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Chapter Text

Life is Strange ~ Capturing your Soul ~

Chapter 16: Alpha and Omega

Absolute shock overwhelmed the young woman. As if Kristine Prescott were tightly bound by invisible chains of tension and her ears being wrapped in cotton wool. Chloe Price's gut-wrenching screams or her mother's useless attempts at calming her daughter didn't reach her hearing.

There was a feeling of numbness and powerlessness within her as a pair of doctors quickly entered Nathan's hospital room. This was it. The end. And to make things even worse, it was her dad, the head of the Prescott family who gave them the needed permission to kill his son.

'This can't be happening! This... it's not true!' Kris tried to tell herself over and over in her mind as all the events unfolded before her eyes in torturous slow motion. It felt like an extremely overacted scene of a convoluted drama. Only to slowly realize that all this shit was truly taking place here.

With one strong push of her hand, she got rid of Caroline, her dark blue eyes blazing with a raging light, searing the retinas of anyone who dared to cross her path.

Her only objective was clear. To do everything in her power to reach that cursed room. To stop those fucking doctors from murdering Nathan. The only Prescott family member left in this shitty world who wasn't an asshole. The only one who still mattered to her.

Desperation and fear were written all over her face now. The sound of her loud footsteps accompanied her as she started to run forward. But it was all in vain. Soon Sean blocked her way with his whole body. An impregnable wall towered over her at the last crucial moment.

Physically, her old man had grown a bit feeble. His once-imposing tall stature had atrophied with advancing age. And although the shadow of old age hung over him like gray fog, the gleam in his dark eyes and the power of his voice was still potent enough to prevent her advance.

“This is enough, Kristine! I won't allow such insolent behavior. I say it now and I won't repeat it again! Go back to your mother. Now!” He demanded, his facial expression contorted in displeasure.

No wonder. What this man feared was that his rebellious daughter might cause just another shameful scene.

What a sad joke this was. Their oh-so-important family's reputation was already in shambles, to begin with. Thanks to her father who had made sure that the unemployment rate in Arcadia Bay would reach even greater heights after all his precious real estate projects were finalized and over. There wasn't even one single soul left in this garbage town who didn't hold a grudge against him.

Somewhere behind her in the hallway, a clock was ticking. It felt like a strange and morbid countdown. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Each and every passing second a step closer to her brother's impending death.

“No! Don't do this! Have you lost your damn mind? What the hell is wrong with you?” Kristine yelled at Sean, though her outburst didn't seem to faze him one bit.

Sean gave her the silent treatment and a sudden coldness lingered in his gaze, the strictness in his eyes warning her to go any further.

Before she could protest again or wriggle herself free from his tight grip, her ears picked up a new sound. The familiar constant beeping tones of the life-support systems suddenly transformed to an agonizing long-drawn-out noise.

'The heart-rate monitor!' Kris realized with a stunned expression on her face.

'His heart... it must have stopped beating...'

With one swift turn, utilizing the full force and rotation of her body movement, Kris finally broke free and used the last ounce of her strength to stumble inside Nathan's hospital room. Her feet and hands were trembling like crazy and she averted her eyes first. She didn't want to see him like this. In this state.

Motionless, lifeless, dead. Because looking at her brother meant the realization that his death was real. That it was final.

But mentally she wasn't there yet. The young woman couldn't bid farewell. Not now. No, she didn't want to accept this painful truth.

So Kristine only took his feeble, pale hand in hers while her whole body sank down to the cold floor, her gaze following the downward motion, staring at the white linoleum ground in utter disbelief.

The air was suffused with a paralyzing silence now. And breaking that silence were the quiet sounds of her mournful sobbing.

”Nate, I'm... I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't protect you. It's all my fault.” She cried and let the sadness consume her, finally allowing the pain to come in. The tears were swelling in the corners of her blue eyes and blurred her entire vision. The teardrops ran freely down her cheeks, her chest heaving now. There was a feeling of soft hands beginning to rub her shoulders in a consoling manner. Warm hands in her hair and stroking her back but she quickly brushed them away in an irritating motion.

The only thing she wanted was to be left alone with her brother. With him. With her grief. With her self-loathing, cursing her own goddamn weakness.

'If only I would have returned sooner. Why did I wait so long to come back? It's all my fault. I'm such a coward, Nate.'

Deep shadows pervaded the entire office of Blackwell's art teacher Mark Jefferson. Outside the bright blue autumn sky had changed to ominous gray hues, the rain clouds had arrived, slowly crawling in. His nose already picked up the earthy smell of imminent rain. A fresh, musky scent permeated the air through his open windows.

It was late in the afternoon at approximately about 5 PM when Mark received that one important message. A short text from Sean Prescott himself, informing him of Nathan's death in a rather matter-of-fact phrase.

'My son Nathan is dead. May his poor soul find peace in heaven.'

The man sat motionless at his desk, closing his eyes and exhaling very slowly. It was over now. The last obstacle had been removed from the chessboard.

“Checkmate.” The word was spoken so low and softly, meant for his own ears only. Still, it echoed in the silence around him.

When Mark opened his eyes again he instinctively reached inside his chest pocket to take out his cell phone. The image shone brightly on his small display screen. It was one of the first photos he took of Nathan the day they designed and set up their dark room.

His protégé seemed so happy at that exact moment, without a care in the world. As if his miserable existence had gained meaning somehow. A new purpose under Mark Jefferson's tutelage.

Mark tilted his head slightly, dark hooded eyes scrutinizing the picture of a grinning boy. Behind that smile hid a teenager so vulnerable and broken, like the remaining pieces of a ruined painting.

For a moment his gaze turned inward. The memories came flooding back as if they were leafing through an old photo album in his mind.

Their private lessons, their endless discussions about monochromatic photography, and the true meaning of their dark room. Their first careful steps into a shadowy world, kidnapping female Blackwell students at Vortex club parties and bringing them to their secret sanctuary. Nathan's first fuck up's ... The worst one of them had been Rachel Amber's accidental overdose. From here on out their little collaboration project had been facing a downward spiral. Their endeavor plunging down into pure chaos.

Maybe the load of responsibility Nathan had already carried was greater than the boy could handle. Or maybe Mark had underestimated his abilities which resulted in Nathan probably breaking down and crumbling under the sheer weight of it.

In hindsight his biggest error was clear. His so-called son couldn't be controlled. He wasn't a puppet anymore, dancing and listening to Mark's every tune.

Nathan's sudden infatuation with that Price girl had fucked up all his meticulously thought-out plans and Mark had simply underestimated him. Especially the lengths the boy had been willing to go to.

At that time his want to entice Max became too strong. Mark wanted, no, he needed her to understand the complexity of his vision, revealing glimpses of the man who lurked behind his carefully crafted mask. A risky move that could have ended in disaster. All of his focus had been directed at her and no one else.

A terrible error on his part. Emotions were a dangerous thing. They clouded his reason and logic. And therein lay the danger. Thankfully, that whole issue had solved itself on its own in the end.

When he came out of his reverie he whispered thoughtfully. “I'm sorry it had to come to this, son. But as I have told you before, you only brought this on yourself.” It was over and Mark shoved the unnecessary memories of Nathan back into the deeper recesses of his mind, deciding to finally put a lid on top of it.

There was nothing left to cause him any further trouble. No more interference. It was the end, yes. But an ending could also always mean a new beginning. A new start.

From the ashes of his son's demise, a phoenix was reborn. A successor to take his place.

'Max...' He thought and was immediately tempted by the prospect to broaden her perspective and to nurture a deeper insight for photography. Max began to adopt his methods, his way of thinking.

In his life, he had met more than his share of beautiful and accomplished women both inside and outside the fashion business. Yet, he had never felt the slightest attraction to any of them except his student Max.

These jaded models were beautiful on the outside, yes. But their heads were only filled with ambition, greed, and egoism. And Mark had no interest in romancing a fake actress or an accomplished liar. Clearly, women who had nothing but their beauty to offer left him utterly cold, disgusted, and uninterested. In contrast to them, Max was on an entirely different level. A rare, unblemished pearl in a world full of dirt and pessimism. Her mental landscape was not far away from his own. Furthermore, she shared many of his views and feelings towards photography. It was a feeling of kinship. His art strongly resonated with her and she was as dedicated to her craft as he was.

Though her skills were still imperfect, Max never wavered, using her mentor as her own mirror to grow as an artist and hoping she could one day reach his level of perfection. Thus, becoming as exceptional as he himself. Unbeknownst to her, he had carefully molded her in his image, enshrouding her with his unique charm and gradually changing the trajectory of her life.

With every single step of his teachings, Max began to transform in front of his eyes. Underneath all her radiance and light there was a tinge. A subtle shadow. A depth she never knew existed. Darkness for him to unveil. And darkness for his student to embrace, not shying away from it.

Their imminent future together unwound before his brown eyes like some dark, complex weaving.

As for Mark Jefferson, he would patiently wait and bide his time a little longer and revel in the certainty that she was almost there where he wanted her to be. At his side. As the other half that would complete him.

Soon, his focus shifted down to his desk now, all the entries for the Everyday Heroes Contest lay there scattered on his table. The oak-colored curtains of his eyes stirred and his emotions were so close to boil over. With a hint of a smile playing on his lips, Mark took Max's entry and held it gently in his hands, declaring in a very soft voice. “You're the winner, Max. I choose you. Your portrait.”

The moist air had that heady quality of anticipation that happens right before incoming rain, perfectly mirroring his own thoughts. The teacher inhaled deeply and gazed out at the dark scenery outside, his other hand sliding over the wooden surface of his large office desk, to make sure the moment was real. A smooth coldness connected with his fingertips. The final act was about to unfold, similar to the final retouches being applied to an almost perfect image. He enjoyed simply knowing what would happen soon and savored this moment, the pleasure of having his plan finally come to fruition, ultimately achieving his desired outcome. All the remaining puzzle pieces falling into place at the end.

