– * starters !

one thing she remembered to bring back from london with her was a guitar her father gifted to emma for her sixteenth birthday. as soon as she had the time she naturally gravitated towards the music room ( the sound of her acoustic always sounded better there ) and hoped that she hadn’t lost her touch because it had been months since she last played. 

sitting down on a stool, tuning the guitar before finally taking a breath and began playing the chords to sia’s ‘elastic heart’ and finally, began singing the words. near the end of the song, the abrupt sound of the classroom door opening cut her off and she immediately stopped. “ uh, hi there. didn’t think anybody would be passing by this late. “

chemistry. more like cleo’s second home. without a single doubt in mind, she ALWAYS headed for the classroom. even in her free periods, she was always found at her desk with some sort of practical experiment in her hands. today wasn’t any different. 

the blonde was dressed in her USUAL genre of attire; plaid skirts with a neatly iron shirt and a jumper thrown over the top but tucked into her skirt. whenever she was in the chemistry lab, her lab coat was draped over her and safety goggles were never far from her head or hands. gaze shifting between textbook and equipment with precision, she was sure this experiment was going to cause a bang OR bubble over. maybe she had finally perfected the case for her exam? 

a look of achievement spread across her visage, palms resting flat against the surface of the desk. attention diverted for a MERE few seconds then suddenly a bang followed with a few bubbles. uh oh, this was BAD. this wasn’t supposed to happen. with her shock, she fell from her stool to the floor but didn’t let it phase her. instead she hid behind the desk just in time of another explosion. 

the door to her room was wide open, she needed the fresh air to come into her room and it wasn’t like she was undressed or her room was messy, so at this point, she didn’t care. she just wanted coffee. if she could even manage one cup that would ultimately make her day so much better. but something was just off about how she moved this morning, the lack off sleep mixed with a vicious hangover left her less aware and fatigued. 

the half asleep, squinting eliza was no more after she missed her cup and instead poured the hot coffee directly onto her hand instead of the mug in it. “motherfucker-!” she yelped immediately, eyes watering from pain. as an instinct, she let go of everything and hindsight she really shouldn’t have. as soon as it hit the floor there was coffee, glass, and ceramic everywhere, the sound alone causing her to wince. 

a distant expression — like troubled water — crossed the detective’s visage, the mark of a girl questioning her footing upon the earth, unsure whether her bare feet upon the ground was trespassing upon a world never meant for her. should she lean into her innate talent, her blessing and her scourge, to vanish from beneath judgemental eyes that named her violence without knowing her, at all ? ( not that she would permit them to know her. how could they, when mallory brennan did not truly know herself? ) life at ashcroft raises a thought of a quote, of everyone now the masquerade masks are crumpled and discarded — some of them trampled into the dance floor and left there — OUR TEETH AND AMBITIONS BARED. 

the society members, whose circumstances leave them more than a modicum above the rest; many of whom, to mallory’s glittering hazel irises, believe they are angels when they aren’t. when they could NEVER be entitled to some elysian privilege. people like the murdered boy she’d loathed, barely able to recognise envy. perhaps she believes she pities him, pities them all sometimes for their lack of normalcy. 

“yes, i’m okay, and i’d rather you didn’t ask, ‘what happened.’“ he said bluntly, finally looking up at the other.  his black eye had gone down to the point where the swelling was gone, but the black and blue ring still sat prominently around his eye socket.  the bruise from pierce was also present, the rest of the bruises lay hidden under his shirt.

– IT’S ONE DAY LATER. it’s one day after the masquerade and she’s having that dream again. it’s the same as it always is, only this time, the killer is in a mask, and she’s still running as fast as she can. in these dreams, she’s always running, and she wakes up in her bed in a cold sweat, panting. 

this time, she doesn’t wake up in her bed. 

she wakes up just outside the east wing, and for a moment, her nightmare seems real and she can’t stop herself from screaming because for a moment, she’s certain that she’s going to be killed, that this is it, and that these are her very last breaths. and then she catches it – it’s that nightmare again, and it takes a moment to calm herself down, catch her breath, and remind herself that everything’s fine. clad in only her underwear and t-shirt with dark circles under her eyes, no one would believe that this was a nighttime stroll. so, when she hears the footsteps of someone who probably heard her yell, she knows that there’s no point in lying entirely.