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A/N: Please bear with me here. This chapter does a lot of time jumping, so you'll have to pay close attention as to what's going on. It'll all make sense in the end, I promise you.

At least I hope.

"Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain." -Christopher Morley

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*4 days later*

Emma's POV:

*Present Time*

I take the stairs two at a time with my bare feet since my new heels are now officially ruined, along with my freshly ironed dress, now wrinkled. The heavy fog blinds my vision and I hear footsteps. When I turn around I think I see a shadow coming towards me, but I can't tell.

I waste my escape time staring at the figure, because by the time I realize it is indeed a person, it's too late. A rough hand clamps over my mouth from behind so my screams cannot be heard. The hazy figure, now completely clear, steps out of the fog. This cannot be happening.

*6 Hours Earlier*

"Where are you off to today Ms.Lively?" Amanda swings her feet back and forth while she rests on her mattress. "You look rather business like," she imitates a posh British accent that I must admit is fairly good. I don't take the time to ask her why exactly she is using an accent, because time is already ticking.

"A job interview," I sigh, placing a final pin in my hair. "Well, you better get going." I nod at her and grab my studded clutch from the dresser, exiting the dorm I'm much too ready to get out of.

Crisp New York air descends upon my bare shoulders and I immediately regret my decision not to bring a jacket. It's too late now. I'm going to be late as it is.

The streets are buzzing with people and car horns, as per usual. My free hand waves, attempting to catch a taxi. It takes three tries to finally get one.

The greasy cabbie rudely asks for my destination. I'm used to this type of treatment from cab drivers, so I reply like I normally would to any other human being, "10 East 53rd Street." He nods curtly, mumbling something in Spanish I can't understand.

The cab smells of dirty socks and stale tobacco. The scent is absolutely putrid and I'm beginning to feel a bit queasy.

I sit in silence, breathing only when absolutely necessary. When I'm left in silence, all I'm able to do is think. The only reason I'm going to parties is to find out about Harry. I know it will be taking a huge risk considering the habits of my past, but I think I'm strong enough now. Those demons don't haunt me anymore.

"Aye! Brunette! There's people waiting!" the cabbie practically yells. I throw a twenty at him and then flip him off, getting out of the taxi. "Stupid bitch," he mutters.

I don't even bother coming up with a reply, I have better, and more important, things to focus on. I stare up at the large building, breathing in deeply. HarperCollins Publishing Co.

Holy shit.

I close my eyes and count to three. I can do this. I end up taking the steps two at a time, almost breaking my ankle at one point which earned me some odd stares from pedestrians.

The handle feels cool on my sweaty palms, so I grip it tighter, yanking it open. I try to hold myself so I look as professional as possible when I step into the cold building.

I spot a lady that looks to be in her mid twenties with fire-red hair sitting at a main reception desk. I decide she's my best bet.

She hangs up the phone just as soon as I make it to her desk. The name plate reads 'Judy Marls.' "I'm here for a job interview," I say as calmly as I can.

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