NOTE: Sorry for my absence. I do plan on returning, but am focusing on college first. Leave a message or ask for Skype if you’d like to plot or keep in touch while I get things sorted. ^^
Nathan gripped tightly to his steering wheel as the road started to branch out into a familiar path, his teeth grinding with the added anxiety that has always been present in him. This time would be different, Kate wouldn’t end up like–
Shut up. He didn’t want to think about that. Jefferson seemed to know what he was doing, and he figured he would have to trust him. This was another opportunity, as much as Nathan didn’t care for Kate.
Maybe that was what would make things different this time.
The drive to the barn passed by quickly in a blur of anxious thoughts, Kate passed out for the most part, and it wasn’t long until Nathan found himself parked in the barn and closing the doors behind him. Kate soon proved to be a dead weight, seeing as he practically had to catch her when he opened the back door of his truck. Nathan quickly hooked an arm under her legs, hoisting her up in his arms as he shut the door with his back.
She was as light as she looked as he carried her towards the back of the barn with hurried steps.
Everything was in place.
The cameras were right where they should be. The backdrop was plastered to the back wall. The studio lights shined brilliantly, like staring at the surface of the sun, and filled the dark room with a continuous white noise, humming and vibrating. Mark set a tray of clean needles and vials onto a medical cart. Above ground, the sound of Nathan’s truck pulling in and the reassuring thud of the car door.
The bunker rang open. He’d already slipped on his gloves.
"Glad you could make it. Even though I told you to be here on time... I’ll put that aside. ”
Kate Marsh was slumped in Nathan’s arms and her eyes rolled, swimming up to the ceiling. She had no cuts and no bruises--clean and untouched through and through. Mark held her chin and turned her head wishing there were more color to her cheeks, but thought the alabaster white was just as alluring. He’d live with it.
“Hey, Kate. You feeling okay?” he asked, gentle and comforting. “Just take it easy. Nothing to be scared of.”
She only dipped her head.
Pulling back, Mark motioned for Nathan to set her small body over the backdrop and made his way to the steel cart. There were the vials, needles, an extra package of vinyl gloves and a roll of duct tape. He waved for Nathan to stop by.
“I know you’re still hung up over what happened to Rachel. But as hard as it is to believe, the world doesn't revolve around you. You'll just have to get over it and move on with your life,” he advised, slighting and unsympathetic, like it was nothing at all. “With that in mind, you still have a lot to work on. And I’ve shown you what you need do, but you can’t make art by watching.”
Mark waited for Nathan to grab the tape. He took the syringe.
“...Go on. You know what to do.”
[also, sorry if it’s long. you don’t need to match it. P:]
When Mark Jefferson’s hand met the desk top with a resounding SMACK, Nathan flinched and met Mark’s cold and INTENSE gaze with his own, wide-eyed and fear-filled blue hues.
“I can tell when you’re lying…”
LYING is a BAD HABIT. And yet it was part of the JOB DESCRIPTION. Nathan had become so NUMB to doing it now that he FORGOT who he was and wasn’t supposed to LIE to, Mark Jefferson was the FORMER. Nathan was TRANSPARENT to very few people in this world. His photography MENTOR was one of them. He couldn’t HIDE a damn thing from Mr. Jefferson.
“I only wish I could say the same for everyone.”
As the older male moved to stand beside Nathan, looking down at him. His stance was COMMANDING and intimidating, JUXTAPOSE to Nathan crumpled and VISIBLY shaking form. His position in all of this was clear. He was beneath them. Mr. Jefferson. His father. He had no CONTROL.
