It was dark and early when Max’s alarm chirped, waking her from a seemingly dreamless sleep. She stretched her arms, legs, and torso, flexing almost every muscle in her petite body. The girl deeply yawned at the height of her stretch then slackened and relaxed.

Max noticed a moonlit edge lining the objects in her room, casting shadows across her bed, floor, and the far side of the ceiling. She could barely see her darkened reflection in the mirror that hung over her dresser. The light spilling into the room created barred shadows across her face like she herself was in prison. Swiveling around to place her feet on the floor, a jarring thought crossed her weary mind.

Chloe!

She abruptly remembered the weight of the day, springing up with a frenzied scuffle to prepare herself for whatever the universe decided to throw at her. It was indubitably the most important day of the photographer’s life, and she would need to step out from behind the camera to confront the greatest challenge she had ever faced.

You can do this, Max. You HAVE to do this!

She recalled the moment she held the girl’s soft hands while visiting her in prison not too long ago. Even though she’d been behind bars for the better part of five years, Chloe’s skin remained Max’s favorite thing to feel. The reminder of her favorite person’s touch sent goosebumps up and down her arm in a pleasurable, cascading ripple.

Shaking off the half-asleep thought, she jumped in the shower for a quick wash, then she did her teeth and threw on some clothes. Not wanting to wake her mom, who was still asleep on the makeshift bed they had put together on the couch, Max tried to tiptoe while wildly running around to get herself ready for the day, almost in a panic.

Her chest was thumping extra loud. She could feel it in her throat and hear it deep in her ears, rattling with a boom through the empty warehouse of her body. Hundreds if not thousands of memories flooded her mind, and it would’ve been overwhelming if her heart wasn’t set on saving the one person who mattered more to her than life itself.

One set of memories hung in the background, still feeling distant, probably as a way for her mind to protect itself, yet they hurt tremendously when she focused directly on them. A teacher she once admired had been kidnapping girls, drugging them, then calling the photos he took ‘art’. When she and Chloe snooped around, getting close to figuring out what was happening, the man drugged her and put a bullet in her best friend’s head. Thankfully, she found a way out and returned to an earlier spot in time where she could warn Chloe to stay away from the junkyard. The experience she remembered having in the darkroom was terrifying; it would surely haunt her memories for many years to come.

Max was well aware that Chloe’s anger sometimes got the best of her, but she didn’t believe the girl would ever murder a man execution-style. She was on death row for killing Max’s former teacher, yet she wasn’t the version who actually pulled the trigger. The question of how realities seemed to get jumbled-up still bothered Max, but it was no time to worry about that now. Her main concern was to get to the prison and somehow gain entry.

After gathering her belongings and heading towards her car, an idea suddenly came to the photographer. It was one she almost wished she didn’t have. With the prison being heavily guarded and nearly inaccessible to civilians without proper clearance, she knew she’d need some sort of leverage to get in.

This is totally gonna suck.

From the phone calls she’d overheard the previous few days, and the conversation she had with Maria, Max knew Weston and the warden had some sort of connection. Maybe if she snooped around her boss’s office, she would be able to find information she needed for prison access. First, she needed to get into the Fresno Herald building so she could begin her search.

Opening the door to her car, Max slid in. She placed her bag and keys in the passenger seat and pulled out her phone. It was still very early in the morning, so she didn’t want to bother her colleague, but at this point, she was ready to do whatever she needed in order to get to Chloe. She dialed the woman over and over again but went to voicemail each time. Eventually, she decided to leave a message.

–BEEP–

“Hey, Maria. Look, I know it’s early, but I need your help. If you get this soon, I need to get into the building at work, like right now. It’s important. Please call me back. Thank you.”

She pressed the end button and set her phone in the middle console, plugging it into the car charger. Even if Maria was unable to assist her, she’d still have to get in somehow, so she cranked the car and backed out of her parking spot at the apartment.

