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Chapter 1: Overexposed
Earlier, Safi brought over a six-pack and, as per Max’s wish, a bag of those disgusting chocolate-covered pretzels. Max devoured them within minutes. How anyone could enjoy that weird mix of sweet chocolate and salty pretzel remained completely beyond Safi.
“If you rewind time just to experience eating those a second time, I’m officially moving out of Caledon,” Safi remarked. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as Max shoved another handful into her mouth.
They spent a fun evening playing Mortal Kombat. Max loved the exaggerated gore, while Safi relished the simple fact that she rarely lost. Max usually endured the game just to watch Safi dominate fights with ruthless precision, but tonight the tables turned. Max gained the upper hand at the very end and won the last three rounds in a blur of frantic button-mashing.
Finish him! Flawless Victory. Scorpion wins!
Safi dropped her controller onto the cushions with a heavy pout. She immediately launched into rapid-fire excuses for every single one of Max's smug grins. "I drank way more beer than you. Pure luck. The controller isn't reacting properly."
Max’s eyes darted to the coffee table. Her vintage Polaroid 1000 sat right next to the empty beer bottles. Safi still wore that heavy pout of defeat. It was a rare sight, and Max wanted a permanent trophy. She reached over and lifted the camera to her eye.
She almost had the shot. Her friend, however, possessed a terrifying sixth sense for lenses. A split second before Max pressed the red shutter button, Safi’s head snapped up. The genuine pout vanished. A cross-eyed grimace and a sticking-out tongue instantly replaced it just as the flash popped.
The motor whirred, spitting out the square.
“Dammit, Safi!” Max groaned, pulling the camera down. “Just once, let me get a candid shot of you. You always ruin it.”
“I’m protecting my brand, Caulfield,” Safi stated proudly. She held her hand out and wiggled her fingers. “Hand it over. My turn. The world needs to see the face of a ruthless, button-mashing killer.”
Max passed the heavy plastic camera over. She typically preferred staying behind the glass, but the three craft beers had successfully filed down her defensive edges. A warm buzz settled behind her eyes. She leaned back into the cushions, threw up an exaggerated peace sign, and flashed a wide, tipsy smile.
The flash popped bright white. Safi caught the ejected film and waved it lightly.
“A masterpiece,” Safi declared a minute later, passing the glossy square back.
Her smiling mouth and fingers were in razor-sharp focus on the glossy square, but everything above the bridge of her nose was cropped out entirely.
“Safi, the upper half of my head is missing,” Max laughed, pointing at the botched portrait. “I think you're way too drunk to operate a camera.”
“That was intentional,” Safi defended herself with a haughty sniff. “Half-face shots are the new trend. As a renowned photographer, you should know that.”
Max snorted and shook her head. Safi thrust the camera right back into her hands.
“Okay, switch back. My turn to model again,” Safi said. Her mischievous grin glowed in the dim room. “Wait, I have a better idea for this one.”
Her features blurred for a dizzying second. The familiar face and dark eyes vanished. Sitting in Safi’s place was a perfect replica of Max, but with a cascading, waist-length mane of raven-black hair.
“Ever wanted to know how you look with long black hair?” Safi asked, perfectly mimicking her friend's softer vocal cadence.
Max laughed in surprise. She instantly lifted the camera and pressed the shutter. “A bit too gothic for my taste, but work it!”
The flash popped, and Safi’s form rippled again. This time, the broad shoulders and stiff posture of Owen Teller, the new campus president, materialized on the couch. Safi puffed out her chest, pinched her nose, and pointed a scolding finger directly at the lens.
"No more funding for the arts, Caulfield! I require another gold-plated yacht!" Safi barked, perfectly capturing his condescending tone.
"God, he really is an arrogant money bag," Max snorted. She laughed so hard her ribs ached and snapped the photo. "Hold still, let me capture the capitalist greed."
The motor whirred again. The alcohol finally caught up to Max, wrapping her brain in a heavy, warm haze and making her limbs feel loose. She wanted to capture one last chaotic moment of the two of them together, so she tried turning the Polaroid around for a triumphant selfie.
