Disclaimer: This chapter contains elements of PTSD and sexual assault. Read at your own discretion.

Click.

Click.

Click.

It was that sound again. A sound, almost inherently, familiar to Max at this point. Reality had somehow become a distant blur, the soft clicking brought over a sense of calm over her. She reminisced the time she would spend hundreds of polaroids, in an attempt to capture the essence of her wonderful times with Chloe Price. Funny faces, wacky moments and new discoveries. It was as if their entire lives could be captured on film from a polaroid camera. There were no boundaries to their adventures; the only boundaries were themselves. Max's eyes watched as every shot of their distant childhood began playing in her mind.

But, how can that be? Her eyelids were still shut.

Max was awake, yet her eyelids were sealed shut. She dared not open her eyes. The clicking grew louder and clearer, and she realised it was not from her camera. The clicking was quick, a very stark contrast to her own camera. Her ears perked up, trying to absorb all the sounds that surrounded her. Behind the eerie silence, there was nothing else except for the clicking of a camera. Max's muscles tightened in fear. She had felt this all before. The feeling of vulnerability, the feeling of being exposed…

No. It can't be! This can't happen! I can't be-

Before she could complete her thought, Max's eyes slowly opened. A blinding light greeted her, as her eyes struggled to focus. Max squinted, before widening in horror as a DSLR camera came into view. It was literally shoved into Max's face, the incessant clicking growing louder in her left ear. As the camera drew away from her, it revealed the artist behind it. Max's heart sunk to the floor.

J-Jefferson?

Her heart was thumping out of her chest. A wave of fear and confusion began to envelop her. The Dark Room.

"This angle highlights your purity see? The slightly unconscious model is often the most open and honest... No vanity of posing, just… pure expression."

Jefferson's soothing voice brought chills down Max's spine. She struggled to fight back, at least do something. She didn't feel the tight grip of duct tape that used to bind her wrists, yet her body felt weak to do anything. Every ounce of energy seemed to have left her body.

She felt weak and helpless. And desperate.

"Oh, Christ… Look at that perfect face…"

No! NO! How can this happen? Why am I here?

As she lay on the cold white floor, she could see the back of the room being tainted in a recognizable orange filter, almost like a barrier of some sorts; It was as if she was back in the time when she would jump through a photo to an earlier time. Max craned her neck, trying to alleviate the stiffness in that area.

"Hold that stare there!" Mark growled, shoving her face back onto the white floor, "STAY. STILL."

Max could feel the shock pierce directly into her heart. Anger began pulsating through her veins. Nobody controls me. As Jefferson leaned the camera once more into her face, she twisted her neck, obscuring his view of her face and at the same time robbing him of another good shot of his subject.

"Oh Max, you FUCKED up my shot!" Mark recoiled in frustration, turning to his camera to delete the picture, "But, please don't worry. We have all the time in the world. For now."

"I have enough shots of you to last a lifetime." At that moment, Max's hairs stood on end.

Wait, that's not what he said? That's not what he said!

She looked back at Jefferson in a confused daze. This was not how it went down the last time. As Jefferson's camera clicked away, her eyes wandered to the orange-tinted barrier that lined the Dark Room.

It was moving - no, beating - no, MOVING almost, like it was alive. Max could feel things changing. Her mind shot back to the Price household earlier. Everything felt so different; Chloe, David and Joyce felt so different.

It's as if she had emerged in a new timeline.

Jefferson placed his camera on the table, popping the SD card out of its slot. He sauntered over to Max, waving the SD card in front of Max's eyes.

"Let's review the evidence, shall we?" Mark taunted, as he turned away and walked over to his desk, "I had a more fruitful session when you were pretty much in a daze earlier. But, like I said, I have you all to myself. And nobody will know of this."

It was at that moment that reality seemingly refocused fully into check. Max could hear the soft melody of a jazz song coming from the stereo as Jefferson sat hunched over his desk, looking through his new work on his computer.

Okay, he's busy now. It's time to recollect my thoughts. I'm in the Dark Room, Jefferson is here, and I'm tied up. How did I end up here? What happened to me?

I was just at Chloe's house, she kissed me and … that's all I remember.

Max's eyes darted from left to right. At that moment, reality seemed to freeze. Jefferson, who was busy inspecting his new work, grinder to halt. His eyes, unnervingly, stared intently at the computer screen, not blinking.

