Werewolf Gimmick, from The Mountain Goats; watch?v=xYwcSIBdOik
The headache rolls around my head.
I'm laying down. That much I can figure out.
I'm also not in immediate danger. Or at least it doesn't seem like it.
The sun is out. Some clouds float delicately by.
I gingerly lift my head up.
Lying in the bed of the truck.
My head thumps back down on the metal.
A sigh. My head is hurting like one helluva bitch.
The world slightly spins.
Why am I soaking wet?
And what the fuck happened?
The memories slowly start sailing back.
Right.
Vanessa.
Max.
I roll on my side and reach for my back pocket. Still have a pack of cigs.
I flip open the top and pull a smoke out with one hand. Setting it next to me, I roll over to the other side and grab my light.
I light it, then roll to the side one last time.
…
I'm speeding down the highway. Not a fucking clue where I'm going and I don't care.
The truck screams and cries for pity on each sudden turn and stomp on the accelerator.
Making a split-second decision, I fling the truck onto the approaching off-ramp.
It's been about an hour of manic driving since I finally accepted the way things simply have always been, and will be. Me against the world.
The brake gets slammed down when I nearly fly by a loud club.
Perfect.
I jump out of the cab and walk up to the door. Two bouncers are guarding it.
"I.D."
"Let me in."
"Sorry, no I.D., no getting in."
I shove the bigger one in another direction. His friend puts his hand on my shoulder.
"You're going to have to leave. Now."
I swing and hit him in the face. He staggers away. His friend comes back, and throws me to the floor.
"Motherfucker!" I shout.
I get back up before he can take advantage. This time I aim for the throat. He falls back into the door, after he gets hit in his double chin.
The thin one comes from behind, and takes grabs my arms. We both lose our footing and go to the ground when I start to thrash and kick.
"Alright! All fucking right! I fucking get it! Get off me! I'm gone!
…
Walking away from the club, I slam the door and truck shakes.
The wheels spin in a loud whine.
Buildings come and go in an instant.
I hit the brakes again. This time it's a bar.
Half the truck is running up the pavement by the time I get out.
No one is standing guard. And no one stops me from going in.
The bartender is an older man.
"Beer."
He fills up a glass tankard before handing it off and turning away.
He goes away to talk to his only other customer.
I down it in one swift movement.
They both look at me when they notice it.
If I was here for the friendly atmosphere and good drink, I wouldn't be coming in fifteen minutes before last call, now would I? I flag him for another.
He fills it. "Aren't you a bit young?"
"Go to hell." Is my reply. Don't need to get beaten by two bouncers to know when I'm not wanted. I pound the brew down the same way as before, and slam money onto the counter. Walking away briskly, a glance behind me shows he almost looks sad at how our conversation went.
The door explodes as I shut it again.
I take a minute to gather my surroundings. The buildings look weirdly familiar.
Is… Is this…?
You've got to be shitting me.
This is right along the route I took getting Max to her home. Which means I'm still in the middle of Seattle.
Two hours of fucking driving, and I'm right back where I started.
How much goddamn work does it take to get out of this hellhole!?
I stomp the gas. The engine begs for mercy where it will find none.
The two of us poor wretches barely get going before the brakes are slammed again. A liquor store.
Running in, I fill my arms with the cheapest and nastiest vodka that can be found. Piling them on the counter, I walk back and grab three cases of beer. The register slave doesn't bother asking for anything other than money, which is gladly thrown at him.
It takes two trips to pack it all in the truck.
This time, I'm a bit calmer- I almost drive like a sane person as I get onto the highway. Headed out the same direction I came in.
The cell phone starts to ring.
How long has it been since Vanessa and I had our 'heart to heart'? Who cares. At least it's still dark out.
They leave a voice mail.
Instinct makes me check the number. I don't know it. But I know who's calling all the same.
I smile because I've already cracked the screen.
The moon is lovely. A cloud glides past it. Like in a classic horror movie.
Or good photo…
The damn phone rings again. Another voicemail.
It repeats itself for clarity's sake.
The black of night feels safe. Secure.
I love it.
The truck recklessly slides onto the side of the highway and comes to a stop.
The battered brown bag holding the bottles of vodka has slid over.
I steal one, and grab a six pack.
A smile appears on me. Not manic. Just happily hopeless.
I jump out and throw down the hatch to sit on. It makes quite a good seat.
I longingly look over my old friends. How long has it been again? At least a week. Technically a few days since I've had some beer, but that doesn't count.