Her tipsy coordination completely betrayed her. The camera slipped in her grip. She fumbled to catch it, and the heavy plastic flipped backward in her hands just as her finger squeezed the shutter. The bright flash popped right in her eyes, capturing a blurry, overexposed shot of her own surprised face.
“Careful there, lightweight,” Safi teased, shifting back into her own body. She snatched the final ejected square from the air and laughed at Max's stunned portrait. “You’re a danger to your own equipment tonight.” Safi held it out for Max to see.
“I’m just experimenting with abstract self-portraits,” Max defended herself weakly. She burst into a fit of giggles she couldn't suppress.
The laughter slowly faded into a comfortable quiet. Max set the camera down on the table, letting the alcohol's warm buzz settle. A deep swell of gratitude washed over her. She had managed to convince Safi not to leave the university, and helping her stabilize her powers changed everything. The gaping hole left by Chloe was already unbearable enough. Losing another close friend was something Max wasn't sure she could survive. She grew tired of running from her past and packing her bags the second things got heavy. She didn't want to run anymore. With its quiet, snowy streets and ancient brick buildings, Caledon was starting to feel like a place where she could actually imagine settling down. As long as Safi stayed.
Keeping her thick emotional guard up cost more and more energy. The thought of making Caledon her real home came to mind frequently lately. Even Inner Max wasn’t entirely against the idea. Sometimes.
Inner Max, the split facet of her psyche and her Alter Ego, had been a constant companion since... she couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when. If she tried remembering their very first conversation, she couldn’t pinpoint a date. It definitely started after the lonely move to Seattle but before the nightmare of Blackwell. At first, the voice had been a quiet Protectress. Kind, understanding, supportive. But it had shifted into The Negative, acting as a stark, high-contrast inversion of her soft exterior. It had developed a mind of its own. Mirror Max, the aggressive and unyielding side of this split, often pushed Max right to the edge.
She told Max to pull the trigger on Frank. To steal from the disabled fund. Pushed for the road trip. To sacrifice Chloe to calm the storm. To shoot Safi to stop the next one. Max listened to all of them except the very last. Defying that voice that time was the right decision. The storm passed, the city took a heavy hit, but no one died. Safi was alive. And Max was...
Happy? You’re not happy, Max. Maybe calm before the next storm comes. You sure you want to settle down here? Put them all at risk because you’re craving a happy end?
“Maaxiiine?”
Max shook her head slightly to clear the intrusive thoughts and blinked a few times. Safi drew out her full name in that long, playful singsong way. “Huh, what?”
Safi laughed, a warm and kindly sound. “You were zoning out again.”
“I’m sorry, I...”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s part of why I love you. You're adorable.” Safi patted Max’s thigh, her grin turning teasing. “Though if you keep drifting off like that, I’m gonna start calling you ‘Space Captain Maxine.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Max let out a small, embarrassed laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Sudden vulnerability made her wrap her arms securely across her chest as she murmured, “Careful, Safi. You’re reaching your three-Maxines-per-day limit quite fast today.”
Why not tell her how much you hate your full name? Tell her how much 'he' loved calling you that.
Safi winked and patted her thigh again. “Where was your mind at this time?”
The gentle touch pulled Max out of the Dark Room memories. She chewed nervously on her lower lip, desperately trying to ground herself in the present. She locked eyes with Safi. The orange firelight danced across her friend's features, making her look soft and patient. It was always easier being honest with her than with anyone else in the world.
Even more than Chloe? Oops, my bad. Chloe’s long gone.
Max wasn't sure, but ever since merging the timelines, Her Darker Half seemed noticeably more treacherous. Her words dripped with a sharper venom.
“I was thinking about how glad I am you’re still here,” Max said quietly, staring at the coffee table. “After everything that happened with your powers, I was terrified you’d leave Caledon. I kept imagining waking up one day and you’d be gone. Just like...” She trailed off, her throat tightening as she stubbornly refused to say Chloe’s name out loud. “Anyway. I’m really happy I managed to convince you to stay. I like it here. I like teaching. And I don’t think I want to leave anytime soon, as long as you are here.”