The last few days of her life passed by in a strange daze. Somehow Kristine was there, still functioning and keeping up her dull routine of everyday life. However, there were also many times when she couldn't handle it all anymore and broke down crying.

These times were like phases, they were coming and going. And Kris realized that these stages of grief weren't a linear progression. Sometimes she thought it was good, other times everything was bad.

Sleepless nights, no appetite at all. The young woman took all this pain and packed it inside her. Her only companion was a bottle of beer to drink herself to sleep in her restless hours.

There was also that strange sense that she hadn't fully realized her brother's death yet. Maybe it would help to take a step back perspective-wise to contemplate her loss on her own.

The worst of all was this feeling of emptiness, of defeat within her. As if nothing in her life made any sense anymore. Or countless times she asked herself why. Why did it have to happen? Why was her brother taken away from her at such a young age? Why Nate of all things? Could it have been avoided? Was there no other way? Unfortunately, there were no easy answers to these questions.

Some would say, that's life. Death can come anytime and take away what you love. You can't change it and you can't reverse time either. Or Sean would just tell her to grow up, to act like an adult. Yet, what her father told her only fell on deaf ears. Kristine chose to ignore his stupid rants instead.

Today, it seemed was one of her better days. Even the awful rainy weather had finally stopped, the clouds vanishing to reveal clear blue skies again.

'Great, no emotional meltdown so far.' She thought with a bitter smile.

Thus, the young Prescott woman finally found the courage and strength inside her to meet and face Chloe Price, the last woman her brother loved with all his heart. It was not so long ago where she had received Nathan's joyous e-mail in Brazil, explaining to her how much this girl meant to him. That he had finally found a purpose in his life. Someone to belong to.

Therefore it felt so wrong to her that Sean had decided to quit Chloe's medical treatment, just to punish her for Nathan's death. What a jerk. All the cards were in the blue-haired girl's hands now. Hell, Chloe could even impeach her father if she wanted to.

'It's time to make things right. I'm doing this for you, Nate. Only you. I don't care anymore what happens to our family. Or what Sean thinks. They can all rot in hell for all I care.' She thought, a feeling of resignation brimming within her, being fully aware that this was an act of defiance. A means to get back at her dad.

Kristine strolled through the gardens of Arcadia Bay General hospital, her destination the nearby cafeteria. Though she enjoyed gardens like these she preferred the scenic ones that were closer to nature over geometric, man-made beauty. Nevertheless, the colorful autumn foliage surrounding her made her sad soul feel at peace for a short bit of time.

When she finally arrived at the small café of the hospital, she took a long moment to inhale the sweet scents of cocoa flavor mixed with the dark aromatic perfume of coffee and espresso. Friendly chatter reached her ears as she approached the table where Chloe and her friend Max sat together.

Kristine waved her hand, greeting them. “Hey, you two. I hope I'm not too late.”

“You're right on time. You see, we're not allowed to leave the hospital grounds anyway. So sitting and waiting for any visitors is the only fun pastime left to do here.” Chloe assured her with a relaxed smile, her long fingers toying with a strand of her blue hair.

Although both wore their simple snow-white hospital pajamas, the unusual pair of girls clearly attracted attention from other guests. Especially Chloe couldn't be overlooked, she clearly stood out with her blue hair and beautiful tattoos.

Kris ordered herself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite of them, folding her hands in her lap and not really knowing how to begin their conversation.

Thankfully, Chloe gave her a sympathetic look and asked her. “How are you holding up?”

The young Prescott woman sighed and tapped her fingers on her porcelain coffee cup in a troubled manner, replying with a brittle voice. “Hmm. As best as I can in this situation, I guess. I tell myself I have to keep moving, keep going. But it's really, really difficult, you know? How about you?”

“Me? Oh, it's the same. The first couple of days were rough. It kinda felt like someone has drained the life out of me. I think I'd be a total mess if Max wouldn't be here with me. She's my best friend and, well, it helps a lot if you have someone you can talk to.” Chloe answered, her tone weak, almost lifeless. Without thinking the tall girl took Max's hand in hers, seeking comfort and squeezing it gently, both exchanging a sad smile.

Kristine nodded at that, her lips forming a straight line as she went on. “Yes, I can imagine. Nathan's psychiatrist told me it supports your healing process if you can share your grief with someone else. I'm sure he has a point there.”

She turned her attention to Max now. “And how are you doing, Max?”

The short brown-haired girl made a grimace and stated bluntly. “Uhm, forgive me if I have to be the one to say this but my grief for Nathan is within reasonable limits. He..., he shot me. And I survived somehow. But still... I can't forget all that or act like it never happened.”

Kris could see how Max visibly struggled to keep her composure, as if she was reliving that horrible incident in her mind again. “It's totally understandable that you feel that way about my brother. Honestly, I can't blame you. I also have a hard time to grasp what went on in his head, what made him lose his way like that. It's not the Nate I know.”

There was a silence between them now, all of them seemingly dealing with their own thoughts and feelings for a while.

It was Chloe who tried to relieve that depressed atmosphere by deciding to change the topic. Impatience and a hint of tension were invading her voice now. “So, you mentioned on the phone there was something important you wanted to show me.”

“Oh, yes, that...”, Kris took a photo out of her handbag and carefully removed the plastic wrapping, it was covered with, laying the picture down on the round, wooden cafeteria table. She took a deep breath and leaned forward as she revealed to her. “I want you to have this. You can do with it whatever you want. It's your choice.”

While Max seemed worried, Chloe just narrowed her eyes and shifted the photo towards her direction, biting her bottom lip and murmuring. “I've seen so much horrible stuff. Well, I guess there's nothing that can shock me anymore. Is there?” Chloe laughed nervously and cast a glum look around the other two women.

For a moment Chloe Price held her breath and her resolve was clearly visible on her face, asking them. “Let's get this over with, okay?” With one hand she slowly flipped the photo over and her blue eyes widened in shock, stammering. “That... that's me. But how? When did this happen?”

And Max couldn't believe it either, covering her mouth with her hand and whispering. “Oh god, Chloe... No.”

Strangely, the young Prescott woman sensed an odd feeling as she watched Max's reaction. She couldn't quite put a finger on it but something seemed off here. Though Max obviously acted surprised, it didn't look sincere to her.

'Or am I just imagining things?' She wondered and drove these quiet musings from her mind. Maybe it was just a hunch, nothing more. Furthermore, there were much more pressing matters to deal with such as helping Chloe to reach the correct decision.

“D-Did Josh...”, Chloe was close to tears now and needed more than a minute to collect herself and find her voice again before she found the strength to ask. “Did he do this?”

Kristine couldn't look at her anymore and averted her eyes, nodding affirmation. “Yes, it was Nathan. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I found this photo inside a cabinet in his dorm room.”

“Must be the night where he drugged you.” Max deduced and added in a somber tone. “Without much doubt he took that photo when you were unconscious at his place.”

Kristine made a serious expression, and then finally gave voice to something she had been thinking about for some time now. “This is more than enough evidence to go to court against my father, Chloe. That's why I want you to have this.” Kristine suggested firmly, her dark blue eyes shining with determination now.

But to her surprise, Chloe didn't react the way she had anticipated. Chloe laughed. It was a laugh that seemed to say that all she could do right now was laugh in this crazy situation. Then, everyone let out an astonished gasp as the punk girl just ripped the photo apart in one swift motion. Her face contorted in anger.

Chloe's childhood friend Max stared at her in confusion and was obviously left speechless for several seconds, muttering. “What have you done? This was your only piece of evidence.”

“Because I don't give a fuck about this shit anymore, Max.” Chloe made clear and it appeared she was much more sorrowful than before.

It seemed if no one else, she wanted at least Max to understand her. “This...” She pointed her long index finger at the photo, disgust written all over her face as she gave voice to her thoughts, “This isn't the Josh I met and the man I know. My Josh would never do this to me. He loved me.”

'She only calls him Josh. Nathan must have really loved her. He never allowed me to say that particular name. Heck, he would've killed me if I even tried.' Kris noticed, frowning.

Chloe's hands began to tremble uncontrollably and she shook her head. “That's not how I want to remember him. A creepy weirdo who drugs me to take this sick picture of me? That isn't him. Never! And seriously, I'm tired of all this bullshit. This cursed town brought me nothing but pain and death. Everyone in my life... my dad, Rachel, David, and Josh. All gone. I just want to leave and find happiness again. Is that too much to ask for? Please, you have to understand me, Max.”

The blue-haired teenager gave her friend a pleading look, obviously wanting her to accept her decision. For a moment a mix of anger and incomprehension flashed in Max's face, but it was soon replaced by concern for Chloe, nodding at her. “It's okay, Chloe. I understand. You want a fresh start without the dead weight of the past. Really, I get that.”

“Thank you, Max.” Chloe hugged the smaller woman and turned to Kris again. “I know. It isn't what you expected. But really, I can't do this anymore. In my mind, it's best to move on with your life. The past is the past. And winning a trial against Sean Prescott won't give me my Josh back.”

“I see.” Kris murmured, her disappointment all over her face now. She couldn't quite believe what had happened here. Yet, it also showed her that Chloe wasn't like all those other girlfriends Nathan had before her. She wasn't interested in the Prescott fortune or getting some sort of revenge. She just wanted to leave the whole matter behind her. A new start in life. Kris couldn't blame her. After all, it was a wise decision. Chloe seemed far more mature than she was.

'I could learn a thing or two from you, Miss Price.' Kristine thought and leaned back in her chair, asking her in a curious tone. “So, what's your plan?”

“Oh, it's very simple - Get the hell outta this shit hole as soon as possible. My mom Joyce already sold our old house so that we can afford an RV. Our destination is sunny Los Angeles, baby. My angel Rachel always wanted to go there. It was her dream to be a model, a star. Together we were gonna kick the world's ass. Well, as you know she's dead but her big dream still lives on in my heart. I want to carry on her wish. To live my life to the fullest as she did.”