❝ I drugged Chloe, ❞ He BROKE down and confessed his SINS like a man on his DEATH BED. Afraid of God’s WRATH all too late. ❝ I took her PICTURE… In my dorm… You wanted me to start getting things done ON MY OWN, so I… You know… But the DOSE was too low, she came through… Tried to BLACKMAIL me into giving her CASH to keep quiet about the whole thing so I brought the GUN to threaten her. Max Caulfield saw the WHOLE fucking thing… ❞
He could no longer feel his hands over the desk. He could only focus on Nathan. Nathan, eager to prove himself, drugging and dragging a girl to his dorm with his bruised, shaky hands only to find out she was awake. Now he’s being blackmailed, watched, and Max saw him pull out a gun. She’d never let that go.
Neither could Mark.
"Since we’re having this talk? ...Why am I not surprised. If you can’t do anything right while I’m around, that just means you need to do it on your own. Right?” He expected Nathan to be looking down at the floor. He should be looking up at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose. Because, frankly, you have to try to be this useless.... And I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, but I’m starting to wonder if wasting my time is the only thing you’re good at.”
Max was getting deep. Chloe was awake and knew what happened. She must have told Max, and now they were getting involved, suspecting Nathan, even asking about Rachel and Kate. That meant they were getting closer to him.
“As you probably guessed, we can’t have Max and Chloe walking away.” Like Rachel never walked away. He was closer to Nathan, almost invading his electrical sphere of personal space, but it could have been an illusion. “You can thank yourself for that.”
📷 - “I feel stupid now for doing it. At the time I thought it was a good revenge to do but I was mistaken.” Max sighed and rubbed the back of her neck again now, a sort of idle thing she did as well as out of habit at times. “Maybe if your still around school after I’ll come back and explain it.” When she noticed the students pour in it made her nervous, especially on being late to the next class.
“It’s fine, he’s a jerk I’m afraid.” Looking back she sighed and shrugged. “If it happens again I’ll tell him or ask you to but for now it’s nothing that’ll get physical or.. hopefully not again.” Frowning she rubbed her wrist but tried to keep her smile at times. Her throat felt dry by now and so did her lips, she’d have to apply lip balm but for now she sort of unconsciously licked her lips.
“I really have to go now to my next class. Thanks for the talk.” Giving a nod she excused herself and rushed out of the class to her next one which appeared on her schedule to be Science. Hopefully the whole situation would leave her brain by the time she’d get back to her dorm room.
“Regret isn’t going to change anything... Just make sure you watch yourself.”
More students started to fly down the hallways and into their classrooms, and Mr. Jefferson could sense Max’s urgency by her darting glances and the tension in her narrow shoulders. The bell was going to ring soon. She thanked him and he took a quick look at the filling seats.
“No problem, Max. But don’t make me the reason why you’re late for your next class,” he advised, giving her a small, reassuring smile. It did not show in his eyes. “See you around.”
He watched her duck her head and scurry out the door, her back to him and her hair jumping as she rushed. He could tell there were no bruises to the back of her neck.
📷 - “I’ll do my best.” Nodding again after letting him take the phone she just stared down at the device to not make things awkward if she were staring at his facial expression change if at all. So desperately she wished that it wasn’t anonymous and that their name was there as well as a picture. Who knows if he’d believe that she didn’t set it up, which she didn’t.
“A bunch of kids try to be hot stuff and tough and mighty, figures he wasn’t really if the texts are secretly from him.” When he told her he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it without a name she figured as much, she also took back the offered phone and switched it to idle, sticking it in the pocket of her messenger bag again. “I mean I might’ve a little. I was being pushed so much at one point that I spread a rumor about Victoria and Nathan.” She sighed. “I guess I deserve it.”
Looking to her arm with the bruises which he probably meant by his question if she were okay she nodded a little and did her best to slip it under the sleeve of her jacket again, a bit ashamed of such a injury in a way. “It’s just a little sore, I’ll be alright.” Looking back with confident eyes she could breathe. “Thank you for taking time to speak with me. I think I better head to my last class before the bell rings.”
She started a rumor to get back at them. Mr. Jefferson’s face told her nothing. That said enough.