Safi’s playful smile softened into something tender. She couldn’t resist giving Max one last light nudge to the shoulder. “Wow, look at you getting all deep and vulnerable on me. Careful, Max. Keep saying sweet stuff like that, and I might actually start believing you like having me around.” Her tone grew much warmer, dropping the teasing edge. “But seriously, I almost did leave. I thought maybe everyone would be safer if I just disappeared. But you wouldn’t let me. You helped me. You fought for me when I was ready to give up on myself.”
They leaned toward each other and hugged. Max buried her face in the scratchy fabric of Safi’s shoulder. She breathed in the comforting scent of knit wool, fabric softener, and a faint trace of bitter beer. She held on a little longer than usual, her fingers gripping the sweater, terrified that letting go too soon might make the moment vanish. Only when her phone lit up and vibrated harshly against the coffee table did she slowly pull back.
A text notification from her parents glared from the illuminated screen. The complicated knot in her chest pulled tight, instantly stealing her breath. Instead of reaching out to open the message, she flipped the phone face down in silence, her posture stiffening as she sank back into the protective corner of the couch.
An immediate shift hardened Max's demeanor. Rigid tension pulled tightly at her shoulders. Rather than prying right away, Safi gave Max a quiet moment to just breathe.
"Okay, the silence is officially getting too loud in here," Safi declared softly after a minute. She nudged Max’s foot gently with her own. "We need a distraction for your ears. Go pick a record."
Max blinked, her gaze still locked blankly on the dark plastic back of her phone case. "I'm okay, Safi. We don't have to..."
"Ah-ah," Safi interrupted gently, waving a hand toward the vintage turntable across the room. "Go. Pick something mellow. Let the vinyl work its magic."
Max let out a soft sigh. The guiding command was exactly what she needed to unfreeze her limbs. With a heavy push, she lifted off the cushions and padded over to the low wooden shelf holding her record collection. At floor level, her fingertips trailed slowly over the worn cardboard spines. The familiar, tactile ritual of flipping through the sleeves instantly grounded her. She bypassed the upbeat indie pop and the heavier rock in search of a sound that matched the aching weight in her chest. Finally, she pulled out an atmospheric, acoustic folk album.
She carefully slid the glossy black disc from its paper sleeve and set it securely on the turntable platter. Max flipped the switch, lifted the metal tonearm, and guided it over. The soft, satisfying crackle of the needle hitting the vinyl groove filled the room. The warm, resonant strum of an acoustic guitar followed immediately.
Max turned back as Safi reached for a nearby wall switch. The poet dimmed the main lights. Only the flickering fireplace and a small floor lamp illuminated the space.
"Poet’s orders," Safi said with that easy grin. She watched Max walk back and settle into her corner of the couch again. "Time to let the vibes do the talking."
For a few long minutes, they just sat there without talking. They simply let the music wash over them. The fire in the hearth crackled softly. Its rhythmic, woody pops blended perfectly with the mellow notes of the acoustic guitar, casting a warm, flickering orange glow across the open living area. The large wooden beams and full-length windows made the space feel airy during the day, but tonight, thanks to the dancing flames and soothing music, it felt beautifully cocooned and safe.
Safi gave Max a longer, desperately needed moment to breathe. She lounged on her end of the oversized couch and tucked her legs beneath her. From her corner, she quietly observed her best friend. Max sat just a few feet away, her right leg tucked tightly and defensively under her left. Safi's gaze drifted to the exact spot where Max’s eyes were locked. Her turned-over phone. She had been trapped in her head since it rang.
Safi had known Max for a full year now. While they were unequivocally best friends, she still sometimes felt the invisible wall erected between them. She knew the heartbreaking truth about Chloe. She knew Max had been forced to make the impossible choice to sacrifice her girlfriend just to save her hometown.
Through careful observation, Safi also knew Max constantly retreated into the safety of her own head. She could be socially awkward, depending heavily on the situation and who she talked to. Safi had no clue about complex psychological stuff or formal clinical diagnoses, but she knew Max's mental condition wasn't easy to live with at times. While Safi might not always realize the exact second Max slipped into an overwhelming moment, she tried spotting the signs and did her absolute best to be a grounded anchor.
