Emily slowly opened her eyes, her head throbbing with pain. As she tried to sit up, she realized she was sprawled on the floor. The musty smell of mold filled her senses, making her feel nauseous. She looked around, trying to remember how she ended up on the floor. When her eyes darted toward the window, it dawned on her that it was dusk. "What the hell?" She murmured. As she tried to make sense of everything again, she heard a faint voice calling her name. It sounded distant, but the words were clear. She tried to stand up, but her legs felt weak and wobbly.

She took a long drag of breath and tried to stand again, like a newborn deer she stumbled towards the voice, her heart racing with unease. As she got closer, she realized it was Jamilla calling out to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched on her face when Emily finally emerged from the main door of the third floor.

Emily shook her head, still feeling disoriented. "I don't know what happened," she said, her voice trembling.

"I've been worried sick. I have been calling for you but you never answered. You didn't even come down for lunch." Jamilla said worriedly.

"I...I don't know what happened," Emily answered, parroting her earlier words.

"Well, come on then. Let's not talk here. The others are preparing to have dinner. Let's get to the kitchen," Jamilla suggested. Her tone was a bit livelier but still laced with concern. She took Emily's arm, and they slowly made their way down the stairs. Emily's head was foggy and her usual perusal of the staircase was forgotten.

"Thank you," Emily whispered as they finally reached the landing. Jamilla answered her with a smile. She didn't release her hold on Emily's arm despite walking on elevated floors. Emily was thankful. She feared she'd stumble even if she was on stable grounds.

As they walked down the hallway, Emily couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. The air felt heavy, and she could hear strange noises coming from the walls.

She turned to Jamilla, her eyes wide with confusion. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

The young woman looked at her, puzzled. "Hear what?"

Emily shook her head, realizing that maybe it was just her imagination. But as they continued walking, the feeling of unease grew stronger. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was watching them, waiting in the shadows.

As they reached the end of the hallway, Emily turned to look back. In the dim light, she saw a figure standing on top of the staircase. She couldn't make out its features, but she knew it was watching her. Then the words "Pier Brice," suddenly escaped her mouth.

"Pier Brice?" Jamilla asked, gazing at Emily with concern etched on her face.

Emily shuddered, feeling a cold chill run down her spine. "It's nothing," she answered Jamilla not wanting to alarm the young woman.

As they continued with their walk, Emily's mind was in turmoil. Her heart raced as she replayed her otherworldly encounter with Pier Brice, the ghostly figure that had touched her arm. She tried to convince herself that it was just a dream, but a part of her knew that it was real. Emily had never been one to believe in ghosts, but she couldn't deny what she had experienced.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jamila spoke up, asking about her unusual behavior that day. Emily tried to play it cool, smiling and deflecting the question. "Oh, just some documenting I needed to do," she replied, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her friend's curiosity.

In truth, Emily was at a loss for words. How could she reveal the truth? That she had conversed with a ghost, a man long dead and gone? She shook her head and kept quiet, grateful that Jamila didn't press the issue any further.

As they continued down the hallway in silence, Emily couldn't help but wonder what other secrets the Brice Manor held, and what other strange encounters awaited her in the future.

The growling of Jamilla's stomach yanked Emily away from her musing. She looked at the young woman and said, "We better walk faster."

A burst of laughter enveloped the halls of Brice Manor and with it came a moment of peace to Emily's tumultuous mind.

The moment Emily stepped into the kitchen, she was instantly taken aback by the sudden influx of unfamiliar faces. Emily looked around in confusion and asked Jamila what was going on. Jamila's reply was laced with a sense of irony, "Oh, just The Company cutting costs. Jasper has instructed the workers who were renting a place in town to move onto the Brice grounds and live in tents from now on." Jamilla bowed her head and continued, "He said their accommodations will no longer be paid by the company. They barely make enough, you know."

Emily's expression turned grave as she processed the situation at hand. She couldn't help but recall the veiled conversations they had with Jasper the night before. I guess the company is really twisting Jasper's arm, she mused.

As they made their way deeper into the kitchen, they were greeted by a flurry of activity. Jasper and Oliver were in the midst of a heated discussion, while the other faces Emily knew were all busily engaged in their own tasks. Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she surveyed the scene. Despite the familiar surroundings, it was as if she had stumbled into a foreign land.

Something felt off.

"It would be impossible to eat with all this ruckus," Jamilla murmured. Emily agreed. So she suggested that they take some food and have their dinner inside her room. The way Jamilla's face lit up almost overshadowed the uneasy feeling inside Emily. Almost.

Soon, they set about gathering what food they could find in the kitchen. As they collected various items and loaded them into their arms, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of disquietude again. What was it about this situation that felt so off?

But she shook her head and brushed it off again, smiling at Jamilla as the woman took with her a huge helping that was enough to feed three grown men. Emily didn't comment on that. She wasn't about to go judging someone by how much they wanted to eat.

With their makeshift feast in hand, they made their way up to Emily's room. As they settled in and began to enjoy their impromptu meal, Emily's eyes wandered around the room. It was then that she noticed something strange - her room looked different, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

Perhaps it was the way the light filtered through the window, casting an unfamiliar glow across the room. Or maybe it was the way the shadows danced across the walls, lending an air of mystery to the space. Whatever it was, Emily couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

As she continued to ponder the mystery before her, Emily couldn't help but agitated. There was something about this situation that felt ominous, almost foreboding. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew that something was not quite right.