“If that’s true, then I can’t say it’s a shock. You can’t make enemies and expect to get away with it. Try not to give him a reason next time,” he said, glancing down at the ugly smear of purple and blues on her wrist. It used to be white as alabaster. What did she say? “And, not to put you down, but can you tell me about this rumor?”
She must have caught on to him staring, because she slid her sleeve down and hid the bruise away, already telling him she had to leave for her next period. Mark looked over her shoulder to the students pouring into their classrooms, then studied Max. “I’m on your side. Remember that. And if you need someone to come to, I’m here,” he reminded her. There was something about the sound of his voice and the subtle turn of his lips, like he felt for her. Maybe in another world, he would have loved to. “I’m sorry about Nathan. Do you want me to tell Principal Wells what happened? I just want you to feel safe around here.”
📷 - “Pssh, don’t think I know that by now? I’d turn it in even if you let me off the hook.” Chuckling she twirled a finger in her lock of short brown hair after unfolding her arms from her chest idly. Of course she wasn’t trying to look like some innocent naive girl who didn’t know any better.
“Just what this school needs if it hasn’t already.” Rolling her blue orbs she huffed in an almost dramatic manner when he told that to her. Didn’t everyone nearly know that already that wasn’t a part of the Vortex Club? When he seemed to ask if she wanted to show her the texts she nodded and took out her phone from the pocket of her messenger bag and switched it on, going through until she got to one thread of texts that seemed to poke fun at her and seem to start a problem.
“You heard that? Well– it wasn’t a horrible incident per say.” Chewing on her lower lip she knew it was worse than she just said. They had gotten into a heated argument after she was accused of doing something to one of the groupies of the Vortex and he ended up pushing her into a locker and hurting her. “He just was a bit rough, no sprains or any bones broken.”
Max sacrificed her phone to Mr. Jefferson, and while doing that, the sleeve of her gray jacket slipped a bit, showing a nasty purple and blue bruise on her wrist, although it did not appear to be broken or sprained. “I believe the one there is from one of the members, although the name doesn’t say a student but just says, ‘Vortex Club Member’ or something.”
“I thought so,” he pointed out, impressed. “You’re on a roll today, Max. Keep it up.”
She twirled her hair around her finger and her laugh was so, so soft. He’d never seen her do any of that before. But he’d remember it. Her smile faded away just as quickly as it came and she rummaged through her camera bag, giving him her phone. He tried ignoring the way she bit her lip and read through the messages.
[SMS 2:34 PM] bettr not mess with nathan again
when u mess with 1 of us u mess w/ ALL of us bitch
What did she do? Another was below it:
[SMS 5:53 PM] watch ur back
The screen threw white squares over his glasses and he looked as though if he stared long enough, it’d give him a name and face. He handed it back.
“Well, turns out Nathan isn’t as big as he makes himself out to be. Don’t worry about him. At any rate, I can’t do much without a name... Did you do anything to start this?” he finally asked. It was only once she raised her hand did he see the bruised skin under her sleeve--blue, purple, ugly. He eyed her before she could hide it.
“You okay?”
[mark is an A-class ass and the way he words it is like she’s the one who started it. >:v]
📷 - “Oh, come on you're not that old, or at least you don’t look it.” She nearly felt her heart drop into her stomach because that might of came out strange, at least in her perspective. “As for the photo’s, I’ll try and bring a few in the next time I have this class.” It seemed like some wise words that she needed on the last part, high school was that there were hard times, everyone was still young. “That is true. At least it’s only high school and not college.”
It felt good that he was willing to talk to her, especially since he only had to be here for the school day and then go home, he didn’t even have to exactly help students after class unless it was an assignment. “Well, some of them seem to be anonymous, and other ones are probably from those stupid members of the Vortex Club.”
Being picked on was not one of the things she enjoyed at all during her time at Blackwell. Sometimes she felt so lost and angry inside that she had to go to her dorm a lot because of it. To at least be able to speak to a person of higher power here, “If it escalates, I’ll take action. I just had to get it off my chest.”