Safi watched the lingering tension still holding Max's shoulders hostage. She let the acoustic music fill the space until she finally decided it was time to break the quiet.
“Hey, Max?” Safi’s voice was soft and curious, using the specific tone she saved for when she genuinely tried to understand her friend. “You’ve been dodging those texts from your parents again. I saw your phone light up earlier and you just stared at it like it was the loaded gun the ‘other you’ shot me with. What’s going on there? You never really talk about them.”
It was never just one message. Her parents texted way too often, sending an oppressive stream of check-ins. Are you going out this weekend? Can we hear your voice today? Is the department chair nice to you? Are you sleeping okay? Their need to know exactly how she was doing came from a place of pure love, but it felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. Her mother, however, was the primary source of this relentless pressure. Her texts arrived with suffocating frequency, demanding constant engagement and updates. Vanessa's desperate need to track every detail of her life felt like an inescapable burden. It became clear that her mother struggled most with accepting that the version of her daughter she was holding onto simply didn’t exist anymore.”
Max instinctively tightened her fingers around the cotton hem of her shirt. She stared into the mesmerizing flames. The familiar rewind itch prickled hotly at the back of her skull, bringing forth the old urge to undo the moment. She wanted to force Safi to swallow the words back down. But this was Safi. Her best friend. The one person alive who knew about the time powers, the fractured timelines, and Chloe.
“I don’t really know where to start,” Max murmured, her voice sounding smaller than she wanted it to be. “It’s not like they’re bad people. Dad was always the cool one. He took me to hockey games, sent me dumb dad jokes when I was away in High School. He was actually the one who introduced me to horror movies. We watched Alien together when I was way too young, and Vanessa chewed him out for it afterward. He always encouraged me to try new things, while my mother was just overprotective. They both tried hard after we moved to Seattle. But after Chloe, after the storm, everything shifted.”
She deliberately left out Blackwell Academy. No one needed to hear about it and go snooping, prying into her past. If anyone discovered her dark secret, she’d be forced to leave Caledon and Safi. Max didn’t want that.
A painful lump formed in Max's throat, forcing her to swallow hard. It wasn't easy to talk. It wasn't easy letting someone physically and emotionally in. Even after all the literal life and death they survived together, something primal inside her fought violently against opening up.
Don’t let her in, Max. It means less control and more space for new wounds. You know that.
Safi slowly edged closer on the soft cushions. She didn't crowd her space, but she stayed close enough for Max to feel her radiating body heat. She didn't interrupt. She just waited in the dim light, her head tilted and her dark eyes patient.
Max took a shaky breath. The words materialized slowly, like an image developing in a darkroom. “I chose to let Chloe die so the town could live. I rewound reality itself. I killed the girl I love to save everyone else. How do you possibly explain that over dinner? ‘Hey Mom, Dad, sorry I’ve been so weird, turns out I can mess with time and I basically played god and still lost the one person who meant everything to me.’ They’d either think I’m losing my mind, or they’d worry themselves sick. Or worse, they’d look at me like I’m broken. Like the innocent little girl who used to fall asleep on the couch during movies is just gone forever.”
Her voice cracked painfully. "If they see how messed up I really am, they might just turn their backs on me.” She picked obsessively at a loose cotton thread on her shirt, completely unable to meet Safi’s gaze.
Safi reached over and warmly covered Max’s fidgeting hand. Her thumb brushed slow circles over Max's pale knuckles. “Max, that’s a hell of a weight to carry all alone. No wonder you keep everyone at arm’s length. Even them.”
Max nodded. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. “Short phone calls and text messages just feel safer. ‘I’m fine, busy with work.’ It’s something I can actually control. Visiting them, forcing myself to pretend to be the normal daughter they remember, it takes so much exhausting energy. Their genuine concern just suffocates me. I hate ghosting them. But showing up? What if I break down crying in front of them? Whenever I try formulating the truth, the words just don’t come out. It physically feels like a black void in my throat swallows them before they can even reach my lips.”
What are you doing? STOP TALKING, MAX! Tell her to go, pack your things, and let us get out of this place. It’s not safe for us.
