The air in Asylum was thick enough to chew, a cocktail of sweat-spilled drinks, and a faint undercurrent of something illicit. Emily moved with the throbbing bass, her initial thrill morphing into a comfortable numbness as she lost herself in the rhythm. A string of hopeful suitors had taken turns vying for her attention, each one dispatched with a politely dismissive smile after a few customary dance moves.
Then came this guy, a complete stranger. He materialized from the crowd like a shimmering peacock, clad in a tailored suit that looked like it could have bought a week's worth of drinks for the entire club. His smile was practiced, his eyes calculating, and Emily couldn't help but be intrigued by the sheer audacity of him casually shoving aside the guy she was currently dancing with.
He moved with a practiced swagger, guiding her effortlessly through the throng. The brush of his hand against her lower back sent a spark of something dangerous up her spine. It was inappropriate, bordering on aggressive, yet strangely, in the chaotic energy of the club, it didn't entirely repel her.
As the song changed, the beat grinding to a slower, more suggestive rhythm, his unwanted hand slipped lower, finding its way just above the curve of her buttocks. This was a line crossed. With a lightning-fast movement honed from years of self-defense classes, Emily delivered a perfectly placed kick to his most vulnerable area.
His surprised yelp, punctuated with a comical high-pitched squeak, was easily drowned out by the pulsating music. Emily, stifling a laugh, turned to her friend Christine, who was watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and mild concern.
"I'm going out to get some fresh air, this place is starting to feel a little suffocating." she mouthed, needing a moment to regain her composure.
Christine, oblivious to the kick's target, just gave her a knowing nod.
Except, Emily never heard Christine's reply. Lost in the moment of her hilarious retaliation, she didn't notice the slight shake of her friend's head, silently disagreeing with her going out alone.
Stepping out of the club's throbbing heart, the cool night air felt like a baptism. The city lights shimmered in the distance, a stark contrast to the inky blackness of the alleyway across the street.
Despite the late hour, a strange sense of security settled over Emily. Years of self-defense training instilled a confidence that bordered on recklessness – at least for situations that didn't involve a weapon, which tonight, thankfully, seemed unlikely.
As she strolled aimlessly, a muffled noise from the alleyway snagged her attention. Curiosity, that eternal human vice, warred with caution.
Ignoring the nagging voice of reason, Emily crept closer, her senses on high alert. In retrospect, it wouldn't be a decision she'd brag about later.
The closer she got, the clearer the sounds became – a gruff voice punctuated by whimpers. This wasn't a drunken brawl; this was something more sinister.
Reaching the mouth of the alley, Emily peeked inside. Her heart lurched.