(Year 1987 Emily is 17 years old, living in DC)
The lights pulsed in time with the music, creating a vibrant atmosphere where everything swayed and rushed around her. She felt liberated, as if nothing could reach her, nothing could cause her pain. She felt as if she were in heaven, or at least what she imagined heaven to be like for a seventeen-year-old. After so many years, she finally felt a sense of relief wash over her. For the first time, everything seemed to fade away—no more hurt, no more pain—just a feeling of weightlessness, as if she were floating on a cloud. It was a Monday afternoon, and she had just wrapped up her school day. Instead of heading home, she made her way directly to her friend's house. They had plans to go to a bar, and whether they had a fake ID or not, they were determined to get in. It felt like her life depended on it. She was determined to forget tonight, even if it meant flirting with a doorman or handing over some of the money she had too much of; she was getting into that club. She was aware that her behaviour around older men was risky, yet it didn't matter to her; it was a thrill that made her feel truly alive. The rush of her heart racing in her chest when they declined her or accepted her other propositions was exhilarating. One lesson she learnt from her mother was to never accept no for an answer. If you wanted something, you took it. That's precisely what she has done since she turned thirteen. She understood that her mother wouldn't mind her whereabouts; as long as her grades were good, she had the freedom to do whatever she pleased. And so she did, going out nearly every night with either friends or strangers she met on the streets. At times, she would leave the country she was residing in for weeks during the summer whenever her mother received a new placement. Throughout her life, she had constantly moved from place to place, encountering thousands of individuals. Many were there to offer support, but she soon realised that most were more interested in taking advantage of her. However, that was ruined the moment her mother rang her just as she approached the club's entrance. "Emily, where are you?" She yelled from the other end of the phone. "Mother, I'm at the club. Why are you calling me? Don't you have some important meeting or something to attend to instead of bothering me?" Emily snapped back, her tone reminiscent of a petulant teenager. She listened as her mother scoffed and offered an apology to someone on the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of a door closing. "Emilia Elizabeth Prentiss I just needed to ask an interviewer for a moment of their time. Why on earth did Rodger just walk up to me so quietly?" She exclaimed with anger. "I made it clear that I would reveal his inappropriate behaviour if he attempted to take anything, even something as personal as your thongs, you're welcome."I remarked with a hint of sarcasm.An uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of them. Emily was aware of the situation between her mother and Rodger. This wasn't the first instance of her mother's infidelity, but her father seemed indifferent, as he too had been unfaithful. They remained married merely for the sake of appearances. Emily was the one who discovered her mother with the kitchen chef, in a rather inappropriate manner. Emily's eyes widened in shock when she walked in on them during the show. "Emilia, I…" Elizabeth stood in shock, at a loss for words. "You promised you were done with that, and that you'd make an effort to resolve things with your father." Emily spoke with indifference, fully aware that it was over. Yet, a small part of her, that six-year-old version, had secretly hoped they would reunite as a happy family. Unfortunately, that dream was not to be. "Emilia at the end of the day your father and I will never see eye to eye ever, things have happened, get over it." She snapped hanging up the phone. Emily just smiled to herself pocketing her phone in her back pocket and headed into the bar.
"You know, you really don't seem old enough to be in here." A man's voice called out from behind her as she made her way to the bar. Emily pivoted on her heels, casting a disapproving glance at the man who was scrutinising her from head to toe. "Eww I wouldn't stay if I were you. I'm familiar with many faces in this bar, and if I so much as glance at one of them, you'll find yourself on this sticky floor in no time." She spoke with a tone that was chilling. The man scoffed and moved closer, his hands reaching for her hips. She moved a step closer to the barman, who had now become aware of the situation. "I don't believe you," the creepy man said, his hands gripping her hips as he drew Emily closer to him. Emily, slightly tipsy, pointed a finger at his chest, gazing up to meet his eyes. "You're really going to wish you hadn't done that." Just as he was about to speak, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Calvin, my closest friend from high school. We connected effortlessly, like fish in water. Even when she relocated to the other side of the globe, he would still find himself chatting late into the night or hopping on a plane to see her during the holidays. He spent every day and night by her side, and it certainly helped that he worked at the pub she visited most often. The unsettling man turned to face Calvin, letting out a chilling, hysterical laugh. "This… this is the person who will tackle me down to the ground. He's about 5 years old." The man turned back to Emily, his hand returning to hers and gradually moving lower. In a matter of seconds, Calvin seized the man by the arm, twisting it behind him. He then kicked the back of the man's leg, forcing him down onto the sticky floor. Emily adjusted her black pencil dress, which had hiked up when that creep made his unwelcome advance. "I did give you a heads up." She spoke and then turned to the barman to order another drink. All eyes in the bar were drawn to the unfolding commotion. "When a woman says no, she means no. Do you understand? If I catch you touching another woman in this bar without her consent. I will contact the police myself, and if you here again after that, I will make your life hell, I might even kill you. Am I being clear?" Calvin pressed his knee into the man's shoulder blades. The man expressed his understanding through tears, and Calvin released him, giving a nod to Emily, who returned the gesture to indicate she was alright.