Kris gave a nod and commented in a cheerful voice. “Sounds like a cool plan.”

Chloe gave her a playful wink, her blue eyes shining like the skies in early summer as she suggested. “You know, you could come with us, Miss Brazilian Sunshine. There's plenty of room in our little RV and there's so much I'd love to know about Josh. I'd like to get to know him as you knew him. I have that feeling it would help me a lot. You know, to come to terms with everything that happened. And if I can start from scratch again, so can you.”

Chloe's spoken words roared inside her ears like crashing waves, stirring something deep within her. Kris swallowed as she contemplated her offer in her mind. These past few days had been a wild roller coaster ride and she had become a hollowed-out husk of the woman she had once been. Chloe's proposal was a chance to be free from her obligations as a Prescott heir. No big deal since she also didn't care about that damn inheritance stuff anymore.

Her blue eyes lit up with interest, beginning to fill with life and new energy. It felt like a brick wall that broke apart at last. And in its place, a torrent of hope started to gush forward in her heart.

“Okay, okay, you sold me on that road trip idea. Sign me up, punk princess.” Kristine gave her a thumbs up and the other girl's face lit up at that. Chloe's excitement was quite infectious. A change of scenery might really help to get herself of the worst off her sadness. Falling into depression and drinking booze was no longer an option for her. That will get her nowhere.

Chloe almost jumped up from her stool with her hand balled to a fist and shouted excitedly. “Yes! This will be hella awesome, I promise! I can already see our own comic book series. The amazing adventures of the two Ps. Or wait a sec, how about the P-twin combo? Prescott and Price? Oh no, now I have it! The sexy and fun adventures of the Pricescott ladies! How amazeballs does that sound, huh?”

Then she suddenly realized that all cafeteria guests were staring at her in annoyance and she quickly coughed, looking slightly embarrassed and adding in a happy tone. “Trust me, it'll be the best road trip ever, dude!”

Max giggled. “You're crazy, Chloe.”

And Chloe only grinned at that and shrugged. “Yup, I'm fucking insane on the brain, hippie queen.”

Both Max and Kristine stood up and nodded at each other. To celebrate this happy moment after all those problems, they instinctively took Chloe in their arms, hugging her tightly.

Chloe laughed again, tears welling up in her eyes. “Damn you, guys. Stop! You got me all teary-eyed again. Now that we got all that depressing shit out of the way, I feel like stage diving. Man, I really want to thrash this place and have a big party.”

The girl trio chuckled and stood there together with a feeling of solidarity. It was such a tiny gesture, yet Kristine never felt so in harmony with herself as she did now.

'I know it will take lots of time to heal these painful wounds. Maybe they will never heal. But I have this feeling it'll be a lot easier with someone like Chloe around me to make me smile again. She understands so well what I'm going through. Because we both lost a loved one who was dear to us. I lost my brother and she lost the love of her life. Maybe with her, there's still hope at the end of the tunnel. Maybe...' Kris thought and allowed herself to take a step back and go with the flow, just waiting where life might take her this time. From Brazil to Los Angeles? Why not? It didn't seem to be such a bad idea. On the contrary, it would be a great trip and she was more than ready to enjoy the ride.

The next day Kristine chose to tie up some loose ends before leaving Arcadia Bay behind her. And one of those loose ends was none other than the photography teacher Mark Jefferson.

Upon her arrival thick morning mist shrouded the school area and veiled the whole place in an impermeable white blanket. All around her the big maple trees were already shedding their red and yellow leaves, changing the dark asphalt streets to a sea of crimson and gold. Yet, the colors were subdued and pale thanks to the milky fog. Another reminder how this art teacher made her feel, like wading through a dense and thick haze to find out what was truly hiding behind that smug smile.

It was no surprise to see that Mr. Jefferson was one of the first teachers to arrive at Blackwell Academy. In his dark clothes he resembled a mysterious shadow. Once again the man was the very definition of elegance, wearing a finely tailored black suit today. The only color accent was his shirt, showing an adequate deep violet color shade in his overall dark appearance.

'Punctual as always, huh?' Kristine thought, already walking towards the school's parking lot and watching him take his brown leather messenger bag out of his trunk.

Somehow he must have sensed her presence, his head turning toward her direction like the swift movement of an owl and the ghost of a smile flitting across his features.

'Pretentious bastard.' It immediately shot through her head the moment their eyes met.

“Kristine Prescott. I must confess I'm surprised to meet you here. I thought you'd be hanging out with your parents after...”, he made a considerable pause and seemed to scrutinize her with his deep brown eyes, “uh, what happened to your brother. Please accept my deepest sympathies to your family and you. ”

For a short moment flashes of sadness kept shooting through her heart. It hurt so much and for a second she almost had the impression not being able to breathe anymore.

'Oh no. You won't see me break down. Not here and certainly not now.' Kristine gritted her teeth and was well aware what he was doing to her. Pouring salt into her wound and sinking a knife deep into her heart. The vulture was ready to lick her wounds yet Kristine refused to give him that kind of pleasure. Somehow she was able to regain her composure, replying with neither emotion nor life. “You're not up to date, Mr. Jefferson. I'm no longer staying at the Prescott mansion.”

In this instant Mark Jefferson knew that Kristine had found herself again, her voice had its familiar strength back.

'Kristine possesses such a strong spirit, unlike her late brother.' He mused and still wore his perfectly controlled smile, giving nothing away.

“And what brings you here at this early hour? Surely you haven't come to Blackwell to join one of my favored lectures.” The teacher tilted his head slightly and let out a soft chuckle. Still, in his mind he was even now conceiving other ways to break her down. To see her lose all hope and give in to darkness. And it would feel even more satisfying if he had to deal with strong-willed women like the Prescott girl.

“I came to say good-bye and I guess, after this sad event I owe you an apology. Back then you tried to help me and I was so full of anger at that time. I took it all out on you and for that I'm truly sorry.” Kristine told him in a rather mechanical tone, obviously not being too happy having to apologize to this man.

“It's okay, really. I can understand what you must have been going through. Don't worry about it. Actually, I have a little farewell gift for you.” Mark offered her a sympathetic look and reached into his bag, carefully pulling out a photo framed in a beautiful cypress wooden frame.

Everything this teacher showed her always left her with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. And Kristine was sure, this time would be no exception. “What is it?” She asked, worry emerging in her blue eyes and her mouth already going dry.

'Seriously, if it's another one of Nathan's psycho photos I will bang that damn thing against his head.' The thought alone seemed very appealing.

“Here, have a look. It's one of the shots I took of Nathan during our photo sessions in the forest.” Mark explained and deliberately moved closer to her, his intent eyes mustering her, as if examining a compelling painting at an art gallery. His gaze was slowly sliding over her face, taking in every single detail.

The young woman hesitated for a few seconds, unsure if she should take a look or not. In the end her curiosity won. She tried to shut off all her emotions and carefully held the framed photo in her hands, frowning and whispering. “He's so happy here.”

The picture showed her brother squatting at a forest clearing. In front of him lay a dead doe and he just smiled into Jefferson's camera while he himself angled his own camera at the dead animal, obviously eager and ready to start his photo shoot soon.

Seeing Nathan smile so carefree and cheerful made her feel warm inside. A little flicker of light in her time of grief. Only the sight of the dead doe left a bad aftertaste in her mouth, like an old wine which had gained a sour aroma over time. After devoting most of her life to an animal welfare organization, she couldn't stand the sight of dead animals. It made her feel sick just imagining a hunter kill an innocent animal for an absurd reason such as sports.

Slowly, she became aware how his brown eyes studied her with an unreadable expression on his features. “Do you like it?” He asked her and she only nodded in response, trying to find the right words for this kind of gift.

“This is...”, she pursed her lips and paused a few seconds, then admitted, “It's really thoughtful of you. Thank you, I guess.”

This wasn't a picture of Nathan she would decorate on her wall. Never ever. However, at least it was worth to keep it as remembrance. Also it reminded her once again that Nathan and Jefferson must have had a profound friendship. It was seldom for her brother to be this open towards someone else. Especially if that someone wasn't a part of the Prescott family. Or the only other person who came that close was perhaps Nathan's best friend Victoria Chase or his beloved Chloe Price.

“No problem, Kristine. I have many photos of Nathan but this one... Well, I believe this one is truly special. Your brother's growing fascination with dark imagery is palpable here. He really had an eye for shadows. This is one of the rare moments where he was actually at peace with himself. It's a wonderful shot and I hope you'll treasure it just as much as I do.” His words were spoken with a very soft, smooth voice. His lips so close that she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her skin. Only now the woman realized that she must have held her breath for a while, because she exhaled in a surprised hiss at hearing his words so close to her own ear.

'If that guy thinks that I will sing praise now and feed his ego, he's terribly mistaken. Ugh, I don't like Jefferson. He's a real creep and I constantly feel on edge around him.' Although she would have loved to leave a sarcastic comment, she managed to utter another sparse thank you.

“Maybe we'll meet each other again. Who knows?” Mark suggested, showing her that familiar smirk again. As if he knew something she wasn't aware of.

“Don't count on it, Mr. Hipster teacher. Because I don't plan on seeing you again. Like never again.” Kris shot back bluntly and turned to leave, hearing him say after her in an ominous tone. “Never say never, Kristine.”

Kristine only rolled her eyes at that, thinking to herself. 'Okay, Kris, note to self – avoid anything that even remotely deals with photography stuff. You don't want to get close to this guy again.' That was one check on her to-do-list. Her next stop would be the Prescott mansion where she planned to reveal to her parents that she didn't give a shit about them anymore. Or the family inheritance or the Prescott money now less than ever. Or what would Nathan tell Sean in her stead? Whatthefuckever, he'd most likely say.

'It's time for a new start. A new life. Good-bye, Arcadia Bay.'

