Chapter 16 Chiaroscuro
Rachel
April 22, 2013
1:10 AM
5 Miles From Arcadia Bay
Dark Room
I am now tied and bound to a wooden chair Jefferson restrains me to with duct tape. At least my mouth is no longer gagged. The psycho of a mentor still take pictures of me only this time of me restrained to the chair and with his camera set on a tripod. My eyes are a little red from the tears I leaked out of my eyes earlier when Jefferson bitch slapped me. I just sit there bound to the chair while the man himself takes more weird shots of me in this horrid staged room.
"I owe you an apology from earlier, Rachel," admitted Jefferson. "Perhaps I did overreact. Perhaps I was a bit too hard on yourself. Since it's my job to ascend your apprenticeship, I must sympathize my protégé's feelings. Now I'm asking you nicely. Do you accept my apology or don't you?"
"Why should I?" I question him.
"Why should you? I'd like for my young apprentice to cooperate with everything I've planned for her until now. And you can't do that if we're not on the same page now, can we? Now answer my question. Do you accept my apology?"
X/SQUARE/LM - ACCEPT APOLOGY
B/CIRCLE/RM - DENY APOLOGY
"Yes, I do."
"Good girl. Now that was the attitude I wanted to hear from you earlier. If you'd just behave like a grown woman, I wouldn't have been so hard you now, would I?"
"On one condition."
"Excuse me?"
"Now that I've answered your question, will you answer mine?"
"That depends. What would be your question I would need to answer?"
"I'm still not convinced this is all part of your mentorship. How this even part of my apprenticeship? Mentors don't drug people to sleep and kidnap them in some staged room to take pictures of them tied like a mammal."
"Of course they do. When the master knows everything, the learner knows nothing. If I as the master would want his learner to show her the true foundation of being a superstar in the series of photo modeling, I'd need to do it professionally. Do not question my profession, Ms. Amber. Only question my fidelity. There is a major difference to that."
"What is the difference exactly?"
"Have you ever heard of America's famous model maker, Jack Divine?"
"I've read a magazine or two. What's he got to do with anything?"
"Everything, of course. Would you like to know how he earned his profession and fidelity?"
"I'm sure you're about to tell me."
"His profession was his fidelity. Now even though there's still a difference, he maintained his career by doing what no modern artist can do better than him in order to make the first impression to his models that made them stars. Earning him the persona of becoming the most beloved artistic celebrity out there. The difference between profession and fidelity is that profession is something that sustains your talent to society. Fidelity is something that defines the reality of who you become. That is what make the great Jack Divine famous. Just like every other infamous artist before him. Leonardo Da Vinci, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol, you name 'em. Every one of those artist invented one goal to define the true opulence of their acumen. That goal was chiaroscuro."
Chiaroscuro. Jefferson's favorite word in his class. Out of all the times he's brought it up in his classroom for whatever lecture, chiaroscuro said it all. Why should he bring it up now as I'm tied to this chair listening to his delusional justification.
"Of course, you've heard the word many times in my class before," he continued. "No matter what an artist's work needs to be done, chiaroscuro says it all."
"Chiaroscuro, huh?" I say to the goatee faced psycho. "Is that what you rely upon with what you're doing now? This isn't your class you know. This is pedophilias."
"Isn't that an often used word these days. Don't think I'm confusing the word chiaroscuro with pedophilias. As attracted to you as I am, there is certain glamour in your appeal. Your facial features, your body, your innocence, everything that attracts me to bringing you here. Your the most gorgeous human being I've had in this room, Rachel. You don't just give great headshots, you give great head. All the more reason I don't hesitate to the take the shot. All the more reason I exploit the innocence of others."
Great headshots? Great head? Why hasn't someone put this man in a straight jacket and locked him up in a psychiatric asylum? The man himself was somehow definitely had pedophilias and completely lost his sense of sanity. Exploiting people's innocence is the utmost apitimy of the worst evil doing I've ever heard. After all that was said, someone had entered the room through a bunch of rubber curtains. It was Nathan. The boy who slipped me a drug in my drink at the party where he helped Jefferson abduct me to this illusively horrid room.
"Ah, Nathan, there you are," said Jefferson when Nathan entered. "Rachel and I were just having our fun in this room. Nice of you to join us."
I stare at Nathan who stands there on the other side of the room and he stares at me back. Feeling guilty for what he did to me at the party. I want to come at him for he did to bring me here, but it was to bad this chair had me bound to itself to keep me from doing so. Not sure what give him the nerve to come here anyways.
"If you'll just stay over there for a minute, I have more to do with Rachel," ordered Jefferson to Nathan.
The man walk over back to his cart to get his syringe out and fill it up with more serum out of vile to sedate me. The returns to my chair to inject me.
"Now, I'm going to keep you sedated for a little longer," he said. "I need you asleep for these next shots of you. Be a good girl now and go to sleep. It's for your only good."
The sharp needle is plunged into my neck and I feel the sting of it pinch me through my skin. I grunt and grit me teeth together when I do. Once I'm injected with the knockout drug, Jefferson shakes my hair and waits for me to pass out. I feel the dose invade my blood veins and into my brain and my eyelids eventually begin to drop down. When my vision gets blurry and my head feels weary again, my body goes completely limp, my world goes dark again, and I fall fast asleep.
Note: So there goes your more Rachel torture porn everybody. Remember what Jefferson had said in Max's nightmare? Well I just wrote another callback related to that. You should all know you're references by now.
Now for those of you who are confused about Jefferson's ties with Prescott and Neo-Chrysalis and what it has to do with the Dark Room, let me explain. In my fiction, Jefferson had worked undercover for the terrorist group and since he never brings up anything about the terrorist, it's just so he doesn't blow his cover. He had made the Dark Room look like it had nothing to do with terrorism. But rather pedophilias. In season one, when analyzing the character of Mark Jefferson, I felt like his villain ark went completely nowhere. When I first played the first season and was left hanging on episode 4's fucked up cliffhanger, I thought that maybe Jefferson was kidnapping his own students to find out who had rewind powers like Max's. Since Jefferson never brought it up in episode 5, that obviously wasn't the case.
So in this fiction, I felt the need to give him more of a true purpose why he was so engaged with his Dark Room project. You may call it nonsense, so do I. After all, everything terrorist do is nonsense. Such as Neo-Chrysalis inventing the 9/11 of Arcadia Bay. You know what I mean.
Until next time, stay golden.