Island Chapter One

Emma's head hurt.

Deep down, she knew it was because she was really hungover, maybe still drunk, but she was just going to pretend it was because her wicked alarm was ringing. She knew that the bright, red, evil six was flashing urgently on the screen as if telling her getting up was more important than sleep, more important than recovering from the drinking last night, but she couldn't bear to remove her head from under the soft pillow. Getting up probably was more important, she really needed to get to work, but the prospect of uncurling from her foetal sleeping position and rising from the soft mattress seemed almost criminal. Still, she reached a lazy hand out from under the covers and aimed blindly for the alarm, her head still buried beneath the pillow, trying desperately to block out the trilling whine.

After a few failed attempts, all of which may have been purposeful, though she was too tired, and definitely too hungover to know, Emma successfully hit the button and the clock went silent.

Groaning, her head pounding with each slight movement, Emma rolled out from under her duvet and stepped into the cold morning air. Woken suddenly by the dramatic change in temperature, Emma wrapped her arms around her, her clothes from the night before stained and covered in her own drool, and slipped her feet into her slippers. She padded from the bedroom, grabbing her fluffy, purple dressing gown on the way, and carried on towards her bathroom, which would hopefully allow her to wash her face and get some medicine for her painful head.

However, the mere smell of the bathroom made her headache about ten times worse. Instantly, even with the door only open a crack, Emma's senses were overwhelmed with the smell of toothpaste and soap, toothpaste and soap that smelt like vomit. The bathroom was covered in the vomit smelling substances and many other toiletries too, it was like a tornado had swept through the room, destroying everything in its path. Cosmetics littered the shelves and floor, coating every surface with a thick layer of powder, its particles floated in the air, tickling Emma's nose, causing a loud sneeze to escape.

Wiping her nose on her sleeve before picking up her mostly bristless toothbrush and covering it in a thick glob of toothpaste, Emma raised the brush to her mouth and started to scrub at the plaque covered teeth. Foam dribbled down her chin, dripping every few seconds onto her dressing gown, mingling with the many other stains and substances the unwashed dressing gown had accumulated over the years. It desperately needed replacing, but every time Emma went to order a new one, her mind (and computer mouse) instantly wandered from the shop's webpages all filled with the exact same clothes, to travel ads showing the most wonderful places imaginable.

She longed for an adventure, even just a short trip, so she could escape her boring reality and clear her head. Every day was the same, wake up, go to work, come home and sleep, and all Emma wanted was something different, something exciting.

Not that she would ever get that.

With her salary and work schedule, it would be impossible to travel anywhere remotely nice, and the chances of her ever getting a raise were slim.

Emma spat out the mouth full of toothpaste then rinsed away the awful taste. Dragging her eyes from the cracked, porcelain sink to the stained mirror, Emma was met with her own, haggard appearance. Her dirty blonde hair hung limply against her cheeks, barely reaching past her bony shoulders, causing curly wisps of blonde to tickle her skin and attack her sleepy green pupils. Dark, purple patches spread across her pale skin, underneath her eyes, causing what should have been a thirty-six-year-old woman's face to look ten years older.

Instinctively, Emma reached for the last full powder pot beside her sink and spread the tickly powder across her cheeks and underneath her eyes, bringing a bit of colour back to her lifeless looking flesh. After emptying nearly all of the powder onto her face, desperately trying to not look like a zombie, Emma sighed and padded out of the dirty bathroom back towards her bedroom.

Clothes littered the floor and furniture, covering every available space, making it almost impossible to walk from one side of the room to the other without nearly breaking your neck. Emma grabbed randomly at items of clothing, pulling on anything that matched and wasn't covered in dirt or stains. She ended up wearing an old grey jumper and a pair of even greyer trousers which had holes in both knees. Not that anyone would care, she'd just be sat behind a small, messy desk all day, pretending to work.

Wandering back out of her bedroom, tripping on nearly every piece of clothing that she could, Emma headed towards her kitchen, which she knew would be in an even worse state than her bedroom and her bathroom.

It was.

Plates, cups, and utensils poured out of the sink, flooding over the edges onto the food covered sides. Rubbish flowed out of the bin and stains all of origins unknown, were visible on every counter in the kitchen, altogether, this caused a smell so vulgar, that Emma could barely hold the rising bile down. Bottles, half-full, most empty, also littered the sides, filling the room with another foul smell, alcohol this time, which, had smelt far more appealing to drunk Emma, then hungover, miserable Emma.

Reaching up into the cupboard and grabbing the only clean bowl left, Emma used the nearly empty cereal box and milk bottle, to pour herself some much-needed breakfast. The milk sloshed into and out of the bowl, filling not only the chipped ceramic but Emma's fluffy slippers.