Her remaining days at Arcadia Bay hospital were rather uneventful, boring even. There were always the same medical examinations day by day, several doctors checking the blood pressure or her lung function, taking various blood samples and nurses assisting her to stabilize her heart and circulatory system. It felt like little baby steps, learning to walk again without passing out.

A real challenge for impatient patients like Max who couldn't wait to get out of there. Thankfully, the painkillers helped a lot to overcome that overwhelming pain in her chest area whenever she attempted to get up and walk down the hospital corridor, sometimes overdoing it.

What made it worse was that Mark had decided not to visit her while her parents were still staying in Arcadia Bay. On the phone he explained it could be too much of a risk and that it would be better to avoid unnecessary suspicion. Furthermore, he thought his girlfriend needed time to rest and to recharge her batteries. Of course, Max understood his reasoning but still, she never felt so lonely like she did here.

Only her best friend Chloe provided a ray hope here as they used their precious time to catch up and reminisce about their special friendship and their childhood together. Although Chloe didn't remember everything and couldn't recall all of her memories, there were still moments where her face would lighten up in recognition and a huge, jolly smile would appear on her face. When the day had finally come to say good-bye, both girls couldn't help but cry their eyes out, holding each other in a tight embrace. Chloe's mother Joyce and Kristine Prescott struggled to calm her friend again, leaving Arcadia Bay and Max behind proved to be more difficult for the blue-haired girl than she initially thought.

Max felt like a piece of herself had bid farewell to her. Chloe was like a sister to her, she was an important part of her life. Needless to say, they promised each other to keep in touch and see the other again someday. However, in the back of her mind there was this fear seated deep inside of her. What if she would screw it up like she always did? Forgetting to contact her friend and then being too afraid to reach out to her once more? Yet, Max was certain this wouldn't be the case this time. After the past few weeks she had changed a lot, she wasn't the anxious and timid school girl anymore. And the young woman couldn't wait to return to school and move on with her life.

The first morning back at Blackwell Academy began as any other usual school day for Max Caulfield. She woke up in her dorm room, took a nice, long shower in the girls bathroom, had a fun little chat with Dana and Kate and paused in front of the fountain to take a deep breath of fresh air.

Still, something was different. The overall atmosphere here at school felt sober and broody. Blackwell's busy halls were crowded and full of students as always, but the loud hustle and bustle were gone. In its stead, you could only hear quiet whispers or people murmuring in hushed tones now. The pace of students walking around was off, sluggish compared to how it usually was.

Furthermore, the young photography student noticed that most of them wore dark clothes. 'Welcome to the twilight zone, Mad Max. Is this still Blackwell? I kinda feel out of place here.' Max thought as she slowly wandered through the hallway, her eyes darting in every direction to see what was going on here. Many just stared at her with strange expressions on their faces which was more than odd. But then again she was the only one who wore something colorful today. Her outfit was her usual light blue jeans and her favorite t-shirt, the pink Jane Doe one.

'Okay, this is really awkward. I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. Time to get moving, Max.' She told herself and tried to walk at faster pace.

“Yo Max! Cool, you're back.” A warm hand lightly poked her shoulder and she turned around to find her friend Warren standing there. His brown eyes lit up with joy and he smiled sheepishly.

“Hey, Warren. How are you?” Max beamed at him, feeling so happy and relieved to spot a familiar face again.

Warren made a worried expression. “I think it should be me to ask you that question, Maximus Prime. After everything that happened. Man, I'm so glad you're alive. And I've heard you even needed a wheelchair. Can you walk again?”

“Yeah, walking is fine as long as I take it easy. A strong shoulder to lean on would be nice though.”

He quickly got the hint and hurried to her side, supporting her while they walked towards the Arts classroom.

Max knew just by watching him that her friend had a lot on his mind. Warren gave her a brooding look and began. “If I had known what that motherfucker was up to, I would've punched him directly in the face, seriously. What a dickhead. And I... I acted like a childish brat that day. I was so stupid. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, really really sorry, Max.” Warren paused and looked away in embarrassment as if he was ashamed of his own past behavior.

Impulsively, Max stretched out her arms and hugged her nerd friend to her, reassuring him. “Don't worry, it's okay. I've made mistakes too. I always saw you as my best friend and it didn't occur to me that our friendship could mean so much more to you than that. I feel like an idiot. And Nathan... Well, I didn't really make a real difference there. In the end, my friend Chloe was the one who had to save me.”

Slowly, they released each other from their comforting embrace and Warren took a step back, appearing a bit flustered. “You helped your friend and that's all that matters. Ugh, just talking about that bully makes my blood boil.”

It was at that exact moment that Max caught a glimpse of all the black and white Nathan Prescott In Memoriam posters adorning the white walls on both sides. They were practically everywhere. And Max had that weird feeling she could watch Nathan grinning at her from beyond the grave, still mocking her even in death.

'If this is supposed to be a joke, it's not very funny.' Max thought dryly and asked him. “So, what's up with all these posters over there?”

Warren grimaced and pointed a finger at one of the monochrome pictures. “Yeah, it's crazy, right? They will hold a memorial ceremony in the gym today. Damn, it's so surreal. That guy was a true psycho and trust me, I won't shed a single tear for this asshole.”

“I guess it's no surprise. Sean Prescott owns this school and he surely asked Principal Wells to hold that ceremony for Nathan.” Max pointed out.

He laced his fingers behind his head and murmured. “Yeah, but still. It doesn't feel right to me after what his son put you through. The school should hold a celebration for you instead. You're a real superhero. From now on I shall call you Super Maximus.”

He rubbed his chin and gave her a wink. “Or should I say Taser Max? Anyway, I don't know how to say this but just looking at you makes me realize how much you've changed. You're a real badass now.”

“Thank you, Warren. Can't say I feel like a real hero. Sometimes I doubt myself. Did I help or did I just make everything worse when I tried to interfere? The whole thing was like some sort of crazy chain-event reaction. Nathan really lost his shit and freaked out after he recognized me in Chloe's hospital room.” Max pondered and suddenly, her line of thought was interrupted when Victoria Chase decided to disturb their conversation, adding in a venomous tone. “Wow. That's cute. Look at that. The selfie bitch is at least aware that she's guilty. You can fool the police but I'm not fooled by your sad face victim role.”

The short-haired blond girl was standing there in her expensive, black designer cashmere sweater, her green eyes glaring daggers at her.

Max blinked a few times and shook her head. A bomb had just dropped and it totally had the desired effect.

'What the hell is going on here? Does she actually accuse me of killing Nathan? That's insane in the membrane!' She thought and sighed. “I don't know what you're getting at, Victoria.”

Her emerald green eyes turned to slits as she took a single step towards her direction and snapped loudly. “You know exactly what I mean. Don't play dumb with me. You're the one who really killed Nathan. You drove him mad.”

“What? Cut the crap, have you lost your goddamn mind? Nathan wanted to kill me. He shot me.” Max emphasized the words kill and shot yet it didn't seem to make any difference.

Victoria had her hands on her hips now and snorted dismissively, the expression plastered on her alabaster face going beyond irritation. “Oh, shut up! You're the fucking reason he had that crazy meltdown in the first place!”

Just listening to Queen Victoria's ridiculous accusation made a wave of anger rise in her chest. It felt like an ocean inside her, a violent wave flowing through her veins. At this very moment Max wanted more than anything for the sea inside her to burst through her skin and sweep Victoria away.

'I'm so tired of her, ugh. A few weeks ago I would have tried to back off but not any longer. I'm not the Maxine Caulfield I used to be.' Frustration inevitably set in within her. Enough was enough and the time had come to stand up to bullies like Victoria Chase.

Max folded her arms above her chest and shot back. “Wow, I don't know what weird stuff you're smoking at your Vortex club parties to even imagine this shit. Let me guess, you're also denying the fact that your so called best buddy killed Rachel Amber.”

The blond girl made no effort to hide her contempt for Max. Steam was floating in her green eyes as she looked down on her arrogantly, practically spitting out her next words in a voice far colder than zero degrees. “Are you fucking kidding me? Nathan loved Rachel. He would never kill her. But who would believe a statement of your messed-up punk friend anyway? It's all lies. She only wants to ruin Nathan's reputation like any other bitch out there. Well, I've had enough of your bullshit. Just seeing you here makes me sick. Enjoy your remaining days at Arcadia Bay. I have reliable sources here at Blackwell who assured me that Mr. Jefferson is going to pick my photo for the contest. That means no San Francisco vacation for you, selfie waif.”

Max only rolled her eyes at that and the blonde girl sneered in response. “I guess that serves you right. You can go now and fuck your selfie. Au revoir.” With that she turned sharply on her heel and stomped away, her two minions Taylor and Courtney rushing after her in a hurry.

Warren had remained silent through their whole exchange and shook his head now, commenting in an annoyed tone. “Oof, and there goes the drama queen of Blackwell. Forget her, Max. She obviously needs someone to vent her anger and took it all out on you. Don't let it get to you.”

Max grimaced and murmured. “I know, Warren. It's just that... Victoria wrote something nice in the Get well-card for a change. For a minute I thought she could be a good person, you know? Guess, I was wrong.”

Her friend began to laugh dryly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “Victoria and good are two words which don't really fit together so well.”

Max nodded in agreement and her lips curled into a wry smile. “Yeah, it seems some people never change.”

The inviting autumn sun shone brightly through the large windows of the art class room, enveloping the interior with a light glow. Its golden rays were creating an almost dream-like and magical atmosphere, an art of its own there for the appreciative photographer's eye. However, Max didn't find the time to cherish the brilliance of natural sunlight. Instead she flitted quietly inside like a cautious cat sneaking into a hole. Keeping a low profile, she avoided Victoria and her group of friends as best as she could by staying well clear of her desk.

The young woman couldn't shake off this queasy feeling in her stomach. What if Victoria was right? Did Mark really pick Victoria's photo? With each passing moment she could feel her own conviction faltering further. Her doubts were rising and nagging at her mind again, digging an even deeper hole into her insecurity.

