"Bloodwell Academy" is what the local news was calling them, a rather morbid statement but a true one nevertheless. "Blackhell Academy" was the national headlines for it, less triggering - Max supposed - for the masses. The police had managed to keep the victims' names from becoming public. And somehow, Mr. Jefferson's name hadn't been pulled in either, either by some minor miracle or blackmail, Max wasn't sure which.
Meanwhile, Blackwell Academy was cloaked in its mourning. The flag outside was flown at half-mast. There was less chatter in the hallways during passing periods. Everyone avoided the girls' bathroom on the first floor, skirting around it as though going inside would make them victims as well. However, Max didn't fault them. She couldn't bring herself to enter the bathroom either. Any time she needed it, she trekked up to the second floor.
There was no sense of normalcy in classes either. Mrs. Hoida was clearly struggling with what had happened. Rumor was that she was close with Rachel Amber, and she was taking the revelations poorly. This reflected in her teaching, as she would oftentimes lose her train of thought and wind up apologizing as she checked her notes. Alyssa started to help her by reminding her or answering the last question she asked.
In addition, photography free hours left Max with a feeling of emptiness. Students would mill about the school ground during those hours, all seemingly aimless with their wanderings. No one really seemed to know what to do. Max was with them. Once, Max spent her time with Kate, who was recovering. But she was stronger than she seemed. She was starting to branch out again. She began to reconnect with Stella and Alyssa, both of whom seemed to miss her greatly. With all her heart, Max was happy for her.
Max sat outside the school, watching Samuel as he pulled down the missing posters of Rachel Amber. Although the police still hadn't found her body, they were certain she was no longer a runaway. The news stated they were searching for her body on the Prescott Farm grounds. Max's heart went out to the family, who must have held onto the hope of finding her again someday.
"Caulfield."
It took Max a moment before she realized that she was being addressed. Surprised, she looked around to find David Madsen walking towards her. He had a grave look on his face, hard lines defining his eyes and mouth. If Max didn't suspect he always looked angry, she would have been more intimidated. She rose. "Hello, Mr. Madsen."
"Joyce asked me to tell you to stop by the Two Whales Diner tonight," he stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dinner will be on her."
Max couldn't help but smile. Even now, Joyce was staying on her case to make sure she didn't slink away. She really was a mom through and through. "I'll be there. Is five alright?"
"I'm sure that'll be fine," Mr. Madsen responded, giving a curt nod. "I'll let her know you'll be there."
As he turned, Max called out "Mr. Madsen? I… I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, Max. I know that we didn't have a great relationship. She called me her 'step-douche,' but I tried to be a good father," Mr. Madsen replied, his pain etching itself in his eyes.
"Chloe was always stubborn, even when she was younger," Max said, offering a sad smile. Her heart ached for her friend. "But she was also fiercely loyal and protective of her friends. She'd do anything for them… Not that all of us deserved that."
Mr. Madsen's large brows drew tightly together. "All that time I wasted with surveillance. I could have stopped Nathan if I wasn't… so stupid."
Max noted, "You couldn't have known what he would do. Even with all of the security cameras, you can't see into someone's mind."
"No, Max. I knew Nathan Prescott was a threat. I just waited too long to neutralize him," Mr. Madsen asserted, his voice building with confidence and a touch of spite. "He's lucky he died the way he did. I'm not sure what I would have done if he hadn't."
Frowning, Max noted, "You don't mean that. You're just hurting right now. Just like the rest of us. But you're not a bad person, David. You would have done the right thing. I believe that with all my heart."
"I wish you had been around when I first started dating Joyce. You might have been a good influence on Chloe," Mr. Madsen commented. Max felt as though she had been torn open. Eyes widening, he continued, "I didn't mean it as though you weren't there for her, Max."
But I wasn't, was I?
"I wish I had been there, too, Mr. Madsen. More than you know," Max confessed.
"It's funny how many regrets crop up only after you can't change them," Mr. Madsen replied understandingly. Max felt a pang at the truth of that statement. The bell then rang, causing them both to start. As students began to pour out of the school, Mr. Madsen asked, "17:00 still good?"
"Yes. I'll be there then," Max answered.