She remembered a time where she used a fire extinguisher to bust the handle off of Nathan’s dorm room door so she could get inside. She also recalled when she and Chloe broke into Principal Wells office with a small explosive they created with the help of her friend Warren. Then, when she rewound, the damage was undone in both instances, as if she had never been there in the first place.

Hmm. Maybe I could break in then rewind. It just sounds… way too simple.

Several minutes later, after walking through the rewind process in her head ten or twelve times, she pulled up to her workplace, narrowly avoiding the potholes in the parking lot. She’d never seen the place with the sun down; the single lamppost did little to light the area. It was located in the center and the bulb periodically blinked and buzzed with a small electric surge as though it badly needed to be replaced. A haze of flying night critters flew around the top portion of the lamppost’s dim, amber light, which barely touched the steps in front of the double-door entrance.

The anxious girl took a deep breath then closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. She needed a brief moment to build up enough courage to break into a building and potentially steal something if need be. She wished her partner in crime were there; she wouldn’t be so chickenshit. She opened her eyes and picked up her phone, unplugging and checking to see if Maria responded. The woman hadn’t yet, so Max decided to proceed without her.

You’ll be fine, Max. Be bold for once. Be bold for Chloe.

As she got out of her vehicle and started walking towards the front, Max noticed a sleek, black car parked adjacent to the shrubbery that lined the stairway. It wasn’t directly in front of the steps, it was parked just to the side in the shadowed gloom barely within eyeshot. Through the blinds, she noticed a faint light on in an office at the left corner of the building.

Shit, that’s Weston’s office.

She slowly strolled to the entrance and up the concrete stairs, stopping as she reached the doors.  Looking at the narrow gap between them, Max realized she wouldn’t have to break in at all. What she would have to do would be far more difficult. It wasn’t just her boss inside; the asshole who attacked her, before she undid his actions, was not far beyond where she stood. There was no doubt in her mind that he would try and force himself on her again, especially in the dark of the early morning with nobody else around.

Hoping the man was in his office with the door closed, and not wandering the building, Max slowly inched the door opened. It made a high-pitched creaking sound that she prayed wouldn’t alert her former attacker of her presence.

With just enough space for her small body to squeeze through, she snaked her way in and closed the door behind. To her relief, her boss was closed in his office apparently talking to someone. Through the walls, she could hear his muffled voice. She thought she heard him say Chloe’s name, but that would be impossible. Everyone was still referring to her as “Jane”.

Despite her better judgement, the girl crept towards the corner office for a better listen. The man seemed to be agitated for some reason, raising his voice and slamming something down on his desk or maybe the floor. She assumed Weston was on the phone but she suddenly heard a girl’s stifled whimper. Raising her eyebrows, realizing she might be in danger, Max stopped her approach and began clumsily shuffling her feet backwards, but it was too late. The door swung wide open, fanning light out into the main workspace of the building. The overhead light wasn’t on, but a desk lamp shined a soft-white, creating a halo-like ring effect on the walls she could see from the outside.

“Come on in, Max. We’ve been expecting you.” A chilled shiver ran through the girl’s body, increasing with every forward step.

That voice. It-it isn’t Weston’s?

From her angle she couldn’t see the people inside, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt her boss wasn’t the one she’d heard speaking.

“Oh, don’t be shy. Get in here, Max.” There was a sharp edge to the man’s words, and she knew she’d heard him somewhere before. Newly discovered memories began to trigger, a thorned panic surging through her body. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t resist the curious urge to see what was happening. Her feet started moving towards the office door before she could make a rational decision, even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to get the hell out of there.

Turn around, Max. Just run away!

Placing her hand on the outside of the entry, Max peeked in and pulled herself inside. The door automatically shut behind her like she was entering a boss’s chamber in a Legend of Zelda video game.

“No, Chloe!” She hollered in horrifying shock, mouth hanging wide open in disbelief. “Oh, god.” Her breathing hitched then trembled as she slowly scanned the far side of the office trying to make sense of what she was witnessing. It was as if she had stumbled into the gut wrenching butcher scene of a haunted house.