'Don't worry. That's exactly what Victoria wants. To make me doubt myself. Doubt my own photography.' She reminded herself in her thoughts and sank down on her chair, putting down her small shoulder bag absentmindedly.

A quick look at the front of the classroom was enough to make sure that Mark hadn't arrived yet. Somehow the anticipation and excitement alone to see him again made her heart flutter nervously in her chest.

Her inner tension finally reached its crescendo when the photography teacher entered the room, his observant eyes scanning his present students until his gaze rested solely on her. His intense gaze bore its way into her, as if he had the power to dive deep into her soul and see everything that was hiding inside her. Being in his presence felt like drifting too close to a gravity, her blue eyes were instantly drawn to him and admired the way he looked today. Mark wore a black blazer, matching his dark pants. And his deep purple shirt only accentuated his overall dark clothing. He was truly the personification of the shadows he celebrated in his black and white photography style.

Mark Jefferson stopped in his tracks and tried without success to fight down the affection that ran through him like a warm wave, visibly struggling to contain his emotion. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he knew very well that his eyes were shining now. He hated his lack of self control, although he could never hate the woman who provoked this kind of reaction.

He admired how the little dots of light were dancing like shooting stars in her ocean blue eyes. His Max stood out dazzlingly as though her body had wrapped the flashes of warm sunlight around her. As if her mere presence alone turned on the lights and brought all colors surrounding her to life. The glowing feeling intensified and his smile widened. Once more he couldn't deny that his lovely muse was indeed the pinnacle of aesthetic refinement.

Max found herself petrified staring back at him. He was scrutinizing her carefully with his piercing eyes and once again she felt soft all over and utterly exposed. Intense heat flooded her system, weakening her completely.

It seemed the moment was gone again and the teacher averted his gaze to focus on his other students. Mark lowered himself onto Daniel's desk and sat there with a relaxed posture, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Shhh, calm down everyone. Please, have a seat.” Mr. Jefferson ordered and waited until all of them had taken their respective seats, his eyes darting from one face to the other. His gaze was moving around them like a camera eye to take mental pictures of all of his students. Every tiny detail was processed quickly. The way Kate Marsh nervously fiddled with her fingers in her lap or Alyssa Anderson who still tried to secretly read her novel Love Today Or Die Forever, carefully hiding it beneath her table.

“Now I know this was a difficult and stressful time for all of us but as one of my favorite authors once said 'Life goes on, and one should look ahead and not backward.' We should also turn our focus on our future. That's why today is finally the day...” Mark began and was suddenly stopped by an eager Victoria Chase who asked him in an exaggerated sweet tone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jefferson? But will you announce the winner of the Everyday Heroes contest today? Principal Wells told me he had to cancel our next Vortex club party where the announcement was supposed to take place. So I wondered...” Her voice purposefully trailed off, obviously waiting for a confirmation.

“Yes, you're correct, Miss Chase.” Mark responded and fetched two white envelopes from his desk.

All eyes were watching him in anticipation as if the whole class was holding its breath. Especially Victoria seemed to be in an even more excited mood than usual, murmuring something to Taylor and giggling like a young school girl.

Max sighed and turned her pen around and around meaninglessly in her hand, thinking to herself. 'Oh jeez, just get it over and done with.'

“Before I start, I want to thank everybody who entered their photograph... and everybody who thought about entering. Now, this is the most important step in being an artist - sharing your work with the world. All of you represent Blackwell Academy, and everything our school stands for. As far as I'm concerned, you're all 'Everyday Heroes'!” He made a wide all encompassing gesture with his hand and gave his class an appreciative smile before he opened the envelope and picked out a white sheet of paper.

“Okay, let's see... And the winner is... Oh my, what a shocker.” He turned to Victoria and applauded. “Victoria Chase.”

The blond girl leaped up from her chair and jumped up and down with joy, hands over her mouth as if she couldn't quite believe that it was really her who won the Everyday Heroes contest. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Max could instantly feel the bile rise in the back of her throat. ' Ugh, Victoria of all people .' Max thought and felt that Victoria's contest win was an extremely bitter pill to swallow.

Just a few meters away from her Mark was watching Max with a strange mixture of curiosity and amusement, as if he wanted to gauge her reaction.

'Maybe it's all a test. I know my entry was good and Mark even said so himself. That can't be it. There must be a loophole somewhere.' Her pondering stopped immediately when she was engulfed by a cloud of floral perfume so intense that she feared for a second she couldn't breathe anymore.

Victoria strutted towards her arts teacher in an extravagant manner, provocatively swinging her hips from side to side and holding her chin up high. Next to her she could hear Hayden shout. “Way to go, Tori. That's our queen of the Vortex club for ya.”

The blond girl hugged her art teacher and Max felt that sudden urge to vomit. 'This is too much. Can somebody just kill her, please?'

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson. It was your incredible photography that brought me to Blackwell and I hope I can live up to your name and fame. I also want to thank all the students for being so dedicated in their pursuit. And last but not least I'd like to dedicate this prize to the memory of Nathan Prescott. He was my best friend and my hero. Thank you.” Victoria's winning speech sounded like she had memorized every single word beforehand, as if she was reading from a script.

“You suck, Victoria.” Stella remarked, glaring at the blond woman.

Mr. Jefferson's eyes narrowed slightly at her, his tone of voice sounding rather strict, “Mind your language, Stella.”, his attention shifting back to the contest winner as he made clear. “Your submission is a well deserved win, Victoria. You've captured the severity of human struggle in one perfectly executed shot.”

“Oh, of course Miss Vortex club won fair and square. Right, Vic?” Stella exaggerated the way in which she spoke, obviously hinting at something but Max didn't have a single clue what she was implying there.

“Shut the hell up, gossip girl.” Victoria scoffed and turned her attention towards her teacher again, offering Mr. Jefferson an enticing smile. “I'm so happy that we'll go to San Francisco together. It's a dream come true to have my idol at my side at the Zeitgeist gallery.”

Mr. Jefferson made a dismissive gesture and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Miss Chase. But I won't be representing Blackwell at the event this year. Principal Wells will accompany you and trust me, as opposed to me he won't steal your time in the limelight. You may think I'm a pretentious artist here, imagine me in San Francisco.”

Victoria was perplexed and muttered. “I-I don't understand... I thought we both would go...”

Mr. Jefferson pointed at the second envelope in his hand and revealed. “Actually, we have a second winner here who will have the pleasure and also honor to fly to New York with my humble self.”

Although it didn't show on Victoria's face, these news disturbed her somewhat and she tried to protest. “But Mr. Jefferson...”

A soft stir rose among the students and the photography teacher tried his best to quiet everyone down, Mark's tone becoming sharp. “Everybody calm down. And Victoria, please return to your desk. We will discuss this matter after class is over, okay?”

Victoria swallowed audibly and blustered so much it almost looked comical, asking him in a voice louder than necessary. “Isn't it against the rules? We never received any information about this other contest or about its regulations...”

He spoke with a sternness and clarity that brook no argument, emphasizing every word. “Enough Victoria, we'll talk later.”

Max could see how the blond girl wanted to raise her voice again in complaint but apparently decided against this notion when his gaze almost penetrated her. A silent warning not to go any further than this and that his patience was wearing thin. She wondered how he managed to keep his calm in this situation. Somehow Mark reminded her of a buddhist monk. Was there even anything that could make him loose his cool? Probably not. And if there was, she wasn't so eager to find out.

Victoria gave up and sighed theatrically, leaving the front of the classroom with a look of disappointment written all over her pale visage.

“Good, now that I have your undivided attention again, it's time to move on.” The teacher continued, his serious expression once again softening into something more gentle.

Mr. Jefferson began to explain the situation, providing further information about the newcomer award. “The issue is all your entries were really great images and it felt wrong to me to only select one winner. So I had this long discussion with Principal Wells if we could also send all your photos to another contest. It's the Feature Shoot Emerging Photography Awards in Brooklyn. This contest has established itself as a reliable venue for new talents. And surprise, surprise, they picked one of your entries for a newcomer award.”

Everybody in the room looked flabbergasted and Mr. Jefferson just smiled, seemingly enjoying himself. “Let's have a look at our second winner, shall we?”

The students inside the room were waiting in suspense, all pairs of eyes were glued to the second envelope, everyone of them being aware that they all still had their chances to win an award.

“And the newcomer award goes to...” Mark read and looked up from his letter to maintain eye contact with Max, one corner of his mouth slightly curling upwards in a hint of a smile.

In return her fingers instinctively searched for her small silvery camera pendant hanging around her neck, Mark's gift to her. A good luck charm was all that she needed right now.

“Max Caulfield.” The photography teacher hadn't intended to gentle his tone but the words came out much softer than expected. All students reflexively turned their heads to find Max in the back of the room, staring at her in surprise.

After a moment's pause, her brain slowly processed what she had just heard, understanding dawned on Max's face and her jaw dropped in response. “Wowsers.” She exclaimed and couldn't quite believe it. 'I won? Are you cereal? Someone pinch me please. This is too amazeballs to be real.'

Mark beckoned her with his hand to come to him and already complimented her. “Congratulations, Maxine. Outstanding work. Your photo showed a striking image of strength in a quiet moment of vulnerability. A powerful shot and I'm not surprised that this renowned jury chose your entry. I can assure you this newcomer award is the perfect opportunity for you to present your work and to embark on your photography career. Furthermore, this also means major exposure because the Feature Shoot gallery show will also be held in Paris and Berlin as well.”

Max could feel her own heart racing at the thought of having her photo displayed in galleries all over the world. Just the mere thought alone was mind-boggling.

Only Victoria was seething, her contempt was plain to see. Fury was rippling up from the pixie-haired girl like a heat mirage, but with a single glance Mark held its ignition in check, skillfully putting a lid on a possible emotional outburst.