She reached behind her, fumbling for the stained tea towel she knew was resting next to the sink, and kicked off her slippers. Finally grabbing the towel, Emma mopped up the spilt milk, before dumping the towel on top of a pile of washing.

Somewhere, buried beneath a pile of stuff, the phone's merry trill sounded, and after a minute of routing around, Emma pushed the phone against her ear and listened to Jackie's sarcastic, yet welcoming yawn.

Sleepily, Emma asked, "Hey Jackie, what's up?"

From the phone, Jackie's angry tone blasted out, "Your late again, and Patrick's getting stressed because apparently, you're the only one who can get him coffee from a shop!"

"I'm not late." Replied Emma, moving the phone from her ear, Jackie's yelling only making her headache worse, "Work starts at seven, and its six-thirty, the clocks went back an hour last night."

"No," explained Jackie, her angry tone gone and replaced by one of pure boredom, "it's seven-thirty. The clocks go back an hour tomorrow night. And if it were six-thirty, I wouldn't be here at work, I would at home. In bed. Not contemplating my life choices."

Emma felt her stomach drop and the phone tremble in her shaking fingers. She could vaguely hear Jackie's sarcastic tone blasting out of the phone, but the words didn't make sense in her whizzing brain.

She was late, again, and that meant that the chances of her being fired today were very, very high. Patrick had specifically told her that if she were late again there would be no place for her as his assistant, and Emma knew that Patrick would never miss an opportunity to hire a young, pretty girl that would constantly be around him.

As if reading her mind, Jackie's voice cut through Emma's manic thoughts and said, "Emma, you need to calm down and get here as quick as you can. Aside from the coffee, I don't think Patrick's realized you're not here, so if you come now you might not get fired."

"No, no Jackie. I'm fired, I know I am. Patrick hates me, he's been trying to get rid of me for years." Explained Emma, her voice was getting higher now, and it had been at least a minute since she'd taken a normal, steady breath.

"Patrick doesn't hate you." Stated Jackie, her uncaring, sarcastic voice returning, "And he's not been trying to fire you for years, he thinks you're good looking so why would be get rid of you."

Emma scoffed, "He does not think I'm good looking, and he most definitely hates me. The only way I'll not get fired is if you stall for me. Tell him the subway got stuck or something and I'll be there in five minutes."

"Ok." Replied Jackie, "See you in five minutes."

"Ok, bye."

Emma hung up the phone and threw it onto a dirty pile of washing, before sprinting towards the front door, hopping over every item on the floor, and madly grabbing her keys, coat, bag, and scarf. She shoved her feet into the pair of boots resting beside the door, then yanked it open, and ran out into the tiny, dust-covered hallway, slamming her front door behind her.

---

Taking the steps that led out of her building two at a time, Emma hurried towards the subway station that resided just across the street from her apartment. Florida's bright, winter sun shone high above, the beams of light that shot from it almost blinding Emma, but the sun's rays did nothing to block out the cold October wind. It whistled in Emma's ears, howling like a wolf in the night, and even as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled on her coat, it brushed against her skin, chilling her arms, and causing goose bumps to rise across the pale flesh.

Running across the street, trying not to get run over by the early morning traffic, Emma checked the time on her phone. Seeing that she was already forty minutes late, Emma turned her quick jog into a sprint and practically jumped down the subway steps. Ahead, the subway train's doors were slowly closing, as more and more people packed into the cramped car. Emma, deciding losing an arm was better than being late at this point, rushed forward, her arm outstretched, and shoved herself into the subway car, just as the doors pinged shut.

Grabbing the handle that was strung from the roof, Emma steadied herself and took her first steady breath for about ten minutes. People bustled and bumped into and around her, causing Emma to grip tighter to the handle and wish she had been up in time to take the cleaner, less packed bus, or even better been up in time to walk.

After calming down, and returning her heartbeat to something normal feeling, the subway doors pinged open and Emma shoved her way through the crowd of people. She ran up the subway steps, back into the cold October air, and was instantly greeted with the blaring of car horns and the chatter of hundreds of people milling about on their way to work. Hurrying across the street, checking both ways for cars as she went, Emma ran into a large, grey stone building with huge gold letters that read: Sandmores Law firm.

People strolled about the main lobby, chatting to colleagues about the day's work ahead, Emma dashed past them, careful not to knock over anyone, or anyone important at least. As she neared the main desk, a curtain of brown bobbed up in front of the chair, and Emma was greeted with the bottom half of Louis' unfriendly expression. A four-month-old newspaper, with the headline 'Another plane lost in the Bermuda Triangle' was grasped in his hand, and his shoulder-length mop of hair was hanging down over both his eyes, making Emma invisible as she snuck past the desk, as she really didn't have time to sign in.