It was quite the one eighty turn on my part when I realised Max was here. Wish it could be said that was the result of me 'growing up'. But it was really because I wanted Max to think I was worth her time again. What kind of high powered rich city kid would care about a small town alcoholic stoner? I'd never really had gotten over her. Like Dad. Or Rachel.
I tear off the cap, and commit to the longest, and most disgusting swill in recent memory. My eyes water. My throat burns. The angry pain is unlike anything else. I tear it away only when I can't take it anymore.
It'd only taken two days before Joyce noticed a change. Her knowing eyes couldn't help but reveal some certain surprise, or thanks, when she realised I hadn't been completely high or gone on a drunken bender in entire days. Not to mention I'd slept in the house for more than one night in a row.
I crack open a beer and follow the vodka.
I like when she pretended to care about me. It was nice. 'Course, that was few and far between. Most of our conversations ended in shouting and yelling.
How she'd jumped onto step prick the first chance she got. How I got brought home by the police.
Another long pull at the vodka. A stifled cough.
How she let him hit me. How I got into fights.
The alcohol begins to work as my arm gets more difficult to control. Another beer.
How she hated everything about me. How I hated everything about her.
A swill of beer. I drop the empty bottle off the side and into the street.
But every now and again, we had our moments. Like when I first discovered I had limits when it came to drinking, she helped me.
I can't really remember it, but I was puking my brains all over myself. On the ground, next to my bed. She turned me on my side and waited with me until I sobered up enough to get a change of clothes and climb under the sheets. She even cleaned up the wine-purple bile while I slept on the mattress. No insulting comments. No disappointed shakes of the head. Just a 'stay safe' when all was said and done.
Throat's still on fire. More beer. Still burning, need an extra swallow.
Hell. I wish I could say our problems were even fifty-fifty her fault. When she confronted me about my smoking, I said I got it from her. The pain on her face still hurts to think about. It was a flat out lie, to. I started it out because I didn't have enough ways to fuck myself up and needed to rebel. It went unnoticed until Rachel came along. There, it truly flourished under her encouragement. That's also when Joyce took notice. Thought I'd enjoy seeing the true, genuine, hurt in her. I didn't.
Fucking hell. Need to be drunker for this shit. I carefully raise the vodka bottle to my lips again, being certain not to spill it.
My tongue has started to go numb and isn't feeling as much of the sting.
I get greedy and go for an extra pull, but choke and end up coughing.
Can't fucking believe Rachel was fucking Frank. I don't give a shit if we were only 'fuck buddies'. She stabbed me in the back. You don't hide bull like that. You fucking come out and admit it!
She fucking played me like a fiddle. Manipulated me in every sense of the word. Disgusting bitch. I should've known better. I should've realised right from the get go, all of her mind games. All the mental pushes and pulls to make me a puppet. She had me wrapped around her finger. Six months on and I'm still like a lost puppy.
You know what Rachel? Fuck you. I'm glad you're dead. Damn whore.
…
… Ugh, Jesus. I'm sorry, Rach. Forgive me? Please? You know how I get...
But why didn't you just fess up to it!? Why not just tell me the truth? Yeah, I would've been hurt and felt betrayed, but you knew that was going to happen the moment you started fucking him. I'm not hard to predict!
… God I'm needy. My clinginess is probably why were drifting apart.
I flip off the moon, "Fuck you!" There's a deer hiding in the forest. I throw a beer bottle at it, sending it running off.
I take a clumsy pass at the vodka. Going by how much is left, I've drunk way too much. I slam it back down.
"And fuck you David! What type of freak gets off hitting girls? I didn't even try to fight back because I knew what it'd do to mom! Go to fucking hell!"
I can't tell how badly my speech is slurred. It doesn't matter though. Moments like this are meant only for me and whatever uncaring, angry God there may be.
I go down to a whisper. "I hate you to dad. You just had to leave and pick Joyce up." A big breath of air, "Fuck you mom! You killed dad! And fuck you dad! This is all your fault!"
A car blurrily speeds by.
"Go to hell Max! You bastard! I needed you!" My eyes tear up.
"I fucking trusted you!" I scream into the night. My voice is hoarse.
The phone vibrates. A text. I grab it and throw it down the curb.
I roll onto my side and cry. Sleep comes quickly and is deep.
…
The footsteps are getting closer. I feel around and grab last night's bottle. It must've fallen over and spilled on me in the night.
They're right on top of me.
I speak up, "I don't know who you are, but if you're trying to take my wallet, you'll have to fucking kill me for it. And I ain't going down without a fight."
