Give it Another Shot [Chapter 2]

[vc_custom_heading text=”Give it another shot
Chapter 2: This is reality” font_container=”tag:h2|font_size:18|text_align:center” google_fonts=”font_family:Droid%20Serif%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700%2C700italic|font_style:400%20regular%3A400%3Anormal”]

Silence. Tension. The small room was dark and cold, full of cigarette smoke and an unspoken awkwardness and anger.

“Full name, miss?” the detective asked , intertwining her fingers over the metallic table. Her interlocutor just stared at her with fury, while expelling the smoke of her lungs with defiance.

“Miss, I know you don’t want to be here, neither do I, but this is where we are.” Insisted the detective, frowning at the girl.

“Price” answered the young woman with coldness. “Chloe Price.”

They were at the police station in Arcadia Bay. Chloe was taken to an interrogation room as a witness of the shooting that took place in the bathroom at Blackwell Academy hours ago. After she went with Max to the hospital, and girl entered almost immediately to surgery, the cops asked her to go with them and she couldn’t say no.

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be” the detective said , frowning at her. “If you just cooperate and answer the questions, you can go home. Maybe get some sleep”

Chloe didn’t answer. She just crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, holding her cigarette with frowned lips. This wasn’t the first time in that room, of course, and she knew how things worked, but this time was different. She just wanted to send the detective straight to hell and run back to the hospital.

“If she didn’t make it… I fucking swear I’ll kill Prescott with my bare hands.” She thought.

“I know it’s been a long day for you… how are you feeling?” Asked the detective, trying to smooth her tone. Of course, it didn’t work.

“I’m fucking pissed off.” Said Chloe.“I should be in that hospital taking care of my friend. I don’t even know if she’s fucking alive, you know?”

“Look, I know what you must be going through…”

“Do you? Do you fucking know?” Asked Chloe, getting up all of the sudden and leaning over the table, looking straight at the officer like she was about to slap her. “Did a friend of yours just step out of fucking nowhere and take a shot for ya? Do you have any friend that was ready to die like that? For you?”

The detective didn’t answer and Chloe left herself fall again on the chair.

“That’s what I thought” She said, looking away with fury.

“Look… I just need you to answer some questions.” Insisted the detective, with a softer tone this time. “This is important. We really need your cooperation. There is something really bad happening in Arcadia Bay right now. You could help us to help you. And your friend.”

Chloe sighed and crushed her cigarette with strength in the ashtray before looking at the detective again. She knew the detective couldn’t tell her what was happening, but if Nathan was under arrest, it may have something to do with it… and what he wanted to do with her in his room, after he dosed her.

“Ask your questions” She said. “Fast.”

“Tell me everything you know about… Nathan Prescott.”

Chloe clenched her fists, looked coldly at the detective… and started to talk.


She left the police station an hour or so later and almost ran to her truck, parked carelessly at the side of the road. She was lucky that the cops didn’t object when she asked to come to the police station with it. Since she was only a witness, the ride in the police car was unnecessary. She sat on the driver seat and released a deep sigh of desperation, just before she turned on the truck and drove to the hospital as fast as the old vehicle allowed her.

“Don’t think about it. Max’ll be fine. Joyce would have called you if something went wrong.”

She passed a stop sign without even looking at the sides and went on, even faster than before.

“I must be cursed, there is no other fucking explanation” She continued, her eyes wet.  “First dad dies, then Max left me, then Rachel disappeared and then Max comes back… and she hella saves my stupid ass  in that bathroom… I can’t believe I’m in this fucking nightmare, I will not be able to accept that girl died for me, damn it! If she dies I will fucking strangle Prescott to death myself.”

She parked the truck near the ambulances entrance and jumped off it. She was so rushed that she had to came back to the vehicle when she remembered the journal. She managed to take it, along with Max’s bag, before the police could take it away. She didn’t know why, but the thought of the cops reading the journal that Max wanted so badly to show her made Chloe feel uncomfortable.

The book was on the passenger seat, sticky and stained with Max’s blood. Chloe remembered she was covered by her blood too and tried not to look at the dark red spots in her white t shirt.

“Read my… journal. It’d… explain… everything.”

Max last words still rang in her head.

“What the hell is this supposed to explain?” Chloe thought , looking at the stained cover. “You better be right, Caulfield.”


Chloe found Joyce in the waiting room, with bags under her eyes and a worried look on her face, watching TV. She was alone, sitting on a metallic chair.

“Where is she?” Chloe demanded , running to her mother. She tried to sound calm, but her broken and trembling voice betrayed her. “Is she alive? What happened?”

“She is still in surgery.” Joyce answered . “It’s been almost four hours now.”

“God fucking damn it!” Chloe punched the wall with a clenched fist and took of her beanie with fury. “I can’t take this anymore… Why are you alone? Where is step-prick?”

If looks could kill, then Chloe would have died in the exact moment Joyce looked at her.

“David.” She emphasized. “He’s still at Blackwell. The police is there with him. Chloe, for god’s sake, take a seat! You’re getting me nervous too.”

“I can’t believe this happened. She was gone… she left! And then she comes back and takes a fucking shot for me. What the hell is this?”

Joyce couldn’t answer. Chloe started to walk along the room and finally, exhausted and furious, she took a seat on the far side of it, with Max’s journal in her hands…

“Should I really read this?” She asked herself. “She could tell me herself what happened if she survi… don’t say that, Chloe. Don’t be stupid. She said it would explain everything… what’s that exactly? Why she left? Why she didn’t call or write to me in five years?”