Max, on the other hand, was so damn nervous that she approached the art teacher with slightly unbalanced steps while Victoria tsked in displeasure. At least Daniel and Kate were supportive, both cheering her classmate on.

“I-I still can't believe this. I don't know what to say. Uh, thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson. You're the reason I came to Blackwell and to get this chance to be mentored by one of my inspirations is the greatest thing ever. Thank you.” Max said shyly, visibly moved by all this and shaking Mark's hand eagerly.

'No hugging here, Super Max. Victoria would only rip my eyes out if I try this. Just remember, you have him all for yourself later.' She reminded herself and added. “And I'd like to dedicate this prize to Chloe Price. Huh, no pun intended. She saved my life and I will forever be grateful to her.”

Ducking her head Max swiftly returned to her desk. It made her stomach feel really queasy, just to stand there in front of the whole class and to come up with some sort of a thank-you speech off the cuff. To actually win something was still quite unexpected or maybe her own self-doubts had been playing tricks on her again.

“I knew you could do it.” Daniel told her and Kate even stood up to hug her. “See? I told you so. You just have to believe in yourself. You're awesome, Max.”

The brunette was moved to tears now and nodded at her friends. “Thanks, you two.”

“Good, now that we left the important stuff behind us we can finally move on with our lecture because today we're studying how to build up your own professional portfolio. An award might be an important first step to get exposure but it's meaningless if you don't put together your portfolio to showcase your work.” The teacher paused a considerable moment, his gaze resting firmly on Max and arching a meaningful eyebrow as if to silently remind her to complete her portfolio.

Max sighed and thought to herself. 'Yes, yes, I know. And here I hoped he would allow me to catch a break after everything I went through.'

Luckily, Max wasn't the only one who felt addressed by his admonishing words as other students like Hayden or Taylor groaned audibly.

Of course, Mark Jefferson took note and watched his class with inscrutable eyes, explaining further. “No matter what genre you're interested in, it will take a lot of practice and time to get good at it. That's why setting an end goal is crucial. The problem is if you spread your effort across multiple styles, it'll likely be a long road ahead. Pick a goal and focus all your energy on it. This will help you to focus your images. Now the question is, why do we need to focus our work?”

Mr. Jefferson looked around, his questioning eyes searching for a target. “Anyone? Alyssa? Stella?”

To his surprise Max had the courage to hold up her hand and came up with an answer. “The more focused shots we take, the higher is the likelihood of capturing something truly special.”

Mr. Jefferson gave her an appreciative nod and confirmed her reply. “Yes, that's it. Nice work, Max.”

The young girl couldn't help but feel giddy at hearing his praise. This meant so much to her. Gaining the confidence to crawl out of her shell to actually participate in class was something he had always encouraged her to do.

“What Max describes as something special is what we photographers like to call the metaphorical bullseye. The more darts you throw at the target, the higher are your chances of getting a bullseye. It's a magnificent photo that stops people in their tracks, they can't look away. It'll be one of your best images, a clear highlight of your portfolio. That way you can build your portfolio much faster, maximize your opportunity and naturally refine your portfolio over time. ”

His lecture finished with him urging his students to stand out from the crowd and find their own unique style and vision. To make a name for themselves like he did before them. Max couldn't help but admire him in this very moment, thinking how Mark truly saw potential in everyone's talent, giving them the much needed courage and self-confidence to believe in their talent.

'I still can't believe he wants to quit his job for me. What would Blackwell do without him?' She already wondered, questioning if it was a right decision, while at the same feeling hopelessly pathetic herself.

Max had never dreamed of anything so grandiose as becoming a partner in equal footing with Mark, doubting she could ever reach his level of success. She was still a nobody, a newcomer. The name Maxine Caulfield had no ring of influence and fame yet. Nevertheless she wanted in some form or fashion to make herself indispensable to him as someone who would take up the mantle of his photography philosophy and realize it in her own practice. Mark's teachings had quietly forced her to advise her own dreams for the future, to follow his example and make him proud. But it was also a reflection of her own ideas as well. She would devote herself to master the art of photography like he did, to share what they both loved, their fever to capture images.

As soon as the school bell rang, Victoria wasted no time and was already on her feet, seizing her teacher's attention by taking up the space in front of his desk. Displeasure was plain to see in her face and in her movements. Her nerves seemed to have little elasticity and it looked like they were ready to snap at any moment. The blond woman jabbed a single finger towards her art teacher, accusing him. “Mr. Jefferson, you promised us that you would accompany the winner of the Everyday Heroes Contest to San Francisco. Well, I'd say it's more than obvious you're playing favorites here, you're clearly preferring Max over me.”

Her emerald eyes flashed at Max for a second before returning to him and the photography teacher just sighed at her emotional outburst, carefully correcting the angle of his glasses and his voice remaining level and calm, assuring her. “You can go ask Principal Wells if you don't believe me. When we made that decision to have one of us fly to San Francisco and the other one to New York, we didn't even know who would be the winner of the respective contests. Besides, you can't claim I favored anyone here. An independent jury chose the winner of the Feature Shoot Awards, not me.”

“And just to make it clear, the sole reason I'm going to New York should be no surprise to you. Surely, you've studied my biography thoroughly to remember that the Big Apple has been my home for many years. I know Brooklyn's art scene inside out, so me being there might surely be quite advantageous for Max.” Mark Jefferson paused and gave Max a playful wink before turning his head to shift his attention back to the other woman again.

“Yes, that may be but still, it's unfair. I know you've been hanging out with Max a lot lately. My friends Courtney and Taylor saw you two together at the parking lot, you can't deny this. I just want you to reconsider your decision. Please, Mark. You've seen my entry and it's way better than anything Max does. I can give you one word of her photo... It's just a dumb selfie. Why waste your precious time with her if you have the opportunity to support a real artist like me? You love my work and I'm actually the only one in this class who puts all her effort and time into this.” Victoria seemed almost desperate now and her voice was dripping with venom every time she mentioned Max's name. As if her name alone raised a red flag.

'OK, I've heard enough of this.' Max thought and got up from her chair, trying to stand between Victoria and Mark. “You're so pathetic, Victoria. You always criticize my selfies, but most of your images are basically just headshots, nothing more.”

The air between them was growing thinner and thinner, the temperature dropping to arctic levels.

Mark held up his hands, urging both women to calm down again.”Enough, ladies. And stick to Mr. Jefferson please, Miss Chase.”

The photography teacher took a deliberate step back to move next to his student Max now, making his case as reservedly as he could. “Our decision is final and the flights and hotel rooms are already booked. There will be no change in our travel itinerary. If you're still upset about this I can only advise you to talk to Principal Wells. Though he'll only say what I just told you.”

“Fine, that's exactly what I'm gonna do now. Thanks for nothing, Mr. Jefferson!” Victoria snorted and waltzed away, seemingly struggling to keep her growing frustration in check.

Max rolled her eyes as she watched her leave the room, commenting in a rather dry tone. “Victoria should become an actress, she's great at playing the drama queen. Why can't she be happy? She won that damn contest, it's all she ever wanted.”

“Indeed, she won... under questionable circumstances. It required a little help from Sean Prescott to force us to vote for her.” Mark remarked bluntly.

Her blue eyes were wide open now as she heard this unexpected bit of new information. “I don't understand. Don't tell me he bribed the Principal. So that's what Stella was implying back then?”

Mark nodded in response, elaborating the whole matter. “Mr. Prescott and the Chase family offered to provide a large donation for Blackwell Academy. And the only condition to get that sum of money transferred to the school's bank account was letting Victoria win the contest. You know Principal Wells wishes to modernize and renovate the buildings for a long time now. It was an offer he couldn't resist. Believe me, I'm just as upset about it as you are, Max.”

“That's so unfair.” Max breathed, shaking her head in disbelief.

There was a strange and cold harshness audible in his voice now, reminding her.“Sometimes the art world can be cruel and unjust. Now and again having the right connections to certain influential people can be the decisive point how successful you can become. They can make or break your career. It's not always the case, mind you, but it can be a possibility. That's why I can only encourage you to toughen up. The art world won't hand your achievements to you on a silver platter. There will be moments when you have to earn those victories, learn to be tenacious and fight for it.”

Max felt she had a pretty good understanding now how the art world worked. It was being hammered home to her by Victoria's undeserved win. 'Seriously, knowing the truth makes me hate the Queen Beeatch even more.' Max thought and mumbled. “I'll try to keep that advice in mind, Mark. But still, sometimes I wish someone would push her off that high pedestal and teach her a lesson. Victoria thinks she's the center of the world but she isn't.”

His smile didn't quite reach his dark eyes when he pursed his lips and began to openly voice his thoughts. “Well, there are ways or should I say methods to, let's say, open someone's eyes to a certain truth, Max.”

His student couldn't overlook that mysterious glimmer in those brown eyes and she didn't miss the implication behind his words. It was as if he had showed her another glimpse of the man lurking behind the mask.

She added thoughtfully. “Oh, you mean...that method? Yeah, it could leave a lasting impression and bring her back to harsh reality.”

At this very moment Mark found himself enthralled by her, by the way how her dual sides of light and darkness became intertwined. His brown eyes were seemingly transfixed by hers and his soft voice dropped an octave lower as he asked her. “And what would you seek to capture, Max?”

An image of an unconscious Nathan flashed in her inner mind's eye and the sheer thought to give his best friend Vic the same treatment was somewhat very appealing. To even consider this notion in the past would have been an absolute no-go for her. However, the times had changed and she wasn't the Max Caulfield anymore who she used to be. Maybe she hadn't quite grasped the enormity of what she intended to do but she didn't care. The only thought occupying her mind was that want to follow Mark into the darkness and to deepen their relationship. And this was only possible if she could gain a deeper understanding what it was he saw in his subjects. What he sought to bring out in them. There was an irresistible power he held over her and she wanted to impress him and become the kind of photographer, he always believed she could be.

