Cold.

Cold, wet, and windy.

That was all I felt as I flickered my eyes open. It was raining so hard, and having my face in the dirt did not improve things. "Where am I?" I mumbled to myself as I shakily got up. I stumbled a little, but managed to get to my feet. It was rather difficult to see, but my vision soon cleared up. Before me, I saw a forest path uphill. As I stared up said path, I vaguely saw a bright, almost blinding, light flash in and out of existence. "The lighthouse!" I exclaimed in realisation, though I barely heard my own voice over the thunder and wind.

Nonetheless, I quickly chose my next course of action.

I slowly made my way towards the lighthouse. It was really difficult, walking through the biting wind and pouring rain, but I managed, slowly but surely. I was shivering like a cell phone on vibrate, and I had more than a few injuries from small, flying debris, but I eventually got to the lighthouse. What I saw made my blood run cold. Well, colder than it already was.

A tornado.

And no, this is not the kind of tornado one would usually see in Texas, no. This was a mother-fucker tornado, tall, and almost uniformly thick across its entire length. It looked more like a spinning ball of wind headed towards the town than a tornado. If it hit, there would be so few survivors, if any at all.

Suddenly, a loud 'bang' caught my attention. Lightning. I just barely turned my head in time to see the bolt break off a huge piece of the lighthouse. It was falling right towards me!

"Fuck!" I yelled, bracing for the impact, and the death that would come with it.

My eyes shot open, cold sweat running down my forehead as I found myself in my photography class, my teacher, one Mr Mark Jefferson, giving his lecture. Something about Alfred Hitchcock. "What the fuck?" I asked myself, looking around. A long haired blond bimbo in the class, Taylor I think, threw a paper ball at my friend, Kate Marsh, a dirty blond haired girl, her hair tied into a bun. She wore a simple grey skirt, white shirt, and black jacket. Queen Bitch of Blackwell, Victoria Chase, a blond short haired girl with needlessly expensive clothing, quickly stopped her phone from ringing.

I let out a quiet sigh and ran my hand through my shoulder length black hair, dyed of course. I'm naturally blond actually. I also added in a few dark crimson streaks, to make it look cool. My clothes were mostly plain. Black jeans, black walking shoes, a long sleeved black shirt with a white wolf on the back. The only thing that was really unusual about my clothing was my dark red leather jacket, which hung over my chair at the moment.

"OK, calm down Damon." I told myself, massaging my temples. "Whatever that was, it was far too real to be a dream." I quietly realized. The rain, the wind, the cold, it all felt too real. It couldn't have been a dream. Putting that aside for a moment, introductions. My name is Damon Azrail. I am 19 years old, and a student here at Blackwell Academy. I'm currently studying to be a photographer, coincidentally, like my teacher, Mr Jefferson. I've always loved taking pictures.

Not something you'd expect from an anti-social, gothic-nerd like myself, but people always surprise you.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kate with her head slumped, as if on the verge of tears. I heard about the viral video of her. Apparently she got wasted and made out with several guys at the last Vortex Club(popular pricks) party. I haven't watched it though, and I have no intention of doing so. Kate isn't like that. She was more than likely roofied, I'd wager.

As Mr Jefferson spoke, I spared a glance at my camera, one of those old instant cameras, and a photograph the was beside it; an image of me, laying on the ground, as if half conscious, with several other photographs in a checkerboard pattern across the floor, some facing up, some facing down. The lighting was rather low, intentionally, so you wouldn't suspect it was me at first. But, if you look closely, the half of my face that isn't covered by a shadow can easily be identified as myself. I let out a sigh.

"No way am I going to win a Photography Contest with this." I thought bitterly as I put the photograph down. As I did so however, I accidentally knocked my camera over. "Crap!" I cried out loud, quickly grabbing the camera, as well as the attention of everyone else in the room. As I grabbed the camera though, I accidentally activated it, taking a picture of myself.

"Drop your camera, Damon?" Mr Jefferson asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes sir, apologies." I said, my English accent prominent as I spoke. "This thing was expensive, I'd rather it not be smashed to pieces." I added as the camera printed the picture. "Got a nifty picture out of it though." I said holding the image up. It showed only half of my worried face, due to my hand covering the other half of the camera lens. "Nothing if not natural I suppose." I quipped.

"I suppose so." Mr Jefferson gave me an amused grin. "Now, I believe Damon has accidentally taken what is known today as a 'selfie.' A dumb word for such a wonderful photographic condition." He shook his head. I agree, if I'm being honest. "And Damon here, has a gift." He gave me an interested look before carrying on. "As you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800s. Your generation is not the first to use portraiture for… selfie-expression." He grinned. No one laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Might I suggest key cards, sir?" I asked with an amused smile. I was ignored, though I could see his lips twitch up in amusement.