I sit upright in a smooth motion. My head is splitting, though.
It's a police officer. Great. Think I would've preferred the mugger.
"A pleasure to see you again as well, Miss."
"Er… Hello Officer…" Jesus. Is it really the same guy from two days ago? His figure is blurred and marred by hellish day light.
"So why might someone like yourself find themselves in such a condition on my stretch of the road?"
"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but let's cut out the bull. If you're gonna' arrest me, let's just get it over with?" I hold my hands together with open palms, before my hangover roars in pain and I grab at it. An accidental yelp escapes my lips. My cigarette falls onto the truck bed.
"Miss, why might I want to arrest you?"
"I dunno'." I delicately shrug. "You're having a bad day? Maybe you just really hate blue hair?"
He smiles at the last remark. "I can see you never repaired your taillights."
I slip off the back, and delicately close the hatch. "Still deciding?"
It promptly falls off my truck altogether with a loud crash.
I bury my head in my hands. "Why?" The question is directed at no one in particular.
"I can however see you took my advice on the stitches. How's your friend? With her parents?"
"Yes, good, and yes." I push the ruined metal scrap with my foot off the side of the highway and into a ditch.
"So where might you be going that requires so much booze?"
"A long trip to nowhere."
"Cryptic. Not helping you get out of a ticket."
"Not as cryptic as it sounds. I don't even have a clue."
"Okay. So where are you coming from?"
"Seattle. Terrible place, don't go there." My headache growls angrily.
He smiles. "And before that?"
"Look, why are you even asking these questions?" My hand steadies my body.
He speaks matter-of-factly, "Because I don't know if you're a threat to me or anyone else." I'm pretty sure that's a lie. Why does what town I'm from change if I'm a 'threat'?
"… Arcadia Bay." I spit the words out on the ground.
"Oh."
"There you go. Mystery solved." I hold out my hands and close my wrists together again. "Decided on what you're aiming to do yet?"
"Well, figured I ought to return this to its rightful owner, for starters." He reaches behind himself and pulls out my phone. "Any chance you know who it belongs to?"
"No."
"Odd. The opening screen is a picture of the same girl that was in your truck."
"…"
"And there's a few texts directed at one 'Chloe'. The person who sent them seems upset. Sounds like something so bad happened, a person might want to go into a drunken stupor to forget it."
I grab at the phone, "Dude, don't read that shit! It's private!"
He steps back, "Calm down Miss!"
I heel and start to silently stew, angry at myself for making him angry, and for moving to quick, agitating my hangover. "Can I have it back?"
"Absolutely." He passes it off with an accusatory glare. "Now can you tell me why you're passed out on the side here?"
"I don't know. I'm not being a prick, I just really don't know." My eyes start to water for reasons unknown. "I'm just so fucking tired and…"
His head tilts and a look that feigns sympathy appears.
Fuck it.
If you can't fess up to what's killing you in the middle of an extreme hangover, to a cop you've gotten in a fist fight with, in a reality that never happened, who the hell can you talk to?
Probably anyone else.
"Everyone I know is dead. The end. That one frightened hipster you saw is the last person on Earth I know the name of." I laugh. "My dad is dead. My stepfather who liked to hit me is dead. My mother is dead. The drug dealing loan shark who's been stalking me is dead. Rachel's dead."
I degrade and hold my head in my hand.
"My 'home' has been turned to rubble. I live out of a shitty truck." My arms get thrown up, before falling down. "And now I'm running away from the only friend I've ever had because I'm terrified she'll get bored of me, or just stab me in the back, before throwing me away" I smile, "Even her own fucking mother could tell how much of a goddamn train wreck I am, and payed me off to get me the hell out of their lives."
"…"
"Like I wouldn't have done it anyway." I pause. "Can I reach in my back pocket and pull out a smoke?"
"I'd be careful with the lighter. You're so drenched you might go up." He tries to commit to the joke and grin.
The drag is so satisfying. The gentle sway in the trees in comforting. The smoke dances and twirls upwards.
"… Well Miss, it sounds like you could use some help."
"I'm fucking shocked. Guess who's not getting, or searching for 'help'." I sigh, "You still haven't said if you're arresting me. Or ticketing me. Or whatever the fuck it was you wanted to do."
"I'm not going to arrest you, or ticket you. Or whatever else you were thinking of. But can I offer some advice?"
"If I say 'no' you're going to give it anyway."