“There's a crack in that perfect façade that is Victoria Maribeth Chase. She's trying to cover it beneath all that fake confidence and arrogance. A fear to be insignificant, to disappear in obscurity. I would try to capture what is hiding beneath that exterior... her pure expression.” Max replied and felt a sudden shiver run down her spine. The way he looked at her, his eyes were boring into her soul. It was intense. A dark novae was glinting in those black depths now.

“An... interesting choice.” Mark breathed and stroked his bearded chin, a look of quiet contemplation and also admiration on his face.

Max failed to keep the emotion out of her voice, murmuring in an agitated tone. “I still can't believe this happened. It's totally crazy. And she even had the gall to accuse you of favoring me over her.”

'It's no surprise Victoria seemed so sure she'd win today. She knew it beforehand. No wonder her little thank you speech sounded like some memorized recital.' Max recalled in her thoughts and attempted to shift her curiosity toward another important matter.

“So...” She paused for a few seconds and gave him a curious look. “If Victoria wasn't your first choice for the Everyday Heroes contest, then who...”

Her voice trailed off and he tilted his head slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “It would have been you, Max. And no, I didn't choose your entry because we're together and I can assure you I wasn't biased either. Honestly, your photo was the best out of all submissions. Every professor who possesses even an inkling of photography knowledge would have seen that.”

Understanding dawned on her face. “So that's how you came up with this idea to send our entries to this other contest in New York.”

He watched her with quiet amusement as he explained further. “Yes, though I must confess I took a gamble there. It was a close call and also a last minute decision to enter your submissions there. The dead line was just around the corner and unfortunately, you never know what goes on inside the minds of a jury, what their preferences and interpretations are or which image resonates with them on a deeper level. I'm relieved they came to the same conclusion as me. Your photo moves people's hearts, it makes you feel something. And this is essentially what we photographers strive to do... to tell a story and invoke a reaction in our audience.”

She beamed at him and blushed profoundly as she heard his thoughts, shy and so endearing to his eyes. “Wowsers, this is kinda overwhelming.”

“I hope this helps you to realize that you have a gift, Max. You're an amazing artist. You have all the skills you need at your disposal and an eye to realize your vision. Don't doubt yourself. I'm certain you're at the beginning of a great career if you start believing in what you do. As I've told you before, the only one stopping you from achieving greatness is yourself.” He reminded her in a gentle tone, looking fixedly at her face.

Max held her hands up in defeat, saying with a nervous laugh under her breath. “I know, okay? It's difficult but I'm trying.”

The sunlight in the classroom was sharp, illuminating the dust specks between them like glittering diamond dust. Mark took her warm hand in his and remarked. “Says the woman who encouraged me to publish my other work.”

With that he took out a folded flyer out of his inner jacket pocket and gave it to her. “This is all thanks to you, Max.”

Her eyes roamed over the beautifully designed flyer which showed a few excerpts from his new photography book collection. The text was short and precise. 'Re-Collection. Our newest exhibition at the Guardino gallery. Discover a new world of Mark Jefferson's photography. Experience images never seen before and explore the versatility of one of the world's most famous fashion photographers of the 90s era.'

Max shifted her weight from one foot to the other and exclaimed enthusiastically. “This is so awesome, Mark. And it's the Guardino gallery, right? The one where we met in Portland?”

He nodded in response. “Yes, it's that one. I had to pull some strings here and there. It was actually my friend Alessandro who could organize the gallery space at such short notice. My agent Bobby is still busy to do some marketing for the Re-Collection photobook compilation, so starting this exhibition so soon might help in that regard. A private viewing actually takes place this evening and I wanted to ask if you'd like to see it too.”

“Oh gosh, I can't wait to go there. Seriously, you don't even have to ask me, I love to get a chance to see more of your work. I absolutely adore your photography.” Max knew she probably sounded like a silly fangirl right now but she couldn't help it. The prospect alone to spend an evening together with Mark made her feel more than just excited. At least in Portland they didn't have to hide from prying eyes like here at Blackwell Academy where one wrong step could cause a lot of problems, especially for him.

A smile spread across his features and he held a single finger to his lips, winking at her. “Excellent, that means we have another date then, don't we?”

His hands settled around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Both held the moment as long as they could, enjoying the feel of the other in their warm embrace. The world was suspended in this moment, as if coming to a standstill.

Oh, how he yearned to kiss her right here in this classroom in open daylight. However, doing so would be foolish. They could be discovered and lose what they have. That was why Mark chose to cherish this one intimate moment with her although it almost teared his composure apart, he felt it all boiling at once inside him. His keen eyes watched the cadence of her breath in her neck with a strange fascination before his gaze wandered over her face, admiring the contrast of her brown hair and fair skin. Unable to resist his beautiful muse any longer he let the tip of his nose barely touch the curve of her neck, inhaling her sweet strawberry and coconut scent, trying to commit it all to memory.

“I've missed you, Maxine. “ He whispered into the shell of her ear and she instinctively leaned into his touch, her head resting on his shoulder as she murmured with longing in her voice. “And I missed you.”

When they arrived in Portland it was already late in the evening. A quick glance at her wrist watch confirmed her suspicion, it was almost 8 pm. Although it had been a long drive, Max didn't feel tired or exhausted at all. On the contrary, her excitement was enough to keep her awake and Mark's close proximity in the car made her feel incredibly warm inside. Once they were out in the chill night air, Mark took her hand and kissed its back, his lips gently touching her warm skin.

He took a step back and drank her sight in. Both of them had chosen a darker color pallet tonight. While he wore a black suit with a dark blue shirt, Max had selected a black, mid-length dress, perfectly matching his elegant attire.

Mark couldn't get enough of his beautiful muse and commented. “Oh Max, you look stunning tonight.”

Hearing his compliment she could feel her cheeks burning up at once and nodded shyly. “So do you. Are you ready?”

He offered her his arm in return. “Yes, let's go.”

The moment they entered the Guardino gallery Max was in sheer awe how breathtaking it all was. And Mark immediately noticed how she squeezed his hand tighter, seemingly overwhelmed by this new experience.

“Soon this will be your stage, but on a much grander scale.” He told his student and skillfully guided her through the entrance area where he had to pause several times, shaking hands, signing books and giving autographs.

It felt so natural and almost easy how her teacher navigated through the crowd and enthralled his guests by sharing stories about his career and his own photography. He was in his element now. This was his world and Mark acted as if he had never left the spotlight. The popular artist made sure to engage with everyone, being perfectly aware of the charm he exuded so effortlessly.

Max, on the other hand, couldn't help but cling to his presence, feeling she wasn't cut out for this kind of life. To stand in the limelight like that and have everyone's attention. Yet she wanted to change and learn from him. In contrast to Mark she was an introvert and still had to gain that confidence to take center stage like he did. After all, everybody started out as a nobody. Who had ever heard of the name Mark Jefferson before the 90s? Over the time his photography had become an object of interest and discussion. Not only that, there were even a number of galleries in the US where books and documentaries about his photography were being sold, full of his chiaroscuro style content.

It became clear to her that Mark's talents and achievements as an artist were unparalleled. Just seeing his other work displayed here at the exhibition showed her that her mentor clearly outshone his student with his dazzling brilliance and creativity. With his fame and reputation all doors to continue his career were still open to him and yet he chose to give it all up for Max. This moment made her truly realize what this gift really meant. That he was willing to take a step back to aid her in her career. Doing this only for her.

Mark kept glancing around the entrance gate as if he were searching for someone. Finally, his eyes lit up and he said to Max in a jolly tone. “Ah, look, there they are.”

She followed his gaze and spotted a beautiful couple entering the gallery. The face of the man seemed vaguely familiar and soon recognition dawned on her face when she realized it was none other than Alessandro Neri, Mark's long-time friend. His bold, flamboyant attire was undoubtedly setting him apart from the rest of the guests. Styling himself in a golden silk shirt and black trousers Mr. Neri exuded an air of confidence and royalty.

'Then this woman must be his wife Elea. Oh my God, she's so beautiful.' Max thought and was frankly astonished.

The tall woman had lightly tanned skin and her glossy waves of long black hair flowed down her back like water. She wore a sexy, low-cut, dark red gown with barely any back with a striking pair of heels. All things considered, Elea was incredibly attractive, no question about it.

In appearance alone they made a remarkable couple, the slender woman with her handsome facial features and the tall man with the wild look of a matador or an extravagant artist.

Alessandro's lively eyes lit up with delight when they spotted his old friend and they approached the other pair with fast steps.

It was an italian custom to give air kisses on both cheeks which they called the il bacetto. So they greeted each other with a kiss on the left and then the right cheek. When it was finally Mark's turn Max couldn't help but register a strangeness between Mark and Mrs. Neri. Their shared kisses were very slow and seemed a bit awkward. Or maybe it was just her imagination.

They exchanged a few pleasantries before turning their conversation to the topic of the exhibition and Alessandro patted his friend's shoulder cheerfully. “Feels good to be back, eh? I know you've missed this, amico mio.”

Mark looked around and gestured toward his various photography prints displayed on the white walls. “Well, this is a nice distraction from my daily life as a teacher.”

His artist friend grinned at him and pondered. “Maybe this is the second spring of your career.”

“Maybe. But for now I'm content to support my students to start their own career, like Max here. She won an award at the Feature Shoot Emerging Photography Awards in New York.” Mark told them, obvious pride in his soft voice now.

“Incredibile! Congratulazione, Max.” Alessandro and Elea both shook her hands and Max could feel her face becoming as red as a tomato again.

To Mark it had been a pleasant surprise to encounter Alessandro's wife here. Of course, his friend had left his request unanswered if Elea would accompany him or not.

'You can't hide her from me for eternity, my friend.' He thought, all his attention fixed on her. Time didn't change her much, this woman was still as beautiful as he remembered her. Almost as captivating as in his monochrome images, her youth and grace forever captured in his photos.