Where her hands used to be, freshly sewn, blood soaked nubs twitched at the ends of Chloe’s arms. She was restrained at the elbow bends, torso, and legs by ropes in a chair, while photography equipment faced towards their subject. The girl’s head was propped to the side on her shoulder, as tears had created elongated trails under her resting eyes. Bruises peppered her face and shoulders and the carpet in the general vicinity was saturated with a scarlet liquid. A haze of desperation and evil permeated the vicinity.

Mark Jefferson was crouched in the corner apparently adjusting some sort of scene he had set up. Smaller flash-umbrellas were angled inward towards two objects the man was moving around to establish a perfect shot. Max blinked a couple of times to clear the mist from her terrified eyes, her unmoving body was stricken with fear. When she noticed the two objects were Chloe’s dismembered hands, she dropped to her knees, buckets of tears slightly blurring her vision. One was laid sideways against the white wall while the other had been manipulated with four fingers pulled down and the middle remaining up.

“It’s for the art, Max. Don’t look at me like that. The bitch loves to hold her middle finger up like some fucking sign that she doesn’t give a shit. There’s poetry in this shot. That isolated finger is forever frozen in the air and… well, the subject definitely gives a shit now.” The man laughed with confidence like he had just created some sort of masterpiece. “I hoped to capture the horror on her face as the realization of the moment set in. I guess shock from the pain while watching me saw her hands off caused her to pass out. I’ll have more chances, though. She’ll wake up eventually, and I’ll take her feet next. Then her head. Oh, get up, Max. She’s the one who murdered me. Payback’s a bitch!”

“Leave her alone, asshole.” Chloe’s mouse-like voice came through weakened coughs. “He can’t hurt you anymore. Our love is all that matters.”

The man stood from his spot, walked up to the bound girl, and slapped her across the face.

Still on her knees, filled with disgust and hatred, Max raised her lowered head and made eye contact with the psychopath who gawked in her direction. “Eat shit and die, motherfucker.”

“Max!” A different woman’s voice called out from somewhere in the distance.

–TAP, TAP, TAP—

With a jerk, Max raised her head up from the steering wheel, gasping like she hadn’t breathed in several seconds. Petrifying images still bounced around in her mind from what she just experienced.

“Hey. You awake now?”

…“Don’t look so sad, I’m never leaving you.”…

Thank god that was just a dream. All these memories… Fuck Jefferson!

Still disoriented, she looked around and saw the interior features of the car. To her left, out of the driver’s side window, her colleague’s concerned face was staring in. Max reached up to wipe the layer of sweat that had formed on her forehead, attempting to calm herself from the horrible nightmare. The keys were still in the ignition so she pressed the window button down to address the woman.

“Maria. I-I’m sorry. I must’ve dozed off.” She recognized the lamppost she noticed earlier. The blinking and buzzing hadn’t changed. It was still dark so the girl must not have been out very long.

“Yeah, your ass was so deep asleep, you sounded like you were sawing logs with that snoring.” The woman smirked then propped an elbow on the lip of the open window. “Okay, so why do you want in so early? Trying to get a good start on your story? I got your message and realized I have some work to do too. Might be sinking my teeth into my next big story. Oh!” The woman paused. “Today’s the big day, yeah?”

Still on edge, Max intently scanned the parking lot, seeing no other cars around except hers and Maria’s. Thankfully, the corner window didn’t glow with activity, giving her a little more confidence that the scene in her head was nothing more than a bad dream.

“Yeah something like that,” the brunette finally responded. “But I need help with something a little more… sneaky. Can you let me in?”