Despite the nagging sense of uncertainty that lingered in the air, Emily continued to enjoy her meal in silence. As they ate, Emily's mind raced with thoughts and questions, each one more pressing than the last. What was happening? Why did everything feel so different? And most importantly, what was she going to do about it?

As Emily sat lost in thought, she scarcely noticed as she and Jamilla polished off the last of their meal. Her mind was consumed by trepidation, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It wasn't until Jamilla's intense gaze bore into her that Emily finally snapped out of her reverie.

"What's wrong?" Jamilla asked, her eyes searching Emily's face for any hint of distress.

Emily hesitated, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Part of her wanted desperately to confide in her friend, to share the weight of her unease and try to make sense of it. But another part of her, stubborn and proud, refused to give voice to her fears.

"Nothing," she finally said, the word escaping her lips in a small, hesitant whisper.

Jamilla frowned, clearly unconvinced. She wanted to press the matter further, but after she saw how anxious Emily was, she gave up on the idea. She got to her feet, took their plates, and said, "I will see you tomorrow, Emily." She made her way toward the door and with a final glance, she said good night to Emily.

Emily felt a pang of regret as she watched her leave. She had been hesitant to allow Jamilla to accompany her when she first suggested it, but now she found herself wishing she could beg her to stay. There was something comforting about her presence, something that made Emily feel less alone in the face of her mounting perturbation.

"I should have asked her to stay," Emily whispered in regret.

"That wouldn't have been wise."

Instantly, Emily turned around. What greeted her was a swaying curtain and a shadowy figure behind it.

"Emily," the voice murmured.

"Whose there," she asked. But she received no reply.

Her instincts kicked in and caution flooded through her veins. She hesitated at first but soon realized that there was no use in standing there and asking questions. Steeling her nerves, she ran toward her bedroom door, her heart pounding with each step she took.

But as she approached the door, she noticed that the shadowy figure was now standing there. A scream erupted from her mouth as she took in the thing in front of her. It was just in the form of a shadow but had visible red lips and blue eyes. Other than that, the thing had no other features.

Emily screamed again, backing away as the shadow raised its hands. She was frantic now, gaze darting from left to right, searching for any path of escape. Her mind whirled, and her heart pounded in her ears as she dashed left, then right. She leaped on her bed and attempted to make a break toward the bathroom, but the shadow loomed before her. Like a caged animal, she dashed around her room, desperate for a way out."

Suddenly, the figure spoke again, its voice deep and ominous. "You should be careful, Emily..." it warned.

Emily froze in her tracks, barely able to breathe. Every fiber of her being seemed to tell her that she was in danger, and she felt her heart racing in her chest. But.

She steeled her neves. She swallowed the lump of saliva inside her mouth and tried to steady her shaking legs. Gathering her courage, "What do you mean," she asked the thing.

"Be careful, Emily," it replied, and then the shadow exploded leaving a flash of light that covered the entire room which forced Emily to shut her eyes.

Shaking and tears streaming down her cheeks, Emily stood frozen for what felt like an eternity until the warmth of the light surrounding her faded away. She slowly opened her eyes and gasped in immediate disbelief. She stumbled as her body experienced a barrage of shaking. It felt like even her soul shook because she found herself standing atop the grand staircase of the main Brice Manor.

"What the fuck," Emily whispered, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. As she looked behind her, all she could see was a deep, dark void. Swinging her head back around, she glanced down below.

She saw a sea of elegantly dressed people. Some were twirling on the dance floor, others chatting merrily, and a few sipping wine in the corners. Emily felt faint. She was near losing consciousness when from behind her she heard a familiar voice. "This is what you wanted right? Keep it bitch," Clariss yelled.

"The angry voice reverberated through Emily's body, causing her already unsteady feet to frantically wobble and her mind to shut down. She felt like she was made of jello as she started to fall down the steep staircase. The pain she expected didn't come, however, as she continued to tumble down, feeling nothing. It seemed like an eternity before her body slammed onto the landing below. Panting and gasping for air, Emily's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring up at her familiar bedroom ceiling.

Like someone who's body suddenly caught fire, Emily jumped out of her bed, made frantic directionless movements and yelled, "What the fuck. What the fuck!"

Before she could release another set of profanities though, knocking and yelling from outside her bedroom door echoed inside her room. "Emily, what happened," called the familiar voice of Oliver.

"Miss Hudson, open the door," followed Aida's trembling command.

"Emily. Emily, what happened?" The ascent of Jamilla's voice drowned the others frantic cry of concern.

Emily's heart was beating rapidly as she dashed towards her bedroom door, determined to open it, escape the strange and unsettling world she had found herself in. She needed to get out of this place.

But just as she reached for the doorknob, an unseen force grabbed her shoulders and yanked her backwards, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. As she looked up, her eyes bulged in horror. Standing before her was Clariss, her head bleeding and her clothes covered in dirt. Her skin appeared to be decaying, yet she emitted a calming scent reminiscent of lavender and roses.

An ear-splitting cry escaped Emily's mouth before darkness claimed her sight. The last thing she heard was the opening of her door and footsteps approaching her.