Honestly, Max was torn between dreading and anticipating meeting up with Joyce. They had only spoke at the funeral for a few minutes, enough to exchange condolences. But Max wasn't worried about Joyce berating or judging her. However, she wasn't sure she was ready to be opened up like an oyster. Joyce would, no doubt, want to talk about Chloe. Max understood. Bearing the pain, on the other hand, was a different matter.
Even so, Max owed her at least a meeting. She slunk off to the cafeteria, which was now open for students. The Vortex Club was scattered about, she noticed. And they were also standing in line, patiently waiting for food just like every other student. Their claws had been removed, and their days being at the front of the line were over.
I wonder how Victoria's taking it.
Victoria had been MIA more often than not recently. If she was in her room, it was only to sleep. It left Max's nights pretty peaceful whenever Kate or Dana didn't crash into her room to chat. They were also starting to bring friends. It seemed that the social circle was shifting on the floor. And lately, Max's late nights were due to her own laughter and chatter.
"What's up, Max? How are you?" Warren inquired.
Jumping, Max turned to find him just behind her. She had been too spaced out to hear him approaching. "Fine. I'm fine. What's up?"
"I just got some nice new wheels. And that drive-in I told you about is having a 70's 'Planet of the Apes' marathon. You want to 'Go Ape' with me?" Warren inquired nonchalantly.
Uh-oh…
Max hesitantly answered, "No. I don't think I could enjoy it, what with everything..."
"Fine. Be a damned dirty human. I'll 'Go Ape' myself," Warren replied, only half-jesting.
From his hurt expression, Max could tell she had wounded him. This had been what everyone warned her about. And her cowardice allowed it to happen. "You know, Warren, you should invite Brooke to go with you."
"Brooke?" Warren echoed. He appeared shocked.
Max said, "Call it feminine intuition, but she's hella into you. She would be happy to be your plus one to watch the planet as we know it destroyed. And she seems like she needs a bit of retro in her life."
Warren stared at Max, his jaw slightly dropped open. She knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. No one ever wanted to hear their crush encouraging them to date someone else. However, Max was already with a man she loved. Warren, with all his boyish tendencies, truly couldn't hold a candle to Mark romantically. Not that Max could tell him that, though.
"Max, Brooke's just a science partner to me," Warren tried to explain.
He really isn't going to take a hint, is he?
Unblinking, Max stared at him. "Warren, I've always been grateful for you. You were one of my first ever friends at Blackwell, and you've always been there for me. But I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. Not with everything that has happened. I'd rather just focus on myself and my future."
"Oh," Warren murmured. He had clearly not been anticipating that response. Honestly, Max was a bit surprised herself at her straightforwardness. But cowardice had led her to nothing but misery. It was time to make a change. "I'll… I'll consider asking Brooke then. I guess."
"We still cool to be friends?" Max asked. Warren was a nice guy. Although Max didn't have a doubt as to what his response would be, she did want to make sure that everything was cleared between them.
"Of course, Max. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I'll still be around whenever you want. And sometimes when you don't," Warren replied. He then took a step back. "I'm gonna go, though."
Nodding, Max said, "Text me later. Kay?"
"Okay." With that, Warren scurried off with his head low. Max thought she saw him rub at his eyes, but she couldn't be sure. He nearly ran into Hayden, though, stumbling to the side at the last second. Hayden nearly dropped his food in the process. After a few words were exchanged, Warren was gone.
It's for the best.
Max had to remind herself of that. After all, she doubted that she would make Warren happy. And there was no way that they were going to be able to make it after Blackwell. Warren was too sweet not to catch another girl's attention at whatever college he went to. Besides, Max had Mark. Just because no one else could know didn't make that fact less true.
Lunch went by quickly. Max had found the shade of a tree to sit under, and she enjoyed her food there. When the bell rang, she pitched the last of her food and started towards her next class. It was then that she heard the school's announcement system kick up. Principal Wells rarely used it, as it was normally reserved for someone in trouble. However, it had become almost a staple in their days since the shooting.
"Greetings, Blackwell students and faculty. I have a quick announcement to make," he called out. Max noticed how everyone was still talking over it. She headed towards her classroom, still half-paying attention. "First, I want to thank everyone who participated in the 'Everyday Heroes' contest. I know that these last few weeks have been difficult, but it's always essential to remember the heart of Blackwell. Now, we had many fantastic applicants. We wished we could choose more than one, but the rules do not allow it. Therefore, I am pleased to announce that winner is Max Caulfield."
