quietplacememes | TDM #003

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test drive meme!

TDM #003

TEST DRIVE MEME
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.

Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits.

A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.

Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, a child hugging her leg, and a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.

This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message.

Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid. You're to settle into your new home.

Caught me unawares
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day

The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.

That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the happiest moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything good and sweet and fun. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restful and pleasant sleep. But on the third night it changes.

For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that dream from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the dream together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.

Falling down the stairs
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day

The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.

That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the worst moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything bad and sour and awful. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restless and dreadful sleep. But on the third night it changes.

For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that nightmare from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the nightmare together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.

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[ She knows she's not supposed to be here.

The feeling of wrongness sets into her stomach even before she's oriented herself-- sweet nostalgia turned bitter with guilt. Because she's been on a hundred and one camping trips with Chloe and her dad, before everything, and this feels just like that, down to his familiar silhouette by the fire.

And as soon as she hears the girl's voice, Max realizes that this is that. That it is him, and that the girl beside him -- taller and sharper than when she'd left her, long hair chopped off -- is really Chloe.

She doesn't understand how this is happening, but she knows she's not supposed to be here.

She doesn't have the right to, anymore. ]

S--... [ The single word catches in her throat, and Max swallows, taking a withering step back. Her gaze drops to the ground. ] Sorry.

[ If she hadn't been tense before hearing her voice, she sure would be now. Chloe's grip on the stick holding the marshmallow tightens, her eyes staring fixedly at the fire for a long moment, because there's no way that she wouldn't recognize Max without having to look at her in a million years. No matter how long it's been since she's heard her voice, it's still her best friend.

It's just so hard to look at her. Knowing this is just a dream. That she'll probably be gone again when it's over.

She watches the sugary snack catch fire, drop into the coals, can't really bring herself to care to try and even save it. ]

... Not quite as exciting as Seattle, I'm sure.

That's not true...

[ Max protests on instinct, but quickly loses her nerve, caving into herself. What is she even trying to do? As if anything she says could convince Chloe otherwise, when she hasn't so much as texted her once in three months.

When she promised. She promised nothing would change, that she wouldn't leave her alone.

And all the guilt that's been clinging to her like a cloud of smoke for all these months instantly grows darker, thicker, filling up Max's mouth and nose. Her ribcage is curling inwards, squeezing her heart unbearably tight.

She really can't be here. She has to leave.

"C'mon," William's voice cuts through the veil of panic, just as warm and jovial as she remembers. He turns to look at her and smiles, scooting over to the side before patting the cleared patch of ground between him and Chloe. "Take a seat, kiddo. No need to be shy, there's marshmallows for everybody."

He holds out a stick for her, and everything. ]

Um. [ Her voice comes out raspy and weak, and though her legs are heavy, Max finds herself stepping forward, anyway. She couldn't say no to William. Not when he feels so real. ] Thank you.

[ She accepts the offered stick with careful hands, but rather than sit down in the spot made available for her, she walks around to Chloe's side, and sheepishly lowers herself onto the ground next to her. Not close, like she used to. Leaving just enough space between their bodies.

Her chest still feels tight enough to ache.

Max angles her head, trying to catch Chloe's eye from under the curtain of her bangs. And after a moment of silence that seems to stretch for years, she whispers: ]

I'll leave if you want me to.

[ Of course he'd invite her to sit. William would never ignore her, never leave her hanging at a campfire, since this would line up with every memory the two shared of camping as a group ever. She'd dragged her on how many of these trips? She'd lost count over the years.

There's a side glance when she sees her sit next to her, watching her carefully, listens to the offer in silence. She feels a tightness in her chest, an anger mixed with sadness, one that makes her blurt out; ] That's what you're best at, isn't it? [ ... And immediately regret it.

