It was a week after the press conference, and Emerald was still filling up each newspaper publication. People would bring gifts to her in the prison daily, and her small cell was filled with flowers and chocolates. Reporters used her as an example for their longwinded societal critiques Emerald never read through. A man had gotten a tattoo of her face.

Every small thing that happened such as this, Emerald documented in her journal. Not the soft leather one she had throughout her entire prison ordeal. No, she had a new one. Some woman had given it to her and told her to write a book based off of her life and experiences. It was a hardcover, a golden 'E' inlaid on the front. The pages were thin and exceptionally smooth, making the pen glide gracefully across the page.

Not only did Emerald document her guests and gifts, but her future plans too. With all of the fame she was receiving from this case, when she made it out her career would be set. She could do a simple singing act, and the masses would eat it up. Of course, she would make sure the staging was a brilliant spectacle to make her show unlike most. The costuming as well. Emerald wrote down all of the ideas and descriptions she had.

The stage was entirely black, the only thing one could make out was Emerald, her form distinct on stage. Her hair was wavy, her makeup immaculate, and her curve-hugging dress had the appearance of a thousand white diamonds growing out of her skin. She was magnificent.

"I've never done anything like this before," Emerald began, buttering up the audience. She swayed her body to a bouncing melody that had begun to play. "But, it's such a special night, and such a beautiful moment!" Her arms were thrown open like a saint on a cross. She pulled them back, holding her hands close to her heart. "I just feel like… I can really talk to you, you know?" Emerald took a moment to hum along to the song, moving along to the beat. "So tonight, I'm going to keep it as real as possible. Because thanks to you all for once in my life I have myself a world full of YES!"

The music blasted out in proclamation along with Emerald. An audience applauded.

"The name on everybody's lips is going to be: Emerald." In the blackness, it seemed another Emerald appeared. Only a faint sheen was to give away the invisible mirror.

Emerald continued to dance along. "The lady raking in the chips is going to be: Emerald." She twirled herself into a set of mirrors forming a corner, infatuated with her reflection.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity, that means somebody everyone knows. They're gonna recognize my hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

She ran away from the corner, reveling countless more dark mirrors in the process. "From just some dumb mechanic's 'wife' I'm gonna be: Emerald." She stepped backwards, pressing herself into the mirror. "Who says that murder's not an art? And who, in case she doesn't hang," Emerald spun down the line of mirrors, "can say she started with a bang?" She made a gun-shape with her hand, a large grin on her face. "Emerald Black."

"Or well, Emerald Sustrai. Hm, Black's easier for the masses to pronounce, so… yeah! Now then, boys."

The mirrors lifted, seamlessly revealing an array of men in suits, who swarmed around Emerald, following her every move.

"They're gonna wait outside in line to get to see—"

"Emerald." Emerald fell back into their arms, before pulling back up. "Think of the autographs I'll sign," she snorted, "good luck to ya."

"Emerald."

"And I'll appear in a lavaliere that goes all. The. Way. Down. To. My. Waste." The men hoisted her onto their shoulders.

"Here a ring, there a ring, everywhere a ring-a-ling."

"But always in the best of taste!" Emerald laid back, letting her dancers pull her whichever way they wanted.

"I'm a star," she murmured dreamily. "And the audience loves me. And I love them for loving me. And they love me for loving them. And we love each other," Emerald was plopped down to her feet. "And that's because neither of us got enough love in our childhoods. And that's showbiz, kid."

"She's giving up her humdrum life," the men and Emerald all sauntered to the side. "She's gonna be—"

"Sing it!"

"—Emerald." A giant sign spelling out her name appeared behind them. "She made a scandal and a start."

Emerald diverged from the group, dancing up a set of stairs leading to the top of the sign. "And Sophie Tucker'll shit, I know, to see her name get billed below," she spun and laid back on the sign, draping one of her fish-netted legs over the other, "Emerald Black."

Slowly, the sign began its ascent. The dancers stayed below, watching it rise with Emerald with it. They continued to chant as she rolled to her side and blew kisses at them. Their skin reflected a sickly green.


A/N Merry Christmas!