She looked at the journal, unconvinced. But as always, she couldn’t hate Max for what she had done. Chloe was angry, of course. She felt betrayed and abandoned when Max left… but she never hated her friend. She never could, even if she wanted to. Part of her wondered why.

And now… after what Max did… There was no point of being angry for the past. She owed Max her life.

Chloe wiped out the tears of her blue eyes, opened the Journal and started reading, with her hands shaking and looking over the book from time to time to the hallway, where she expected to find a doctor with a smile, saying everything was okay. That Max was okay.

That was until she reached the page in which Max talked about the bathroom… She almost lost her temper when she read about Max’s rewind powers. It was insane, unbelievable, a delirum… but how on earth she could know that she was in the bathroom? It was impossible for Max to write all that, it just had happened!

“What… the hell is this?”

As she went through the journal, she wasn’t sure what to believe. Max’s journal had everything that happened to her written, it was impossible. How did Max know about Rachel Amber? How did she know about her stepfather? How did she know about Frank and… everything?

And that wasn’t all of it. Max’s descriptions of her were really accurate. The rebellion, the bad attitude, her characteristic smart-ass answers… The fact that she thought to steal a gun from David’s locker… how bad Chloe wanted to have Rachel back… The many times Chloe would have died for doing something stupid… And she would be dead if it wasn’t for Max’s power to rewind and save Chloe’s life… exactly the same way she did at that bathroom. Everything would have made some sense… if it wasn’t impossible.

And then… She dared Max to kiss her. And… Max did?

“What the fuck did I just read?” She thought, trying to ignore the pang in her gut. “Why would she…? Whatever. Keep going, Chloe.”

Then… everything went to shit. Rachel and Frank, together. It was like a stab in her chest, an awful pain in her heart, almost unbearable.

“This can’t be real. This journal… could it be?” She asked herself, looking at the tears wetting the paper in her hands. “If it is, Rachel was just another person that fucked you up. Everybody lies, no exceptions. Even Rachel didn’t care about you.”

And just a few moments later, she had to swallow her words and cry again, for another reason entirely. Rachel. Dead. Buried in the junkyard. Killed by Nathan Prescott.

“This isn’t real” She said in a whisper. “She can’t be dead, she just… She can’t be…”

  Joyce’s voice, sad and shaken took her out of her rumbling.

“Oh, no…”

Chloe looked up. The news was on the TV of the waiting room. There was a reporter, a cute young girl with a microphone in her hand, talking to the camera, but Chloe didn’t listen. She couldn’t.

She got up, and the journal fall to the floor, spitting all its contents over it, wide open, as she almost ran to the TV in disbelief and read the headline a thousand times until it sank in.

Rachel Amber was found. Dead. Buried in the junkyard… and the self – confessed murderer was Sean Prescott’s little son. Nathan.

Chloe felt herself hitting the ground with her knees, grabbing her head and crying, almost silently. She wanted to shout, to break things, to curse Arcadia Bay and everybody in it, but she couldn’t find her voice. She wanted to be dead in that bathroom instead of feeling this deep and torturing pain.

Not even Joyce’s hug could console her. Nothing would. She cried for what felt like hours in her mother’s arms.

The pain… the pain was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to do, what to think. She wanted to scream, to fuck up the entire room and even that would not be enough to make her feel better at all.

“How can she be dead? What kind of world does this?!”

She had no answers to that question. Maybe she’d never have them. She knew that something happened to her. She knew Rachel’d never leave like that, without telling her…

But then again… the journal. She didin’t tell Chloe about Frank. If that was true at least… but how could it not be true? It also said that she was dead and… and she was. In the very same spot Max had written she was.

An awful thought struck her like a slap. She hung out there… she spent days and nights pacing over her friend’s unmarked grave. The thought made her feel sick, her stomach twisting, her hands shaking…

“Why did this happen?” She asked no one. “Why… why is this happening to me?”

She ran out of tears eventually. And to her surprise, she didn’t feel rage. She was certain she could kill Nathan Prescott with her bare hands if she saw the guy again. But… she felt something even worse than rage.

She felt abandoned again. The thought of Rachel never coming back, like Max…

Max. Max came back and knew everything.

Chloe’s mind was total chaos. She felt overwhelmed and confused and angry and… part of her felt… relieved?

No, it must be a mistake. That could not be right.

When she got back to her feet and returned to her chair, she looked at the journal on the floor. As if she needed more proof that everything was indeed real, while taking all the journal’s contents, there was a polaroid. A single picture of Max and… Chloe. Smiling in the morning light, in her room. She didn’t remember when was the last time she smiled so honestly.

“This is reality then. All of it.” She thought. “This is fucking real…”

“Miss Price?”

Both, Joyce and Chloe looked up. The doctor was in the door frame, with his face wet of sweat and with a worn out expression on his face.

“The surgery was a success.” He announced. “Miss Caulfield is stable now, but unconscious. You can go to see her if you like. She’s in room 203.  Did any of you contact her parents?”

“Oh my fucking god, she’s alive…”

Joyce looked at Chloe, with tears in her eyes and a weak smile of relief… a smile her daughter didn’t return. The punk didn’t know what to do. Maybe she was in shock, maybe not but… for some reason beyond her comprehension,  she picked up the journal and went to the hallway as fast as she could, with her heart beating fast on her chest. She didn’t know how she was able to cope with the pain and go to see her. Part of her wanted to shut down, mourn Rachel, cry her eyes out… But after all she read, after realizing all that crazy shit that was indeed real… after realizing that maybe Max wasn’t full of bullshit and she actually had saved her life, over and over… She couldn’t ignore the pang in her chest, the butterflies in her stomach.

At that moment, the only thing she wanted to do was be right next to Max.


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