Mark ran a hand through his brown hair and gave Elea a friendly smile, asking her. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

“More than 11 years, I think. You know, Alessandro loves to call you the devil in disguise.” The other woman said, exchanging a smile with her husband.

Mark laughed, shrugging it off. “He has such a thing for theatrics, doesn't he?”

Then he turned to his artist friend, his eyes stern behind his glasses as he spoke softly. “You've kept her away from me for such a long time, Alessandro. Surely, you don't mind me abducting your lovely wife for a moment. There is something I'd like to show her.”

Max's ears instantly perked up at the word abducting. The flash of a vivid image of the dark room appearing in her mind. Was this a little joke, perhaps? Mark seemed to enjoy the double meaning greatly, giving her a suggestive wink.

Elea's cheeks flushed a beautiful crimson upon hearing his suggestion and gave Alessandro a pleading look, her warm smile melting away his resistance like the sun melting the snow.

He didn't seem to be too happy about the idea to leave his wife alone with Mark but finally conceded, with a silent warning swinging in his rich, deep voice. “Of course, Mark. But no flirting and sweet words. She's my la luce dei miei occhi, understand?”

“The light of your eyes? Very poetic, my friend.” Mark noted and offered Elea his hand. She seemed nervous at first and hesitated a brief second before accepting it.

Max was surprised at what she felt in her own heart. Somehow she felt slightly jealous of Elea, a pretty woman who could seize hold of Mark's consciousness like this and not let go.

Instinctively the young girl bit her lower lip as she watched them leave with a lump stuck in her throat. Compared to someone like Elea she was just average. All of a sudden she felt unbelievably worthless and mediocre. This woman looked so stunning, almost unworldly so. Tall and attractive with a slender body, high cheekbones, full lips and lovely facial features. And she and Mark looked so perfect together, as if they were made for each other, visually and also intellectually.

They rounded a corner and vanished from her field of vision completely. Mr. Neri must have sensed her agitation and tried to lighten the mood. “Don't worry, Max. Mark may be a wolf in sheep's clothing but he would never do anything inappropriate. Let them be, they need this, they need that moment to themselves.”

“Why?” She wanted to know and hoped she didn't overreact here, shaking her head to banish the unwanted and forbidden images out of her mind.

“It's difficult to explain, Max. I'd say there's something special going on between those two, between a photographer and his subject. In your life there will only be a few models who leave a lasting impression on you and my Elea must have been one of them. When I met Mark back in the day he was already a star photographer. He had all the fame and glory anyone of us could only dream of. His career had reached its peak. Every renowned fashion designer in the world, be it big names like Gucci, Versace, Chanel or Prada... they all wanted to hire him. And although Mark possessed everything he wanted, he seemed upset and disappointed. As if something profound was missing in his life. To me it seemed like he was standing at a crossroads in the past, trapped in a certain artistic style he couldn't get out of. I don't know what it was that Elea gave him during their session. Probably a spark of inspiration, a new idea to rekindle that passionate flame inside of him.” Alessandro explained thoughtfully with his fingers pinching his chin and then he heaved a deep sigh. “We artists are strange folks, aren't we?”

She smiled at that and responded with an awkward nod, while being fascinated at the same time to hear more about Mark's past. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Mark reveres you, you know? Whenever my friend calls me, he only talks about you, Max. I think he wants you to be like him, that you follow his lead. Not necessarily as a fashion photographer but as an artist who has her own vision.” There was genuine admiration in Alessandro's voice and it drew a nervous laugh from Max.

The young student frowned, replying with uncertainty in her tone. “I don't know if I can ever become as good as he is.”

A pensive light shimmered in his black eyes as he assured her. “Mark believes you're meant to soar high above and beyond him. He told me you're blessed with an abundance of natural talent and that you show a wealth of ability in everything you put your mind to. You just need to believe in yourself. Though I'm sure this is something you already heard from him a lot of times.”

Max chuckled at that. “Uh, yeah, a lot of times, actually.”

“Come on, let's enjoy ourselves and get something delicious to eat. I'm starving here.” Mr. Neri proposed and quickly ushered her toward the buffet where he tossed a piece of caviar in his mouth.

“Good idea, I really need a place to sit. My feet are killing me.” Max murmured and secretly hoped that this meeting between Mark and Elea wouldn't take too long.

Mark tested the waters and gave the small of her back a gentle touch, his ever so observant eyes awaiting her reaction. In response Elea leaned a bit into him and he couldn't help but hide a smile that dared to come across his lips. To his surprise she didn't even flinch at the unexpected physical contact which meant, he still held that sway over her.

“It feels like a lifetime ago... the last time we met...” He began and looked at her in profile, seeing the little dots of lights dancing in her black eyes like sparkles of sunshine. Unsorted emotions swirled in his chest as he went on. “And I say this as I've already told you before, Alessandro is indeed a lucky man to have you in his life.”

Elea blushed profoundly and added in an amused tone. “And you are still as charming as ever, Signore Mark Jefferson.”

He chuckled lightly. “Am I?”

She stared up at him, her voice about to spill over with curiosity. “Si. I'm curious though, what is it you want to show me?”

“Our fates are intertwined, my dear. Do you recall our memorable session at your casa back in Milano?” Mark wanted to know, perfectly reeling in the slender thread of memory.

There was a brief silence. Then Elea pursed her lips to speak, her breath becoming noticeably faster now. “This session... yes. How could I ever forget that?”

Mark lifted her chin up with a single finger so that he could stare into the dark depths of her eyes, whispering very softly. “I will never forget our kiss in the italian summer sun, your lips so sweet. The feeling alone... it was intoxicating.” For a fleeting second he toyed with the idea to steal another kiss from her and discarded this foolish notion quickly. His heart belonged to Max now. Only her.

Before she could even react to his words they were interrupted by excited whispers which could be heard around them. Visitors pointed at them and spoke in hushed voices. “Look, it's Mark Jefferson. And that portrait... it's her.”

Her eyes found her own black and white portrait hanging on the white wall. Mark followed her gaze and felt a rare elevation run up his spine. It was accompanied by a kind of shudder but the photographer managed to check the enthusiasm inside him and reorient his attention by force as he whispered, awe in his smooth voice. “Look at you, Elea. Total gallery bait.”

His scrutinizing eyes admired the portrait of his noir beauty. Her half-lidded eyes were staring into his lens with that drowsy look on her face. The alcohol had not taken her into oblivion yet, she had still retained that wonderful expression of being barely conscious here. Her mouth had been slightly open, complimenting that dreamy look on her features. And her black hair had been like dark ink, spilling around her face like charcoal tendrils.

The woman was caught completely off guard by this photo and tried to turn her face away from the spectators, slightly embarrassed. “I-I thought you'd keep these photos in your private collection, that you didn't intend to release them to the public eye.”

“Yes, I promised you that. Don't worry, I chose only this photo from our session, nothing more. You see, what I wanted to show you is your enrapturing essence here. An essence so profound and soulful which can't be contained in one single picture. What I'm asking is this...” He made a purposeful pause and asked the question that had been nagging at his mind for a long time now. “Would you be willing to have another session with me?”

Mark seldom harbored any regrets of the past. His dreams had ended a long time ago and his focus had shifted to indulge in his own selfish desires to carve his own private art niche. But if he would have to name one single regret, it would be a second chance to have another session with Elea again. To have her in a controlled studio environment where he could manipulate the shadows to his liking. Where he could draw out an even stronger honest expression through the usage of his special sedatives. A delicious cocktail far more potent than wine and beer.

Elea was his first after all and she deserved to be in his camera eye again. The subject who gave him that idea to capture a different kind of model. The first to awaken his obsession with moments of tainted innocence. His first would always have a special place inside his artist's heart. More than anyone else of his red binder subjects who followed after her. His collection of corrupted purity would never be complete without her. Elea was the Alpha and Max was the Omega. The beginning and the end. Past and present. His fingers were all pins and needles now, the urge to have her in his dark room rising.

“Another session?” Elea echoed, taken aback by his suggestion. “You're still a perfectionist. Are you never content with your work, Mark?”

“This is only the case if one of my works is still unfinished, incomplete. Grant me this one wish, Elea. And I promise you I shall never bother Alessandro or you again.” His words betrayed nothing of the complex interactions of his thoughts and his undulating emotions or how much he needed this kind of closure. Back in the day their session had taken place at Elea's home where he had been at the mercy of natural sunlight and to him lighting had always been a crucial aspect of his photography.

Furthermore, he wanted to have her in a place of his own choosing where his preferred studio setup would offer him so many new possibilities. Mark felt that strong yearning to pose and frame her his way. This time it would be his session where he wouldn't need to take Elea's feelings into consideration. After it's done she wouldn't remember any of this anyway.

She was about to say more but swallowed her words, sinking into thought again. Mark hoped she would agree to do this. He felt an exquisite excitement at the prospect of framing her again in his vision. Coexisting with this emotion was a genuine elation. A clear proof of just how far he had come and how much further he could take this.

Elea sighed, shaking her head and muttering. “You never give up, don't you?”

Mark gave her a smug smirk. “Giving up isn't a part of my vocabulary, mia bella.”

“But you can't reproduce the magic of one single moment in time.” She pointed out, apparently having doubts about a second session in her mind.

“Oh, I can. And I will.” Mark assured her and fixed his cold gaze on her, choosing his next words carefully as he tried to persuade her. “You have to admit to yourself, you want this as much as I do. Give in to that yearning and only then will you experience what you felt at our last session.”

The temptation was powerful, the words tension and nervousness were written all over her face. He knew exactly which single moment occupied her thoughts now, being aware what particular effect it would have on her and using it to his advantage.

“You're the only man who can set a woman's body completely on fire... consuming me with one single kiss.” Elea whispered, her dark eyes not leaving his.

In response he cupped her cheek tenderly and stared deeply into her eyes which were shining like beautiful black opals. “No, not every woman, Elea. Only those who are special, one of a kind... like you.”