A wince and a sigh, her head lowering as she tries to get control of her emotions. She didn't want her to go. She never did. No matter how angry she made her, Chloe would take her back in a heartbeat - isn't that what she always sadly admitted to herself? ]

Please stay. If this -- [ The words stick in her throat for a moment, but she clenches her jaw for a moment to give her the strength to get the rest out. ] If this is the only way I can see you, I'll take it.

[ Max feels herself freeze from the inside-out, the muscles locking in her back and shoulders and jaw. Wetness prickles at the corners of her eyes, all harsh stinging salt. She's so stupid. Of course Chloe wouldn't want her here, after she abandoned her like that, after-- ]

--Oh. [ She didn't expect the rest of it, and it makes her falter. Her body's still wound up tight, like it doesn't know how to accommodate the shift in atmosphere, and Max is stuck looking at her sneakers for a good few seconds like an idiot. ]

Okay.

[ In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, she shuffles a little bit closer. Chloe wants her to stay. But what does she say to her now? The only thought floating around her blank, buzzing head is 'I'm sorry', but what good would it do now?

So she does nothing but stare at Chloe's profile in silence, before blurting out the most obvious thing she’s picked up. ] You cut your hair.

[ You don't say, dumbass. Now what? ] It looks good. With the blue.

[ If she notices her getting closer, she doesn't say anything, doesn't move to stop or encourage it either way. It doesn't look like she minds if nothing else which is about as much as she can give. She grabbed another marshmallow from the bag, shoving it on to the end of her stick to go back to roasting and maybe not fucking it up this time.

'I hope you girls aren't fighting,' she hears her dad say with the always present small hint of amusement in his voice. Chloe shrugs, shaking her head in response, looking back to Max at the compliment and reaching up to touch the small patch of blue absentmindedly. ]

I uh - found the dye we were gonna use to make me Blue Beard. [ The one she'd stuffed away to forget about because she didn't want to think about pirates anymore. ] Seemed a shame to waste it. Maybe I'll do my whole head next time.

[ A ghost of a smile curls her lips at the memory. ] I remember. [ Of course she remembers. She hasn't forgotten a thing.

But somehow, the pinch of guilt twists harder at having admitted that. ]

You'd look really badass.

[ Her clothing style's changed, too. Everything about Chloe looks... grittier, a hard edge to her that didn't use to be there before. There's a bittersweet tinge to seeing her like this, the same as seeing the old color on the Prices' home go.

But she looks good, there's no denying that. She looks cool. She's... pretty.

Max's gaze escapes downwards again.

She, on the other hand, just looks the same. She's grown her hair out a tiny bit, wears it down more. She's found she likes the comfort of having something to hide behind. ]

... Chloe. How... [ 'How have you been', she almost asks, but the thought alone makes Max want to punch herself. How do you think she's been, idiot. ] How are things at Blackwell?

[ Maybe there, at least, things could have changed for the better. Maybe... she has a new best friend now. ]

[ Badass. The words actually get a small laugh from her, not feeling very badass in the moment. She knows when she wakes up, her head's going to be killing her from where Damon kicked it, her ribs screaming, and she'll want to cry from more than just the pain after this stupid dream. She feels weak. ] Thanks.

[ Ah, Blackwell. She snorts, twirling the stick in her hands under the guise of trying to rotate the marshmallow as opposed to delaying answering the question. Things had changed so much in the time she'd been gone, even more so since she hadn't even been able to fill her in on all the chaos. ]

Dunno. I'm suspended until the end of the year. [ Might as well be honest. ] Mom can't make the payments my scholarship doesn't cover on time anymore so Wells fucking hates me more than ever. I just ... stopped going for the most part anyway, and Mom's always having to try and talk them out of kicking me out entirely. Rachel Amber - she's from California, her dad's the new DA, they just moved to town, but she's easily the new Prize Gem of Blackwell. Anyway, she uh - ditched with me. We got caught. I got blamed. She tried to take the fall and I got suspended for being a bad influence.

[ Max is silent at first, mentally picking away at this new bulk of information. It's a lot to take in at once. But she's only got herself to blame for that, hasn't she.

