Encephalon: Emergent

Prologue

Elena took a moment by the door and smiled quietly to herself. Her heart beat quickly as she wondered what Niall would think if he were looking through the peephole right now. She looked round at the decadence of the hallway: fresh cut flowers on the side, plush carpet underfoot, artwork on the walls and this was just the hall. What was she doing here? She remembered breaking out onto the rooftop of her tower block in Brooklyn when she and Missy were just 14. They kicked aside old, battered furniture sending a platoon of pigeons into the sky, and then sat, legs over the edge of a thirty-story drop, staring out over the summer's haze of a Manhattan skyline. "One day..." Missy had told her. And here she was now, in front of the door to the penthouse of the Quinn Building. Here to meet Niall Quinn.

The thought of the striking, self-assured Niall entered her head, and she shook it away; he was different, surely? She could not stand the thought of falling for a man who embodied all that she detested. Who was he anyway? Just a boy – 23 maybe, 24 at most – studying law like her, except he was not like her; she felt ashamed for thinking like this, but the thoughts continued. She had grown up in Brooklyn, made her way through a tough, inner-city school, growing up with an abusive father and vacant mother, her intelligence forced underground. Yet somehow she kept her head down, read like a fiend, maintained good grades and ended up at Columbia Law same as Niall. Same as Niall. For all her hard work, she was no further than he. She would have taken the same path if she were in his shoes, but, she couldn't help ask herself, would Niall have fared so well in hers?

She laughed slightly and shifted nervously on her heel. She always did this, recount countless hypotheticals that bore no relation to the fact she was standing outside his door, her rational mind a whirlwind of possibilities, different scenarios that panned out to shock, horror and future betrayal, but her primitive brain holding out hope that when Niall opened that door, she may yet ride off into the sunset. The hope burned painfully inside her. Besides, none of this meant Niall was not capable of magnificent things. With his father's wealth he could be a force of nature one day, if he wanted to be. If he wanted. Where does that want come from?

She hesitated and then knocked. Footsteps approached on the other side of the door and the anxiety rose in her chest. She closed her eyes briefly and hoped against hope he could see deeper than most. The door opened and the dark, handsome Niall Quinn filled most of the frame. He waited a second, drinking in her beauty, and noted her shy response.

"Elena Sanchez, on my doorstep."

"Niall Quinn, in his natural habitat."

Quinn smiled to himself, "Come on in."

The sheer grandeur of the apartment overwhelmed her: massive bay windows overlooking Central Park surrounded by plush furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the opposite wall.

"Madre Mia-- You sure you're a student?"

He laughed, "Perk of having a banker for a father." His eyes devoured her every step. "Drink, Miss Sanchez?" She nodded, and he gestured to the sofa. "Be sure to make yourself comfortable," He smiled again. God, that smile hit her every time. He walked towards the open-plan kitchen. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee? Something stronger?"

"I'll take a mineral water, if you have one?" She placed her books down on the coffee table and made herself at home on the sofa while he fixed the drinks. "I read ahead, so I can take you through it. Tort law always seems better when it's over quickly."

"Even with me as a study buddy?"

"Especially with you as a study buddy."

He returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, "Then it's a good job I read ahead also."

She blushed despite herself, "Quinn, shouldn't we--?"

He poured them both two glasses and handed her one, "I don't think we'll get much studying done today."

He clinked her glass and took in her gaze. She felt naked under his spell and took a sip to hide it.

"This change of scenery calls for a change in working habits, don't you think?" He walked over to an old gramophone player and put on an old jazz LP, "Would you like to dance, Miss Sanchez?"

Elena laughed. His eyes ravished her, but it went unnoticed. She felt dizzy, put down her glass and went over. He pulled her in roughly. "Hey, steady," She laughed. He pulled her closer still. "Not so tight."

He put down his drink and took her in his arms. She lost herself in the moment, slow motion almost as they neared one another, their lips parted and they shared a kiss for the first time. Sublime, surreal. Then he groped one arm around her while the other grabbed her behind.

She giggled, "Quinn."

His hand reached down and started to unbutton her trousers.

"Quinn," she smiled to herself. "This is-- How about we move over to the--?"

He pushed a kiss. "Come on, I know you like me. I know you like this." His finger slipped inside her. She gasped and caught hold of his wrist.

"Quinn, this is a little too--" But his hand moved further inwards. She squirmed uncomfortably and tried to smile; this was not how she imagined their first time to be. Her hand moved to his chest pushing him back. He groaned and planted another kiss on her lips then moved roughly to her cheek. "There's no need to--"

But he continued to grope his way down her neck as his other hand ripped at her shirt and then more forcefully at her clothes.

"Quinn!" She slapped him.

He jolted momentarily then dived in for another kiss. They tumbled to the ground, pinned under his weight.

She screamed and pushed against him, "Get off me." His breathing got heavier; his hands wandered; another scream. She pushed harder, forcing, pleading, sobbing, "Get off me!" With all her might she pushed once more and looked up at him, leering over her. Her eyes widened, fear taking complete control.

In through her eyes and into her nervous system, a network of beads of light, neural highways that shot down from her brain and spine to splinter off to her heart, hands and legs. Still in full force, her struggle sent out increased numbers of beads, her whole nervous system fully illuminated. Her heart beat faster; her brain got brighter; she breathed in rapidly. A surge of light ran from her head down her body to her hands and legs. One last push!

But her body of light slammed back to the floor, Quinn bearing down heavily on top of her. Tears silently streamed, her head turned away. Drained, overwhelmed and incapacitated, she lay there, blank, as system by system the light of her body shut down. First her legs. Then her arms. Finally, a brain eclipsed.

Blackout. She watched as though from above. The faint beat of her heart matched Quinn's breathing.