She didn’t mean to say that; the words came out like an accidental confession and her reaction proved it. Mark chuckled again, short and airy. “Good try, but you still have to turn in that paper.”
It wasn’t often he had one-on-one time with her even if he tried. He always knew she wanted to see him, that she looked up to him, but she was too shy and unsure of herself. Every time he met her timid eyes or said her name, it was like she wanted to evaporate into thin air. Now, finally, she was putting her trust in him. He was careful not to lose it.
“You didn’t hear it from me, but the Vortex Club has it’s fair share of problems,” he started, like in the form of people. But mostly someone. “That being said, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. If you want, you can show me these texts? I hear you and Nathan got caught in an argument. Does he have something to do with it?”
📷 - So badly did she want to stick her tongue out at that blonde woman when she was strutting out like a peacock. Max was more mature than that, though, and Victoria or anyone else might pick up on them trying to have a competition. What made things worse was the woman calling her a teacher’s pet.
“That makes sense, thanks.” Giving a nod and a small smile, though in a bit of a shy way. She had always loved praise and compliments from teachers whenever she did good in class, or even on assignments that had to be turned in. Considering the ones in this room had their minds on other things, women, or even men, it was a good thing that she stepped up to do the work.
“People always make fun of me for liking old things or just being a geek sometimes.” She shrugged, feeling awkward about talking with a teacher about it. “I try and ignore it but because of some people who manage to get my cell number from another, they text me with texts messages to make fun of me or something.”
Right now she might’ve been acting like a child who’s tatletaling on a sibling or friend who did something bad. “–Sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off about things going on in my personal life.” This was the worst time, of course, because her cheeks flared pink in embarrassment, freckles standing out a bit and she eyed the door every now and then. “I should’ve gone to the principal if it got bad.”
People were making fun of her for liking old things and ‘being a geek.’ He held back a short laugh.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that. This might not mean much coming from the old guy, but the past can be a good thing... I’d like to see some of your digital work, though.” It didn’t sound as serious as it should have and maybe Mr. Jefferson didn’t see the problem. So she liked analogue cameras and probably drowned herself in cult classics. He hardly considered that a problem. “You can’t go through life without being judged, and this is high school. Don’t let it get to you.”
Almost immediately, it was as though she regretted everything. Her face glowed and her freckles popped out, drowning in the bright pink color.
“You’re always welcome to talk to me,” he started, catching her eyeing the door. "Want to tell me who’s sending these texts?” Victoria, he thought. Nathan. The Vortex Club.
📷 - The brunette could only smile a little at him seeming to praise or compliment her, she did indeed read through photography books a lot on her spare time, especially when it intertwined with history. Rising from her chair she grabbed her messenger bag and put her things in it while he was speaking about turning in their papers by tonight. Thank God you could turn it in via computer if you couldn’t get back to him in person. It surprised her, though, when he called her out to come to his desk. “Okay.” Was all she could muster up to say in a hushed tone.
After approaching when he was walking back she folded her arms across her chest, but didn’t have an irritated look. The worst part was that when the others were probably leaving for their next class or to their dorms, she just knew Victoria was making a face at her or sticking her tongue out for having a one-on-one talk with the teacher.
“I’ve just been stressed is all, sir, a good amount of classes can do it to you.” That wasn’t the total truth, though, she had to admit to herself, and he might have been able to see right through her partial lie, and it killed her if he did. “Besides that, kind of hard to focus on one thing when you’re sort of the center of bullying by others at times.”
Victoria strutted down the classroom, stopping midway at waving him a ‘goodbye’ with a flutter of her fingers when Max walked up to him. He saw her face twist with slight disgust before she tore through the doorway. He brushed it off.
