"Emily, darling, the guests are starting to arrive! Come downstairs!" called her grandmother's voice. Emily Renee Angeline Smith sat in her room, debating as to whether or not she should attempt to care about what she looked like for once. Her dresses were strewn across the floor and her mirror was smudged with makeup and fingerprints. Emily lay sprawled across her bed, gazing at the ceiling, her long brown hair splayed over the bed like a thick, glossy curtain.
"Be down in a minute, grandma!" She shouted back, irritated.
"You said that an hour ago!" she heard her snap, "Pull yourself together young lady, and get down here!"
Emily grabbed her pillow and shoved it over her face, suppressing a violent groan. She waited until she could hear her grandma's stilettos trotting off down the hall before sitting up right, and massaging her fingers over her tired face.
"Right…" she hissed. She got up, rolled her neck, and charged back into the mess of dresses on her floor. Emily carelessly flung them, one by one, over her shoulder until she settled on a simple blue sundress. She shoved it over her head and trudged over to the mirror. Emily looked over her complexion with yet another sigh, and decided some chap stick and a swipe of mascara would do. She even plucked up enough effort to rake a brush through her hair.
Coming down the stairs, Emily cringed. Many of the adults had already arrived and the house was pretty crowded. There were women who wore permanent scowls, and looked to be in their mid-forties, wearing long pencil skirts, and perfumes that smelled like fancy department stores. The men were all balding, smoking cigars, and parading around in musty million dollar suits. Everyone looked as if they were too important to be there. Emily could smell the stench of high class wealth radiating off their saggy skin.
This was Emily's world. She had grown up knowing the wealth of the elderly, and constantly despised it. She hated being the youngest one whenever her grandparents had parties. People looked at her like she had the intellect of a piece of styrofoam. The thought of it still made Emily's blood boil, but over the years, she had developed a sense of confidence that ensured the adults would not mistake her for some silly child to fetch them more caviar. She held her head high, arched her back, and stepped between guests, praying no one would bother to notice her.
"There you are! Finally!" cried her grandmother's shrill voice from amongst the crowd. Emily could feel her hope slithering away, as a bony hand clamped over her wrist and dragged her off.
"Grandma, please. I'd like to go see granddad!" Emily snarled.
"This is more important than your old man! Now, chin up, eyes forward… I'd like you to meet someone very special."
Her grandma gestured to a pair of highly sophisticated looking people, who were holding their wine glasses in a bored manner. Emily repressed the urge to hiss and roll her eyes. Instead, she put on a painfully fake smile.
"Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo!" Her grandma squealed. "This is my daughter, Emily Renee! Emily, Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo practically run the Oxford Board of Education!"
Emily could feel her teeth grinding down to stubs. "Is that so?"
"How do you do young lady?" said Mr. DeAngelo, offering her a meaty hand to shake. Emily tried to take it as daintily as possible.
"Emily hopes to go to Oxford, don't you dear?" her grandma proceeded. Emily's smile vanished. No, she thought, I don't, but you sure want me to.
"Well Oxford credentials are high, and we only take the best of the best, young lady. You would have to show us something you could offer the school." Mrs. DeAngelo slurred. "What are you good at?"
Before Emily could answer, her grandmother cut her off.
"Emily is the top of her class at school! She's enrolled in the highest, most advanced classes that someone her age can take. She's also very responsible and studious!"
"Yes, yes, but what does she offer that's different?" Mr. DeAngelo asked. Her grandma opened her mouth, but Emily jumped the gun this time.
"I dance, sir." She said. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo looked at her curiously, almost like she was joking. The same look had been cast upon Emily every waking moment of her childhood, but she stood her ground.
"You… dance?" Mrs. DeAngelo laughed, "And are you any good at it?"
"I like to think so, yes," Emily snapped at them. Her grandmother chuckled nervously.
"Dancing is a hobby of hers…" she tried to intervene, but Emily cut her off once more.
"No, I like dancing. I would very much like to study it, and perhaps become a professional someday!" Emily pronounced. This time, Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo laughed heartily, clutching their glasses as the wine splashed about.