Did I hear that right?
Stopping in her tracks, Max now honed in. Principal Wells continued, "I hope everyone congratulates Miss Caulfield on a job well done. She will be the face of Blackwell Academy this weekend in San Francisco. Congratulations again and thank you to all who participated!"
Max still couldn't believe it. She had won the "Everyday Heroes" contest. She was going to fly to San Francisco - with Mark - and be in the eye of the art world for the first time. Her heart thumped at the thought. Immediately, she reached into her pocket and began to frantically send texts to her mother and father. They were going to be so proud of her. It was the final proof she needed that going to Blackwell had been the right choice. Not that they were going to force her to leave, although the offer for her to return had been extended more than once.
I wonder what Mark's going to say.
Not too long ago, Max had exchanged numbers with Mark. It was quite the moment, although he had cautioned her to not send him anything inappropriate. Should something happen cell phone companies could find the logs and give them to the proper authorities. But school-related items should be fine. Her text message went through eight different edits before she finally landed on: Get ready, art world. Max Caulfield's on her way to San Fran.
Max entered her classroom only to be rushed by Dana. "Congratulations, Max! I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed, giving Max a huge hug.
Laughing, Max replied, "I'm still in shock."
"Would you mind interviewing for an article?" Juliet asked, having come over during the hug. "I would love to get a snippet both before and after your trip."
"Yeah, of course," Max answered. Juliet, for all her flaws, was a good reporter. She had a passion for exposing the truth, without regarding if it benefited her to do so. "I have somewhere to be tonight, but maybe tomorrow after school while I'm packing?"
"I'll be there!" Juliet chirped. "Thanks, Max."
"Alright, calm down now. Class is starting. Get in your seats!"
Everyone obeyed. However, Max found it difficult to concentrate. Her mind was aflutter with nerves. She was going to be in San Francisco, surrounded by other photographers and reporters alike. And she was only 18. There were people who would kill for the opportunity that she had, but she wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Was she even ready yet? Was she actually prepared to meet people head-on? What if she had to field critiques? She wasn't sure she could manage that.
Mark's going to be there. So stop worrying!
It made sense, but it still didn't stop her nerves from making her leg bounce impatiently. Feeling sick, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She wondered who it was answering, but she couldn't check for another agonizing 49 minutes. As soon as the bell rang, she snatched up her phone and opened up her messages. One from Mom and one from Dad, but none from Mark, who was "Mr. Jefferson" in her phone.
Disappointed, Max read her parents' messages. Her mother was ecstatic for her, and her father's text reflected his pride well. It was certainly fitting, and Max almost felt as though she was with them: her mother hugging her in excitement and her father proudly clapping her on the shoulder. It was nice that they could share these things, even being separated.
The day dragged, and each time Max's phone buzzed, she checked it as quickly as possible. But the text messages were from everyone - even Victoria, who wrote, "Congratz but I totally let you win" - except for the one person she wanted to hear from most. Before she knew it, five o'clock had rolled around, and she was standing outside the Two Whales Diner. And still no message from Mark.
Max noticed her just a she was about to walk in. A homeless woman, wrapped up tightly in a blanket - probably one of her few worldly belongings. In Seattle, the homeless were ignored, people "unseeing" them almost as soon as they registered who they were. But Max, a photographer at heart, couldn't help but notice. After a moment's hesitation, she greeted, "Hello."
"Aw, look at you. A fine example of youth. I bet you're a senior student," the homeless woman crooned, a gnarled smile twisting onto her face.
Max nodded, not at all surprised by the deduction. "Yes, I go to Blackwell Academy."
"I could tell you're a wise young woman. I know all about Blackwell and this town," the homeless woman noted, bobbing her head as though she was agreeing with herself.
"You must know Joyce Price-" she started.
"She's fed me more than my own family," the homeless woman cut in, her eyes twinkling with fondness. Max smiled softly, glad that Joyce was still as sweet a she remembered. "Married to a real prick, though. And has a daughter your age. Or, I suppose, had. Poor thing passed away recently."
With that, Max's smiled died. "Her name was Chloe. Did you ever get to know her?"
