When Blood Turns Cold

Amy quickly dialed Emerald's number, but her phone was switched off. Her frown deepened, and a wave of worry washed over her. Without wasting another second, she began packing up her things. As usual, she was working overtime, but tonight was different—Emerald needed her.

Grabbing her car keys, Amy rushed toward the parking lot.

"Hey, Amy, are you heading out already?" one of her colleagues called after her, surprised to see her leaving before finishing her work. But Amy didn't respond; she was too focused on getting to Emerald.

"Is Director Amy alright?" another colleague asked, concerned.

Her team admired her dedication and determination, and many staying late to work alongside her. However, not everyone shared the same commitment—some had families and obligations that required them to leave on time. Still, they respected Amy's drive, which made her sudden departure all the more unusual.

"I guess we can also take a break, then. See you guys tomorrow," one of the colleagues said, shrugging as they began packing up their things.

The others exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement. It wasn't every day that Director Amy left early, and if she wasn't staying, they figured it was a sign they could call it a night too. Slowly, the group began tidying up their workstations, chatting quietly as they prepared to head home.

Amy gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove to the bus station Alex had mentioned. Her mind raced with worry, and she kept redialing Emerald's number, only to hear the same frustrating message: The number you are trying to reach is currently switched off.

Minutes later, she pulled up in front of the bus station. Jumping out of the car, she looked around frantically, her breaths coming fast and shallow. Emerald was nowhere to be seen. Her chest tightened with panic as she scanned the area again, hoping she had just missed her in the crowd.

Quickly, she dialed the number of their neighbor. "Has Emerald come home yet?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No, nobody's been home all evening," the neighbor replied, making Amy's heart sink.

Her mind spiraled. What if something happened to her? Emerald wasn't in a good state when Alex had left her, and the thought of her wandering alone scared Amy. She returned to the car and sank into the driver's seat, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths.

Think, Amy. Where would Emerald go? She mentally ran through the list of Emerald's usual hangouts, her panic momentarily giving way to focused determination. Then, like a light bulb flickering on, it hit her: The club!

"That has to be it," Amy murmured to herself, starting the car. Without wasting another second, she sped off toward the club, her fingers gripping the wheel with renewed urgency.

Twenty minutes later, Amy stepped into the club, immediately overwhelmed by the chaos around her. The air was thick with music and chatter, and colorful lights flickered in dizzying patterns, making it hard to focus. She squinted, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space, searching for any sign of Emerald.

The crowd was relentless—people danced wildly, others sang off-key, and the occasional stranger tried to approach Amy, but she brushed them off, her focus unwavering. She moved through the crowd like a lost girl in a maze, her anxiety growing with each passing second.

Then, amidst the blur of movement and light, Amy spotted a familiar figure slumped on a stool by the bar. Emerald. Her head rested heavily on the sticky counter, her right arm sprawled limply beside it.

Amy's heart sank as she noticed the cluster of empty bottles lined up next to her—at least five. The sight of her best friend in such a state was both heartbreaking and alarming. Without hesitation, Amy pushed through the crowd, determination fueling her steps as she made her way to Emerald's side.

"Emmy, Em," Amy called softly, shaking Emerald's shoulder gently, trying to rouse her. But Emerald didn't stir; the alcohol had completely knocked her out.

"Your friend here is in no good state," the bartender remarked, his voice laced with mild concern.

Amy nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I'll take her home," she replied firmly, bending down to support Emerald. Sliding her left arm under Emerald's shoulder and her right hand around her waist, she helped her off the stool, bracing herself against her friend's weight as they began moving toward the door.

"Need help?" the bartender offered as they wobbled toward the exit.

"No, thanks," Amy said, shaking her head without stopping.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally made it to the car. Amy gently eased Emerald into the back seat, letting her lie down comfortably. She placed Emerald's bag in the front passenger seat, ensuring nothing was left behind, before closing the door.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Amy took a moment to steady her nerves before starting the engine. She glanced back at her friend, her heart heavy with worry, then began the drive back to their apartment in silence.

After parking her car in the lot, Amy pulled out her phone and quickly texted Alex:

[We are home.]

His reply came almost instantly:

[Good.]