The room went dead silent, except for the ragged breathing coming from Max's mouth. A yelp escaped from Max as a thudding noise reverberated along the walls of the bunker; it was if someone was knocking on the metal door that lead inside the Dark Room.

"Wh-who's there?" Max cried out, "Please somebody help me!" Max grunted hard against her invisible bonds, but to no avail. Her ears perked up as she heard footsteps squeak against the pristine white floor. As if on cue, a figure strode into view, her legs crisscrossing one another. Max squinted her eyes, as if doing a double-take on the person standing in front of her.

Oh, fuck. It's-

"Hello, Max," Maxine said, smiling smugly, "Welcome to the Dark Room."

Max's heart momentarily stopped.

"It's been a long time since we had a chat, hopefully this place could provide a Community of Inquiry of sorts; you know, keeping me up to speed of what's been happening."

Maxine sat down cross-legged in front of Max, as Max's petrified eyes looked back. Although Max knew that Maxine was just a voice in the back of her mind, she was in Maxine's territory now. She cannot afford to underestimate Maxine's abilities in this 'realm'.

"Well-"

Before Max could even begin, she felt a finger pressed against her lips. Maxine hushed her as their eyes never broke contact.

"Don't worry, Max. I know everything."

Max's eyes widened in fear as she felt the cold finger pressed harder against her lips. It was as if it was real. But, how can that be? How can she feel anything if this was just a senseless void in her mind?

As Maxine began pacing around the darkroom observing the objects frozen in time, Max swallowed hard before finding her voice to ask her other-self.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Maxine turned to face her host, crossing her arms.

"The last time we met, I told you that the most important thing for you to do at that point was to heal, correct?"

Max nodded her head.

"Well, right now, by the looks of things, you seem pretty alright."

Max narrowed her eyebrows. She was anything but great.

"Not really," Max replied, shaking her head, "I can barely even walk without losing my balance."

Maxine chuckled, leaning closer into Max's ear.

"I know, I know," Maxine whispered slyly, before pulling away, "but your big head of yours seems to be thriving with activity. If it wasn't, we wouldn't even be here."

"What do you want? What did I do wrong this time? I thought I fixed everything?"

Maxine burst into laughter, her cackles echoing throughout the bunker.

"Oh, Max. What did you not do wrong? Every single step, ever since you decided that going back in time and messing with reality using this mysterious power at your fingertips, EVERYTHING has gone wrong. And that's. Your. Fault!" Maxine retorted, pointing at Max in frustration.

"Well, I don't care about what you have to say. You're just a voice in the back of my head! Even you can't deny that!" cried Max, "If things here in Arcadia Bay keep messing up, then I'll be there to use my powers for good. And fix everything."

Max noticed her reflection chuckling to herself, before pacing forward back to herself.

"I really don't think you get where I'm coming from, Max. The world isn't meant to be altered with. You aren't GOD. Meddling with the lives of other mortals however you see fit is not how you the world works, Max. Don't you remember? We hear about this concept all the time! Here in America, every individual is free to make their own decisions, to shape their own future, and curate their own destiny. If I'm being honest, I don't think anyone would want their lives bent around the needs and desires of some 18-year-old loser from Arcadia Bay."

"Fuck you." Max retorted, gritting her teeth.

"Aww did I make Jesus angry again," Maxine pouted sarcastically, "strike me with lightning, why don't you?"

"Gosh, it honestly sickens me how poor we were raised. Or more accurately, how well we were raised. The fact that you still think that nothing can stop you says something about us, and what kind of people we are. Think about it, we have been given every single advantage even before we got this stupid power. We are in one of the most elite art schools in the country, we have the comfort and shelter of our dorm room to rest everyday, arguably better than a good majority of the poor in Arcadia."

"And the fact that we are white. The fact that we don't face the same level of discrimination that other people face is already one of the greatest advantages anyone can face. Remember that football player that Chloe saw in Blackwell. Uhhh, Drew? Yeah, where do you think he would be without his football scholarship? Supporting a broken family with a young dependent and father who isn't financially stable. Compared to us? We aren't even skinny dipping into the pool of the harsh reality that is our society. We have loving parents, and we never have to worry about money problems.

"We are already lucky and privileged enough to begin with, and with this power?" Maxine sighed, "you are unstoppable."

