A seatbelt unclicking.
Distorted noise.
A door closing shut.
Pure darkness.
The sound of people walking down old metal stairs.
Thrown on the ground in some mysterious place, Chloe had been kidnapped from her truck. She was still passed out but woke up a few times from hearing loud noises. Her head hurt, her neck had a stabbing pain in it, and even trying to open her eyes she was proven to be unsuccessful. She lay limp on the ground next to a cold, concrete wall.
Muffled talking could be heard from what seemed like another room. Then, footsteps got closer and closer until a door was unlocked. As the footsteps got nearer to Chloe, the sound of a few camera clicks...pause...a few more...yes, yes, perfect...Jefferson always loved his subjects vulnerable.
A few moments pass, with the sound of a camera shutter going off every so often.
Mark Jefferson and whoever else was with him, as Chloe swore it sounded like more than one person, began to pack up their equipment and locked the door to the room Chloe was left in. Distant footsteps of heavy boots walking up metal stairs were heard until another heavy door was shut, even further away. It sounded like Chloe was in a basement, or maybe somewhere underground, judging by the number of steps she heard going up the rickety metal stairs. Damn. Where was she?
A few electronic beeps filled the silence, almost sounding like…security cameras. The blue haired punk was being closely monitored, for reasons still unknown, and she didn't even know it.
As time passed in the strange new room, Chloe was starting to fully regain her consciousness. Slowly opening her eyes, everything around her was spinning. The room was pitch black but in her vision, there were all kinds of colors and shapes just floating around. Was she drugged?
Chloe tried to stand up, or at least shift how she was sitting, but couldn't. Through the darkness, she managed to feel something tied around her wrists and feet. It felt like a braided rope, the kind sailors used. Weird.
After unsuccessfully managing to move due to the rope, Chloe heard a rustling in the distance before a voice echoed in the room.
"Ch–Chloe?" A voice. An oddly familiar voice that sounded…hurt. Tired. Taken advantage of.
Has she heard this voice before? She couldn't really remember anything at this point.
She quickly began to realize that she was not alone in the room, and the sudden sound of someone sliding across the ground towards her was frightening, to say the least. Thrown in a dark room somewhere and hearing that you're not alone was more than unsettling to Chloe. From the sound of it, this person was now sitting right next to her.
Clicks of a lighter sparking reverberated across the room, and the voice spoke again. "Chloe! Thank god you're alright. I got worried when I saw them carry you in here."
In the mere seconds between darkness and light,
Wait a second. That voice.
Chloe slowly started to realize who this mystery person was.
It's...Oh my god...
"Rachel?" Chloe, in complete shock, looked at the girl. Or tried to at least. Rachel's lighter didn't provide enough light to see much of anything.
"Yeah," The girl had her arms around Chloe, "surprised to see me?"
The punk couldn't think of anything to say, probably from both the drug overdose and haphazardly finding Rachel, so resulted in stating a simple fact. "Actually, I can't see you...I can't see anything…" Chloe looked around squinting, trying to make out something, anything in the darkness.
Rachel let out a tired sigh, "Hold on a sec, let me turn on a few lights." She stood up, with the sound of footsteps following her until a click was heard. "There."
With the lights on, Chloe could finally see everything. "Woah...holy shit Rach…" Rachel looked horrible. Sunken eyes, matted hair - the girl looked like she had been through some shit. That idea alone made Chloe furious.
The blonde walked back over to where Chloe was sitting, arms raised, "What, it's not like it's been a few years Chloe. You only went a few months without seeing me." She exhaled another long sigh before she sat down on the cold floor. Chloe always seemed to show up at the best and worst times in her life, but she was always there. She was someone Rachel knew she could always fall back on, despite sometimes using that trick against her in destructive ways. If there was ever a question in Rachel's mind that Chloe didn't care, it was already answered.
"I know, but I was so damn worried Rachel…" Chloe began to shift her gaze, uncomfortable with how battered Rachel looked, "Did they hurt you or anything because I swear to fucking god I'll–"
Rachel put a hand on Chloe's shoulder, trying to calm her fury. Her anger was definitely warranted, but she didn't have the patience at the moment. "Chlo—calm down, really. We can talk about that another time, alright? I'm ok right now and I promise I won't let anyone hurt you here."
Chloe looked around trying to feel safe behind Rachel's words, but couldn't. All she could see were four concrete walls and some photography equipment. "But where even are we?" It was the million dollar question at this point.
"At the bottom of the lighthouse believe it or not." The blonde lightly laughed making her feather earring sway, not finding the seriousness in her statement.
