HANDLE NAME: UNKNOWN

Chapter 1- To End It All

A sign hung on the elegant lion doorknobs. Closed for Private Event

Emmy stared incessantly at the sign. Feelings years old rushed in; anger, betrayal, unease, as if those words were meant for her. Just for her.

You don't belong here.

You are unwanted by them all.

.

.

.

"Sugar, get your ass over here now." A woman's voice said from behind her. Emmy turned, staring at a frenzy of people gambling and hustling by. Who?

"Ahem..." the woman cleared her throat again. It was the bartender at a small Egyptian themed bar a few yards away to her right. A sign sat atop Reserved for Private Party. The woman was a beauty, as most were who worked the Vegas casinos and strips. Bright red hair that seemed unnatural but gorgeous, red lips, darker warm skin with small freckles across her nose. Hazel eyes that probably lured more than one man to the bottom of his bank account.

"You need a drink. I heard what the velociraptor of a woman said. I heard what you said." those light eyes narrowed slightly. "Ain't no one should be sober for some shit show like that. Sit, it's on me."

"You're closed." Emmy said awkwardly, her fingers feebly pointing to the sign. She regretted it the moment she said it, she was still stuck in a stupor but even she could hear how childlike that sounded.

"I ain't telling you again, sugar. Sit down."

Emmy stumbled forward, legs and joints stiff from having been standing for so long. She climbed atop the bar stool and settled in, resenting the way her bare legs stuck to the leather on top. The dress she had picked for the wedding was a simple coral dress that hugged what small curves she had. Vegas was disastrously hot, she would have preferred something a little longer, but she quickly learned, with the help of the dress shop workers, light and airy was the way to go.

Unfortunately, the beautiful coral dress now had an unflattering stain on the lower edge of it. Her fine aiming job was to thank. The bartender eyed the stain before quietly handing Emelia some bottled seltzers water and a few napkins to start cleaning it off. "Thank you." Emmy murmured, taking the bottle. Beneath her loosening gold hair, her cheek ached; she could feel the swelling starting to build.

Don't think about it.

The woman began mixing drinks, and Emmy noticed instantly they had more booze than they should have.

"Irish mule, you'll like it. The whisky will dull the pain for your face and take off the nerves, the ginger-ale will help your uneasy stomach."

The drink slid to Emelia and she instantly began sipping it. The burn of the whisky was strong but welcomed. Emelia could feel the shadow of the door looming behind her, feel the sign hanging from its knob. She looked across the casino in avoidance, watching the frenzy of people gambling and laughing. There were warning signs all across the booths and along the ends of aisles. CONVENTION IN PROGRESS. DO NOT CONNECT TO ANY UNSECURED WIFI. USE CAUTION WITH INTERNET AND ATM USUAGE. REPORT ANY ISSUES TO SECURITY DESK.

"When's the last time you ate, sugar?"

"My name is Emelia. Or Emmy... and err," she glanced back at the doors to the venue, "I had some sandwiches earlier, but they're long gone now.'

The barking laughter before her shocked Emelia for a moment but then finally she too cracked a small smile.

"The names Daphne." The woman smiled, "and you need to eat." She pulled out a tray of snacks they used when making drinks; olives, pickles, bacon, pineapple, oranges, lemons, and cherries. Daphne began making her a small bowl of it.