“Oh?” Maria squinted, twisting a strand of black hair around her fingers. “Sneaky, huh? Well, it sounds like fun. I do have a key to the place.” She dangled and shook a chain with multiple items attached. Several keys jingled, most likely including the one Max needed. “Weston trusted me with it a few years ago. I guess it’s part of our unspoken deal. I can sorta do what I want as long as I don’t say anything about what we did or try to break up his family.”

Max turned her vehicle off causing Maria to shift her weight backwards, moving the propped elbow away. After rolling up the window, Max opened her door and stepped out. She followed the key bearer up the stairs to the front then inside the building.

“Do what you need to do. I’ll be at my desk. Pretend I’m not even here.” She shut and locked the door behind them.

“Really?” Max was surprised her friend didn’t demand answers. “You’re not gonna follow me or ask where I’m going?”

“No questions asked.”

“Thank you, Maria. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one by my count.” The seasoned journalist spun around over-dramatically, disappearing around the partition to her cubicle.

Max set her sights on the office at the end of the hall; this time with a heightened pace. When she made it to the door, she hesitated, remembering the vivid scene she’d watched playout not long before. Inside, she slowly flipped on the lights and headed towards the desk. Visions of her recent nightmare still lingered, but she pressed on, pushing them away so she could focus.

Stacks of printed articles and other loose pages were strewn about on top of a full, desk-sized calendar that had black pen notes and meeting times written in. Like any other typical workspace environment, she saw a stapler, tape dispenser, and pen holder. She perused the area but didn’t notice anything that she could use.

Sitting down in Weston’s chair, Max decided to check the drawers underneath. She rummaged through the first one on the left, making sure to return all the items to their original locations. She considered rewinding but was certain everything was left how she found it.

After the search turned up without success, she continued on, shuffling through the remaining two drawers on the side. Finally, Max pulled out the more slender, middle drawer and noticed a few credit slips with sizable transfer amounts that seemed important. She took out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures. After capturing several shots, she held the slips closer to her face to get a better look.

The first one had the smallest transfer amount of 1.5 million dollars. Max was no expert on banking transactions, but it appeared the transfer was moving funds into a private account coming from Central California Women’s Prison revenue. The second totaled 8 million dollars and Max didn’t recognize the names. The final transfer amount was a larger 22.5 million dollars. After reading the list of names on the small, wallet-sized slip of paper, she pushed back, realizing whatever was happening, many of the people she’d recently interacted with were involved. The warden, Weston, and the governor were all listed as receiving a portions of the funds.

Holy shit! They’re embezzling money? Damn.

“Someone just pulled up,” the older woman expeditiously stated, poking her head into the room, startling the girl in their boss’s seat. “Hope you found what you were looking for, but it’s time to get going, Chica.” Maria moved a few steps inside the office, thankfully warned Max to finish, then departed.

She placed the slips back where she found them, shut the drawer, and stood to leave. A new idea popped into the girl’s head, so she quickly fingered through the old school Rolodex on the desk and found Jack Thompson’s card.

Thompson? Isn’t that Weston’s last name?

It showed his title: Warden and Financial Officer, Central California Women’s Prison, as well as his cell phone number. The photographer snapped another quick picture from her phone and spun the Rolodex to a random location not to alert Weston about her snooping.

Thanking her colleague as she walked by, Max stopped in the women’s restroom, peeking out from the inched open door. Weston hustled by, vanished inside his office, then shut the door. He seemed too busy to care who else was around. Taking the opportunity to get back to her car without being spotted, Max scurried from the restroom and out the front doors. She cranked her car then dashed out of the Fresno Herald parking lot. She noticed dawn’s early morning light giving the object in her view more definition. The lamppost must have had a light sensor or been on a timer, because it was no longer illuminated.

Quickly pulling into another parking space just down the road, Max inhaled followed by a pronounced exhale as a way of calming her racing heart. She looked at the newly captured photos on her phone and realized she now had leverage. As long as she played her cards right moving forward, she knew how to get inside the prison. Even though there were several bumps in her path, she was ready for the next phase.

Hang in there, Chloe. I’m on my way.