"Anyway, the point remains that portraiture has always been an important part of photography, and art as a whole, for as long as it's been around." he turned his attention to me. "Since you clearly want to join the conversation Damon, could you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to first self portraits?" he asked.

"The Daguerreian Process, invented by Louis Daguerre, a French Painter. It gives portraits a sharp, reflective style not unlike that of a mirror." I gave a near perfect textbook answer. "It was extremely popular because it gave the subjects clear and defined features, particularly in the faces of said subjects." I added.

"Very good Damon." he gave a pleased smirk. "Very good indeed." I had to smirk as Victoria Chase glared at me. I'm guessing I gave an answer better than what she would have, which is a blow to her ego, as well as her standing in Jefferson's eyes. Seriously, she is the biggest brown-noser I have ever seen. Then the bell resounded through the school. "Alright guys, don't forget to submit a photo in the Everyday Heroes contest. I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art world. It's great exposure, and it could kickstart a career in photography." He told us as we all gathered our possessions. "So Stella, Alyssa, get it together. And Taylor, don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry. And yes Damon, I can see you pretending not to see me." Mr. Jefferson said as the students began to leave the class.

"And I tried so hard." I gave a sigh as I slipped my jacket on, making Mr Jefferson shake his head. With a light stretch, I made my way over to Kate's desk. "Alright there Kate?" I asked gently as she slowly packed her things into her backpack.

"Oh, hi Damon." She said with a depressed smile.

"You've been awfully quiet today." I told her.

"Just a lot on my mind." She said, slumping.

"You want to get some tea/coffee and talk?" I asked of her.

"Thanks for the offer, but no. I have a lot of homework to do." She told me.

"That's alright. Another time then?" I asked with a soft smile.

"That would be nice. Thank you Damon." She said with a smile, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. Now, I'm not a clueless teen with balls bluer than the sky; I can see quite clearly that Kate has a little crush on me. Unfortunately, whilst I do think she's cute, she's not really the kind of girl I would want to date. I don't really get along with the religious folk all that often, and Kate reminds me a little too much of my sister. Yeah, that would be weird.

"See you around." I said with a smile as I walked off. As I did, however, I saw Victoria talking to Jefferson, bending over to give him a view of her cleavage; classic seduction technique, albeit tame and often unsuccessful. "And to think, three weeks ago she was trying to get into MY pants." I thought with a roll of my eyes as I made for the door.

"Hold it right there Mr Azrail." Mr Jefferson's voice hit my ears as I grabbed the door handle. With a small sigh, I turned back and walked over to him. "There's no chance I'm going to let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in his entry." he told me expectantly.

"I appreciate the compliment sir, but I don't think I'll be entering." I told him with a slight shrug. "I can't seem to find a good photo for it." I told him.

"Why not?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Biding time? Waiting for the elusive 'right moment' to show itself?" He asked.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." I conceded.

"I don't recommend waiting too long Damon." he warned me. "John Lennon once said that 'Life is what happens-"

"-when you're busy making other plans.' Yes, I've heard that one." I cut him off with a small smirk.

"You are on fire today, Damon." Jefferson said with a satisfied smile. Victoria huffed in annoyance, glaring at me for stealing her thunder. Take that bitch!

"I'm an insomniac with a photographic memory sir." I said, tapping the side of my forehead. "Hence the class." I gestured around us, earning another amused smile from him.

"Well, credit where it's due I suppose." He said. "Go on now, I won't stop you." He told me. Nodding in response, I turned and left the room this time. I could feel Bitch-whore-ia's glare on my back as I left. Ignoring it, I popped my earphones in, plugged them into my phone, and started playing my Three Days Grace, Bon Jovi, and Black Veil Brides mix playlist. I gave a light sigh and headed for bathroom. I need some quite, and maybe a splash of water on my face to clear my head. As I walked, I saw several Missing Person posters. Rachel Amber, Blackwell's former most popular student, amongst the teachers and students. Arcadia Bay's golden child, from what I heard. She went missing around six months ago, before I arrived back in Arcadia Bay, so I never met her. She looks pretty though.

As I arrived at that bathroom, I was relieved to find out it was empty. I walked over to one of the basin and turned the tap, splashing some water on my face. I didn't pay any attention to the glasses and moustache drawn on the mirror. Childish nonsense. Students at this academy need to grow up, really. I let out a sigh and looked at the photo I had in the class, the one with my looking half conscious.

"Maybe I could enter it?" I thought hesitantly. I'm not one of those noobs that are too scared to enter a competition for fear of rejection. OK, that's a bit of a fib, maybe I am a little. However, I'm also hesitant because, well, is this really the picture to go with? As much as I hate the word, I don't think an over-glorified selfie will do well in any competition. With a sigh, I slipped the photo into my back pocket. "I still have time. Maybe something else will present itself." I thought to myself as I splashed one more bit of water on my face and turned the tap off.