"Enough to know her type. Cute girl. Pissed off. I used to see her and her pretty friend, er… Rachel, around a lot," the homeless woman continued.
Max was surprised to hear Rachel's name come up. "She hung out with Rachel Amber, that missing girl?"
"Aye, that very one. I know she hung out here a bit. Sometimes, I'd see her walking, all by herself, deep in thought. Too damn young and pretty to look so worried," the homeless woman explained, shaking her head.
Probably worried about Nathan Prescott. I know I would have been if I had his interest.
"Was she alone a lot or with friends?" Max pressed, her curiosity now piqued.
The homeless woman shrugged. "Like I said, she seemed tight with Joyce's daughter. I thought I saw her with an older gent one time, maybe her dad. That's a terrible thing for a parent to deal with… but you can't save everybody."
Max could feel the truth of that statement stab through her heart. "That's true. Well, it was nice to talk to you. Joyce is waiting for me."
"You keep safe, you hear? Arcadia Bay isn't the little hamlet it used to be," the homeless woman warned as Max pushed into the Two Whales Diner.
Immediately, she was engulfed with the smell of cooking and warmth. This reminded her more of home than anything else would. Sometimes, when her parents made breakfast, she could almost come back to Arcadia Bay. But nothing quite compared to the greasy aroma of the Two Whales Diner. With that, Max relaxed.
"Max! You just take a seat wherever you want, dear, and I'll get somethin' for you fired up. What do you want to eat?" Joyce called out from behind the counter. No one stirred, apparently used to such outbursts.
Max, on the other hand, was a little thrown off. "Um, I've been dreaming about your bacon omelette."
"One bacon omelette for the young lady. Stat!" Joyce called into the back.
"Bacon at 12 o'clock high!" was the call back.
Walking towards the jukebox, Max sat down at a booth not too far from it. She still remembered how she and Chloe would beg Joyce for some spare change to play their favorite songs on it. Sometimes, if they were cute enough, they could get some change from a nearby patron, much to Joyce's displeasure. But today, it was sitting there all alone. Max walked up to it and put some of her spare change in. She pressed the numbers for Chloe's favorite, unable to help herself. She missed her wild and fun friend. Desperately.
"Incoming!" Joyce called out as she walked over. "I can hear your stomach rumbling from here, Max. Here. You'll love this."
Instantly, Max recognized the famous bacon omelette. She sat down at the table, and Joyce stood next to her. "It's so strange seeing you now as a young woman."
"You look just the same," Max remarked.
Joyce laughed. "You mean I still look like a waitress at the Two Whales Diner?"
"No, like you still look pretty," Max answered, digging into her omelette.
"Nice save, kid. You're still smart," Joyce replied. She let out a sigh and sat down in the seat across from her. "I wasn't sure you'd come today."
Max knew what she meant by it, but she joked, "Mr. Madsen said dinner was on you. I wasn't about to turn that down."
"David told me earlier. Still, I figured you might still have some apprehensions, considering…" Her voice trailed, her voice thickening.
Max felt her own throat tighten as well. "I was glad you invited me, Joyce. I missed you when I was in Seattle."
"I figured as much because you never called," Joyce replied, placing her hand on her hip. Max stirred at that statement. "I meant, you must have believed it would be more painful to reach out to us once you were away."
Max couldn't deny that statement. But she also knew it didn't negate her responsibility. After all, she was the one who left. Right after William's death, no less. "I am sorry," she confessed as she mindlessly stabbed at her omelette. "If I could do it again, I wouldn't have-"
"Max, what happened to Chloe is not your fault. You did the right thing. You moved forward with your life. I did, after William passed on. Chloe… Chloe chose to stay angry. She hit all the phases… expulsion, running away, drugs, bad boys, tattoos, piercings, blue hair. That girl was a rebel through and through." With that, Joyce's eyes started to fill with tears again. She dabbed at them with the bottom of her apron before looking back up. "So believe me when I tell you that there's nothing you could have done."
Joyce spoke with such a fierceness that Max was taken off-guard. Looking up, she found she couldn't look away from Joyce's driven gaze. She nodded slowly, absorbing everything, before taking another bite of her food. With that, Max felt a guilt lift from her chest. If anyone still living had the right to be angry with her, it was Joyce. And yet, here she was before her, with a mother's love and forgiveness.