Once safely through the lobby, Emma looked around madly for an elevator that was near the ground floor. One right beside her pinged open and Emma dived into the metal box, determined to not be an hour late for work. As the elevator rose through the building, its irritating jazz music playing loudly in the background, Emma relaxed herself once more and started to peel off her coat and scarf. With each floor higher though, her stomach dropped, and the sense of impending room started to take over her brain. By the time she had reached the twenty-third floor, the nervous sweat was running down her neck and she wasn't even sure she would be able to exit the elevator.

Somehow, she coaxed herself out and managed to calmly stroll through the office towards her desk, overflowing with paperwork and Knick-knacks. Dumping her coat, bag, and scarf down onto the carpeted floor, Emma sank down into her broken swivel chair and heaved a sigh of relief.

Her relief was soon replaced with an uneasy feeling though, as Jackie strolled over and perched on the edge of her desk. She smiled down at Emma, a very rare sight that usually meant something terrible was happening, causing the end of her tattoo to twitch. The tattoo was of a blood-red dragon and ran from the edge of Jackie's lower lip, which is where the tail lived, to the bottom of her neck, which showed the dragon's mouth open wide in a roar. Jackie had had the tattoo since Emma had met her, and in the ten years, she'd known the snappy, sarcastic woman it was the only thing that hadn't changed, even Jackie's stark black hair and wicked green eyes had been different at the start. And now, twelve years since they had met, the small twitch of the blood-red tail was such a comforting sight to Emma she didn't know what she would do without seeing it every day.

Slowly, Emma raised her eyes to meet Jackie's and instantly knew that she was doomed.

This was then confirmed when Jackie said, "Patrick wants to see you. He said to tell you as soon as you arrived."

Emma felt her stomach drop, and the thought of just leaving and never coming back floated into her head. It would be so easy to just go and never return, to save herself the embarrassment, to not have to listen to Patrick shout at her then try and get her to sleep with him because technically now she's fired its not sexual harassment and HR won't get involved. But at least if she got fired, and didn't quit, she might get a severance package that would tide her over until she found a new job.

Rising slowly from her chair, Emma cast one last look around the office, which she would probably never see again. The dozen other people in the office, were busy working away at their computers, not paying the slightest attention as Emma dawdled across the room, headed towards the door with a big, gold plaque, which read: Patrick Mellorin.

Raising her shaking fist to the wood, Emma knocked once, as quietly as possible, and prayed that the loud voice of Patrick wouldn't answer back.

However, a mere second after the knock had sounded, before Emma had even removed her fist from the wood, the words, "Come in" boomed out from within the room.

Pulling the silver handle down, and opening the door, Emma left the safety of the dull, grey office and walked through the doorway.

Everything about Patrick's room was ten times better than the main office, from the bright yellow walls to the hard-oak desk, and the plush, brown chairs. Sat in one of those chairs, behind the clutter-free desk, was Patrick.

He turned his alert grey eyes to Emma and nodded for her to sit down, causing his mop of black hair, wet from the sweat of his morning run, to fall over the edge of his dark forehead and plaster itself to the skin.

"Hi, Patrick." Said Emma, sinking down into the chair in front of Patrick's desk.

"Emma." Replied Patrick, placing his intertwined fingers in the desk before him.

Now visible, on his left hand's middle finger, was Patrick's family ring. It showed a dark, evil-looking raven, surrounded by swirling, red vines, and was altogether not a very friendly looking family crest. Emma couldn't count the number of letters and emails she had had containing the Mellorin family crest, and she knew that Patrick was very proud of his family's mark. Even now, sitting before Emma, he was reaching for the polish and cloth to give his ring a shiny, new look making his crest seem all the more important.

Whilst rubbing the cloth over the shiny metal, Patrick looked to Emma and asked, "Now, you were late again today, correct?"

"Yes sir." Replied Emma, wringing her hands in her lap.

Placing the polish bottle back to the side of his desk, clearly satisfied with how his ring looked, Patrick drew his gaze from his fingers up to Emma's terrified face, "And this is the sixth time this month that you have been late, correct?"

"Yes sir." Whispered Emma, lowering her gaze to the floor, then suddenly bursting with confidence she looked to Patrick once again, "But I actually have a good reason this time. You see the clocks go back tomorrow and I thought it was tonight -"

Patrick raised his hand in the air, silencing Emma's explanation. "Emma, I told you last time that if you were late again, I would fire you. Now I don't want to, I really don't want to," Emma furrowed her eyebrows, not entirely sure what to think, but still Patrick carried on, "But I have to. There are other people who will do a better job than you."

