The RED Butterfly Effect (Markiplier Life Is Strange FanFiction.)

Bloody Hell!

"Blow a kiss, fire a gun, all we need is somebody to lean on..."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Bloody Hell!

Principal Wells yawned loudly before stretching as much as he could in the small and confined seat. He listened to the man speaking in the speakers and shook his head. Chuckling, he rubbed his bald head and looking past me out the window.
"Oh, I don't think so. I'm hoping these airline seats get smaller so I won't have to fly at all anymore." I chuckled a little, meeting his eyes and giving me a small smile.
"How did you sleep?"
"Hope I wasn't snoring out loud, Max."
"Just a bit." He gives an amused smile before his grin falls into something more somber. He squeezes his hands together and looks down at his feet.
"It's been a tough week at Blackwell, so I hope you'll forgive me. Between Mr. Jefferson and the Prescotts, things have been..hectic, to say the least."
"I totally get it, Principal Wells."
"That's a smart way of telling me to stop whining. We are proud of you for representing Blackwell at the "Everyday Heroes" contest. I know I'm not exactly the guide you wanted in San Fransisco. But we all want you to have a great experience here."
"I already am, and we're not even there." Our conversation ended as I stared back out the window. The sun was blinding and I could just barely see a town coming into vision over the clouds. I started to smile when my head was pricked with pain. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. I was surprised to feel something running down my nose. I wiped under my nose to find blood on my fingertips. Christ! Another nosebleed!? I sat back into the seat, my eyebrows pulled together in worry.

Max, you're most just screwing around with time..

We arrived at the gallery, my stomach churning. Not out of fear, but excitement. We stood there inside, my eyes taking in everything. There were people everywhere, the sound of quiet chatter in the air. Pictures were hung on the walls, one of them hopefully being mine. I walked up to Wells, tapping his shoulder.
"San Fransisco is so cool..and this gallery is huge." I said in awe, taking in row after row is beautiful pictures. Wells nodded, motioning towards the food instead.
"So is the buffet. If an event skimps on the food, you know it's a bad event."
"As long as I don't have to eat any caviar."
"This is your day, Max. You can do whatever you want. I hope you take advantage of your status and talk to as many influential people here as possible. Work the room."
    "I don't know. I feel so weird, like I'm a little kid hanging with the adults."
    "Max, after this week you are certainly not a little kid anymore. In fact, you're a noteworthy adult being honored by your peers. Now, you have to start acting like the photographer you want to be. Hell, I wanted to be in charge of a big school someday, so I started taking charge of things when I was young. Ask my poor classmates. Max, I'm going to eat up that caviar so you don't have to. Better get in there and start schmoozing."
    I watched Wells walk away towards the buffet table, my heart racing. My hands were sweaty so I clenched them tightly, gritting my teeth and trying to make my stomach storm churning.
    "Come on, Max. After everything that's happened, this should be the least scary thing you've ever done." After a couple deep breaths, I took a few steps towards the wall with names written on it. A smile was painted on my lips as my eyes skimmed over my own name placed against all the other winners. I walked around, hearing everyone speak about the different pictures on the wall.
    It was surreal listening to their conversations, almost too eager to pitch into some. My eyes glanced over all the different frames on the walls, my excitement growing the more I walked down the halls. I softly gasped as I saw my entry on the wall. There was already a few people standing in front it. Eager to hear what they had to say, I started to make my way over. I was abruptly stopped by a man in a gray suit with slicked black hair.
    "Hi, excuse me. You're Max Caulfield, right?"
    "Um..yeah. Yes." On that note, he stuck his hand out and gently shook my hand.
    "Sorry to bother you, but my name is Danny Lee and I'm with the Berkeley People's Herald. I edit their art section and I totally dig your work. Now I know the whole "ironic selfie" thing is kinda played out, but there's something timeless about your images. So, id love to set up an appointment or interview with you when you get a chance. Here's my card..so great talking with you, Max." I stood there shocked before grabbing the card and nodding at him with my mouth slightly dropped open.
    "You too, Danny." I tried to say confidently, even thought my mouth was try and I was shaking like a leaf. He stepped away and left me be as he walked past me towards another group of people. I stepped behind the three that were standing in front of my photo, my teeth biting my lower lip. I stepped forward, looking over my picture in detail. I could feel the three eyes boring into my back as I sheepishly turned to them.
    "Hey, and there she is to save the day." A lady said, smiling gently at me.
    "Hi." I said, smiling back at her. They all turned back to the photo, all of us admiring it once again. You did it, Max..you're a real artist. At least for today. I stood there, smiling like a doofus until another sharp pain stabbed the crown of my head. I let out a small groan, feeling my nose start to throb. I hunched over, covering my face with my hands as I staggered backwards.
    Blood smeared onto the palm of my hands as I groaned again. Flashes blinded me behind my eyelids and suddenly I could feel wind swirling around me. The room became dark and cold and suddenly I knew I wasn't in the art gallery anymore. The wind was sharp and strong all around me, rain beating down on my skin in almost a painful rhythm. The wind roared like a monster awaiting to devour its prey.