“Considering you’re the only one who bothers doing the assignments, I think you’re doing good work here. I know you’ve got this,” he reassured her. He did not offer any smile and his gaze, murky and fixed, fell on her. She looked like she was hiding something she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. Eventually, she confessed.
It wasn’t what he expected.
“Bullying?” he repeated. “What's this about?”
He didn’t know what she was talking about. Max was always so quiet and timid and, aside from her shameless selfie addiction, she gave no reason for anyone to hate her. She was a shy ghost.
📷 - Max was drifting between daydream and reality, listening in at times on the teacher speaking about photography, specifically about heliography. While she did know her photography like the nerd she was, she hated being picked on and bullied for it. Everyone had something special they could do or wanted to, so why was she bullied by students?
Jumping at the calling of her name, the brunette looked at Mr.Jefferson and had listened to his question, having to think about it for a few moments and rubbing the back of her neck nervously from being called out. “W-well er.” The female began in a sort of stutter. “Was it Niépce?”
Her hair bobbed when she jumped and she rubbed her neck, shocked by being tossed in the limelight. After a minute, she finally gave an answer. The bell rang.
“On point, Max. Good to know someone is keeping up with the reading,” he said, smiling. Mark raised his voice while the rest of the class rushed for the door. “Guys, listen up. Remember to turn in your papers by tonight. I won’t be taking in late submissions and I don’t want to hear any excuses. This is a good part of your grade, so don’t sit on it. And, Max, stop by my desk.”
As everyone else filed out, a gradual silence took over. Mr. Jefferson made his way to the front of the class and saw Max coming before he really ever saw her. She seemed distant. “You don’t look so good. Need to talk?”
“...and that leads us to the birth of heliography--an early photoengraving process that produced images through the use of metal plates and sunlight. Which might be why it’s also known as ‘sun drawing.’ ...Paying attention? Because that sounds like something that might be on your next exam.”
The class blinked blankly into space and Mark took his place in the center of the room, sitting over a desk. She looked distant there zoning out.
“Max!” he called. Some of the students visibly snapped back to life. “Since you’re so eager to jump in, why don’t you put a name to the photographer who brought about the first heliograph?”
She sobs and a tear drips down her cheek. She couldn’t believe she trusted him and even came to Blackwell for HIM. She was so stupid. “Why are you doing this? What are you going to do? Do you hate me? Us?” (Max)
She’s crying. It sounds clogged in her throat and sticky, and he hears her pointed ankles scrape over the backdrop. She is too weak to stand.
“Don’t take this personally. And so we’re clear? …I don’t hate you.” He stabs the syringe into the vial, watching it crawl past the one milliliter tick, then two, three. He pulls it out. “Life happens. Sometimes all you can do is accept that and deal with it.”
His footfalls echo throughout the studio. His reflection glosses over her wet, clouded baby-blue eyes and she looks remarkably frail like a bag of fallen leaves. He kneels down beside her. She flinches seconds too late.
“Take it easy, Max,” he soothes her. “This will be over before you know it.”
Her eyes swim in delirium and fear and her shoulder knocks against the floor, vulnerable. He sticks it in her neck–
The DVD player’s blue lights glow from the corner. Two in the morning. It is so quiet he can hear the mechanical workings of his heart, the pump of blood leaving his chest to his arms and legs, but maybe it’s just the ventilation system. The powdered gloves stick to his fingers. He breathes in fumes from a chemical bath. And on the backdrop, wilted and dead, is Rachel Amber.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He lays the syringe onto the floor and slips his arms under her. She is light in his arms, but heavy with disappointment. He sets her down onto the couch if only because here she looks like she’s sleeping, and Mark does not flinch when her skinny wrist runs down his arm, landing onto the cushion with a disheartening thud. It should be wrong to think what he thinks. But he swears, in the security of his head, that she is simply too beautiful for this world.