Chloe was in utter disbelief. Why the hell was Rachel laughing, why did she look beat up, why were they in the fucking lighthouse— The room was spinning again and it wasn't from drugs this time. Her anger had reached its boiling point, and she couldn't help but stand up and pace around the room as Rachel remained seated. It was a desperate move to try and control the situation, but it was worth a shot.
"So...we're fucking HOSTAGES? Rachel, what the hell were you thinking?" Chloe didn't even look at Rachel, she couldn't. How could she look her in the eyes after all this?
The blonde sighed, dropping her head into her arms, "I don't know. I've fucked up my life so much already that this didn't really phase me. Except now I see how it looks and, yeah, it looks bad."
Were there tears forming in her eyes, or was it just another hallucination?
"Chloe...I…" Rachel was starting to become choked up, unable to hold back her pain any longer. "I fucked up really bad and I don't know how to get out of it." The girl just started sobbing, letting everything come out at once. She hadn't had the time to–
Thud.
Getting cut off from her emotional outpour, Rachel quickly snapped out of it like the actress she always was, and waved her arms urging Chloe to sit down.
Thud.
Footsteps were then heard from just outside the room. They seemed to be coming closer by the second. Chloe hurriedly walked back to where she was originally and sat down.
"Just stay calm and don't say anything stupid, got it?" How Rachel could quickly change her demeanor was something that was always a mystery to Chloe. Though it was more of an unsettling mystery now, one filled with mistrust and sadness.
"Yeah…got it." The two anxiously sat, waiting, now fully exposed from the light.
After a brief moment of waiting for the number to be entered on the keypad just outside the door, Mark Jefferson and Nathan Prescott walked into the room, carrying more than just cameras.
It was a dreadfully long car ride…or at least it felt like one to Max. In reality, it only took around four hours to go from Seattle to Arcadia Bay, but she couldn't seem to get there any faster.
Driving along the coast, Max put her arm out the passenger window, feeling the ocean breeze cast against her skin. The salty air, green forests, and sound of distant ocean waves plagued the girls' mind. She was getting closer and closer to the place she used to call home. Maybe it was still home, just taken away from her at the worst possible moment for her and her best friend.
It was funny to think she was just here, despite no one else knowing. She knew she couldn't help having a time-traveling superpower, but she always found a feeling of guilt hidden deep in the back of her mind. Maybe it was survivors guilt? She didn't know and didn't want to think about it right now, because making sure everyone was safe was Max's first and only priority.
As she and her father were getting closer to Arcadia Bay, Max spotted the infamous lighthouse in the distance. The lighthouse was always filled with mystery. Childhood memories, strange nightmares, and…mystery. In the past, she never wanted to think too deeply about it, as questioning more strange oddities in Arcadia Bay would uncover more than Max wanted to deal with. She knew the small ocean town had secrets, but still…something about the lighthouse always gave her the creeps.
A few potholes later, Max and her father successfully arrived in Arcadia Bay. Max wasn't sure if she should feel relaxed or relieved but knew that no matter what she felt, she knew this place had some kind of significance that was different from all the other times she was here.
As her dad turned off the main street and into another side street, the car slowed down, pulling to the side of the road by a street lamp. They were mere minutes away from Chloe's house. Max's father put the car in park, and gently leaned over the steering wheel looking like he had something weighing on his mind. "Are you sure you want me to drop you off at Chloe's house? We can find a hotel or something–"
Max cut off his sentence, feeling a sense of urgency. "No." She sharply said shaking her head, determined by her plan, "No. Chloe's house is perfect."
Her father nodded and put the car back in drive. As they were driving down the street, the house was just starting to become visible. It was just as Max had remembered it. The exterior paint was still half tan, half blue, with nobody wanting to finish the paint job after William's passing. And to Max's memory, no freak tornado had run through the town, destroying everything in its sight. Yet.
After grabbing her suitcase and waving goodbye, Max began to walk up the pathway to the Price house. She knocked on the door, but unsurprisingly, no one was home. She looked around the neighborhood, thinking about where she could possibly find Chloe, only to conclude that she would definitely find Joyce at the Blue Whales Diner. Joyce might not know where Chloe was, but she'd surely know something .
Not caring about her belongings at this point, she brought her suitcase and additional bags behind the house, in a secret hideout her and Chloe made years ago. The two used to have a lot of pirate adventures, and would often build hidden forts in the backyard. Frequently, William would help them build the massive cardboard structures, sometimes shaped as boats or other pirate themed shapes, all for the sake of an adventure. But for now, the only adventure on Max's mind was saving her best friend from her future fate.
