Emery's POV

The car was just how I had remembered. Grey leather seats and new car scent lingering in the air. The only difference was I was in the back seat, unlike the day of the crash.

It has been 17 minutes since I took the first step out of my apartment, the very car I am sitting in is the gift I got on my 17th birthday. If I weren't scared shitless, I would have laughed at the irony of the situation. Surprisingly I don't feel danger from Marco and Dylan. Even Chanel hasn't been able to get me shivering. It's Luke, there's this aroma around him that makes me wanna piss my pants. The last 15 minutes I have been with him, he hasn't blinked a single eye. He gives me serious creeps, but guess who is riding in a car driven by Luke? Sucks to be me.

Even when the guys were introducing themselves, Marco told me Luke's name. HE WAS QUIET THE ENTIRE TIME! I will find out about him. What his deal is? Why is he so serious? But most of all, WHY THE HECK AM I EVEN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE? I have a good feeling about meeting Chanel. Before you start cursing me, I do find her creepy but she has this homey aura around her that makes me wanna stay.

I sat in the backside of the car and looked out of the window curious to where we were headed. Luke's expression remained stoic even when we reached an underground tunnel thangy. Yes I said 'thangy' because it was humongous, gigantic, massive, gargantuan, colossal, prodigious and ENORMOUSLY LARGE! The ride was really bumpy and the outcome too was explicit! (Note the sarcasm) It was as if we were in Brooklyn, just the 2070 version of it.

Everything was vacant. There were a lot of apartments and sky scraper buildings that talked to the clouds. Greenery was little to none, the Bay Ridge was dried up and the sky was grey. After effects of Global Warming, might I say. Amidst the buildings was an apartment that particularly stood out. It had a dark red exterior with a jet black door that resembled Chanel's hair. Why am I comparing a wooden door to her hair? Seriously no idea. The apartment was high like every other building on this street. It was a bit curvy from the top like it would fall of that very moment and destruct the land.

As we walked further, undoubtedly to the spoken apartment, my eyes wandered to the steps that were the supposed porch of that very building. It was black, midnight black, and where you would find pearls in this situation, my eyes caught blood drops. They were there as if they had been a source of decoration that could fall off any moment because it looked nowhere near dried blood. A flow of nausea passed over me, I couldn't stand the sight of blood and here I was, about to cross it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, I didn't realize I was capable of taking breaths up to this day. And just then, I felt tightness in my trachea which reminded me I could not breathe to save my life. How ironic is that? You breathe to survive, and if I breathe, I die. Lesson of the day, don't start dancing immediately after you succeed. Your happiness might not be relived. And with that, I stepped on the front porch and knocked on the door.