CHAPTER 2
With the weight of consequences off her shoulders, Max twists time around her fingers, it's like she is a god or so says the quite voice in her mind.
'You can do anything'. The whispers became more frequent after Max moved into her own place, still closer to her family but a place for her own to stretch out. They say home is a place where that reflects you and the state of your room reflects the state of your mind and after all this time and effort it definitely showed who Max was.
A five story red brick building apartment in a good part of town, Sun sets over the far away bay glowing into her windows, it was beautiful and without a lot of disturbances, owned by a lovely old couple for land lords. It all looked very wholesome on the outside.
About 6 months into moving in Max had a good rapport with some neighbours and the landlords.
"A lovely girl, very quite but...troubled" was the general consensus from the people who meet her.
For most people though that changed very suddenly.
Max had awoken after a 14 hour sleep after days of being awake,Max crashes and crashes hard, the best dreams of Chloe and her fade when she looks out the window to see that a storm was coming in. Completely normal for the beginning of winter, never the less to say the reaction was not good was a understatement, 6 noise complaints where called in to the police about a women screaming bloody murder, smashing bottles and a window, screaming so loud and crying then nothing. When the police came and the land lords opened the door for the Police to enter they were shocked to see what was inside.
There was hardly any furniture in any of the rooms besides a old single mattress with a single blanket for cover shoved into the corner of the main room, kitchen looked barely used with only a few take out containers, mostly from diners from across the city with food half eaten but what shocked everyone was the girl with the torn knuckles, blood spider webbing down her forearms sitting with her back to them slightly rocking staring at wall whispering about the storm that was meant to be "impossible to happen" covered with pictures of people, places, information- Hand written notes with different coloured strings leading to different events that haven't happened. It was just a bad course of events that one of the police officers that went in to help Max was a tall man with tousled brown hair, black framed glasses and a light beard.
When a hand touched Max's shoulder her teary eyed face turned to look at the person inside her home. Ice ran down her spine and anger burned deep in her heart as she looked into the face of Mark Jefferson with clenched fists and a jaw shut so tight a tooth would have cracked as she lunged at him.
People outside the apartment looked on, transfixed as 4 more police cars pulled up to the block bailing out of there cars responding to what seemed to be the devil reborn had attacked the officers inside.
At the court hearing she was asked to speak for her self and why she attacked two police officers, Max said nothing but her lawyer laid-out a waxy speech about her life; the loss of her friend, the effect on her mental state/current mental issues and a glowing review from the people in the building who knew her. The case was dropped, the officer understanding but not without stern warning from the judge. With the storms still lingering, winter apon Seattle, Max dared not tempt fate with a rewind the first storm of the season crippling her completely. Max's parents tried to help for a few weeks,trying to look after her. Max wants to left alone as she sinks into a deep depression.
She moved back into routine toward the last weeks of winter, no longer flashing back to when she was staring into the eye of the storm in Arcadia Bay and sleeping more often; a handful of hours every week and for exhaustion to take her letting her sleep for hours randomly thought the week.
The paranoia of the 'Police Jefferson' shook Max so much that she stole a gun not wanting to taken unaware again. The gun makes Max feel more safe and powerful, Stealing it from bad people (a drug dealer) there's nothing wrong with that. Another step to being untouchable.
Still birds in the sky; mid flight, cars motionless on roads traveling the 7'am commute, a little girls ice cream frozen midway to the ground with at tears about to start, Max strolled through the still city with a cockiness what would have fit well on Chloe, She walked with time still doing what ever she felt like, she felt truly safe in these moments. No school bullies with guns or sick professors looking to hold you in a dark room, No storms looking to destroy and no having to assess everything that happened around her.
Max walked with no strain on her body, sure there was a pull in her mind but it was dull, hardly noticeable unless you really looked for the feeling; Time was easy, holding it, rewinding it over and over or slowing it down to a crawl, her control grew and thoughts and voices that whispered to her that if she kept going;
"You could do anything you want, Control everything", it was whispered so seductively that Max finally paid attention to the voice, even talking to it on her long timeless walks that lasted for days until her feet bleed, lost in the temptation of what she could, no.. Would do.
It happened once day, after talking to herself in her dark apartment she was looking at the notes she had on..well everything she knew that had happened in the other timelines tracing back to where it began, or where it started going wrong.
"Come on,think" The frustrated whisper leaked out of Max's mouth,shifting through papers at a rapid speed not feeling or caring about the mess she made or the little cuts from the paper as she was trying to make connections.
Connections of what to what ? She didn't know.
"Think harder" was whispered behind her right ear,
Max swats behind her slightly like trying to half hardly get rid of a bug.
A distorted giggle was heard "shh" she replies.
It's been weeks and weeks of this, racking her brain for the answers only needing food to keep her mind going, days and nights; weeks she was obsessed with knowing how to fix where it fell apart, finally grabbing her hair and pulling with a growl she stalked away from the wall.
"Pathetic" the word whispered around the room like an echo. Max was too tired to fight back today and picked up the bottle of whiskey and knocked it back pulling mouth fulls of alcohol letting the voice slowly drown out as it burned down her throat; looking down she noticed the bottle empty having finishing off the last of it made a small gesture with her wrist the bottle re filled and the cap sealed like when she first got it from the store, Hey time travel has it's perks.
It was a trick Max picked up or should say developed more, if she had something on her or held onto something and rewound time she would still have it (Like Frank's Keys) but creating a little time rip that wraps around her hand and the bottle; she could rewind that specific thing, hence new bottle of whiskey,she was pretty proud with that trick.
Of course she never noticed the paper cuts on her fingers disappear too.
I thought i would keep going since this idea wont go away. plus listening to Julien Baker puts me in a Life is strange mood. Since a few people are interested (i hope) i'll put it up for ya cause i personally hate it when people just stop writing a story.