According to Emily, your bodyguard, you had to have a routine and it could never be broken. As a young, thriving college student, this upset you because what about you? What about your life, your friends? Didn’t they care about how not being able to do the things that made you want to live affect you?

You’d spent so long convincing her you could handle a night out, that just one slip from the monotonous schedule set by your parents was worthwhile. “Just this once,” you’d pleaded, eyes sparkling with mischief. Emily relented, but only on the condition that she would stay near, eyes on you the entire time.

Five seconds. That was all it took for Emily’s world to flip upside down. She had been distracted, eyes darting across the room, still grappling with the tension of trying to let you have your fun while fearing the worst. It was in that brief moment that chaos erupted.

A shrill scream pierced through the music—your scream. Panic turned to ice in Emily’s veins. She whirled around, the crowd morphing into a blur as she sprinted forward. Her heart pounded hard against her ribcage as she pushed through the dancing bodies, her heart thrumming faster in her chest. Instinct kicked in as she maneuvered through throngs of revelers, each moment stretching into a lifetime. She remembered all the advice she had given herself: stay calm, think clearly, and focus on the task at hand. But those principles felt laughably trivial now, tossed aside like confetti in the face of urgency.

’Please, no, not tonight,’ she thought desperately, forcing her way closer to where she last saw you—gasping, straining her ears for any sound that could guide her way. As she rounded a corner, the breath snagged in her throat. The club’s entrance loomed two figures had you, one holding your arms behind your back while the other forced you into a waiting car. You struggled against them, your face a canvas of panic and defiance.

“NO!” Emily screamed, pushing through the last barrier, but she was too late.