Angel Of A Morning

Chapter Eleven: Psychosocial Whirlpool

"Chloe..." Max groaned. 

"Chloe, right. Yeah, I'm sorry that I killed her... that Nathan killed her - in self-defence. But she had a troubled history like most Arcadia Bay drop-outs. Nobody will be surprised, or care. Though I promise, people will care when you die soon, Max. I wasn't lying when I said you had a gift. Okay. Now this looks good. Maybe just a few more close-ups. Max, please do not move so much. I need you posed and framed my way! Maybe a new dosage will calm you down." 

"No... no, no." 

Mr Jefferson placed his expensive camera on a tray he pulled towards the end of Max's body whilst he prepared a dosage to inject her with. His carelessness in leaving the syringe capsule cost him greatly when Max used the strength in her leg to kick the trolley, thus resulting in the folder filled with completed photographs of Mr Jefferson's. As a result, Mr Jefferson injected her with the dosage which snapped Max out of that memory. 

Upon returning to reality, Max at the same time to hear Victoria Chase waking up from her being drugged multiple times so that Mr Jefferson could secure photographs of the illustrious popular schoolgirl. With Victoria being conscious enough to converse with her, Max explained the danger they were in and how Mr Jefferson was the true threat, not Nathan. Using another photograph to capture her previous subconscious, Max entered that photographic reality. 

While Max was rendered into slumber so that her subconsciousness could toy with reality, Mr Jefferson had been away for some time, only to walk in on Victoria crying for help. The short-haired blonde's heart raced when Mr Jefferson entered the room. His presence alone terrified her as his twisted thoughts only gave her more reason to panic that her life was about to end. 

"I must admit... you're not exactly my type of girl, Victoria," said Mr Jefferson. "But I do admire your courage and your dedication to getting what you want. And now you have it." 

"Why... Why are you doing this?" Victoria sobbed. 

Mr Jefferson chuckled evilly. "Simply put, I'm obsessed with the idea of capturing that moment: innocence evolves into corruption. That shift from black to white to grey, and beyond. Most models are cynical. They lose that naiveté. However, some Blackwell students carry their hope and optimism with them like... an aura. And those lucky few become my models; my subjects." 

"You're a madman! Let me go! Where's Nathan?!" 

"Sorry, Victoria. I may need you for a few more... Oh, oh... oh wait, no. Actually... I have something else planned for you." 

Tears streamed down Victoria's face as she fought against the tape around her wrists and ankles when Mr Jefferson administered a large dosage into his syringe. His footsteps clapped against the tiles as he approached Victoria and injected said dosage into her neck. Kneeling down, Mr Jefferson placed his index and middle finger on her neck and focused on her pulse until there was none. 

Once Mr Jefferson confirmed that there was no pulse, he grabbed Victoria by her legs and dragged her out of the room in order to dispose of the body while Max remained unconscious in the centre chair. Upon his return, he proceeded to burn all of Max's photos and her diary some time before she woke up. The scent of burning paper had dissipated from the air when she woke up and questioned her current predicament after believing she'd altered reality once again. 

In shock of her repetitive situation, Max fought against her restraints and noticed that Mr Jefferson was standing in front of her, talking to somebody who had been zoned out until that moment. A strange feeling tickled her philtrum that he also noticed and took a moment of brief kindness to wipe her philtrum before he produced a glass of water and fed it to her before he added half a loaf of bread.