"Ms. Vance?"

Emelia Vance smiled, polished, pretty, posture upright. There wasn't a mark of blood, or hint of bruise, on her. Only the pink eye shadow and lip gloss of a pretty high school senior that beautified the new girl scared of making the wrong first impression. Tight jeans, a flowing blouse of dull metallic gold sand silk, exposed shoulders, and gold glittered leather sandals. She was trying, even at 8:30 in the morning, waiting in the front office as the guidance counselor, Mrs. Evans, called for her. 

"Here's your schedule. You don't have a first period, so feel free to walk around the campus and get an idea of where your classes will be for the rest of the day. And of course, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." 

Off the rack blouse, off the rack slacks, box heels and a kindly face marked the middle aged Mrs. Evans. She seemed nice enough, and tried as hard as anyone in her position could be expected given the worries and stresses and constraints of her position, of her life. Emy smiled, at least her eyes did, her head nodding quietly s her hand clutched the backpack slung off her right shoulder, and she was out the door. Halls were empty, the bell had rung fifteen minutes ago. It was nice, in a way, to be allowed the rare chance to catch your breath as the new girl. 

A deep breath brought in calmer feelings, and new sensations. Or new takes on prior sensations...like a sense, or a smell. Something she'd experienced before? The night before, it hit her, like a bullet to the brain. It was an act of violence, the way the memories of the night before struck her. She'd repressed them, forgotten them as if it was all just a bad dream. What else was those parts of Emy Vance's life, but just a bad dream she could wake up from? How else does a girl stay sane from such a thing? 

The door to the library slipped open on well oiled hinges as she pushed it open.

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The lighting seemed moody, even if it was probably meant to be private and academic in nature, the natural light of the morning light giving it a warmth, where the dark of night, so she imagined, might have given it a sort of foreboding. There were precious few in the library, but voices caught the edge of her ear, and pulled her towards stairs. Up the stairs, to the right, to a private room marked "RM L.202 - STUDY ROOM" on the building placard just outside the room. A study room?

Her hand moved for it, for the door of the study room--but it stopped short, as a voice crept up on her like a shiver up her spine.

"Ms. Vance, I believe it is?"

Only her neck moved, eyes following quickly behind. Eyes that set upon the source of the voice, but reacted as if she'd seen exactly what was expected: a teacher. Or in this case, a librarian. Tall, dressed in clothing that seemed like it came from the best materials and a tailored hand. Eyes that seemed a little too fixated on her for her liking. 

"...closed room?"

It smiled. The librarian. "No, actually. No class has it reserved until fourth period."

Her eyes blinked away from him, and back to the door of the study room. To the conversation going hot behind the closed door.