He brushes her bottom lip... Plush, soft, colored like pink lemonade but not for long. Her eyes are still open, too, and the faint bruises under them make the gold color of her eyes positively shine. He pulls back his hand and runs it down her lily white legs, feeling her calves and her pointed ankles, and a small storm rumbles inside his chest. Mark slowly creeps closer to her, leaning in. So warm. She’s still warm like she has just stepped out of a hot bath, patted dry. He can still smell the soap she used this morning, the cocoa butter lotion she lathered over herself.
He inhales deeply. He fills himself with her. He is so close to her face that her eyelashes kiss his cheek and he almost wishes her breath would seep through his pores, but he knows it never will. She is dead. The tip of his nose traces a line down her naked neck where he injected her full of liquid sleep and something inside him swells. An electrical burst. A nuclear meltdown. A raging fire that swallows him whole, burns him alive and trembles the core of his body like he’s been whipped by a storm surge, a tornado, a category five hurricane Oh, Jesus. He almost kisses her neck and suddenly pulls away.
She watches with her empty eyes. The ventilation system whirs to life.
“I told you not to fight it... but you had to have it your way.” He looks to a camera sitting over the glass table and grabs it. “I can’t take it back now.”
He will take some more photos. Nobody has to know about them but himself.
Ebony walked up to the couch and and paused, staring down at it as if it was some kind of foreign object. She thought about what Mark said and felt her chest grow tight. Her fingers twitched at her sides until she brought her hands up in front of her stomach. She dipped her head down. It was clear just from the way she stood there that she felt disappointed.
“What you’re saying is basically that I got in over my head, and I’m thinking there are things that aren’t there.” She hadn’t really needed his conformation to know that, she’d known it from the start. If anything she had just made the whole situation so much worse. “You’re the one who started it, anyway.” What a childish thing to say. It almost sounded like she was teasing him.
Ebony stepped away from the couch and knelt by the paper bag beside it, peeking inside. “My job starts on Monday. I’ll be leaving a week after. I’ll be out of your hair.” She rose back up to her feet with the bag in her hands and looked back at Mark. “Should we reheat this in the microwave?”
He slid the door shut. She had already made it back to the couch and the smell of cigarette smoke, the ash that clung to their clothes, drifted through the room as she froze in place. Face down, hands over her stomach. She was picture perfect disappointment he could not frame.
“What you’re saying is basically that I got in over my head, and I’m thinking there are things that aren’t there.” She sounded quiet. It was already too quiet.
“I never said that.”
She teased him then, or at least sounded like she was trying to. But somehow he could tell that she was lying. Ebony took the brown paper bag and looked at him in what must have been the first time today, and there were no tears in her eyes. He told her she could warm up the food then followed her into the kitchen. He stopped by the table, though.
“You weren’t bothering me. I’m not saying anything you don’t already know, but I did let you stay over… I'm proud of you or getting that job, though,” he said, glancing to the back of her neck. The microwave blared off and thought she would have wanted to leave. “This doesn’t change anything, right? No hard feelings.”
[im srry eb
also sorry havent been on all day, my phone had no connection where i went or something]
“She owes me money. Do you know where I can find her? It’s about two grand, so I wanna know whether she’s finally skipped town. She been around?”
Here he is, still keeping her secrets. Besides, he can’t really say we were together, can he? Who the fuck would believe him? Besides, even if she has just fucked off to start a new life, he’s pretty sure that he’d just get fingers pointed at himself for some bullshit reason. Rachel’s a chameleon. She’s not going to be found if she doesn’t want to be.
Rachel owes money. Mark knows this isn’t true, but it doesn’t matter. Rachel with her careless laugh and spirited smile... now buried away and gone forever. His voice drops.
“Rachel... has been gone for some time. And we’d all like to find her.” He folds his arms, sad, then scoffs, but his eyes are still dead. “You want to know where she is? So you can collect your money? Well, next time I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your business.”
Because everyone tells strangers where young girls are. Especially if they need money and smell of drugs.
stormborns
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