It was a bit of a walk, but Max didn't mind. As she stepped into the diner, the smell of coffee and comfort food overwhelmed her senses. The place hadn't changed in years, if not decades, and still had an air of familiar nostalgia to it. Max spotted Joyce working behind the counter taking a trucker's order, but decided to give them space for a minute.
The diner was bustling with business, despite it being the middle of the week. Max shifted her stance awkwardly waiting for the trucker, who was apparently taking his sweet time ordering.
Finally, after what seemed to be an order of the entire menu, Joyce slid the order paper through the window for the cooks in the back while simultaneously ringing a small bell. Max began to step up to the counter. "Hey, Joyce."
"Max!" Joyce was taken aback, if not…a little apprehensive. She hadn't seen the girl in years, and knew how much the time spent away upset her daughter. "What are you doing here?"
"I need your help." Max was leaning over the counter, talking quietly but had a firmness to her voice. "But first, I need you to tell me where Chloe is."
"Chloe?" Joyce looked to the side, thinking, "Gosh, Max, come to think of it…I haven't seen her in days." She shrugged, but it made Max's stomach drop. "She's done this plenty of times before, sure, but for the past few months she's been holed up in her room. That was…until recently." Joyce then leaned in closer to Max, with a tense look wiped across her face. "Now you're starting to make me worried. Between your sudden appearance and barging in asking questions, I feel like you might be up to trouble."
Max played with the zipper on her hoodie, trying to calm her nerves about the news of Chloe missing and Joyce's suspicion. "Don't be worried, Joyce, everything is totally good…but was–" She hesitated, trying to pry for an answer, even though it didn't look like there were many, "Was there anywhere she liked to hang out?"
The woman studied Max, trying to find a reason for her suspicion, but failed. "Well," Joyce sighed and leaned back, resting on a table behind her, "I know her and Rachel liked to hang out at the junkyard…" Max watched as Chloe's mom was in deep thought, now trying to help as best she could. "And they spent a lot of time up by that lighthouse as well. Other than that, I never have any idea what those two are up to."
Max looked around, noticing that the diner only got busier since the time she had arrived. "Well, I better get going then, thanks for your help." Max needed to leave. She needed to find Chloe and set everything straight, but felt guilty for adding more stress onto Joyce. Everything will be ok in the end. Everyone will live. She replayed the thought repeatedly—as if thinking it would make it more real—as she made her way to the door.
"Anytime." Joyce mentioned with a smile, "And Max?" The girl turned around, " Please try to stay out of trouble. And don't be a stranger, alright?"
The waitress made her way back behind the counter. She was already getting bombarded with orders from new customers, which would be a good distraction from Max's intrusive questioning and unexpectedly returning back to Arcadia Bay.
"You got it, Joyce." As she was heading out the door, Max almost crashed right into Victoria, getting a nasty glare in return. Victoria didn't seem to recognize Max, but she definitely didn't apologize either.
Wasn't she supposed to be at Blackwell? Granted, it was spring break, so maybe Victoria was meeting someone at the diner. It was strange either way.
The interaction was so brief, neither one had time to stay mad at the sudden meeting. Victoria scoffed, as she continued walking, leaving Max standing half way between the doorframe to the diner.
Finally outside, Max stopped for a moment, thinking. She now had two locations to check: the junkyard and the lighthouse…both of which were on completely different sides of the town. And with her dad already headed back to Seattle at this point, she didn't have a means of transportation…which meant that everything was going to take longer today than she had hoped.
"Get the fuck away from her psycho!" Chloe screamed with everything she had left in her, watching as Rachel got the same treatment she did before arriving in the lighthouse. The blonde, now unconscious, was lying on the floor next to her. This entire event brought up past memories Chloe tried to push away long ago, ones involving her and Sera at the old mill. Seeing Rachel like this, looking like her mom tied to that chair with Damon Merrick…she shook her head trying to erase the thought.
That was years ago, yet such a life changing moment for them both. Chloe had basically ripped the Amber family apart from the seams, feeling like she had no choice. She couldn't bear the thought of lying to Rachel. She wouldn't have been able to live with that. However, Rachel continuously proved that she couldn't do the same for her.
She was crying and screaming for Jefferson to stop. To just let her leave and never come back. Chloe was so tired, so fucking exhausted of all this Arcadia Bay bullshit. She just wanted to be somewhere else right now.