Emily picked up her drink and made her way back to the group of friends, where they were all lost in the rhythm of the dance floor. "It seems like you can't catch a break, can you?" Allie spoke to her above the music. Emily sipped from her small red straw. "No, but I'm getting bored. I'll finish this drink and then make my way home." She called out in response. Allie gently took the drink from her hand."Oh come on, you can't let that jerk ruin tonight." "Let it go and come dance with me." Emily shook her head, pulled back her arm, and chugged her drink, her face scrunching up as the burn hit the back of her throat. "Oh no, Allie I'm heading home now. You can stay here if you'd like, but texting me Just let me know when you get home. Take care of yourself."Emily kissed her cheek gently before walking over to her driver, who had been patiently waiting for her. "Miss Prentiss, it seems the night has come to an early close." As she settled into the passenger seat, her driver spoke up. Emily offered him a warm smile. "Well, tonight was a bit too dull for my taste," she remarked. The driver glances at her, but begins to start the car, aware that Emily won't engage in conversation about it. She tends to keep to herself when she's feeling down. She found it hard to trust anyone enough to let them in. "Should I go anywhere before I take you home?" He enquired. "Hey, how about we make a quick stop at Target? I'd love to treat you to a Starbucks." She expressed. One of their favourite pastimes while driving together was to take detours, unlike her other drivers who preferred to head straight home without any diversions.
She picked up some snacks, made her payment, and then they ordered their drinks before heading home. "Are you certain you don't want me to walk you to the house?" The driver remarked. As they arrived home, the last glass of alcohol she had chugged pushed her from tipsy to fully intoxicated. "Listen, I'm fine. Go home to your kids." Emily stumbled her way up to the gate, slurring her words as she slammed the car door shut.
She rummaged through her bag for her keys, but they were nowhere to be found. Deciding to check the back door, she made her way around, the sound of her black heels echoing in the courtyard. The house felt almost deserted; her parents' room was located in the far east wing, and they likely wouldn't hear her regardless. She turned the handle, causing it to rattle. "Oh no, not again." She stepped back to check if her bedroom window was ajar. Tilting her head back was a misstep, and she landed right on her backside. She found herself chuckling at her own predicament as the combination of coffee and alcohol left her feeling queasy. She awkwardly got to her knees before pushing herself back up to her feet. She turned around, her face contorting as she realised a gun was aimed at her. "Please remain where you are, miss!" A rich, resonant voice commanded. He wore a fitted suit, and when she looked down, his shoes were polished. "Could you please tell me your name?" He asked, the gun still pointed at her face. It was quite bold of someone to show up at her house and point a gun at her, she thought. With a tipsy flourish, she waved the gun away from her face, and the man before her regarded her as though she had lost her mind. "It seems you're new to this place." She giggled softly, making an effort not to gag in front of him. "Miss, who are you before I call the cops?" he asked, clearly noticing her intoxicated state. "I kindly ask you to leave the premises before I have to call them." Emily simply stood still for a moment before walking past him, searching for her bag. "What are you up to?" He called to pick up his gun from the lawn and following her. "Doing my best to not get sh..ot but I w..I must admit, the idea of an arrest does sound quite intriguing, doesn't it? Ahhh look keys." She held them out in front of the man, who eased his grip on the gun as she inserted the key into the back door, yet she found herself making no progress. "May I ask your name, Miss?" He enquired once more. "It's the third name on that list you all have." She called out from behind her, still attempting to unlock the door after using almost all but one of the keys on her key ring. The man standing behind her was tightly uncrumpling a sheet of paper in his hand. "you are Emilia? the daughter of the Prentiss family?" He asked, a look of shock on his face, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "The one and only, well not true my brother and sister are…." As she stumbled on the step, the sound of shattering filled the air, and she crashed to the floor just as the door swung open. "Ouch!" She yelled. The man hurried towards her, but he was too late; the glass door she had landed through shattered lay in a million sparkling shards. "Stay right there don't move!" He cautioned as he heard the crunch of glass beneath Emily's movement.