Safi squeezed her hand and scooted closer until their shoulders brushed. Her tone remained steady and warm. “You’re not broken, you know that? You’re surviving the kind of traumatic shit most normal people can’t even begin to imagine.”
And don't you dare tell her about him!
Safi’s voice dropped, turning vulnerable in a way she rarely shared with anyone. “I’ve wanted to tell my mom about my shape-shifting for years. I’ve practiced the conversation in my head a hundred different times. But I never go through with it. What if she looks at me like I’m a monster? Or starts treating me like I’m a dangerous weapon? I don’t know how she’d react, and that uncertainty freezes me. It sucks, but it feels safer than risking her trying to control me even more, or trying to lock me up.”
Max lifted her wet gaze. The shared weight of their secrets settled gently between them. “You actually get it. I guess we’re lucky she doesn’t remember what happened.”
“A part of me wishes she did. That way I wouldn’t have to rack my brain figuring out how to verbally tell her.” Safi leaned in and rested her warm forehead gently against Max’s for a grounding moment. “But maybe your parents might surprise you the same way I still hope Yasmin will surprise me. Your parents sound like they love the hell out of you, and Ryan sounds like the kind of dad who’d at least try listening, even if the time travel stuff sounds insane at first. They don’t need the full cosmic horror story right away. Start small, Max. Tell them you’ve been struggling with heavy emotional stuff from the past. That you miss them, but it’s hard being the exact daughter they remember because life changed you in ways you’re still figuring out. No supernatural powers mentioned until you’re truly ready, if ever.”
Max took a shallow breath. As she started to consider the suggestion, the tight knot in her chest loosened a fraction, but the moment the quiet settled, Mirror Max tore through the fragile peace.
Start small? 'Heavy emotional stuff'? Are you insane, Max? You know exactly what Vanessa is going to jump to.
Stop it, Max pleaded silently, squeezing her eyes shut.
If you give her a vague 'I am traumatized' speech, she will never let it go. Out of pure concern, she is going to corner you. She already asked if he took those photos, and you looked her in the eye and lied. This time, she won't accept the 'I'm fine' excuse. She will dig until she reaches the parts of the truth you are still trying to bury. She will realize you have been lying to her for years, and she will want to know if he did more than just take photos.
He didn't, Max argued back. A cold sweat prickled at her hairline. I remember. He just drugged me and took pictures.
Do we really remember? Her Darker Half whispered, her tone dripping with toxic paranoia. We were drugged out of our minds, strapped to a chair in the Dark Room, and dumped on the cold floor where he posed us, touched us. Passed out for hours. What if we just buried it to survive? What if she keeps asking and digging out of motherly concern until she forces us to remember something that will actually break us? Don’t give her an opening, Max. Keep the wall up.
Taking a shallow, trembling breath, Max desperately shoved the dark thoughts back into their mental lockbox. She forced herself to lean into Safi’s side, letting the warmth of the fire and her friend’s steady presence anchor her to reality.
“…Maybe I could start with a longer call,” Max whispered, her voice sounding a little more fragile now. “Not tonight. But soon. If you’re around after?”
“I’ll always be there for you, Max,” her friend promised fiercely. “We’ll even script the very first text together if you want. Poet’s honor.”
“If things settle down between you and your mom, will you finally tell her?” Max asked softly.
Safi gave a small, rueful shake of her head. Her dark curls bounced slightly. “I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet. And yeah, I know exactly how hypocritical that sounds while I’m sitting right here pushing you. But that’s exactly why I’m saying it. I know how terrifying it is carrying something this huge all alone, something that could change how someone you love looks at you. You’re not a bad daughter for needing distance. You’re protecting them from something they literally can’t wrap their heads around right now. And you’re protecting yourself, too.”
Max finally looked up and met Safi’s dark eyes. The flickering firelight made Safi look so steady in a way Max desperately needed to borrow. “Still, I’m so scared they’ll just worry more. Or worse, pull away entirely.”