A smile comes out as he shifts his weight. "Either go to your friend and talk things out with them, since you two seemed close in the two minutes I saw you, or go to Arcadia Bay and get involved with the rescue and recovery efforts, for closure. Maybe both. But I can say with confidence you won't like the road you're going down."
"I know the road pretty damn well. Waking up in ditches with a broken nose, searching for a good shot and a smoke. Maybe a few hits if I'm lucky."
He frowns. I continue, "It's the other ones that scare me." A pause. "I'll talk to her." A lie. But now I'm getting angry and need him off my back before I do something rash.
"I hope things work out well for you." He turns and starts to go back to his cruiser.
Go to hell you fucking prick.
After he pulls away, I throw the empty bottles off my truck and clamber into the cab with an expression of pain.
I don't feel shitty enough. I pull out my phone and look at the texts.
"Please come back. Please."
"Chloe, I'm worried."
"Where are you?"
I don't deserve Max's concern.
I open up the voicemails and put it on speaker.
"Hey Chloe! It's me Max. Woke up without you here, kind of embarrassed that I started to panic. Anyway, I'm calling you from dad's phone. Mom and him are up, and say you left a few minutes ago. I figure you went to get and smoke some cigarettes, just call me when you get to the store?" There's an obvious worry in the tone.
Another call thirty minutes later.
"Me again! Don't mean to hound, but please call back soon. You can joke about me being naggy all you want, but send a text?" There's a muted discussion in the background.
I press the next one.
"Chloe!" She sighs, "Uh, Chloe, please call back!" Her voice is unnerved. "It's super important please, like, really call back." A male and female argue and bicker between her words.
Not feeling bad enough, yet. I hit play.
"Chloe?" Viserceral is how I'd describe the sound coming out of the phone. "Chloe, what's happening?" The same male and female are now shouting. They manage to grow above her own speech. Something breaks and the call cuts out.
Last message. Sent way later than the others, probably around when I was passed out.
"Chloe!" She's been crying. "You promised you would be with me!" Other voices eclipse her own. "I TOLD YOU-" "DON'T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME"
I stop the play back.
I can't even leave without ruining everything. God, I'm pathetic.
Either keep running away, and make things worse. Or go back, and make them worse.
At least if I go back, I can comfort Max. Or maybe feel better about my own life.
Jesus, I'm so fucked up.
The engine coughs and sputters. It's trying to resist, but fails. The truck pulls a U-turn as it stumbles away and heads for Seattle.
…
I've shut my mind off. Nothing's going through my head.
I pull up to Max's house, and recognize the notable absence of a black SUV.
A tepid knock at the door and nervous wait rewards me with Vanessa Caulfield staring at me through a half-opened door.
"Why am I not surprised. Of course, you smell like alcohol. What do you want?"
"Was- Er, I…" I get tongue tied for the first time in quite a while. I sigh, "Can I see Max?"
"She's in her room."
I start to walk in when she grabs my shoulder, "I expect my money back."
We lock eyes, "In the truck, under the driver's seat. Door's unlocked."
She lets go and I trundle up the stairs.
A knock on her door is met with a firm "I don't want to talk to you."
My heart plummets, and I start to walk away.
Vanessa shouts at me, "What the hell is this, Chloe!?"
The door speaks, "Chloe!?"
Max runs out and grabs hold of me.
Why the fuck don't you hate me, Max? Why!?
She laughs, "You smell so drunk!"
"Chloe, I said get down here right now!"
Max doesn't let go as I go back down.
I enter the living room and see Vanessa holding a bag of money and a gun. David's gun.
"Well!? Explain yourself!"
She looks over at Max, "See? This is what I was talking about! I know you're friends, but she's no good!" She starts to wave it around.
"Mrs. Caulfield, be careful! It's loaded!"
"And what were you planning to do with it!?"
Max speaks, "She- We got into some trouble back in Arcadia Bay, okay?"
"You knew about this, Max!?"
"Please put it down!" I shout. After shooting Frank in the leg, almost by accident, I'm a lot more concerned about how people handle guns.
She calms down. I notice Max tilt her head. "Mom, what's in the bag?"
The older woman sighs, "Your beloved friend and I had agreed that she would only wind up hurting you. I gave her some of my own money to get her on her way."
"So you weren't lying to dad!?"
"Christ, your idiot father and his loud mouth." She looks away.
"I was standing next to the door while you argued!" Max begins to cry.
I reach over to pat her, "Get away!" She backpedals. "You let her pay you off!?" Her hand brushes runaway tears. "How could you?"
She looks so hurt.
My stomach turns.
"Max, I…"
She runs back up the stairs. The door slams shut.