As if answering a cue, a small, beautiful, blue butterfly flew in through the air vent. Poor little thing. However, it would make a good picture. "As one door closes, another opens." I thought with a small smile as I quickly pulled out my camera. The butterfly flew around a little bit, before landing on one of the basins. "Perfect." I thought, aiming the camera. As I took the shot, the image came out, showing the butterfly, and a reflection of it in the mirror, which I purposely caught in the photo. "Might need a scan, and a little editing, but that could work." I mused.

As i thought that, however, some burst in to the bathroom. I don't know why, but something told me to hide, so I did. Behind the stalls, at the very end of the bathroom. Thankfully our intruder didn't see me. When I peaked over to see who it was, I was so relieved that I hid. I'm not afraid of conflict, I am more than capable of handling myself in a fight if need be, but I'd rather not deal with the consequences of beating down on that guy; Nathan Prescott. Or, as I like to call him, Nathan Prick-cunt.

He's the son of Sean Prescott, and his family practically owns half the town. Because of this, he seems to be under the impression that he is superior to everyone else here. That he is the nobility to our peasantry. Really, he's just a rich snob kid. Like Victoria. I've heard rumors that they're sleeping together, which wouldn't surprise me if it was true. They are the co-leaders of the Vortex Club after all.

"It's cool, Nathan... Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three..." Nathan said, panting heavily. "Don't be scared... You fucking own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up... You're the boss..." He mumbled, splashing his face. Man, this guy is unstable.

Seconds later, another person entered the room, a girl this time. She had short blue hair, piercing blue eyes, and a slim build. She wore a dark blue beanie, and black jacket not unlike my red one, a white shirt with a skull on it, blue ripped jeans, black boots, and a necklace with three bullets hanging from it. She was quite pretty, if I'm being honest. Gorgeous actually. I'll admit I've always had a thing for biker and/or punk girls.

However, something about her seems familiar.

I know her…

"So what do you want?" Nathan spat at her.

"Hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness." The girl said, looking through each stall. And that right there, 'bidness,' is another word I hate.

"I have nothing for you." The rich boy replied darkly.

"Bull. You got hella cash." The girl shot back.

"That's my family, not me." Nathan corrected.

"Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid." The girl mocked him. Where do I know her from? "I know you've been pumping drugs and shit to kids 'round here." The bluenette got right up in Nathan's face, not giving a flying fuck about his personal space. "I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now..." She let that hang for a moment.

"This bird's not playing around." I thought with a small smirk.

"Leave them out of this Bitch!' Nathan growled angrily.

"I can tell everyone that Nathan Prescott is a little punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!" The girl jeered.

"You don't know who the fuck I am!" Prescott hollered, pulling out a gun. "Or who you're messing with!" The girl's expression quickly turned from mocking and angry to fearful and cautious. Trust me when I say I don't blame her. Having someone whip out a firearm and point it right at your face would be terrifying to anyone.

"Wh-Where'd you get that? What are you doing? C-Come on, put that thing down!" She stammered as Nathan pinned her to the door, his gun aiming right at her chest.

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm so fucking SICK of people trying to FUCKING CONTROL ME!"

"You're gonna get in more trouble for this than drugs!" The bluenette cried, struggling to break free of Nathan's grasp. His enraged grip was to strong for her though.

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, now would they!?" Nathan yelled in her face.

"Get that gun away from me, you PSYCHO!" She shouted as she finally managed push Nathan off of her. Unfortunately, Nathan accidentally fired, the bullet hitting the poor girl right in her stomach.

"NO!" I yelled mentally, my eyes wide in horror as I stood there, froze in terror. I just watched someone die. Someone just fucking died in front of me! My fist clenched so tight, I think my nails drew blood as my knuckles went white. Suddenly, everything around me slowed down. As the girl fell to the ground, it was like time suddenly went in slow motion. The same thing was happening as Nathan dropped the gun. "W-what?" I gasped.

Then…

Everything turned back.

OK, before anyone says anything, I know I should not be focussing on another story. I know, I really do, but I can't seem to focus on any one story at this very moment. My life coach suggested I chose a new story and focus on it until it's finished, which is why I chose Life is Strange. If I play my card, and words, right, I might be able to finish it about 100 000 words. Apparently, that will make focussing on other stories easier.

Another reason why I chose Life is Strange is because I wasn't totally satisfied with some of the choices one can make in the game. Take the incident with Kate and David. Why not snap a picture, and THEN defend the poor girl? Or, perhaps, consider the argument with David and Chloe. Why side with either of them? Why not say they're both acting like children?

Also, I REALLY don't like the ending(s). I mean, seriously. After all those choices, after all the work, after all Max and Chloe went through together, there's only two possible choices? Fuck that. I'mma make my own ending, and I'll tell ya'll now, it's gonna be awesome, and hella clever. XP

Onwards!