“They might worry,” Safi admitted, brutally honest as always. “Parents do that. But from everything you’ve told me, they sound like the kind of people who’d much rather worry and be let in than sit in Seattle and wonder why their daughter is slipping further away. You’re not protecting them by shutting them out, Max, you’re just protecting yourself from the fear of rejection. And that’s okay for a while. But you don’t have to do it forever. And you definitely don't have to do it alone.”
Safi leaned in again and firmly squeezed Max’s pale hands. “You let me in. About your time powers, about Chloe. And look, I’m still here. I'm still your annoying, nosy best friend who snoops in your wallet and forcibly drags you to poetry slams. Your parents might surprise you, too. When you’re finally ready.”
Max took a long, deep breath in. A heavy weight slipped right off her chest. The fire popped loudly in the grate. For the first time in a long while, the stretching silence between them felt like a comforting permission instead of an agonizing pressure. She smiled, revealing a real, genuine curve of her lips. Profound relief washed over her bones. Her Darker Half, at least for the moment, was blissfully silent.
It wasn't magically fixed. The crushing guilt, the physical distance, the messy neurodivergent wiring in her brain that made human connection feel like walking a frayed tightrope without a net, it was all still there. But tonight, with the fireplace glowing amber and Safi sitting solidly beside her, Max felt like she could finally breathe air that wasn't made of ash. Maybe letting someone in didn't always have to end in another storm. For the first time in years, the terrifying idea of voluntarily calling her parents, instead of just waiting for them to call her, didn't feel impossible.
They sat in the comfortable quiet for another minute, letting the crackling fire do the talking for them. The heavy emotional energy gradually settled into the room, grounding them both.
Then, with a deliberate burst of theatrical energy, Safi clapped her hands together loudly, completely shattering the solemn spell.
“Alright. That’s enough gloomy doom and heavy introspection for us tonight. Time for a rematch!” She grabbed her PS5 controller, making the console instantly glow to life with a soft electronic beep. She turned her body back to Max and pinned her with a dead-serious glare before growling, “I’m going to destroy you, Caulfield.”
Max responded to the challenge with a reluctant sigh, sinking deeper into the plush cushions. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Aww, come on.” Safi shoved her shoulder playfully. “What better way to get our minds off all this depressing mom-and-parents stuff than a little senseless digital bloodshed? The booze is empty, there’s no weed. I need this rematch, Max.”
“I’d honestly rather go for a night walk and take a few nice shots.”
“My sweet girl, you can’t always use your photography to unwind. Sometimes it just has to be murder and mayhem.” Safi’s tone grew mock-ferocious, her dark eyes glinting in the firelight.
“We already played for hours and had several rematches.” Max waved a hand dismissively at the screen, “all of which I won. Just saying.” She looked brazenly smug.
Safi’s jaw dropped in feigned outrage. “You really do have a death wish tonight, don’t you? Max! I need to beat you one more time.”
“Why?” Max arched a skeptical eyebrow. A genuinely amused smile finally broke through her emotional exhaustion. “You’re better than me anyway. I’ll even admit it out loud. You are the Mortal Kombat champion and I just got lucky.”
“Exactly! That’s exactly why I need the rematch. Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll lie awake all night, haunted by the tragic knowledge that I was beaten by a loser.”
Max blinked. Her soft melancholy vanished, instantly replaced by a spark of indignation. She sat up straighter and narrowed her eyes. “What did you just say to me?”
“Loser. With. Luck,” Safi enunciated slowly, jabbing an accusatory finger straight at Max’s chest.
Max swatted Safi’s hand away and aggressively snatched up her own controller from the table. The oppressive sadness was gone, replaced by a sharp competitive fire. “That’s it. Rematch. I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, Fayyad.”
Max hit the selection button with a loud click. The television screen flashed bright, throwing them back into the bloody arena. For a few intense minutes, the living room echoed only with the frantic clatter of plastic analog sticks and the gory grunts of their fighting characters. Max leaned far forward on the couch, completely absorbed by the glowing TV, determined to prove Safi wrong.
Safi's character suddenly landed a devastating, unblockable combo. Max threw her hands up in premature defeat. Trying to dramatically twist away from the screen in mock frustration, she pushed up from the soft cushions a little too quickly. Her alcohol-heavy limbs failed to respond, and her foot caught hard on the thick, woven edge of the area rug.
