Life Is Strange: After The Storm (Chasefield)(Discontinued)

4

I sit in class with the electric guitar and headphones plugged in, leaning back in the chair with my right foot on another chair. I begin to play Pieces by Sum 41 while my eyes stay locked on the punk that beat me two days ago. She broke my camera but I still have the photos on the memory card. I sigh and look to the strings as I play. Abigail taught me how to play without thinking too much about it. Just thinking of the song and playing it from the heart was her advice. No need to see where my fingers land if I already know how to play.

It's sort of sad playing this song but I feel like I can relate. The question is how or why. I look around the class, catching a few glares from others who question my scars, burns, scabs and all. They're judging me, I can see it in their eyes. Disgusting and hideous. Will never be beautiful like those photoshopped women in advertisement. I'll always be like this unless someone does a spell or whatever. It's not my fault I'm like this, I was beautiful once... Sorta. Max was beautiful but I never told her that. I talked shit about her looks and now I've got the punishment for it. I wish I told her the truth when we met because she might have helped me accept myself more... Maybe.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and being as curious as I am now, I take it out and read the message from an unknown number. I take off my headphones and place them aside and read what It. "Due to security reasons, I'd like you to reply with your first and last name and the town you lived in previously." They demanded without a good reason. I might as well say, I got nothing to lose at this point. "Victoria Chase. Arcadia Bay." I reply. I suddenly regret this because it could be someone getting personal details or something. "Victoria! You're alive! That's great news for me. I'm David Madsen, used to be the head of security at Blackwell. You know, the guy who was a total surveillance freak?"

I almost faint and scream with joy but instead the dam broke and I cry very much aloud for everyone to see. Not only were they startled by my sudden break but I was too and to save myself from any more embarrassment, I set the guitar on the table and dash out of the room to call him. "Victoria, you alright?" He asks, sounding just as overjoyed as I was. Crying too, I think. "Fuck, am I glad to hear your voice." My own trembled beyond my control. "You alright, Victoria?" The teach asks as she walks out of the room. "Shut up, Miss!" I exclaim. "David, please tell me we aren't the only survivors, please!" I beg, holding the phone with both hands. He doesn't answer, so I say again with more of a demanding tone. "I'm sorry, Victoria. I'm really sorry. For both our losses." He says softly.

I break a little more and collapse to my knees, trying my best to be quiet while the teacher attempts to comfort me. "Victoria, calm down before you take a heart attack. Deep breaths." She says. I try but it only got worse the more I thought. "Victoria, would you like me to come visit? I can come visit if you'd like. I'll be your mental support, in a way." He actually wants to visit. He wants to see me, how can I say no? "Yes, please. I just need to see you right now. Please, David." I say a moment later. At this point, I've probably alerted everyone within a fifty foot radius of my mental breakdown.

5:30 on the dot, I sit in the living room with Abigail by my side, silence filling the room with Mr Palmer sitting on the other side of the coffee table. Mrs Palmer sat in the hallway playing the piano, said it would distract me to some extent and it surprisingly did. Some slow jazz and blues. Only one classical piece. My right leg bounces uncontrollably, my hands are restless and my mind is beginning to overthinking like some sort of Max Caulfield brain when in a stressful situation relating to homework. It might not be David. He might die on the way here if it is. What if he's wanting to kill me? Maybe he wants to arrest me for surviving when I should've been executed by the storm.

"Hey, it'll be okay. Relax." Abigail says with a gentle voice. "I'm trying, Abby. I really am. I'm... I'm not even sure if he genuinely wants to see me or if he'll make it tonight." I whisper as I lean into her open arms. "He's a veteran, right? He knows what it's like to lose close ones, Victoria. He needs the comfort just as much as you do." Mr Palmer really does like lifting the mood. I like that about him. The door knocks several times and Mrs Palmer was up and answering the door in an instant. I just sit here, waiting to hear his voice but I only hear his boots walk in after being told where I was. I look to him, a pained smile with glossy eyes, arms open for me to throw myself in.

It felt great being in his arms, to cry on his shoulder while he treats me like a child because I still am. I'm an adult by age and body but I'm still just a big child. "I'm so glad he didn't kill you. He's been arrested and sentenced with restraining orders too. He won't hurt you anymore. He won't hurt anyone anymore." He says softly. "Thank you. Thank you so much." I cry. I assume he solved the case and stayed in the darkroom until the storm passed. "Can we get you anything to drink, David?" Mr Palmer asks. "Just some water, thanks. You been treating her nicely?" David asks as he rubs the back of my head.

"We've tried but Abigail seems to be doing that job for us. Ain't that right, Sweetheart?" "Yeah, I guess." She replied. "Good to hear. I spoke with her parents and know the situation. I'm happy knowing you took her in for the rest of the school year." I pull out of David's arms, taking a deep breath as I wipe my eyes. Abigail took me outside to allow the older adults to talk about something private, whatever that is. She took me to her small tree house in the backyard and it's barren with only a small sofa and a few crates. "Do you know the guy well?" She asks, sitting on the sofa. "Sorta. He tried finding out why students went missing and where they went. I'd rather not talk about that right now, okay?" I say quietly, leaning against the tree itself.

"Do you like the tree house? Dad built it when I was a tween. It was massive then but perspective changed. I always hung out here alone because people didn't find my vibes fun. I mean, Val did. Still does but she just wants to get in my pants." I look to a cup that sat on a shelf with a toppled bottle of beer, probably Val's when I think of it. "Maybe she just loves you. How long have you two known eachother?" I ask. "Three years. We met when she moved here on the other side of the back fence. Saw me hanging around the tree house and she asked if she could play Robin Hood or something with me. I accepted, of course."

That's a cute story, one I wish I had with someone. However, I made no real friends growing up. I thought I had real friends in Arcadia but I was wrong, clearly. Doesn't mean I don't miss them, though. "Sounds cute. Have you ever had any attraction towards her? Ever kissed her as a sort of experiment?" I ask. "No. Well, yeah but she just spontaneously done it and it scared me. So, I pushed her away." She explains briefly. I nod slowly, taking a broken mirror that sat on the floor and analysing myself with it. "Val's right. I'm a freak show. I guess I looked beautiful before the storm hit us." I graze my fingers across my right cheek to feel the softened texture of my skin.

Abigail stood up and took the mirror off me and sat it on the shelf and shifting her glasses that she got yesterday. Big round nerdy glasses that make her whole appearance pop. She then took my finger tips in her own, holding them below us, looking me in the eyes softly. "You're not a freak show, Tori." She whined quietly. "You're delusional then." I reply. "Then I'm glad to be delusional. Because what I see on the outside is what I see on the inside. Scars that'll never fade but they show how strong you are. A veteran would give you praise for this amount of scarring that you have all over. You survived a tornado and a serious loss. I'm surprised you haven't got PTSD from that." She sighs as she rests her head on my chest.

I don't want to tell anyone but I do have the disorder. I can't sleep most nights because all I see are the corpses or hear the screams of the people and the storm. Then there's the darkroom, watching him use Max and I as if we were some sort of doll or something, pointing the camera at us with that smirk I can't erase from my memory. The needles he used on us and the fear he caused Max. And after he dealt with my photos, he beat me and threw me in an alley at the edge of town, still numb from the drugs he used on me. He called me names that others called me but the way he said them made them sound true. "Victoria, you okay?" She asks, looking into my eyes again. I must've zoned out. "Yeah, I'm okay." I reply, wrapping my arms around her. The pain in my back grew again ever so slightly. The butterflies and warm feeling in my chest was more noticeable, though. I think I'm starting to take a liking to this loser.