Amy exhaled, relieved that someone else shared her concern, even from afar. She got out of the car and carefully helped Emerald to the apartment. Emerald was semi-conscious by now, her eyes half-open, but she was still too groggy to move on her own.

Once inside, Emerald practically collapsed onto her bed, mumbling incoherently before falling into a deep sleep. Amy gently removed her shoes, then pulled the blanket over her, tucking her in with a tenderness only a best friend could offer.

With Emerald settled Amy moved to her desk. She sank into the chair and opened her phone, her fingers moving quickly over the screen.

[Tell me what exactly happened?] She typed, her curiosity and concern reaching their peak.

Alex replied promptly:

[For your eyes only.]

Moments later, he sent an attachment—a video of the meeting between Emerald and the lady.

Amy let out a heavy sigh after finishing the video, her heart aching with the weight of what she'd just learned. No wonder Emerald was in this state. Even when her grandmother had passed, Emerald had been heartbroken but still composed—never resorting to drinking to cope. This was different, Amy realized. This revelation had shaken her friend to the core.

Emerald wasn't the type to drown her emotions in alcohol, which made it clear just how deeply this had upset her. Amy's mind raced as she replayed snippets of the video, each detail a painful reminder of the burden Emerald now carried.

With a weary glance at her friend, Amy hesitated before rising to her feet. She headed to the bathroom, letting the warmth of the water wash over her as she tried to compose herself. Once done, she returned to the room, pulling a blanket from the closet and settling on the couch.

Even though the couch wasn't as comfortable as her bed, Amy couldn't bring herself to leave Emerald alone tonight. She needed to be nearby, just in case her best friend woke up in the middle of the night. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she lay down and let the quiet of the room surround her, keeping one ear open for any sound from Emerald as she slowly drifted to sleep.

The next morning, Emerald woke up with a splitting headache. She groaned softly, raising a hand to rub her temple in an attempt to soothe the pounding. Sitting up slowly, she let out a tired sigh and glanced around the room, her memories from the previous night hazy.

She tried to piece it together—what had brought her to this state? Then it hit her: the bar, the drinking, the overwhelming emotions from the meeting with the lady. A pang of guilt and sadness washed over her.

Emerald reached for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Alex's number.

Alex, still sitting in the conference room after a long meeting that had ended ten minutes ago, glanced at his buzzing phone. Seeing her name on the screen, he quickly picked up.

"Hello, Alex," came Emerald's weak voice, barely above a whisper.

"Hi, Emmy. How are you doing?" he asked gently, concern evident in his tone.

"Actually, I feel horrible about the way I treated you yesterday," Emerald admitted, her voice laced with guilt. "I shouldn't have been rude. After all, you were just trying to help. I'm sorry."

Alex sighed softly on the other end of the line. "It's okay, Emmy. I understand. There's no need to apologize. Honestly, I shouldn't have pushed you."

"No, you were right," she replied, a trace of regret in her tone. "If I had just gone home, I wouldn't have ended up drunk. Now I'm stuck taking a day off from work." She sighed, then asked, "Is Amy at work?"

Alex's voice softened further. "No, she told me she wouldn't be going in today. She said you might need her."

Emerald felt a fresh wave of emotion—and perhaps another headache—coming on. Despite the throbbing pain in her temple, she was immensely grateful for Amy's unwavering support. "Alright. Thanks for everything, Alex," she said sincerely.

"There's no need to thank me," he replied with a reassuring calmness.

"Then I won't waste your time. Have a good day," Emerald said before ending the call.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she set the phone down. Despite everything, she felt lucky to have people in her life who cared so deeply.

Emerald slowly stood up from the bed, but as soon as she was on her feet, a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to stumble slightly. She grabbed the edge of the bed for support, muttering under her breath, "Ugh, what the hell?"

Taking a moment to steady herself, she shook her head and sighed, then made her way to the washroom. The cool tiles under her feet grounded her slightly as she splashed water on her face, hoping it would help clear the fog in her head. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her tired eyes a reminder of everything that had happened.

With a deep breath, she resolved to pull herself together, reaching for a towel to pat her face dry. "Freshen up and face the day, Emerald," she muttered.