" ...leave them out of this, bitch."

Max cowered silently behind the bathroom stall, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

"I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!"

Her heart was beseeching her mouth to open, to the find that voice to warn her to stop talking. That talking to him like that would only make matters worse. But no words came out.

"You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!"

Max hugged her knees, her ears perking up to the sound of the clicking of Nathan's gun.

"Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!"

It didn't come as a surprise to Max. In fact, it was all too familiar to her.

"Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"

A never-ending cycle of that fateful day, where she lost everything. Her confidence. Her best friend. And more importantly, herself.

"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs."

As the storm began to peak, she prayed for a miracle. She prayed for this ordeal to end.

"Nobody would ever miss your "punk ass" would they?"

She had a one. That miracle. That saving grace. But that doesn't matter.

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

It's all gone now.

"NO!"

Max jerked awake and into a seating position on her bed, panting heavily. She glanced around quickly, her eyes greeted by the morning sun piercing through the blinds of her windows. She wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead, and the small streaks of tears inching down her cheeks. She hugged herself tightly and wrapped herself in the comfort of her blanket.

Another dream.

Max stared into nothingness as the morning radio music buzzed softly in the background. Suddenly, she heard the ringtone coming from her computer. She got up, and shakily sauntered over to her desk. An email popped up in her inbox, one from Blackwell.

It was nice that Mom and Dad let me stay in Blackwell dorm. In fact, I'd rather them send me an email and berate me to come home over Principal fucking Wells.

Max clicked the email and a long string of text awaited her.

Dear Ms. Maxine Caulfield

I am writing in to inform that your week long grieving period as requested by your parents has concluded today. Should you require an additional period of absence from classes, a letter to my office with your parents' approval would be greatly appreciated. Unless approved, the Blackwell faculty expect you to return to campus and to your classes punctually and catch up on the missed content over the past week.

If troubled by any matters, feel free to approach a member of staff or consult me personally. You know where to find me.

We hope for your quick recovery and hope you continue pursuing your passions here in Blackwell Academy.

Yours sincerely

Raymond Wells

Principal, Blackwell Academy.

Blackwell awaits my return? Heh. What, there's gonna be a resounding welcome for me when I reach campus grounds? I doubt it.

Max crawled back into bed and concealed herself in her cocoon.

What's the point of going back to school? It's not like the new photography teacher will be as good Mr Jefferson.

If he really was great in the first place.

Max reached over and slid her hands in between the edge of her bed and the wall. Her hand fiddled around before producing a packet of cigarettes. She popped one out the box, lit it and let chemicals take over.

A trail of smoke swirled above her as Max exhaled the gas from her mouth. A comforting feeling washed over, as the cigarette hung loosely between her fingers.

I can see why Chloe always liked these things. It really helps take away the pain and stress you feel inside. Heh, funny. I remember 2 weeks adobo would nearly barf on the mere smell of smoke. Look what I have become.

A small smile formed on Max's face.

Like Chloe.

Max took one more long puff and laid back on her bed.

*Thud**Thud*

"Max!"

Max shot up and turned her body towards the door. It was Kate. Max could see her facial expression shift from one of concern to one of shock.

"Um, hey Kate."

"Jesus Christ Max, what happened to you? You're a mess," cried Kate, as she made her way closer to Max's bed, knocking over several cups of ramen noodles in the process.

"Max, what's that in your hand?" Kate asked, as she attempted to snatch her half-lit cigarette. Max attempted to conceal it under her bed, but Kate was just a tad bit quicker.

"It's nothing."

"Max, is this a cigarette? Have you been smoking? " asked Kate, a tinge of aggression hung around her words.

"Why are you even here? Why do you give a shit about what I do? Why, does it offend Jesus or something?" Max said, her words stinging like poison.

Max got up and walked over to the other side of the room, arms crossed. Kate sighed but remained seated on Max's bed.

"Principal Wells asked me to pay you a visit since you barely left your room in the past couple of days. Says that I am probably the best person to help you." Kate said, her eyes fixated on the still figure adjacent to her.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone."

"Max, look at me."

Kate words fell on deaf ears, Max stood motionless in front of her. It seemed that Kate's patience just ran out.

"Max! Come here," Kate stood up, grabbed Max by the wrists and tugged her to face the mirror, much to Max's surprise.

"What the fuck?" cried Max, as she struggled against Kate's vice-like grip.

"Max, look at yourself."

Max's eyes fell upon her reflection in the mirror and was slightly taken aback. Good god, what happened to me? Her hair was like a clown's wig, all fuzzy and out of place. Her clothes were stained with soft drinks and acne even began to form on her face. Max took a moment to take a whiff of herself, and was disgusted.

God, I smell like cigarettes and unwashed laundry. Kate was right. I'm a mess.

Max tilted her head downwards, in shame and disgust. Kate placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Look what this… thing you're going through is doing to you. This is not the Max Caulfield I know. The Max Caulfield I know prides in looking good, even if she doesn't have the best of fashions. So please… Max. Get yourself together."

Kate's words sunk into Max's head and settled. But part of her didn't want to accept that looking good is necessary.

There's no one to impress.

"I should probably get cleaned up," Max said, turning to Kate.

"Atta girl! I'll meet you in class later, and we can talk about… whatever's bothering you," Kate responded, her lips forming into a smile.

"Thanks, Kate," Max replied, as they two embraced.

"Ooh, and one more thing," Kate pulled out an envelope from her purse and handed it to Max, whom in turn accepted it gingerly.

"I found this on your doorstep and it remained there for quite a while, so I kept it for a while."

Max fiddled with the envelope. No name, no return address.

"Who's it from?" asked Max. Kate gave a slight shrug before closing the door behind her. Max walked back to her bed and sat down, the springs squeaking beneath.

She opened it.

And her hairs stood on end.

Thanks for killing Chloe.