of her wrists and gave her a confident peck on the lips. Chloe still backed away, but she was smiling more than before.

"Damn, that was..." Her face flushed as she laughed. "You really went for it. Wow, I wasn't expecting that."

It reversed again.

"I double dare you," Chloe said once more, "kiss me now."

The butterflies covered all four walls now, and a tiny squadron of squirrels watched from the bed. On Chloe's desk, a large owl preened itself, though it kept its focus on the girls. Max reached up and cupped Chloe's cheeks gently, a look of great sadness in her eyes.

"Don't pull away," she whispered. Confused, Chloe only nodded. Slowly, Max took the girl into a deep, lovely kiss. Chloe's hands found their way to Max's waist as she reciprocated, pressing into it hungrily. Max pulled away, stealing some of Chloe's breath.

"W-wow..." Chloe rasped, "where did that come from?" She furrowed her brow. "Max, why are you crying? Did I mess up?"

"No," Max shook her head, "you're absolutely perfect."

Flash.

"It's like that Chinese proverb," Chloe said, wearing a smile that almost seemed dusty from lack of use, "a spark can start a fire that burns the entire prairie. You know, like that butterfly thing..."

Flash.

"It's just some drawing," Chloe muttered, looking over the deranged scan of Nathan's scribbles.

Flash.

Chloe leapt backward as Frank howled in pain. He gripped the handle of the knife that had been embedded in his shoulder and tore it out, summoning a spurt of blood.

"What is wrong with you?!" he shouted.

Flash.

"I love you, Max," Chloe said weakly as eternal sleep took her, "see you around..."

Flash.

"Don't fall," Max said, reaching out and taking Chloe's hand as they walked along the tracks. Orange crept in and tore the memory in half, leaving Max walking the rail on one side and half of a barreling train on the other.

Flash.

"You like to hurt people, huh?" Warren drove his foot into Nathan's ribs. "Like Max? Like Kate? Like me? Huh?" He dropped to his knees and began pummeling the boy. "Feel this, motherfucker!" He wouldn't stop. Over, and over, and over, his fist met Nathan's increasingly swollen face.

Flash.

Nathan fired the gun, but Chloe moved at the last second. She fell to the tiles and Nathan immediately began apologizing, backing away in horror. Behind him, a lineup of animals watched over the event.

Flash.

"I'm so glad you're my partner in crime," a younger Max said as she charged at Chloe with a pillow. The words were all wrong, not at all matching the shapes her mouth was making.

"As long as you're my partner in time," Chloe responded, even though she was doubled over with laughter.

Flash.

The train sped down the tracks and never stopped.

Flash.

"But see, here's the thing," Chloe said with annoyance. She gripped her strawberry blonde pigtails. "I absolutely hate these."

"I think they're cute," Max replied. "Right, Vicky?" She nudged the girl next to her.

"Uh..." Victoria looked up from her phone, then narrowed her eyes at Chloe. "They're fine. All the more for Max to hold onto, I guess."

Flash.

Frank careened to the pavement, swiping desperately at the gash across his throat. He was trying to speak, but all that came out were crackling, wet sounds.

Flash.

David's hand streaked across Chloe's cheek, the force of it jerking her head to the side. A glimmer of remorse slid across his features, but his eyes remained hard.

"I never even told Chloe that I, I..." his shaky voice said, not matching his lips.

Flash.

"Chloe! Look out!" Max warned, throwing her hand forward.

"I'm never leaving you," Chloe said quietly as she spun around and was met with a bullet to the forehead.

Flash.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

Flash.

"Fuck, Max!" Chloe growled, slamming her palm against the wall. "I'm not asking you to just fucking be okay like nothing ever happened, but I need you to try and work with me!" Max was facing away from her, her face buried in her hands from a mixture of despair and anger. "My mom's fucking dead, for fuck's sake!"

Flash.

William walked out the door for the last time.

Flash.

"I double dare you," Chloe said, a single butterfly circling her head, "kiss me now."

Max moved in to kiss her, and a wound dashed through the air. Thunder and rain poured through it.

Flash.

"Cowabunga!" Max cheered as she jumped into the pool. Underwater, she could see Chloe dancing, waving her lit cigarette in the air.

"Can't dance, hippie?" Chloe chided, surrounded by smoke.

Flash.

Nathan shot Chloe in the bathroom.

Flash.

Chloe died in the junkyard.

Flash.

"...time and tide," Samuel said, sweeping dead leaves from the carpet of the dormitory hallway.

Flash.

Max sat at her desk, scribbling in her journal as Chloe's voice was silenced by the train.

Flash.

"Nobody should have to see me dance," Jefferson chuckled, flicking the syringe. "Plus you don't want to watch the old hipster trying to keep up with the kids." He turned on his heel and descended upon Max.

Flash.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

Flash.

"I double dare you," Chloe said, boosting Max up onto the platform in the barn.

Flash.

A memory that was too distorted, full of cracks and tears. The voices were inaudible.

Flash.

A swirl of images. A tempest of voices.

Flash.

A toddler sized Chloe wrapped Max in her arms. She said something, but there was no noise.

Flash.

"Never leaving you..." Chloe said.

Flash.

Too many voices at once.

Flash.

A memory made of broken shards.

Flash.

Too much to take in. Too many people.

Flash.

Kate split in two, leaping off the roof and falling into Max's arms at the same time.

Flash.

A tempest of memories all stacked on top of each other.

Flash.

Hundreds of people moving and talking.

Flash.

"I'll always love you!" Chloe backed away, and the rain made it a little harder to see her. "Now get out of here, please! Do it before I freak!" She shook her head. "And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me..." her voice lilted into something more playful, despite her lips not moving, "I double dare you."

Flash.

Too...much...

Flash.

Noise. Only noise and shapes.

Flash.

Agony.

Flash.

Flash.

Flash.

Flash. Flash. Fl a sh.
Flashflashflashflashflash.
FLASH.
Flash.
FL A SH.

An unbearable pain lit up inside of Chloe's skull. It was sharp, blunt, and phantom. She screamed, but it was cut off as she spewed out a mouthful of blood. Max was awake beside her, trying to take hold of her. A shredded wail forced itself through her throat, cutting and scraping her tongue as it emerged. She clapped a hand to her face, but the blood made it slip right off. She gagged, then screamed once more. Her voice shattered, embedding its shards into the walls.

Outside, in the hallway, a light appeared from under the crack of a closed door. Then another, and another as Chloe's cries were heard by all.

A/N: *slaps word document* This baby here can fit so much sadness in it.

So, yeah, a pretty thicc chapter, huh? With...not much in the way of positivity. Things have reached a new level of 'NOPE.' I'm quite happy to finally get Warren in the mix, though. It feels like a bit of mercy to finally give the girls someone else they can rely on. Poor Chloe, though. I think we all knew this would happen, but it's still quite sad.

Anyyyyywho, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I know there's kind of a lot to take in. But, should be back again soon with the next update... Oh, the next update... It is by far the hardest chapter I've had to write. I was literally stuck on it for months. Let's see how that plays out.

But for now, I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and that you WILL have a fantastic New Year! See you guys in 2019.