Kate's heart stops. There's blood splattered all across the blue tile floor, and some of it can be seen plastering the wall beside the entrance. At the opposite end of the bathroom, past the stalls and the sinks, Max was sat against the wall squirming in agony. There's a hole in her jeans directly where her left knee should be, and crimson red coats the wound and oozes onto the floor underneath.

"M-Max!" Kate cries, disregarding the blood at her feet to reach her best friend. She crouches beside the brunette, and tries to do something to help—but she doesn't know what she's supposed to do.

"Oh, God—Max, it's okay, it's gonna be okay—!"

A hand seizes at the hem of her overcoat.

"Max—!?"

"Listen," Caulfield rasps, low and deadly, "There isn't much time. You have to take my bag, my journal."

Max's backpack lies out of sight, in the small space meant to keep the janitor's supplies for convenience. Kate barely notices it whilst the brunette continues, "Read the journal, it's…it'll tell you everything you need to know. For now, I need you to do what I say."

"But, Max, you're bleeding!" the blonde attempts to stand and find something to stop the blood flow, but the grip on her overcoat holds her back, "Kate, please—just listen."

Against her better judgment, Marsh listens.

"Take the bag, don't let anyone steal it from you. Not the police, not my family, not anyone. Do not go to the police for anything, they're a hivemind of corrupted people who cannot be trusted…"

She recalls when she saw Nathan slink away under the cover of the alarm, stuffing the handgun in the pocket of his jacket.

"But, Nathan—he shot you! He can't get away with this—!"

"Do not," Max growled, "go to the police. They are not your friends. I beg you, Kate, do not trust them!"

"I won't, I won't," she says, but it's hard for her to take her eyes off the blood oozing from Max's busted knee.

"There's…there's a message," a shaky, pale hand gestured to the backpack, "Hand it to me."

Kate pulls the backpack within reach of its owner, and the brunette finds what she's looking for. From a pocket inside, Max pulls out an envelope, unmarked and with no inscription nor address. It is plain, and unassuming.

"You must deliver this. Guard it with your life. Do not tell anyone about this. Do not lose it, no matter what."

"I…I understand," Kate solemnly promised, "Where must I deliver it?"

"You will know, trust me," Max placed the envelope back in her backpack, and shoved the whole thing to Kate. It felt like her friend had passed to her a final will and testament. The blonde was overcome with dread, a sudden terror with regard to the sickening possibility.

"Wait, M-Max—"

"I'm sorry, Kate," Caulfield's half-lidded blue eyes were dim, and could no longer look up to her, "Time's almost up. There's nothing left for me to do."

The brunette seemed to fade away, right before her eyes. Her head fell forwards, and her hands lay still. It snapped Kate from her frozen state, and she cried—

"No—you can't die, not here, not like this!" Kate rose up from her crouch, "We have to get you to the hospital!"

"It's not going to matter," came the half-hearted retort, but Max was not in a position to technically stop Kate, and the blonde took advantage of that. An idea came to mind: the blonde had on her waist a belt, worn mostly to complete the aesthetics of her outfit than for practical reasons. She slipped the belt off, and wrapped it around Max's left thigh, sinching it as hard as she could. The blood flow might not be stopped, but it could be staved off until real help was within reach.

Max was jolted from her involuntary slumber, the sudden pressure forcing her into tears. But Kate was not having it—she secured the belt despite Max's pleas, and whereupon taking both her messenger bag and Max's backpack, she looped her friend's arm around her shoulder and beckoned to her—

"We gotta stand up, come on, Max!" the blonde heaved up, and Caulfield was pulled up from her momentum, "Let's go, we have to move!"

Max tried to speak, but she was visibly sapped of her strength. The fire in her eyes was long gone, and now the mousy brunette could barely keep herself conscious. The converse sneakers Max wore were dragging along the floor as the two shuffled out the bathroom.

As they trudged to the exit, Madsen came bursting through the doors, and was surprised at their presence.

"What the hell are you—?" he paused, then shifted quickly over to them, "Give her 'ere, I got her!"

Max was passed off to the Head of Security, whose only gratitude towards Kate was a very curt, "Get outside, missy, it's not safe here," before he swooped Max up into his arms and bridal-carried the wounded girl outside.

Kate stood there, alone. The shock was catching up to her. She tried to control her shaky breathing, a hand of hers reaching instinctually to the golden crucifix upon her chest.

