Greasy black hair stuck to Emily’s face. She was groggy. Her New Year’s guests were nowhere to be seen. Her apartment floor was littered with empty bottles, half-filled glasses and take away wrappers. Sickness rose in her chest and curdled through her throat. She swallowed.

The decorations had faded, the bright colors dimmed and greyed in the dawn light. There were no sounds, not even the birds sang. Emily struggled to the door. It was stuck. The phone was dead. There she sat imprisoned in her own hell.

The guests searched and searched; Emily could not be found.