The heavy breathing came first, followed by agonizing screams akin to that of someone who had just experienced death, travelled to hell then back. Emily reached for her navel using her left hand and dug into the tiny structure.

It was no longer raining, and her body was constricted somewhere dark and cold. Her eyes slowly drifted shut for a silent count. Emily was certain that the effects of whatever drug she took had faded. Still, the ordeal felt too real. Her clothes were wet, or was it pee? Emily tried shifting but for some reason, her legs couldn't move. Her muscles had turned stiff as a board.

It was all too quiet. Emily's breath came out short and shallow, a motion rehearsed inside her brain. A familiar tune drifted from somewhere in the room to where she remained stashed. Her breath hiked on the thought of the strange man but her concerns quickly faded on the reality of the situation. It couldn't be him. He's dead.

Emily's head jerked right to the movement of a pair of feet, clad in mismatched socks. The feet's owner kneeled beside the wooden frame and made a move to peek underneath Emily's hideout.

A silver crucifix dangled loosely on dark fabric. Emily was certain her judgement was near. She had done a terrible thing, and the guilt would have never allowed her to live it out. Not with drugs and not with people. Emily's unclenched her jaw and waited.

It shouldn't take this long. Emily thought. Then without warning, her right wrist was grasped with a pair of cold, bony hands. Using minimal effort, the guy dragged Emily from underneath the bed. The room was bright, walls lime green and varnished floors. Emily was laying in the floor of her room. Jordan hovered above her, muttering something in an unwelcoming tone.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jordan whisper-shouted. He clapped his hands twice to get Emily's wandering attention. "You're gonna get us in trouble!"

"What?" Emily questioned out of anything else to say. She didn't understand Jordan, or how her brain had managed to convince her of following a dead man to the same place he got murdered. "What? What's wrong?" Emily sat up against her bed and wiped heavy precipitation from the folds of her neck. The quick seat-up motion made her head spin even more.

"You said you'd be good." Jordan went on with his own narrative. Emily scowled and released her cheeks from her teeth's assault. A dull ached settled on the spots inside her mouth. "And I'm the asthmatic!"

Emily dragged her eyes from Jordan's feet up his frame. A silver fashion crucifix rested on the white font of some underground band, with a black tee background.

"I thought you were someone else." Emily finally responded. Jordan's brows scrunched up along with an exasperated sigh. Jordan rubbed his temple with one hand.

"I'm me," Jordan voiced, digging his index finger into his own chest. "J-o-r-d-a-n."

"I'm not dyslexic."

"That's a relief," Jordan expressed. He picked a piece of clothing from the floor and threw it at Emily's slumped form. "I thought your brain was fried."

"What time is it?"

"Three in the morning."

Emily paused in her movements. Terry Jones might have passed around the same time, given the unusual recreation. Emily still didn't understand how or what happened but it weighed down on her. She was supposed to fit somewhere in the narrative, but where?

"You're okay now?"

Emily nodded. She noticed the clear plastic wrapper that houses the drugs they did ingest early in the night.

"I'm going back to sleep," Jordan articulated in a way one would speak to a first time language learner. "Please don't scream up the house, again."

"I won't." Emily promised. She wouldn't be going to sleep anytime in the near future. She had witnessed enough darkness she could almost touch it. What Emily had been through was more than a bad trip. It was hell, she could swear it.

"Cos if ma' wakes up–"

"I'll tell her it was a nightmare." Emily sighed along with her words. She regretted having agreed to the whole activity in the first place.

"Was it?" Jordan queried. He gently ribbed the side of his left arm with the right.

"I believe so."

"So you were there?" He pressed, "on that night?"

"Yeah." Emily bit her bottom lip. She looked up at Jordan as a million thoughts rushed through her head. Emily wondered how Jordan would feel if he saw what she saw through her eyes.

"Anything?"

Emily shrugged. That way, it wasn't a direct lie. Emily was aware of how delicate the matter was, even for Jordan. Any wrong word and Emily would be back to zero on her grief chart. None of them wanted that.

"Cool, cool." Jordan nodded his head. He stared at the curtains covering Emily's windows. To diffuse the awkward air between them, he made a random comment. "Those are some old curtains." Emily scoffed. "Seriously, I've seen them ever since I was a baby."

"I'll be fine." Emily forced a smile. She dragged her body from the floor and stood up. "I need a shower." Jordan nodded to the dismissive words but remained still.

"Need anything?" Jordan asked, eager to be useful to Emily.

Emily took in a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth. Sh desperately needed a long hug, to be told that everything would be okay. She also knew that that would also be accompanied with an ugly breakdown. She couldn't handle that, not when a psychedelic drug had thrown her into her own hell.

"Thanks but no." Emily masked a shallow breath with random hand movement. "Goodnight."

"Night." Jordan beamed. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Sure." Emily fell back on her bed as soon as Jordan left. It was a cold night, and her body crawled into the smooth polyester fabrics. With wide eyes, Emily tried to counter the image playing inside her brain by humming to herself a song.

Her mother's favourite song, the song she was forced to hear the whole night through strange sources.

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