Nathan was still over by Rachel, watching her intently. Studying her. He dragged the back of his hand across her cheek, as her breath was heavy and eyelids twitching in her sleep. He began to whisper something Chloe couldn't hear. It sounded erratic, like the guy forgot to take his meds or something, Chloe thought. After a brief moment, he grabbed her aggressively, trying to stand her up. He struggled–almost falling over–but managed to wrap Rachel's arm around his neck. He then wrapped his other arm around her waist, both swaying in movement. They were doing some kind of disturbing dance, all for Chloe to watch.
"Dance for me bitch. C'mon, you used to do it all the time–" Chloe watched the entire thing happen in front of her eyes. Nathan's hands wandered lower and lower down Rachel's back, insisting to do more, and it made the room feel like it was closing in. Suffocating. Chloe sat there, resisting every urge inside of her to not kill Nathan right then and there. She was filled with so much rage, she could feel her entire body jerking from adrenaline. She knew that even if she did do something, like murder in cold blood, she'd probably be dead too. And she wasn't going to die with a damn Prescott.
Jefferson then wheeled the metal cart filled with syringes and plastic gloves towards her. She knew her time would come soon, so she just closed her eyes and cried. Tears poured out of her eyes, as she thought about how fucked up her life was and how she'll probably end up dying in the cold, dark lighthouse without anyone knowing where she was.
That was the last thing Chloe remembered before passing out again.
Since it was late April and the weather was exceptionally nice, it made the walk to the junkyard more than pleasant. The time spent walking throughout the small coastal town allowed Max to think, something she really did love to do when she had the time. There was a slight breeze in the air, a car passing by every so often, and a few birds sat atop the telephone pole. Despite everything horrible this town had happen to it, it still had fragments of beauty hidden beneath the surface.
Max followed the train tracks, the place Chloe had brought her to after being in the diner, finding out that Max could rewind time. As she steadily approached the junkyard, her mind was flooded with memories. Memories of finding bottles for Chloe to shoot, another nosebleed from rewinding, that doe, Frank showing up and– No. Not now. She shook her head, moving forward into the trash heap. Hopefully she was early enough that it lacked a certain someone buried under the ground this time, as well.
She looked everywhere, even in the abandoned cars. So much metal and debris everywhere made it difficult to walk around. After searching in every place a person could possibly be, she roamed into Chloe and Rachel's secret hideout they built. Hidden notes, secret letters, and signs of the past were all still there. It still stung the second time seeing it. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was guilt. Max didn't know, and hesitated to think any more deeply about it. She knew she kissed Chloe back in September, or future? But it was different. It was a dare–and a final goodbye– not anything serious. Yeah. Totally, not serious. Max told herself.
Well, Chloe and Rachel weren't there. Max sighed, sitting down on a makeshift bench in the hideout made out of a wood plank and stacked bricks. Some golden light rays peaked through the window, promising that sunset was quickly approaching. It didn't help, though, and the fact that she still couldn't find Chloe was really starting to get to Max. The growing feeling in the middle of her chest that maybe she rewound too far, or maybe not long enough, was growing so large, the feeling almost consumed her. It became choking, hard for her to catch a breath. She couldn't be wrong. Not again. And the last and final time she rewound was so terrible, it had to be the last. She couldn't do this all over again.
With time relentlessly moving faster and feeling defeated, she stood up and started to follow the train tracks back to the heart of Arcadia Bay. She figured she'd go back to the Price house, maybe try to explain everything to Joyce.
The street lamps provided a warm glow juxtaposed with the dark sky as Max walked down the sidewalk, steadily approaching the house. Remembering that she left her bags out back earlier that morning, she crept into the backyard to grab them. It was dark enough for no one to see her, which was finally a positive for once. Max then brought everything to the front of the house and knocked on the door.
Knock knock.
No answer.
She knocked again, only to be greeted by not Joyce, but David. David Madsen, the security officer at Blackwell and Chloe's step-douche as she liked to call him, didn't recognize Max yet. He looked surprised to see some random girl at the door at a time everyone should be asleep.
"And…who are you?" His voice seemed hoarse, like he was woken from the knocking on the door.
Joyce then looked around the corner of the kitchen, seeing Max with her bags and seemed more than willing to let her inside. "Oh, Max, please, come inside. You've got to tell us what's going on."