Maybe it's not my fault.
Max felt her breathing become quick and shallow. With a smile, she searched for anything to change the topic. Then she said, "I won the 'Everyday Heroes' contest at Blackwell today. I get to go to San Francisco this weekend to be wooed by other artistes."
"Well, congratulations then, Max. We always knew you were destined for great things," Joyce responded before someone called out for her. "Now, I'm going to check on my other customers. But when I get back, I want you to tell me about Seattle."
The following hours were disjointed but healing for Max. Joyce wanted to hear everything about her life from the moment she left, her adventures, her troubles, her acceptance into Blackwell. She seemed to delight in every small detail. And when she came back from her frequent goings, she would perfectly recite Max's last line in order to assist her in continuing whichever story. For Max's part, she felt as though she and Joyce had never been separated. The only evidence that it wasn't so was the space across from her, empty where Chloe should have been. Chloe, who should have ragged on her about school, reamed her for leaving, and respected her for her passion.
Close to seven o'clock, Max felt her phone buzz. She reached down and checked it to see a message from Mark. Heart leaping, she opened it.
Where are you?
It was a strange statement, and Max checked to ensure that her previous message had been sent. It had.
I'm at the Two Whales Diner.
"Now, that's quite an expression. You haven't mentioned to me any boyfriend yet, Max Caulfield," Joyce scorned jestingly. She smiled knowingly, one eyebrow quirked up.
Max flushed and hid her phone. "He's not my boyfriend..." Her phone buzzed again, and she checked it.
I'll be there in ten.
When Joyce raised her other eyebrow in expectation, Max added, "... yet."
"Ah, I see," Joyce murmured, her curiosity clearly diminishing. "Well, don't wait too long for him to come around. Some men don't have the nerve if they aren't given an open invitation from a woman. And if he doesn't realize how special and worthy you are, you are best moving on without him. The world's a large place, Max."
"I know, Joyce," she murmured before tucking her phone away. "Thank you so much for the dinner. I enjoyed it so much."
"Of course, Max. Now, before you go, I have something for you," she said before heading back behind the counter. She brought out an old, yellow shoe box, labelled PICTURE BOX on the front. Setting it down on the counter, she said, "I found this when we were… cleaning out Chloe's old room. I believe she would want you to have it."
"Thank you so much, Joyce," Max whispered, taking the box and holding it gingerly. "I will cherish it."
Joyce nodded sadly before stepping back. "Now, you don't forget to keep in touch now. I want to hear from you at least once a week whilst you're in Arcadia Bay. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Joyce," Max said before rising to her feet. She held the box under her arm and gave Joyce a hug.
Joyce gave her a strong bear hug in reply before releasing her. With that, Max stepped out the front door. She was surprised to find Mark standing there, speaking to the homeless woman Max had seen before. Trotting down the stairs, Max approached them only for Mark to take a step backwards. He smiled at Max, but it seemed almost strained.
"It was a pleasure," he managed to say before stepping away. He motioned Max to follow him as he headed back towards the parking lot.
Max glanced back at the homeless woman. "What were you talking about?" she asked curiously.
"She thought she knew me from somewhere. I had to explain that she probably just saw me in the Beacon. I think she saw my picture there and mistook me for someone else," he explained before opening the passenger's side door. Sliding in, Max buckled as he closed the door and walked around to his side. He got in himself and produced a gift from the backseat. "I wanted to say it instead of texting you. But congratulations on your first competition win."
"What's this?" Max asked, carefully setting the picture box between her feet to accept it.
Mark chuckled, "Something terribly cliche, I assure you."
Laughing nervously, Max opened up the wrapping paper to find a digital Hasselblad camera. "Medium format" the box said, amongst other things. She looked at the picture to find it was a perfect copy of Mark's camera. It was one of the most expensive cameras on the market, but it was renowned as well. Max still had the proof of that hanging on her wall, in the form of the picture she had taken of Arcadia Bay that night. Shocked, Max looked up at him before beaming.
"This is… Oh, my God… I..." She didn't think, pulling him into a kiss.
Mark laughed against her lips, kissing her back just as passionately. "I was hoping you would like it. And I know just the spot to give it a test run."
