TASTE OF YOU . . . percabeth

twelve

KILLER. KILLER. KILLER.

Emerson gripped the sink in front of her tightly. She'd just finished rubbing herself raw in the shower, scrubbing off blood that she'd hallucinated. It had taken thirty minutes before her mind had stopped playing tricks on her.

Emphasis on "had stopped". As soon as Emerson had gotten out of the shower, tugged on a robe, and pulled her hair into a towel, her mind continued playing tricks on her, in the form of voices in her head.

Cold hearted murderer. You should've just let the police throw you in jail. Why'd you let that strange woman help you get away with murder?

Just because she didn't regret the crime she'd committed, doesn't mean she doesn't feel the repercussions of it. "Actions always have consequences," Adeline Sinclair used to warn Emerson. "You have to spin them in your favor, or eradicate them completely."

Obviously Emerson had done the latter, and then used that to do the former. But it still sucked.

Just two more years, she promised herself. Then you'll be too caught up in work to be able to worry about the consequences of your actions.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Emerson flinched. "Yes?" she called.

"Your friend's here," Nevaeh's voice told her from the other side of the door. "She's playing with the cats."

Emerson frowned. Kylie wouldn't be with the cats; she was allergic, as she told her every time there was a stray cat hair on Emerson's clothes. Which meant that it was Annabeth.

Right, she was coming over today. Emerson had forgotten.

"Thank you," she said, attempting to will her voice into steadiness. "Tell her I'll be out soon."

Her shaky voice was glaringly obvious, yet Nevaeh didn't comment on it. Emerson heard the bathroom door shut, and she was alone again, except for the voices in her head.

She left the shower room and went over to where her hair dryer was so she could dry and brush her hair. Then she put on her underwear, some comfy shorts, and an oversized long sleeved shirt. Annabeth's seen her like this before, it wasn't that big of a deal. She decided against wearing makeup and promptly left the room and made her way to the cat room.

Somewhere along the way, Emerson Sinclair turned into Emmy, the teenage girl who was living her best life and waiting for her moment. She stopped at the doorframe and watched as Annabeth entertained Snow and Fruit. Further in the room, Ginger was playing with something that she shouldn't have been playing with.

"Ginger!" Emmy clicked her tongue, striding over to where the ginger cat was chewing at Emmy's well-deserved homecoming queen crown. She picked it up and held it away from Ginger. "No."

Ginger whined, starting to climb up her leg.

Emmy winced, backing away and looking around for something else to occupy Ginger. She spotted some of Ginger's favorite treats nearby and grabbed a couple, dropping them on the floor. "Chew on that, you brat," she muttered.

Ginger sniffed at the treats before eating them off of the ground, and Emmy took that opportunity to take her crown and rush to the door, shoving it into the arms of one of the staff walking by.

"Put it back in my room," she ordered. "And sanitize it. Thoroughly."

"Yes, Miss Sinclair!" the worker squeaked before scampering in the direction of her room.

Emmy pinched the bridge of her nose, before remembering she had a guest over ( even if it was Annabeth; she didn't care much about how Emmy appeared, though ) and straightening her posture, walking over to where she was sitting with Fruit and Snow, sitting next to her.