"Child, no one studies the arts anymore. It's a foolish career path to choose." Mr. DeAngelo chortled.
"I kind of like this one, dear," Mrs. DeAngelo said, "she reminds me of myself when I was filled with youthful stupidity."
They laughed that annoyingly posh laughter that all snobby elders used. Emily clenched her fists together.
"I beg your pardon! I'm not stupid!" she insisted. Emily felt her grandmother attempt to guide her away, but she whipped back around.
"Dearie… why don't you go find granddad, like you said you were going to?" she pleaded.
"Yes, yes child. Run along. I think we're done here." Mr. DeAngelo sneered. Emily's face turned beet red and she approached the old couple as civilized as she could.
"Good, because I would rather rot in the cellar than go anywhere near your snobby, tight-ass school." She hissed. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo's faces turned sour immediately.
"How DARE you! You insolent little-" Mrs. DeAngelo began, when suddenly, there was a loud snap from above.
It took everyone a moment to realize what was happening, by which time the chandelier had begun to fall. People screamed and darted out of the way. It violently crashed onto the tile, sending glass shards everywhere; the intricate crystals and handmade golden rims were scattered around the floor in pieces. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo, who were only feet away from the chandelier, flung themselves backwards to avoid getting crushed. From the ground, the couple looked up, their faces ghostly pale, and their expressions utterly terrified.
Emily realized that she had hardly moved during the accident, until commotion broke out once more, and brought her back to her senses. She blinked, and began to walk towards the door.
"My apologies everyone! That chandelier is quite an antique. Its hinges must have been weak," she heard her grandmother say before she slammed to door shut.
Her grandparent's estate resided on the edge of a beautiful lake. In the darkness of the late evening, the stars glittered against the murky waters that rippled as the wind brushed over it. Emily removed her shoes and began strolling along the water's edge, letting her feet sink into the dirt. Her grandma would disapprove. It was probably very improper for a lady to get her feet dirty. As she walked, Emily found a pebble and began to mindlessly nudge it with her toe.
She had wanted to chandelier to fall, and so it had. Things like this no longer startled Emily. Ever since she was eleven, she had grown accustomed to weird things happening. She noticed they only happened when she was feeling a powerful surge of emotion. She was infuriated at her grandma, at the DeAngelo's, at the entire situation! Her whole life, Emily had always felt that something was missing. She was lonely, and desperate to find someone she could relate to, but in the end, there was never anyone. Even her own parents had abandoned her, and left her here to rot in the luxury of old age.
"Oi! There you are sport!" called a raspy voice. Emily smiled. Her granddad put a comforting hand on her shoulder and walked with her.
"Hi granddad." She sighed.
"Oh, I know that tone," he pressed. "Something on your mind?"
Emily gave a dramatic shrug and leaned down to pick up the pebble.
"Just grandma."
"Ah, don't let the old prune get you down! She's only doing what she thinks is best for you." He said casually, shoving his hands into his old jean pockets. Her granddad was the exact opposite of her grandma. He enjoyed luxury, sure, but he also liked the simple things: wearing sweatpants on Sundays, fishing with his friends, playing board games…
Only, Emily never saw him. Her granddad was an engineer, and he loved his job so much that he couldn't bear to retire. He was gone for almost 12 hours a day. Same could be said for Emily's grandma as well; when she wasn't nagging her about everything, she was out being a sophisticated old prat elsewhere. Emily was left alone a lot, but of course she'd never let anyone else know how much it bothered her. She already felt like a heavy burden. She didn't need to worsen it.
"There's something else though," Emily continued, chucking the rock over the pitch black waters, listening to the splash it made as it fell beneath the surface. "Granddad, sometimes I feel like I don't belong here. I feel so… out of place."
"That's just being a teenager sweetheart," her granddad said consolably, "everyone goes through it. You'll grow out of it eventually."
"Yeah, I guess." Emily said, unconvinced. Her granddad sighed and leaned in next to her. They both spent a moment just looking at the sky.