She stumbled forward, banking her shin against the solid wood of the coffee table. Empty glass beer bottles clinked together and tipped. The jarring impact jolted her precious Polaroid toward the edge, leaving it teetering and threatening to shatter against the hardwood floor.
Don’t rewind. You’re drunk!
Reacting blindly, Max desperately reached for the camera. Misjudging the short distance in her tipsy haze, she clipped the plastic body with her knuckles and juggled it frantically in the air. Pure, panicked reflex took over. She dropped her custom controller entirely, letting it crash to the floor so both hands could safely snatch the vintage camera from mid-air.
Got you!
The sickening crack of plastic hitting the edge of the table and then the hard floor immediately followed. Max winced as a phantom pain shot through her chest. “Noo...” The sorrow and regret dripping from her voice were unmistakable.
Her beloved Astro Bot controller lay cracked open on the floorboards like a broken toy. It wasn't the wasted money that hurt, but rather the time and love she had poured into customizing it. It was a one-of-a-kind piece. The little specialty shop that modified it to her exact specifications didn't even exist anymore.
Max fell heavily to her knees. Operating on cold autopilot, she set the vintage camera safely back on the table. She gathered the shattered pieces of her controller, cradling the plastic components as carefully as if she were picking up an injured kitten.
She let out a trembling sigh of relief. At first glance, it looked worse than it actually was. The top shell popped open, and the flip-flop colored cover fell off. With a tense press of her thumbs, the top shell snapped back into place. The custom cover didn't seem entirely broken, though she noticed a fine hairline crack running down the side. But as she gently shook the device, a loose rattling echoed from the inside casing. To her dismay, more than one vital piece had definitely broken off the motherboard. “Shit!” She frantically pressed the center button to try reconnecting the controller to the console, but the light remained dead. It wouldn't turn on.
Safi slid closer on the couch and leaned over to inspect the damage. “Isn't this the exact moment where Max is glad to have superpowers? Just rewind?”
Max? Max! We do not rewind when drunk. You do remember what happened last time.
Max sighed. Her tense shoulders slumped in defeat. The Alter Ego was right. “No, we don't want to do that,” she whispered back quietly at her own reflection in her mind.
Safi tilted her head. She furrowed her dark eyebrows in obvious confusion. “Hm?”
“Just talking to myself,” Max mumbled. She pushed herself off the floor and sat back heavily on the couch cushions next to her friend.
“Ah, nothing new in the Caulfield household. But seriously, why not rewind it?”
“I'm drunk. It really won't end well.”
Safi opened her mouth to argue the point, but Max stood firm. She cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. “Just believe me.”
“Do I want to know what happened?” Safi asked cautiously. An amused glint sparked in her dark eyes.
A fiery blush suddenly flared hot across Max's pale cheeks, burning all the way up to the tips of her ears. “No, you don't. And never ask me about it again.” She raised a stern warning finger to emphasize the point.
“It was only three beers,” Safi teased, gathering the tipped-over glass bottles by their necks and carrying them into the adjacent kitchen.
“You know I can't handle beer,” Max called out after her. She nervously turned the damaged controller over and over in her hands, feeling the crack under her thumb. “It turns my brain to mush.”
“Okay, maybe I can help. Or rather, Jack can,” Safi called over her shoulder. She walked back in and leaned casually against the warm stone of the fireplace. She pulled out her glowing phone and rapidly tapped the glass screen. “Let me quickly check if he's still awake. He usually works late into the night.”
“Who’s Jack?” Max asked, looking up.
Safi kept her head bowed over her bright screen but tilted her eyes up to meet Max's confused gaze. “You've been in Caledon for a whole year and you've never once been to the Computational Arts department? Max, it's literally in your building.”
“The building is huge! And I'm not exactly interested in computers. Photo-nerd, remember? I only need a computer for typing lesson plans, dealing with university portal crap, and editing my DSLR shots.”
Safi's head snapped up. A triumphant, bright grin spread across her face. “Oh, he's still there. Come on, grab your coat and pack up your controller. He can fix it.”