Blossom With Clarity

Chapter 2

Emily’s POV

“It's 11:11 PM, make a wish Em," I say to myself as I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath in, the cool nighttime air entering the open window and gently kissing my cheeks. Pursing my lips, I exhale slowly and release my wish through them, all the while keeping my eyes closed. I hear it all: the sound of tired businessmen and women making their way home after a extra long day at work, taxis angrily honking at each other, lovers sharing an intimate embrace, old friends meeting up for a drink, you name it.

It's the sound of life—New York City life, to be more specific. It's the sound of normalcy. It's monotonous. It's the sound of people living free and I hate them for it. Under that layer of hatred is the true essence of what I feel in this moment. Jealousy.

I long to be free of my past. I long to be free of my mind. I long to be free of my thoughts, emotions, and the damn images that never seem to completely escape me. I close my eyes and they haunt me whenever they feel like it. That's why this glass of wine occupies my fingertips, soothes my throat, and dulls my senses.

Wine, also known as my poison of choice. To me, it's versatile and caters to the mood of the moment. Sometimes, as I sit alone in my penthouse apartment, overlooking the city skyline, I wonder if I have a problem. I drink like this almost every night. I swirl the magical juice around and around and drink myself numb.
 
I escape, I run, I don’t look back for fear that the monsters will catch up to me and suffocate me again. I drink so I don’t drown in the past, the present, and my unpleasant future. I drink so I don't have to think about what I’ve done and the woman I’ve become.
Mindlessly placing my hand against the expansive glass window that frames a picturesque view of the city, a subtle clink draws my attention toward its source. Oh yes... the emerald ring Jacob gave me for my birthday. Jacob Pride, the tall, tanned, well-groomed man in my life is also the son of the real estate mogul of New York, William Pride. Jacob follows in his father's footsteps. The only exception is that Jacob has political aspirations for his future.
 
How would I describe him? Well, Jacob is bold, powerful, bombastic, charming, unapologetic, handsome beyond measure, and knows exactly what to say and do no matter the circumstance. Having been together for a year and a half now, I know Jacob will want to move in together soon. But as I look around my place, I can't imagine separating myself from it. This apartment is my safe haven to return back to at the end of the day. This is where I drink myself into oblivion and continually hide this dirty habit, night after night. Having Jacob move in with me wouldn’t be a suitable option either. In my mind, that would be a complete invasion of privacy and a perpetual punishment to maintain the façade I faithfully uphold outside the walls of my apartment.

Coming from a family of immense power as well, I understand that there are certain ways of life that the average person would never even consider to be a reality. Matters of the heart aren't always of importance in the world I live in. Climbing that seemingly endless and insurmountable ladder of status, privilege, power, and influence trump all else. In this world, strategy and alliances govern most interactions.

This reality is what often plagues my waking thought because I lack authenticity and autonomy in my day-to-day life. I don’t live life on my terms.

What the world fails to see is that I, Emily Walker, am a daughter, an heir to a fortune, and a piece of the puzzle in the Walker's carefully-crafted image in America's societal elite. My father, Wyatt Walker, is a famous MIT graduate and founder of an aerospace technology company that works with NASA on their mission to Mars. The biggest character of them all is my mother, the Harvard law graduate and current Republican Governor of this city, Pamela Walker. This cunning, crafty, and controlling woman is currently eyeing the upcoming seat in the Senate and is unquestionably going to be calling upon me for my useful set of skills and overall charming mannerisms. As a dutiful daughter, of course I will be expected to suspend my life at the drop of a hat in order to help my mother’s currently "unofficially official" campaign.