"You know that book series you're obsessed with?" he said. Emily smiled.
"You mean… Harry Potter?"
Her granddad chuckled, "when I first gave you the books for Christmas, you wouldn't put them down for nothing. And when you finished the series, you read it all over again."
"It's a good series!" Emily said defensively, smiling wide.
"Well, that bloke Harry, he didn't feel like he fit in anywhere in the beginning, right? He was as big of a misfit as they come. But in the end, he found a place where he belonged. And I promise you'll find that place. You just have to give it time." He said. Emily nodded.
"I suppose you're right. I'm being silly."
Her granddad stood with a groan.
"Oh well, at least you're not your grandmother. By the way, did I hear something crash?"
"Yeah, um…" Emily scratched the back or her neck awkwardly. "The chandelier kind of fell, and… uh, almost hit the DeAngelo's."
There was a short pause. Then, her granddad burst into laughter. His guffaws were loud and warm-hearted. Emily began to laugh too,
"Oh lord!" her granddad say, wiping away a stray tear, "I probably shouldn't enjoy that so much, but I never liked those DeAngelo snobs."
"No one was hurt," Emily assured. Her granddad placed a supportive hand on his stomach and sighed.
"Well, I suppose I should get back and help your gran clean up the mess." He continued. "And by help, I mean clean up the whole thing myself."
Emily nodded, and looked out at the lake.
"I'm just going to stay out here for… awhile longer." Emily said. Her granddad nodded, and gave her a wink before turning around and hobbling towards the estate.
Emily sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees, placing her chin between them. She knew her granddad was right. She was just being a normal, angsty teenager. But something in the back of her mind, a very small voice of truth and reason, said it was something much more than that.
Emily decided maybe it was time to return, though she would not be giving apologies to anyone. The DeAngelo's deserved what they got.
Although, the moment Emily turned around, she saw there was someone standing on the other edge of the yard. She couldn't see who it was, for it had gotten much darker. Her first thought was to ignore them. She didn't want to talk to anyone just now. Emily held her head high and began walking back towards the house, prepared to pass the person without so much as looking them in the eye. She didn't care if it was gran. However, as she got closer, she realized the person was wearing an odd-looking cloak. They had pulled up the hood so Emily could not see their face. It was an odd thing to wear, especially in mid-august. She paused for a half a second, slightly confused. The person hadn't moved a single step. The wind rushed through them almost like they were a ghost. Emily shook her head, and continued to walk.
"Stop," they said. Their voice was deep and ominous. Emily's eyes widened and she froze. What on earth-
"Excuse me?" Emily said, taken aback by their abruptness.
The person slowly turned their hidden face towards her, and Emily swallowed hard. This wasn't a party guest, she realized.
"Emily Renee Angeline Smith?" they asked calmly. Emily froze with fear, and she could feel her eyes widening. They flickered towards the house. It wasn't far. She could run.
"Who are you?" she snapped, "How do you know my name?"
The person chuckled deeply.
"Oh, everyone once knew your name. But now, you go by a different one. One you thought you could hide behind…"
Emily began taking minuscular steps away from this madman. Once she was within a few feet of the estate, she could scream for help. But no one would hear her from here.
"Right, ok... I'm going to leave now… I-I mean people are waiting for me…" she stammered.
"I've been searching for you for a long time, Ms. Smith." The man continued, ignoring her warning, "I've got something that I would like to show you."
Emily said nothing, but her eyes never trailed from the crazy man in front of her. Silence fell over them for a moment or two.
Then, Emily ran for it. She ran like her life depended on it. Suddenly, she felt a strong, rough hand grab her shoulder and pull her back. She screamed, and whirled around, kicking the man directly in the shins. He groaned, and Emily attempted to pull away, but he held fast, and jerked her away from the house. Her screaming became more and more frantic, but the man easily overpowered her. No kicking, punching, or struggling could wriggle her free from him. He was mad!
"What do you want from me?" she bellowed. The man said nothing, but he wrapped an arm around her. He then proceeded to spin on his heels, and Emily only saw darkness after that.