God, Chloe's going through so much. It's not fair. It's like the entire world turned its back on her on that single, horrible day. It makes Max angry at whatever force of the universe that decided Chloe is destined to suffer. It makes Max angry at herself, too; she should've been better. This isn't what Chloe deserves.

But the only words her mouth can form are: ]

I'm sorry.

[ And that's just it. That's the thing she hates most. Knowing Chloe is hurting, that everything in her life has gone all wrong, and that Max is helpless to change it. She can't do a thing but offer the same weak, trembling words of comfort. She's useless.

It's an awful, stifling feeling, wiping her mind blank and turning her fingers to stone whenever she picks up her phone and swears, this time, I'll answer.

Her hands wrap tighter around the stick, knuckles turning white. ]

Is... she nice? [ If there's a light spot in there somewhere, this might be it. ] Rachel Amber.

[ She shrugs off the apology. Not to be rude, but purely because it doesn't seem to do much, positively or negatively. She's heard so many sorrys - from her, her mom, from people who heard about her father - that the word holds absolutely nothing for her anymore. It's about as emotionally charged as when people say bless you after a sneeze.

Rachel, though. That's a topic that brings a different look to her face. A small glimmer in her eyes. It makes her chest feel a little fuller and the sadness ebb, even if just for a moment. ]

She's... awesome. [ Nice didn't feel strong enough for someone like her. ] I've never met anyone like her before. She's nothing like those dumb hicks in town or the stuck-up rich assholes in the dorms.

[ It's impossible to miss the way Chloe's eyes light up, or the way her voice instantly softens when she talks about Rachel. Max exhales with relief.

Okay. So there's one good thing in her life right now, at least. That's good. Max swats away at the hum of jealousy in the back of her head, the way one would a particularly persistent fly. ]

So, what is she like?

[ She's quiet as she tries to gather her thoughts on how to describe her, how to put what makes Rachel... Rachel into words. She pulls the marshmallow back from the flames, testing it with her finger, deciding it's not quite done, and returning it back to where it came from. ]

She's uh - she's really smart. She's got a great sense of humor. Real theatrical type - both personality wise and in her hobbies. She was in the school play. She - [ There's a pink tinging her cheeks, The Tempest still fresh in her mind, the changes from script. ] ... She dragged me into it. She's really good at talking people into doing what she wants. It's not a bad thing, though, not like the Prescotts or whatever. She's an incredible listener. She knows how to party, too - I met her at a Firewalk concert, so she's got awesome taste in music. She's brave, way braver than I've ever been, and she doesn't take shit from anyone.

[ She smiles, genuinely for the first time, her eyes glancing at Max out of the corner of her eye. It felt so good to be able to gush about her to her face, not just in a journal, even if there's a tug in the back of her mind trying to say it's not real. She ignores it, savoring the relief of the moment where she just has her best friend to talk to about her -... uh... Other... best friend.

Yeah... ]

You'd like her if you met her. I mean, everyone likes her, but I really think you would.

I think you're brave. You're the bravest person I know. [ Maybe it's dumb to latch onto that specific detail, but it felt important to, somehow.

Of course, she doesn't know Rachel. Maybe she wrestles wild lions in her spare time. From Chloe's description thus far, Max would believe it. She just doesn't like Chloe talking herself down like that. It isn't like her.

That's derailing, though. ]

But she sounds... seriously amazing. [ And nothing like Max. Nothing like Max at all.

She bites her lower lip. ] I'm so glad you found someone like that.

[ It's wishful thinking when she says: ] Maybe I could? Someday... [ Maybe she won't stay in Seattle forever. Maybe her dad will get relocated again. Maybe she'll go back to Arcadia Bay, and she and Chloe will pick up right where they left off, like no time has passed...

It's a nice fantasy, if nothing else. ]

You don't know a lot of people. [ It was said sort of matter-of-factly instead of harshly. She remembered how she'd frozen up when Damon brought out the knife, watching Rachel get stabbed, watching her bleed against the seat, and she couldn't feel brave in the slightest.