Emma lowered her stare to the floor once more, "I understand, sir." She mumbled.

"However," stated Patrick, causing Emma to raise her head in the hope he would say she could stay, "We don't have enough money to give you a severance package. So, you can either quit or..." sighing and meeting Emma's gaze with surprisingly upset eyes, Patrick tapped his finger noisily on the table before finishing, "I will let you borrow my boat for two weeks for a sailing trip. Just you, the ocean, and seven members of my crew making sure you don't break anything."

Emma felt her stomach drop once again and swore she could almost feel the hope being shoved from her heart by the feeling of pure despair. She didn't even know how to reply to Patrick's offer, she didn't want to quit, if she did, she'd be homeless by the end of the month, but it wasn't like a two-week boat trip would help her in any way.

Sighing and deciding she might as well get something out of being fired, Emma looked to Patrick once more, "Well, sir, I was hoping you'd say I could keep my job, but...if not I'll take the boat trip."

"Great." Replied Patrick, clearly forcing a smile onto his face, "The boat will pick you up at the docks tomorrow and the Captain will meet you there. Goodbye Emma."

Rolling her eyes, and rising from her chair, Emma turned and left the room, but not before saying, "Goodbye Patrick. Thanks for everything."

Slamming the door behind her, knowing now that Patrick could do nothing about it, Emma smiled for the first time that day, even though a lot of horrible discussions and decisions were still to come.

And the first of the discussions had already arrived.

Jackie was sat, her legs crossed on the swivel chair, her fingers fiddling with one of the many piercings resting within her ear, right next to Patrick's door, obviously waiting for Emma to exit and share the bad news.

"How did it go?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"I got fired." Replied Emma.

Before she could even say another word, Jackie had sprung from the chair and pulled her into a tight hug.

Knowing if she stopped talking, she'd start crying, Emma continued to explain what had happened, her voice muffled against Jackie's bony shoulder, "It's ok though, really, because I get a two-week holiday on Patrick's boat. So, you know, silver lining and all that nonsense."

Jackie took both of Emma's shoulders in her arms, and pushed her away, allowing Emma's tear-filled eyes to meet tear-filled, drowned in mascara, eyes.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, Em, you did just get fired?" Muttered Jackie, clearly not wanting to be a pain, but also not wanting to let Emma leave and be alone and helpless.

Emma smiled, glad she had at least one friend who cared about her, "I'll be fine, Jackie, this might even be a good thing. Who knows, the boat trip might help me focus on what I should do next."

Sighing once more and prying her hands off Emma's shoulders Jackie gave a small, miserable smile, "If you're sure you'll be fine, then...that's great. But if that changes which, in the nicest way possible I'm sure it will, please know that I'm here to help. Ok?"

"Ok, I will, I promise." Replied Emma, before pulling Jackie into one final, much less welcoming, hug.

Rather quickly, as Jackie had never been comfortable with touching others, Emma's strange, scary friend pulled out of the hug and stepped back (at least two feet) from Emma.

"I guess you have to go now." Said Jackie, starting to stroll over to Emma's clutter covered desk.

Emma followed behind, trying desperately not to cry in the middle of the office as everyone here except for Jackie, were horrible idiots, all of whom had hated Emma since day one, and would be glad to see the back of her.

Stopping before her desk, the thought of all the clutter and paper never being seen again one of the few good things about being fired, Emma took her bag, coat, and scarf from Jackie's tattooed fingers, the swirling black patterns were another thing Emma would miss and smiled one last time at her friend.

She didn't know why they were both so sad, they were having lunch together in three weeks and would continue their lunch dates once a month, just like they always had, but the thought of not seeing Jackie every day, even on the days when Jackie could be a real pain in the arse, was so upsetting that Emma barely held back the rushing tears.

"Bye Jackie." Whispered Emma, wrapping her scarf around her neck, trying to distract herself, and everyone else from the tears that were dripping down her cheeks.

"Bye Em. See you in three weeks." Replied Jackie, finishing with a small, genuine smile, a rare thing given as a parting gift between friends.

Casting one last look around the silent, depressing office, Emma smiled to herself, happy with the thought that she never needed to return to this place of suffering again. A few of her former colleagues were muttering in the corner, smiling, and glancing at her as she hurried out of the office, determined to get away from their nasty stares and laughs.

Once outside the office, having sneakily past Louis once again, as right now, Emma didn't need to explain why she hadn't signed in, or why she was leaving so early, Emma pulled on her coat and decided to walk home in the pouring rain, rather than take the subway.