She looked down at her flat-footed shoes, their white texture stained with red and black blood.

"…good afternoon, Ms. Marsh. I'm Officer Berry, and I'll be the presiding officer for receiving your statement. As I've said before, there's water and coffee on the table over there if you need some," a hand gestured to the small table with a water station and coffee machine in the far corner of the room, "Understand that you do not have to rush your statement, and you do not have to force yourself to speak. We understand that this is a very stressful situation to be in, and we will not force you to say or do anything that might jeopardize your wellbeing."

We. As in, they are all one and the same. A hivemind of corrupted people.

"I'd like for you to start from the very beginning," Officer Berry continued, "Try to recall as many details as you can."

Now it was her turn. Yet, she didn't know what to say. All she could think about was how often she ended up in this cold and claustrophobic police station.

"…I was walking down the hall," she finally began, "Classes had ended, and I was heading back to the dorms. Then, all of a sudden, there was this…this loud bang. I thought I imagined it at first, but then it rang out a second time. Everyone started screaming, and running, and I froze up."

She noticed the pen in Officer Berry's hand, scribbling notes on a notepad. She paused, eyeing the way the pen flickered back and forth as he wrote. Underneath the faux-wood table, one hand of hers started shaking. The other hand seized it, willing it to stop.

"Ah, I—I got scared," she resumed, "and froze up. Ended up hiding behind some lockers in the hallway. I don't know why I did that, I…I…"

"It's okay," he assured, the overhead light placed shadows over his straight brow and made his neutral stare seem as if he was intensely scrutinizing her, "What happened next?"

"I…I saw…"

Nathan slinking away, under the noise of the alarm. He had a gun in his hand, which he concealed in the pocket of his jacket.

Nathan slinking away, with a gun in his hand.

Nathan with a gun in his hand.

Nathan with a gun—

Do not trust them, Kate.

"I…saw the security guard, uhm, Mr. Madsen," she stuttered, "He came rushing inside, and went towards the bathroom, where the, uhm, the…"

"Where the incident occurred?" the officer supplied.

"Yes," she nervously affirmed, "And…he came out, carrying somebody. There was…red. A lot of red."

She paused, rubbing at something in her eye. She sniffled once.

"When I saw he wasn't a threat, I moved from my hiding spot and went to the exit. But then I saw the…the trail of…and it led from where he had gone, towards the bathroom. I got curious, and decided to check what happened inside."

Officer Berry nodded silently in acknowledgement, and she continued, "I opened the door, and there was…there was blood all over the floor," Kate visibly flinched at the jaunting memory, "It was right in front of the door, but there was also a lot by where Max was, on the opposite side of the bathroom."

"I'd like to clarify," the officer interrupted, "This is Ms. Caulfield you're referring to, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure," more scribbling on the notepad, then, "Please, continue."

"And…she was shot, in the leg. In the knee. She was still conscious, but I knew she didn't have much time. I took a belt that I had on me—used it to stop the blood flow, as a…"

"…a tourniquet?"

"Yes, as a tourniquet," Marsh concurred, "I took her arm and pulled her up from where she was, and carried her out of the bathroom. Mr. Madsen came back inside, and he carried Max the rest of the way outside. Then I waited with him until my parents came, and drove me to the police station to give my…this statement."

"If I may ask," the officer cut in, "Do you know how long it took for Madsen to come back? How many minutes, if you had to guess?"

"I…I don't know. I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of how long it took."

Liar.

"It's alright. Do you, by chance, remember speaking to Ms. Caulfield whilst you helped her? Do you remember if she was conscious enough to respond?"

"I…I don't remember what was said, if anything. I was so focused on helping her."

Liar.

"Are there any other details that you can recall?" Officer Berry asks, "Take your time."

Kate's hands are clenched to fists. She rolls her knuckles to keep herself calm.

"…no, sir. I'm sorry."

Liar.

The pen finishes its scribbling, and is placed onto the table, "Again, it's alright. Well, if there's nothing else, this is the end of it. You can go see your parents now. Thank you for your help, Ms. Marsh."

He said it with a smile. It was an awkward smile, one that was seldom used on the face of such a man. It did have the desired effect, however: Kate rose from her seat, and quietly shuffled back to the reception area. She passed by Madsen, standing with another officer outside a small office who had received his statement and was giving him last minute details.

