Coming Home

The Choice

It's been 2 months since Chloe died. Two months since the fateful day she was shot and bled out on the cold tile of the girl's bathroom in Blackwell Academy. Two months since Max was forced to listen to her friend breathe her last breath.

And since then? Everything seems bleak. At least in Max's eyes. She didn't enjoy what she used to love anymore. She didn't enjoy the leaves changing color in the autumn weather. She didn't enjoy Halloween; the thick aura of death surrounding her. The thought of skeletons made Max think of Chloe's corpse, rotting away 8 feet below. The thought of zombies kept Max awake, whether from terrifying nightmares or of dizzying daydreams.

Max quickly lost her interest in photography. After all, how could she take pictures of a world so thoughtlessly cruel, that would destroy an entire town, everyone she had come to know and appreciate, to kill her best friend. Someone, who Max ordinarily would rather die for.

And that was another thing to think about. Max certainly wasn't suicidal, but she felt as if she didn't deserve to live. The only thing her time ability gave her was the ability to manipulate lives. She tore the lives of everyone she knew, whether she loved them, or hated them, she unfairly and cruelly twisted their lives, their personalities, and their souls apart. And she hated herself for it. She vowed she would not use her power. Even if she still had it.

They say that the 5 Steps of Grief are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Max felt as if she felt all of them at once. After all, how do you grieve in a step by step process, when you let your friend die?

Sometimes, Max has visions. She knows they are not real. Although to her, they are as real as they can get. See, they are not just visions, they are memories. Memories that will and only belong to her.

Sometimes the visions would be simple. Max and Chloe are sitting at the picnic table, the day of the snow. She finds herself trying to memorize every single detail of her face. It frustrates her each and every night.

Because the more time goes on, the more she forgets. She forgets the exact shade of Chloe's eyes. She forgets just exactly how her voice sounded. She forgets how Chloe moves her hands when she makes a point. She wants to remember all of these little insignificant details and more. She wants to bottle every tiny, good memory she has with Chloe. It doesn't matter if they're 13 years old playing pirates or 18 years old shooting guns at bottles, she wants to drink all these memories whenever the sadness takes over. When the numbness takes over.

That's the best way to describe it, she guesses. Numbness. Other than class, she doesn't like to leave her dorm room. She prefers to stay numb. Outside, everything reminds her of Chloe. The pool reminds her of her last swim. Every truck reminds her of Chloe's, (that Joyce gave her, "she would've wanted you to have it.").

Max has started to wear some of Chloe's clothes under usual grey jacket. Some have noticed, but most choose not to say anything. She has started to wear Chloe's bullet necklace and finds herself unconsciously rubbing the bullets with her hands. She can't help but wish that she knew a way she could have saved her.

She hasn't totally isolated herself however. She still has tea with Kate. She doesn't say much, but Kate is kind enough to understand and feed her talk about anything. Even though Max isn't overly religious, (make that not at all), she finds herself praying with Kate sometimes. It seems she wants to do anything she can. Kate has practically been a saint, patience wise. She could not be more thankful, but it is exhausting to be pretending that she is getting better. Max isn't even sure if "getting better" will ever truly happen. After 60 or so days, it still hasn't.