As she strolled back to her apartment, the rain running down her cheeks, mixing with the tears and creating a rather nasty tasting concoction, Emma dreamed once again about leaving her home, and Florida behind to find an adventure, or at least a better, more enjoyable life. She had nothing left here, her job was gone, her house would soon be taken too, and the chances of Ben, her lazy, annoying, idiotic boyfriend, actually staying with her now she was jobless and nearly homeless were slim.

Turning the street corner, and wandering the last few feet to her apartment building, Emma's ears were met with a sound other than the pit pattering of rain, the sound of a car pulling up beside her and Ben's, as if summoned by the mere thought of him, sweet but stupid voice, "Em? Em! Hi! Why aren't you at work?"

Stopping in front of her building steps, her warm, messy house only three staircases away, Emma turned and smiled at her silly boyfriend, hoping that for once he would allow her in his car and save her from the heavy rain.

"Hi Ben, can I get in?" Asked Emma, gesturing hopefully past Ben and his open window to the empty, dry, seat.

"Ummm," Began Ben, inching his window ever so slightly higher, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Staring at him, knowing he wouldn't see the annoyance or pure shock on her face Emma smiled, and replied, barely holding the angry tone down, "I'll take my coat off, I promise I won't get the seat wet."

From inside the car, Ben chuckled and inched the rain spotted window higher, "It's not that, well it is, but also..." He sighed, and inched the window higher one final time, meaning there were about two inches between the glass and the top of the window frame, "I think we should break up. And before you start to cry, it's one hundred percent me and not you. So, you know. Bye."

Raising his window that final two inches, Ben drove away, showering Emma in cold, smelly gutter water, leaving her silent and shocked. Yet, the tears she should have felt stream down her face couldn't come, and the quiet feeling of freedom and pure happiness sneaked up from inside her.

Turning from the empty, flooded street, and running up the final steps to the safety of her building, though Emma knew she would feel better within the walls of her own apartment, Emma smiled and peeled off her coat, one Ben had given to her a few years before. She threw it to the side, glad to be rid of the ugly thing that she had only worn to seem grateful, and hurried up the stairs, the final obstacle between her old life and her new.

And as she neared her door, the yellow paper's black writing becoming clearer with each step closer, Emma felt the final part of her old life slip away, and the feeling of utter depression overtook the adrenaline-filled excitement she had just had.

Grabbing the paper off the door, her fingers trembling with cold and pure fear for what she knew was coming, Emma looked to the large black writing and read the text she had dreaded seeing for years.

Notice to Vacate

You have forty-eight hours to vacate your property

Tears splattered on the yellow paper, the one that had doomed Emma that last little bit, the one that would completely ruin her already terrible life. There was nothing she could do now, no way she could get the money or help she needed. Both her parents had died a few years ago, she had no other relatives, none of her friends could afford to help pay the rent, and none of them had enough room to house another person and the chances of the bank giving her a loan was very slim.

Scrunching the soul-destroying yellow paper into a ball and stuffing it into her pocket, Emma unlocked her door, for one of the very last times and stumbled through the house, tripping on everything she could. It would take forever to tidy everything and bag it up, though that was completely pointless as it had nowhere to go.

Once within her bedroom, Emma started throwing her clothes and important belongings into bags, things she would need for her two-week trip, and things she wouldn't want to lose when thrown out onto the streets. She knew Jackie would let her stay with her, sleep on the tiny sofa, in her tiny apartment, but it would be such a squish and most of Emma's stuff would have to be sold as they wouldn't fit and to help with rent.

Finishing throwing clothes into the worn-down yellow suitcase, ready for her trip, Emma gave up trying to decide what to save and what to get rid of and fell down onto her bed.

It was still early, barely nine, so, when she woke, she could continue with her 'packing'. That is if it didn't crush her soul to throw away nearly everything, she owned.

She knew it would be hard, the next however long, searching desperately for a job that she would probably never find, but she wouldn't give up. She'd never given up when times had gotten tough before and she wouldn't start now.

Laying her head down onto the plush, slightly wet pillow, at this point, Emma wasn't even questioning why her pillow was damp, Emma shut her eyes and let the dreams of a better, more exciting life take over her brain once again. The boat trip for the next two weeks would be the closest she would ever come to her dream, especially now she had no money and was definitely going to end up living in either a cardboard box or on Jackie's sofa.

Still, she dreamed, and even though her life had completely fallen apart in the space of a cold, October morning, Emma smiled in her sleep the mere thought of a better life, she would never again, making reality that little bit better.