She tried not to think about it for long. Maybe I could? Someday... That was a better thing to focus on.

Dream Max was always talking about coming home. Always writing saying her dad got sent back. That she was going to be moving to Oregon again and everything was going to be back just as it was. How much she missed her, wanted to see her, how sorry she was - blah, blah, blah. ]

Yeah. Maybe someday. [ She pulled the marshmallow back from the flames, hunting for a graham cracker. ]

[ Chloe doesn't sound like she believes her, which is fine, because Max doesn't believe herself, either. She hates that she can't offer anything real, concrete. Hates that she can't promise Chloe anything, not even a stupid text back.

She's kind of the worst, isn't she.

At a lack for anything worthwhile to say, she sits and watches Chloe eat in silence. She hasn't even fried any marshmallows herself, just held pointlessly onto the stick. It'd feel weird, camping out here, making s'mores, like everything's normal. But it would've felt weirder declining William's invitation.

Still-- even with the guilt and the regret and the discomfort, even with the mourning that chews away at her heart, this moment right here feels more like home than anything in Max's life since she left. ]

... Hey, Chloe?

[ Even if she's tormenting herself, the silence between them awkward and tense, but still not unwelcome because it gives her a minute to gather her thoughts. There's something about all this that feels wrong somehow, like it's not quite a dream, but also not a memory or... real, and it's left her with that same feeling she had when she dreamed about her dad in the car over and over.

She really wanted a bottle of something stronger than the soda that was sitting on the ground.

The break from it makes her look up, over to her, pausing mid-chew of s'more because the sticky treat always takes forever to swallow. She doesn't bother trying before answering, either, a mouth full of marshmallow as she speaks. ] Yeah?

[ Chloe's voice comes out all muffled around the marshmallow, and it makes Max laugh, her shoulders twitching. She's so cute. Some things haven't changed, after all.

The humor drains from her features with the realization she might not get to see Chloe like this again. And never William.

It'll never be like this again.

Quietly, Max reaches for Chloe's free hand on the ground, and takes it in her own. ]

I don't... want to wake up.

[ The s'more gets swallowed quickly at that, gulping hard to force it down as she stares ahead. She wondered if her dad was blocking this all out or if the dream was just selective in who it let talk. He's just a shadow of who he was, after all. Not actually William Price.

Her eyes are stinging and she clenches her fists for a moment, no longer having the stick to grip on to for stability. She can feel her nails digging in to the skin of her palm. It relaxes only when she feels Max reach out, feels her hand in hers, letting her fingers lace with the other girl's. ]

Me neither. [ Her voice is quiet and shaky. ] What... What did I do? To make you just disappear. What did I fuck up?

[ That cuts like a knife to the gut, and Max curls into herself on reflex, squeezing Chloe's hand too tight for comfort. Her voice squeaks, panicky-shrill: ] You didn't! You didn't do anything wrong, Chloe, I just...

[ She just what? At the absolute least, Chloe deserves an explanation, even if it'll only make her hate Max more. It's better she realize what a shitty weak coward Max is, rather than blame this on herself.

Chloe doesn't need anything more to feel bad about.

Max takes a deep, shuddering breath, bracing herself. Failing to compose a proper answer in her head, she resigns to just letting her mouth run; it's not like there's a way to make it sound worse than it is, anyway. ]

I just... never know what to say. I feel so guilty talking to you about stupid stuff like we used to, or how I'm doing in Seattle, it doesn't feel right to. I don't know how to be there for you when I can't be there, and when you were falling apart and needed me and all I could say was the same useless crap over and over again, I knew that wasn't helping at all, but I didn't know what else to do. And I got so angry at myself and I started thinking that if I can't say the right thing, then I just shouldn't say anything at all, because it probably just makes you feel worse when you're counting on me to make things better and I can't. And then the longer I went without saying anything, the harder it got to reply when you messaged me, and...