Without warning, he tore onto the road. Max was startled as he gunned down the main street of Arcadia Bay, blasting through a yellow light in the process. Yelping, Max grabbed a hold of the "oh, shit!" handle above her head. Her feet firmly held the shoe box in place, ensuring it wouldn't move. "Mark!" she cried out.
"Don't fret. Everything's under control," Mark stated.
Max hung desperately onto her gift as Mark took the first turn. He was jetting up one of the hillsides that surrounded Arcadia Bay. "Whoa! Curve!" she shouted as they banked hard. She thought she felt the back of the car skid for a second, but Mark kept a firm hand. Heart pounding, she let out an excited laugh as he took the next bank at neck breaking speeds. Then, just as suddenly as they had started, they came to a painful halt. Max's seatbelt snapped her back into her seat, and she sat there, gasping.
"Awake now?" Mark jested, looking over at her.
Max stared back. "I was awake before!"
Laughing, Mark turned off the car and hopped out. Max followed suit, following him through the dark path that led them back to their cliff. She recognized the overlook immediately. With a smile, she sat back down in the same spot that she had before. Mark sat down next to her, his legs dangling over the ledge as they had last time.
"I can't come here anymore without thinking about you," Mark confessed as Max opened up her camera box.
This surprised Max. It struck her as strange that he should think about her, although the times that he had crossed her mind were more often than not. "Do you?"
"Do I?" Mark echoed.
"Think about me?"
Mark stared at her a moment, searching her eyes for something. "Max, I think about you every day."
Flattered, Max blinked a few times. She pulled out her camera and began to remove the wrapping that was meant to protect the screen and buttons.
When she didn't reply, Mark pressed, "Does that surprise you?"
"Somewhat," she confessed as she turned the camera on. It had half a charge, and the battery flashed once to bring her attention to it.
"Max, look at me," Mark called out, touching her chin with two fingers. Max reluctantly turned her head to look at him. His eyes were shining brightly, his frames appearing glass-less. "I have thought about you every day since the day we met. When you took the most intuitive, remarkable photo of me that I have ever seen. You've never escaped my attention. Even when we weren't talking, I would find myself thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing. If you were framing the world in your vision again with that small camera you had come to love. I wanted to hide my affections from you. But then you began to pull away, and I realized that I could not bear that."
Max pulled away from his touch, finding it almost too overwhelming. Her heart was sent into a flurry of beats, and she found herself unable to control it. "I never imagined-"
"Nor should you have," Mark cut in. "I'm your teacher. And you have such a good heart, Max. I doubt you could think me capable of any wrongdoing."
"No. To me, you're a hero," Max confessed.
"I hope you come to know me better over the years, Max. I hope you come to accept me for everything I am. For I am flawed. I am jealous. Possessive. I'm prone to dark mood swings when I cannot get my shot right. But I have never wanted someone as much as I want you," Mark murmured.
Honestly, Max was a bit in awe. She had a difficult time seeing Mark as flawed, although she supposed it must be true. Every human being was flawed. However, she couldn't help but think that his weren't the fatal sort that would drive her away. After all, wasn't a certain amount of jealousy and possessiveness flattering after a point? But he truly did care about her. Of that, Max had no doubts whatsoever.
"Now, let me show you how to set up and use this camera," Mark murmured, sliding in closer. Clearly, the silence had marked the end of the conversation.
Max beamed and picked it back up from her lap. As Mark's large hands enveloped her own. She looked up at him, and she truly saw her future. Not just the immediate one, going to San Francisco with him, but the distant one as well. She could see him at her first showing. She could see him supporting her through her college years, helping her hone her craft. She could see him even in a church, waiting for her to come down the aisle. And she could see herself supporting him, even as he aged.
"I… I love you, Mark," she breathed out. The words spilled from her lips, unbidden. Embarrassed, she stared down at her camera again, hoping that perhaps he hadn't heard her.
However, he had. "I love you, too, Max," he said. And with that, he finally drew her into a kiss.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. This story was written with the intention of both readings (Jefferson as good or Jefferson as still evil) to be possible. Elements for both readings (dual meanings, short stories, subtle expressions) have been sprinkled throughout the story. So, in the end, it's up to you, Dear Reader, to decide how you want this story to end.