Max stopped to ponder on Maxine's words. She never once stopped to consider the place she was in comparison to other people in Arcadia. The truckers, the fishermen, Joyce… These people all do backbreaking work to make a living for themselves and their families.

But what Maxine said was true. She really was unstoppable. Nothing could stand in her wa-

"Or so it may seem," Maxine interjected, "I may or may not have realised something."

Max's eyebrows furrowed in apprehension.

"Sometimes what people need is an experience to finally realise what kind of world they live in. Experience is the best teacher if I quoted that correctly. Sometimes people need to feel the brunt of their consequences."

Maxine stepped closer to Max, peering down ominously at herself. Max's eyes widened.

"Your powers may work in the material plane, Max. But THIS. THIS IS MY PLACE. I THRIVE IN HERE!"

Max's breathing quickened, fear reaching its paramount.

"I need not say anymore. Take it away, Mark!"

Maxine stepped back before snapping her fingers, disappearing from view.

Max could hear the faint squeak in the leather chair as she saw Jefferson got up from his seat. He sauntered over to her, closely eyeing the picture printouts he had in his grasp.

"Well, I must say. These are some spectacular images, Max. I guess I am closer to hammering home my dream than I thought." Jefferson remarked, turning the pictures towards her. Max sucked in a gasp of air; she couldn't see the picture of her that well due her clouding vision but she felt well beyond violated. She could only utter a groan of resistance, despite her desire to scream in anger and frustration.

"Oh so dearly close, Max! If only I could change something to make it all better…" Jefferson uttered, rotating the photographs in various angles. Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel her reflection watching her, smirking.

Karma is a bitch, isn't it Max? *SNAP*

Jefferson's pout evolved into a smile, a malicious one. He placed the photos back onto his desk and sauntered back towards her.

"There is also something you may or may not know about me, Max. I am all about capturing the innocence and purity of a human being. And my, oh, my, do you represent all those features. Right now, your purity is unmatched. You are my perfect muse."

I am not your muse. And I am most certainly NOT yours to own.

"But, you have so much potential, Max. So much of you that you have yet to show to the world! Why are you hiding what you have? I would be honoured to relieve you of that burden and show them what you are all about."

Max battled and fought to keep her conscious rooted to the present. She beseeched her body to fight against him. He has no control over me. He has no control over. Come on, Max, do something! As his slender fingers began to unburden her body of her clothes, the adrenaline began to kick in. She felt a mixture of helplessness and fear as he could not fight back. His icy fingers traced slowly on her bareback. Max whimpered slightly, yet could not do anything to stop it.

All this time, her powers could eliminate any obstacles that stood in her path. But now, she was at the mercy of other external forces, just like any other person.

"Good, you're finally free," Jefferson whispered into her ear. Max could feel the chilliness of the bunker, how vulnerable and exposed she felt. She felt humiliated, violated and at the mercy of another cruel human being. She trembled, yet forced out a whimper. She could feel a tear streaking down her cheek.

"Why are you crying, my dear?" Jefferson asked, "you are so, so beautiful."

But she didn't feel that. Not like that. Not that way. This was wrong. Unjust and Evil.

"W-why are… you doing this to me?"

Her ragged voice broke as she uttered the last syllable. She was not merely addressing the monster kneeling beside her, but the devil wearing her body as a suit. Either way, it elicited a chuckle from both parties.

"Oh, Max. You know my reason. I already told you." Jefferson replied, lifting Max's chin up close to his face, "I admire your freckles… your brown hair… your pale white skin… barely even a scar on you. Untouched, purity and innocence."

"But I don't feel that. You make… you make me feel like a pawn- an object for you to use!" Max muttered, in between sobs, "I don't feel pretty I am no model but I'm not what you want! Please! I don't want to do this!"

Max's throat tightened, and she took hiccups of breath between her ragged sobs.

"You deserve better than me! I am not your muse! I'm just… nothing." Max reeled at her admittance to her own words. Indeed, she could not fathom what redeeming qualities she shared with Jefferson's previous muses. She always considered herself to be a nobody; and that's what Max wanted to confine herself to be. She was not to be used by someone else, she wanted to be a passerby, a wallflower, someone who is out of the limelight but present.

She did not want her life to be just that.

She just wanted to chase her life dreams; to be featured in the galleries art districts in New York. She did not want her qualities to be reduced to the metrics of her own body.

And more importantly, she did not want her life to end at the hands of her sculptor.