Neon lights stuttered to life, casting a gaudy glow on the bar's sleek sign. The sign above the entrance read "Barox" in bold, cursive letters. Emily fidgeted outside, tugging at the hem of her dress. The fabric clung to her hips, riding up her thighs with every nervous shift. She smoothed the dress for what felt like the hundredth time, her palms growing damp against the satin. The sound of muffled laughter and clinking glasses drifted out into the night air, accompanied by the occasional flash of a camera's strobe light. Emily's heart thudded in her chest, her eyes fixed on the entrance as second thoughts started to creep into her mind. She shouldn't do this.
She knows she shouldn't, yet she couldn't stop the other part of her that told her "Do it."