[ This is where Max's voice, grown strained and trembling with each word, finally cracks. Wetness smears the corners of her vision again, but this time no amount of blinking can keep it at bay, and the tears spill down her cheeks into the lap of her hoodie. ] ... I failed you. A-and I don't know how to face you anymore.

[ She's not sure what she feels as she listens to her words. The guilt, the confusion, the shame that she felt; the part of her that still loves her so deeply wants to tell her it's okay, that she hasn't done anything wrong, that it makes sense that she couldn't handle all of Chloe's grief and anger from a distance - not when she could barely handle it herself.

But the anger is still there. The abandonment. The fact that she hadn't pushed through when she needed her most and just dealt with the discomfort that came from talking to her when she was at her worst.

She feels her hand squeezing into hers, sure she'd leave a mark if this was real. Is it real? She's never been so honest before. It doesn't feel like a dream anymore. It feels like an actual explanation. Her head is pounding and her throat hurts from trying so hard to hold back tears. ]

Trying was all I wanted. Just hearing your voice. It was enough. [ At least enough to get her through the day. Maybe not enough to make it all feel better, but nothing ever would be. ] It would still be enough. As pissed as I am, if you called tomorrow, I'd pick up and pretend like nothing ever happened. [ Her voice cracked, eyes shutting, her own hand clenching down roughly on her friend's. ] I just miss you, Max. Everything's gotten so fucked up and all I want is my best friend.

[ Max nods dimly along to Chloe's words, clinging to her hand like a lifeline. If she could just try. That's all she has to do, get over herself and try. Can't she? Can't she do at least this much?

God. She hates this. She hates this. New tears keep flooding her eyes until she can't see ahead of her anymore, her shoulders shake and her lungs stutter, and Max can barely breathe. She hates this. ]

I miss you too. So much, every day. Even if you don't believe me. [ She sniffs hard, screws her eyes shut. Her voice comes out small and nasal, like she's all of ten years old again. ]

I didn't wanna leave.

[ She felt something on her cheek, going to brush it off with her free hand, surprised to find it wet when she hadn't realized that those stupid tears had started falling at some point. She wanted to believe her. She wanted to so badly, to think that Max missed her as much as she missed Max.

The logical part of her knows she had to go with her parents. The hurt child she left behind wanted to believe she had a choice because otherwise the world just hated her as much as she thought it did. She didn't want to leave, but she had a choice in disappearing.

She can't think about this anymore. She doesn't know how without saying something she'll regret. ]

Mom's gonna get remarried. [ And how thrilled she sounds. ] Maybe you'll be invited to the wedding.

Wh-what? [ Max hiccups, tears stunned to a still. Of all the things Chloe could've said just then, that's the last one she was expecting.

Joyce and William were so in love, the way you only see in movies. To think she found someone new already... Max can hardly wrap her head around it. What kind of person could take William's place? ]

To who...?

[ Well she was in for a disappointing ride. She rubs her face, sighing, looking over to her dad who is still so happily roasting his own marshmallow, which hasn't changed in color this whole time, because this world is just off and he seems like he's on pause after all. ]

David Madsen. He moved in a couple days ago. Thinks it'll be good for me, teach me what a 'stable home is really like' or what the fuck ever. [ Despite her bitterness, she still softens slightly for a moment. Not with anything resembling joy, but at least slightly less anger. ] He makes Mom happy, I guess.

[ Max wipes at her face with her sleeve, clearing the mist from her eyes to get a better look at Chloe. Who is this David guy? She clearly doesn't like him. How has he been treating her?

It's a good thing Joyce is doing better, of course, but... ]

What about making you happy?

TDM #003

unawares

quietly screams

the post-farewell mood, am i right

everything still hurts after that stupid recording

i hope deck9's prepared to pay my therapy bills for the next 10 years

"the purchase of this dlc must be preauthorized by your insurance."

legit

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