[center][h1][color=82ca9d]"Emerald"[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=82ca9d]Late Evening - Club Carousel[/color][/h2][/center]

It had been a long night. Longer than usual. The crowds were slow and the musical noise was somehow duller than its usual lively gush. She ached from head to toe, her feet tired of the extravagant shoes she tapped around in, now tapping up the stairs to the apartments above the club. Even her eyes felt a dull soreness from hours of a glittery, picturesque scene.

She selfishly hoped that the girl, Alison, was already asleep by the time she got back. As much as she would like to help the poor thing feel more at home, she was much too tired to entertain trivial conversation. She almost cursed herself for allowing the girl to stay. It was a lapse in judgement, a moment of weakness. But now, she could see the idea of sharing her apartment with somebody else for what it was— she was being robbed of those precious hours where she could be nothing and no one.

Emerald supposed looking back on it that something had felt wrong, the air had shifted somehow ever so slightly. In the moment she had felt nothing, simply the groan of tired bones as she hefted herself up the last stretch of stairs and into the long hallway where her home and bed resided. Even when she heard it, that sound, it was as if it was traveling through water, a slow and thick path.

And then it hit her. Like a wave slapping her across her entire body. The wail slid down the halls, a desperate and horrific, “Help me!”

Emerald clattered to the floor, pitching herself over the last step and tumbling onto her hands and knees. It was suddenly a race, a race of body and mind to get there first as she struggled to her feet once more, breaking out into a piercing sprint. All she could hear was the erratic beating of her shoes down the hallway— or perhaps it was the beating of her heart. Doors open as she passed, curious neighbors perhaps, concerned or angry. Deep down she [i]knew[/i] the scream, and that was all she could think. She knew, she knew, she knew, she knew, she knew this would happen, she knew.

She caught herself on her own doorway, fiddling frantically with her keys, fucking keys, god damn keys, she dropped them, in desperation she tried the knob. Unlocked, of course, she should have known. 

Emerald stopped.

She felt the knob in her hand, the solid metal, turned downward. She heard the click of the door itself as it allowed her entry. She knew somehow what was on the other side. She couldn’t open it. She couldn’t open it. So she didn’t. She clicked it shut once more, stepped away from the door, and looked down the hall of awakened neighbors. 

“Someone call the police.” She finally said, the words slicing through the silence like butter, her voice steady, soft, and calm.