She wondered what he might've said about what happened, and whether or not it would corroborate with her statement. The police couldn't arrest people just because of inconsistent statements, right? In the past, she didn't know how the police went through their work, only that they were supposed to catch criminals and bring justice; she knows now that there's more to it than that. Little details make all the difference. She wonders how much time she's got until she ends up here again.

Madsen catches her staring at him with his trademark frown, and Kate ducks her gaze, continuing to shuffle quickly towards her parents and out of sight.

It's early evening. Her blinds are drawn up, so there's not much light left to give. The lamp on her nightstand and upon her desk are sufficient enough.

Her desk is cleared, except for the single item placed on the center of its surface. Light beams from her lamp upon the journal's surface. It is layered with sticky notes of all colors, peeking out from various pages inside. The edges are rough, and weathered from use. There's a small inscription at the very center, in which Max had written with her gentle handwriting:

Journal – 2013

Kate wonders if Max has other journals, all sorted by year. The blonde does not keep track of her days like Max does, but if she were to do so, she imagines it would be something similar to this.

It's quiet in the dorms. Most people have returned from curfew, too caught up in the aftermath of the shooting to do anything besides rest. Kate had a brief chat with Juliet and Dana before they turned in for the night; they talked emphatically about where they were when the shots rang out, and how quickly they escaped the chaos. They never got a chance to hear Kate's story, for the blonde shut down their inquiries, and gave them a solemn promise that she'd explain herself tomorrow.

You can only stall for so long.

She slowly takes the journal, and opens it. Pages flip from January to March, from April to July. She stops once August is coming to a close, bringing back memories of study dates and heartfelt conversations.

…it's been a rough start to settling in. I had one of my suitcases bust open as I was making my way to my dorm, and that really dampened my chances of not becoming a laughing stock on my first day. Murphy's Law has got me pinned as an everlasting example! Thankfully nobody noticed except this one girl who decided to help me out with unpacking. I'm pretty sure her name was Kate, but I'd have to ask her to be certain (forgetful, much?). I hope we become good friends so I could make it up to her, it's the least I can do…

…Blackwell is not as great as I thought it would be. I know that most of what I remember is from that fancy-schmancy brochure they give to everyone before the semester starts, but it almost feels like I got scammed. The only saving grace when it comes to schoolwork is photography class with Mr. Jefferson. He's such a good teacher, and an actual photographer as well! I just got to try my best and go all out so that I can prove myself to him…

…Kate's been encouraging me to open up to others. I'm not the best with talking to people I don't know, but it's been a lot easier with Kate helping me out. I got to meet a few people that she knows, and it's been nice to have a small circle of friends here. I'm not religious like Kate is, but I thank God every day that I found someone like her. I'd probably be a loner for the whole semester if I never met her on moving day…

…it's been a few weeks, and I haven't found Chloe yet. A part of me wonders if she's left town already. I know it's convenient for me to simply forget about what happened and move on with my life, but…I'll always feel like a part of me is missing without her around. She's been with me for so much of my life, that the idea of discarding those memories is just…wrong. I have to find her, I have to talk to her at least once. I feel like I'll go insane if I leave this rift between us…

Kate flips the page, and comes across the entries made in late September and the first days of October.

…Mr. Jefferson is adamant that I submit something for the Everyday Heroes Contest he announced a few weeks ago. He hasn't outright suggested it, but I can tell he wants me to submit a photo. But I don't know what to submit! Sure, I got a lot of shots that I could choose from, but I don't know if they're going to hold up against the competition. Victoria's got the most expensive, most ridiculous camera I've ever seen, and I know my Polaroid stands no chance when it comes to taking those high-res photos that all photo-critics rave about. Honestly, I hope someone else besides me or Victoria wins, just so that I can stop stressing about it…

…Warren invited me to a date down by the Two Whales. Quite a nostalgia trip, that was: they still had the jukebox and those shortcakes that almost melt in your mouth when you take a bite out of them. I feel really bad for Warren, because I thought that he was treating this as an actual date, and I decided to express my honest feelings about him—only for him to clarify that he was just really appreciative of our friendship. It was so damn embarrassing! I don't know whether to feel bad for saying that to him or for mistaking his intention. God help me, I'm never gonna be without some misfortune when it comes to dating…