"So, Price. Good work." The older brunette seems to have aged from 40ish to 60ish in a matter of minutes.
I walk up after Max and knock on the door. "Go away Chloe! After all that's happened, why do you still hate me!?"
I don't! I do! I don't fucking know anymore!
I stumble down the stairs. I can't tell if it's the hangover and the yelling, or just stress that's making my head feel like it's exploding.
The back door is open. Following it out, I find Vanessa smoking.
I take out my own pack and light up.
She speaks first. "What, so we smoke the same brand and now you think we're all nice and friendly?"
"I don't get it. Why do you hate me?"
"Why do I hate you? I could ask you the same thing. You're the straw the broke the camel's back. I had to kick Ryan out of his own house, and now my daughter won't speak to me. Why do you hate me, Chloe?"
"I didn't do shit. And you've always been against me. Even before you left Arcadia Bay."
"You've got to be kidding me. Do everyone a favour and grow up. I knew from the second I saw you in that drive way that you were just another dime-a-dozen burnout who was ruining the lives of themselves, and everyone around them. Only to wind up making more of yourselves. Max has a good chance of having a future. One worth living." Her eyes start to sparkle with some degree of hope, "With actual power and influence. She can have pull and be better than you lot. Not just have money, but gravitas." This is starting to sound like a speech. "But only if she's guided right, and those who bring her down are left behind." She sighs, coming to the conclusion that her little address is having no effect. "Why're you still here, Chloe?"
"I'm not leaving until I can speak to Max."
"Well, don't hold your breath. She might not act it, but when she's cross, she's stubborn as all hell."
Flicked on the ground, the dying embers from my cigarette get crushed.
Here's an idea.
I walk away and go back into my truck to grab the vodka and beer.
I head up the stairs and knock on her door. "I'm coming in!"
"Don't."
"Tough." I swing it open.
"What do you want?" The hipster is wrapped in a blanket on her bed. The TV plays softly. She has headphones in her ear.
The door closes behind me. "Honestly? I don't know." A bit more honest than intended. "But I'm pretty sure you need a drink. You never said what it is you preferred, but I have what I like here."
"So your go-to solution is to drink? Aren't you already drunk?" She tears out the earphones and looks at me.
I've got her talking. Step one accomplished. "First question yes, second question no. I only smell like it. I may, or may not have slept in a pool of vodka."
I tear off the top, and take a swig. The burn hurts good.
I pass it off to her. She says, "You really think you can win me over with this?"
Her jab lands like bullet.
I'm so fucking useless. "No." My voice wavers. "But I really hope so." I hold off the water building in my eyes and smile.
It's the only thing I can ever really offer.
Max furrows her brow, before gently lifting the bottle up to her mouth. She coughs violently.
I half heartedly grin. "Guess I should've known you don't do hard liquor. Figured you were softer."
"Chloe, I don't even drink."
"... Didn't you tell me- "
"Yes, I said I do. Doesn't mean I actually do."
Oh.
"Fair enough, some idiots might call me an alcoholic. When was the last time you got drunk?"
"Never." She shrugs and shakes her head. She's turned red.
No. No, no, no.
I tear the bottle out of her hands. No, I'm not turning Max into me. I'm not letting Vanessa be right.
She takes it back and commits to a deeper swig than before. Another violent coughing fit.
"Max, this was a bad idea, I don't…"
"Jeez Chloe! I've tried everything to make you like me! To be more like you! Just let me have something in common with you!"
I freeze in place. This was a mistake. A massive fucking mistake. I should've just kept driving and never come back.
How do I make this right?
Can I even fix this?
"Max… You need to stay away from me."
Her brows furrow. She speaks, "What? Why? Chloe, I don't get it! What happened? I thought you'd forgiven me for leaving!"
"That was before a thousand people died, Caulfield!" I'm not even sure what I'm talking about by this point. Just arguing for the sake of it.
Her voice breaks, "What would you have me do!? Let you die again!?"
"I don't fucking know!? Okay!? If you haven't fucking realised it yet, I'm a human catastrophe! It's not bad luck I got thrown out of school, or was on a first name basis with the police! Your mother's right, I'm only going to bring you down if we're friends."
"What are you talking about!?" Annoyed, exasperated and sad are the emotions I'm hearing.
"I don't know who the hell you think I am- I only know I'm not that person. Just try not to fuck yourself up?" I awkwardly stand up. I'm not drunk off the single swig I took just now, but this is the worst hangover I've had in a while.