Joyce, David, and Max all walk into the living room and sit down at the table. The room was dark, with a lamp or two turned on for ambience. Max really did feel bad for arriving so late and without notice, but she felt like it was urgent. As Max and David were waiting at the table, Joyce quickly brewed a pot of coffee for everyone. She always seemed to have a gift for hospitality. Shifting her focus to David, Max noticed that he looked exhausted and tried to appear awake to not seem rude, but almost fell back asleep several times at the table. The coffee pot then chimed, signifying that it was done. Joyce poured several cups and sat them on the table, finding a chair to sit down. "Max, let's start from the very beginning. Why aren't you in Seattle?"
Max paused, trying to find the right words to explain something so ridiculous. "Well, I planned on going to Blackwell Academy in the fall for their photography class." She looked at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions so far. "But I'm here now because…" She hesitated for a moment, noticing her hands were beginning to shake, "because Chloe got shot in the bathroom by Nathan Prescott and for some reason, I got the ability to rewind time." She seemed to speed up the last part, hoping they wouldn't think much of it. Oh, was she wrong.
Joyce and David looked like a deer in headlights, not even blinking. They were both horrified at the thought of Chloe getting shot, and it seemed almost inappropriate for it to be some kind of joke Max would pull. Max knew she had to explain more, but desperately wanted them to take her seriously. Maybe she should have thought this through more. "Listen, I know I sound so insane right now, but you have to believe me. Here." Max reached down into her backpack, grabbing her journal where she stuffed all the polaroids she took during that week. Opening it, all of the pictures fall out of the pages, flooding her mind with even more memories she tried not to think about. She squeezed her hand to try and stop those reappearing thoughts.
Shuffling through all the polaroids, she tried to find something with Chloe in it. That could convince them, right? The pictures were sprawled out across the table, and the dark room didn't help with seeing anything either. Poking out just underneath a few notes, she found the one she took of Chloe, laying on top of a car in the junkyard. It happened after Max blacked out from yet another nosebleed. "Look, here's Chloe at the junkyard. See–she has blue hair." Max put the picture in front of Joyce and David and pointed out the scene. "This happened in September, uh– I mean, recently I guess. You know, weird time traveling abilities and such." She shook her hands like she was showing a magic trick.
As Joyce was still intently studying the photo, David looked up at Max. "Ok Max, slow down. You said you can rewind time?"
After a painfully long explanation of all of the events that occurred after Max got her power, and several cups of coffee later, Joyce and David seemed to have gotten somewhat of a grasp on the information and started to believe Max enough for them to help her. Thank god.
With it now being well past midnight by this point, Max had a secondary task of planning for what to do. She had some ideas that she thought of during the car ride here, but decided to grab a notebook from her bag and started ripping out pages to create a map of the town. The pages were makeshift across the table; messy and without clear context. She took a pencil and started drawing every location she went to during that week. The diner, the lighthouse, the photography class. It would seem childish to anyone else, but she had to mark significant events in a way that made sense to other people.
After the entire town was nearly drawn out, Max leaned over–nearly knocking over David's cup of coffee–and started drawing in the final, and arguably most important location there: the darkroom.
"What? There's a barn there?" Joyce was shocked to hear that such a horrible place was located just outside of Arcadia Bay, even after living here for so many years.
"Yes, and it's owned by the Prescott's." Max explained before turning her attention onto David. "David, if there is anything in your life you should take seriously, this is one of them. You'll have to drive here," Max points to the poorly drawn map marked with coordinates, "and park your car in between the trees nearby. Stay there and watch. I don't know how long it'll be, but I can promise you, you'll see something go down. And when you do…" Max looks up, with fury in her eyes, "...kill Mark Jefferson."
Joyce interrupted Max's heroic plan for a moment, "Now Max, you know I still have to work at the diner all week, right? As much as I'd like to follow your plan, I just can't. There's still bills to pay, rewind powers or not."
Max nodded sympathetically, "Of course, Joyce. Don't worry about it." Joyce looked at the girl and nodded lightly, just hoping that everybody would be safe. A motherly instinct.
David, comforting his wife and looking at Max nodding, "I will do whatever it takes, Max. I knew something was going on at Blackwell, I just couldn't…" He shook his head, almost embarrassed, "I just couldn't figure it out. I was going to install security cameras across campus but–"
"No, I know Mr. Madsen." Max cut him off, "Though, it wouldn't have worked anyways."
David looked up at Max, trying his best to find an answer to her vague statement. Max lifted her hands, smiling, "Time traveling abilities."
"Right. Time traveling abilities."
Joyce offered Max the couch to sleep on, and although she probably wouldn't get much sleep anyways, she gladly accepted the kind offer. The couple made their way upstairs to go back to bed, all agreeing to put Max's plan into action the next morning. There was no time to waste now.