…Against my better judgement, I tagged along with Juliet to help with her reporting on a local town meeting. I remember Kate mentioned something about how the Arcadian militia are essentially the Prescotts' private army, but I didn't realize how bad it was. There was a whole array of news stations covering the meeting like us, some of them from Portland and Tillamook; it was a very suspenseful event. When the militia asked us for our credentials, Juliet told them that we were students from Blackwell, and that was all it took for them to shoo us away. I wasn't up for making a big deal out of it since I didn't want to be there any longer than necessary, but Juliet was adamant to get some questions answered. The militia ended up threatening us with their rifles, and we couldn't do anything else besides leave empty-handed. I think what really unsettled me was that none of the other newspeople cared about what happened to us…

…I've lost a lot of sleep, trying to make sure Kate's recovering. Dana and Juliet are doing rotating shifts to keep an eye on her, and Warren's been coming in clutch when it comes to helping us with the homework that's due for this week. I've forced myself to take a break, but I have a feeling that it's going to take some time before I'm back to normal. I'm never going to bring this up with Kate because I know she'll feel horrible about how badly this whole situation is affecting me, but the truth is that I've never been more scared than now. My closest friend here at Blackwell, after all she's done to help me, being taken advantage of at that party…it's terrifying. I can't help but feel like I nearly lost her, just like how I've probably lost Chloe. I don't know what I'd do if it all went wrong…

…I saw the video. Dana and I found out when Juliet overheard from some person about the existence of it, and we all watched it together. It was painful. I won't explain it here, because I do not want to have it exist anywhere else except in memory, but the idea of showing Kate what happened to her is a truly horrible thing to imagine. We all agreed that unless Kate finds out from someone else, we would never speak about it in front of her. Personally, if I had that happen to me, I wouldn't even bother with finding out, but I don't know how strong Kate's curiosity is. I know it's wrong to deny someone's wishes about their own circumstances, but I fear how Kate will react if she sees it. For now, I'm going to be there for her as best as I can…

Kate sniffles. She brushes her hand at her eyes, brimming with tears. She turns the page before her grief gets the better of her.

Scratchy handwriting greets her. It's messy, unlike the clear passages that she's read up until this point. Blinking her sadness away, Kate squints in an attempt to read—

…there's not a lot of time for me to explain what i'm about to tell you. i never wanted this to happen, and i can't explain why it has to be this way. if you are who i think you are, then you know why i'm saying this. i hope you can forgive me…

…i am the Max of the future, coming back through time to give you this message. it was me who you talked to in the bathroom, it was me who asked you to take this journal and read it. i know that doesn't make much sense, but there's a reason for this: time travel…

…i have been given time powers, and can move through timelines separate from my own. i know you will not believe me, which is why i give you the following prophecies as proof. on tuesday, a waterspout will appear in the bay, and will dissipate after crashing into the piers. you can find the body of Rachel Amber buried in the junkyard to the north of town, follow the doe and she will guide you to her resting place. if this isn't enough to convince you, then i have one last claim: you will speak to present Max in the hospital after the incident, and you will not be able to convince her of the conversation we had in the bathroom. if any of these prophecies are unfulfilled, then consider this nothing more but the ramblings of a madwoman…

…i know what happened to Chloe, and i'm sure you know what has happened to Max. the only way you can avenge them is through uncovering the mystery behind who murdered Rachel Amber. i know you do not know Rachel, and have no good reason to risk your life for her sake. but if you want to know the truth, if you care enough to find justice for Max and Chloe, then uncover the mystery and free the town from the monsters who lurk within it. do not trust anyone you don't know. stay away from anyone who is close to the prescotts. remember the promises you made in the bathroom, and you will make it through to the other side…

…your Max had made a promise to you, even though she never said it outright. it is selfish of me to speak on her behalf, even though i am her from the future, but i'm begging you to never forget this promise…

…i will never forget you and all you've done for me. do not give up, Kate. God is with you.

This was impossible. Her grip tightened against the journal's hard cover. Her heart was drumming in her ears. It couldn't be possible. It simply could not be.

Kate slams the book closed and recoils from it, nearly falling back in her chair as she does so. Terror grips her heart, she can't take her eyes off the inconspicuous journal. It's silent except for her shuddered breathing.

Time travel. Prophecies. Rachel Amber. Monsters and devils lurking amongst the townsfolk. Max…from the future. She's far too tired, far too shaken up to comprehend it all. An invisible weight falls upon her shoulders.

She can't hold it in anymore. She sobs quietly. No one hears it, nor sees the lights in her room turn off a few minutes later.