Angel Of A Morning

Chapter Eleven: Psychosocial Whirlpool

Friday

Being caught in such a major conspiracy really played with Max Caulfield's head. Her being captured by the true culprit behind Rachel Amber's murder and the ownership of the Dark Room turned out to be none other than her photography teacher, Mr Jefferson. When Max regained consciousness, she found herself seated uncomfortably in a chair she was bound to by layers of duct tape. It took her time to sober up from being drugged until she came to her senses. 

Groggily, Max corrected her position and observed her surroundings where her mind completely registered the fact that she was the new victim of the Dark Room and its conspirator, Mark Jefferson. In front of Max was a camera on her right, active lighting equipment on her left and a trolley filled with chemicals, gloves, syringes, capsules, unmarked boxes, a red folder and a manila-coloured folder. 

To Max's horror, Victoria Chase was unconscious beside her with tape around her ankles and wrists. Her throat was dry but she managed to let out a cry for help if by the highly impossible chance that somebody would come to her rescue. Her hands and feet fought against the tape, to no current avail, until her right foot managed to break free and pulled the trolley closer. Max noticed a photograph of herself unconscious on the floor similarly to Victoria. 

By focusing on the photograph, Max's powers enabled her to take over her past subconsciousness. The first thing that came into her view was a body hunched down with a camera lens pointed at her face which had become relatively focused in her sight which began to regain focus from being drugged. There were camera shots taken while a haunting voice filled her ears as she slowly regained control of her body. 

"... the angle highlights your purity, see? The slightly unconscious model is often the most open and honest. No vanity or posing, just... pure expression. Oh Christ. Look at that perfect face." Mr Jefferson spoke with an unsettling tone that sent a chill throughout Max's body. 

She only just gained enough feeling in her body to feel Mr Jefferson pinch her left leg with his hand to reposition it. Rolling her head, Max caused her former teacher's temper before he lashed out at her verbally with a tone he never thought he would use against his favourite student. 

"Hold that stare there! STAY! STILL!!" Mr Jefferson snapped. 

His temper settled almost immediately when he resumed taking photographs of the eighteen year-old. She moved a second time when he was attempting to get a headshot of her. 

"Oh, Max. You fucked up my shot!" Mr Jefferson barked when his tone shifted to a more gentle, creepier one. "But please don't worry. We have all the time in the world... for now. I knew you were special the second I saw your 'selfie'. Yes, I still hate that word. But I love the purity of your own image. Not like Rachel, who was always looking in the wrong places. Poor Rachel. Wait... Let me try this angle." 

Mr Jefferson took various angled shots of Max while she was temporarily immobilised on the cold white floor. 

"Oh, much better. Thanks Max. If only Nathan could see this setup. He tried so hard, but you can't just throw a few subjects around and expect a cohesive style or theme. But he had an eye for shadows. And an eye for a whole lot more, as his elite family will find out, along with Arcadia Bay. Nice... Good... Oh, those eyes. Stop. Moving!" 

The more she came to infuriate Mr Jefferson, the more he struggled to hold it together - his rambling delayed his administering another dosage to render her unconscious. 

"It's just too bad you're so goddamn nosy, Max. But this room is under twenty-four-seven surveillance. So all I had to do was text you from Nathan's phone and you fell right into my hands. Luckily I managed to lose my tail. But don't you worry your pretty little head, Max. I let them live... this once. You really should have focused on schoolwork, not private detecting with your little friend."