The world seems to momentarily glow. My headaches lurches.
Max grabs my arm. A small river of blood comes out of her nose. It looks like she's also smeared it on her hands and has tried rubbing it away. I'm not sure if I'm heartbroken, since what I'm doing is obviously ruining her, or if I'm furious and pissed off at her for rewinding me. What if she causes another storm?
"Just let me speak! Please Chloe!"
I go to open my mouth, she cuts me off, "Just listen to me for once!" She sounds in pain.
I grab her arm.
"Get your hands off me, Caulfield!" She breaks my grip and marches out the door.
I know I'll never see her again. I can sense it. There's too much finality in the air. In her words.
She came back. And when the truth came out came about the money, I didn't forgive her. I simply ran away to my room.
She even came up here to comfort me. And I still messed it up.
This was my second chance and I blew it.
I raise my hand, and everything starts to work in reverse. There's a slight scratching under my skull.
I grab her arm.
"Please don't go!"
"Max, it's for the best." She tries to break my grip, but I hold on tighter, "Back off Caulfield!" She twists my arm, and I let go out of instinct. She walks out.
Again.
I grab her arm. I feel a slight trickle down my nose.
We pause.
"For fuck's sake Caulfield! Are you rewinding me!? Back the fuck off!" I lose my grip and she storms away.
I wipe away the blood.
Again.
I feel like someone's drilling out of my skull.
I grab her arm.
"Just let me speak, Chloe!"
She seems to think, before noticing my nosebleed. It's grown back.
Her features anger. "No."
Again.
I grab her arm and hang on to it.
The pain in my head is excruciating.
"C-Chloe, please! I'm begging you, don't leave!"
"I'm sorry Max, but your mom's right."
What the hell could she possibly be right about!?
Again.
I grab my head and scream in agony. The pain grows even though I'm not rewinding.
She walks away.
Again.
The world starts to dim when I go back. My head catches fire. Chloe starts to walk backwards, before teleporting forwards, and then standing in front of me again.
I grab her arm.
"Chloe, I can't keep doing this!"
She looks at me, then the growing river of blood coming out of my nose.
Her expression hardens.
"Then stop doing it."
Again.
My head starts to come undone. I've never been in so much pain. I feel like there's a gaping hole in my head. I don't open my eyes, but stop when it seems like enough time has passed.
I grab her arm.
"Just let me speak! Please Chloe!" She tries to respond, but I cut her off, "Just listen to me for once!"
I start talking before she opens her mouth, "I'm sorry! For everything! For leaving five years ago, for what happened to Rachel, everything! I'm sorry for never calling you, for not being able to help Kate, for the storm, everything I have and haven't done! Just please forgive me!" I'm tripping over my own words. "I can't do this without you! You're the only one who knows about me and my powers, or how Jefferson tortured me in the Dark Room! I need you!"
"You're the only one who knows about me and my powers," Max is panicking. I'm a fucking monster. Should've left the second I dropped her off. "Or how Jefferson tortured me in the Dark Room! I need you!" Tears start to fall from her face.
Wait, what? Tortured? I thought he only kidnapped you? Didn't David get you out a minute later?
A silent gulf grows.
"Did you say tortured?" My voice is delicate.
"I already told you. Or I think I did. I don't even know what has and hasn't happened." She sniffs and grabs at her head.
"But you told me David got you out."
"He did. But I had to rewind so many times, and relive the same day over and over again. Jefferson prodded me with needles constantly, and I saw David get beaten, shot and killed more times than I can count." She shrinks away.
My fault.
"Chloe, I need you. You're the only friend I have."
"Why do even care about me, Caulfield!? I'm just a fuckup who you used to know!" I lose my calm.
"Don't say that! You're one of the few, if not the only person I have on my side."
"Stop it. You have your parents and your friends."
"Chloe!" The voice reeks of exasperation and fear. "Chloe, you already met all of my two friends. And you saw how quick they made fun of me in front of you."
They did poke her quite a bit…
I change my posture.
"And you know how my mom paid you to leave."
She did…
"The worst part about it all is that the one person I thought I could trust, took her money and nearly disappeared forever."
Wait. Oh God. Oh God. I'm doing the same thing to Max that everyone has done to me.
My stomach summersaults as my heart plummets through the floor.
I try to speak. "I-I… M-Max, I'm…"
She looks up at me.
I sigh and recollect myself. "Max, I think we both need this." I pick up the vodka bottle and commit to a horrible, yet pleasant, painful series of chugs.
I give it to her. She smiles from relief, and takes a small sip.