Chapter 1:

Emily couldn't believe that she had been caught. Yes, she had been taking a risk but her New Years resolution had been to live life to the fullest. She hadn't even put the joint in  her mouth yet! Damn cops, she thought while staring out the dirty window of the yellow school bus. The girl who sat in the isle across kept moaning about her kitten, she was obviously high. Emily had never touched more than her daily pack of cigs and occasionally some Mariana. It was no wonder that when Layla had presented the cocaine joint Emily jumped at the new experience. And now it had landed her in a smelly, dirty, yellow school bus, teaming with high teenagers. Narcotics Anonymous, here i come!

The bus bumped along a dirt path, snaking its way through the woods. Emily's head slammed against the window and she was jolted awake. Inside, the bus was silent, only the rattling of luggage could be heard every time they passed over a rock. Outside, the world was black. Night had fallen and stars rippled the expansive sky. Emily peered up through the window at its silly curtains. The moon was full and bright eluminating the woods around her, and for the first time she was glad for the bus protection.

Emily wondered what it would be like if she had taken the joint. She longed to know what it made her feel, what it made her do. Instinctively she reached into her back pocket for te signature Marlboro cigaretts she always kept, then withdrew her hand once she realized they weren't there.

Emily didnt like thinking. There was too much to think about, that's why she loved the feeling of inhaling the smoke into her lungs, letting it swirl and bubble, then releasing it out through her mouth, trying to form an "O".

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The bus bumped along well into the deep hours of the night and wasnt until the small hours of the morning was upon them that they arrived at the building.

It was tall, red brick with a white trim around the windows and doors; Industrial looking. The windows had bars over them, cages to keep these animals in place. Emily noted how out of place the whole thing seemed. Just stretching over the top of the canopy, the roof was shingled, tiny panels of brown wood coming together to form one.

"Ladies, welcome! I am Ms. Majors and i will be helping you all grow and recover here at Bensely Correctional Center. I know many of you are involved in the Natcotics Anonymous program, so those of you in that program please make your way to this line. Self harm and depression victims, this line, Alcoholics Anonymous, this line and...." The laidies voice trailed off into the night, disappearing amongst the sound of shuffling feet and groans so like the trails of smoke Emily longed for.

She laughed inwardly at the irony of the situation. Narcotics Anonymous, meaning they weren't supposed to be known, yet there she stood clearly segrageted from the large group, plain in site for the whole world to see.

But no one was looking, not yet anyway. No judgements had been made, no scrutinizing, analyzing eyes feeding on others pain. No, not yet. But Emily knew this was soon to come. The woman resumed her talking and Emily turned her zombie like head towards the front.

"We will now begin looking through your stuff," she paused letting the information sink in, "thoroughly" she added. Emily watched as they ripped the suitcase apart of the girl in front of her, and noted how it was all the same down all the lines. Bags of weed were removed from socks, nail clippers doubled as knifes, whiskey shoved into shampoo bottles stuffed in underwear. Emily wondered how stupid some people could be, until she remebered her own contraband: her daily pack of cigs were suffed into one of her tampon boxes, surly they wouldn't find that.

""Next" Emily walked up and threw her duffel on the table. The searcher was a man and Emily felt a swell of embarrassment as her removed her bras and underwear. His hands pawed through the mess of t-shirts, jeans and shorts, along with te occasional notebook or stray tampon. If the man was disgusted, he didnt show it. To keep her mind from wandering, Enily concentrated on the man. Mid fourties, tired looking. She absentmindedly wondered if he would be on her treatment team or involved in her counseling. "Okay, your good". Emily quickly wiped the surprised look off her face and zipped up her duffel. 'Thank God' she thought. Slowly and cautiously she wandered toward the large brick building looming over her under the night sky. Following a slow moving river of people she entered the vast building. Emily looked up at the high ceilings glittering with fancy frames of past owners, sponsers and of course founders. The awe in the room was palable. Moldings created with gold lines doors and a huge winding staircase went off to the right. At her feet lay perfectly cut squares of white marble. Emily was entranced in the emaculate detail and decoration of the front hall and her spinning mind got caught up in all of the statues and paintings. Someone shoved her from behind. "Lets get moving honey". It was a mans voice, low and scruffy. Emily spun around, startled, embarrased but ready to tell him off. "No need to push," she said.

"Well Mrs. Lala Land, some of us actually want to get to our frikin rooms!" Emily rolled her brown eyes at the guy and spun around. She stared at the other teens, watched as they walked up to a makeshift table, received a room number and exited the grand entrance, their faces still laced with sleep and awe. Emily watched until it was her turn. "Name please?" Behind the table was a small women with mousy brown hair and a small pointy nose that held up a pair of small wire rimmed glasses. She had thin lips and pale blue eyes and was wearing a shirt with the Bensely insignia on it. "Emily Sommers". The women scanned the lists and once she found her name crossed it off with a sharpie. "Yes here you are. You are in the Peace Hallway and your roommate is.....er......Daniela Brooks". The woman's brow furrowed a bit and her eyes seemed to be re-scanning the list. Before Emily could question the sudden doubt displayed across her face, the woman was already helping the boy who had pushed her. Emily looked him over; dirty gray hoodie hid a short buzz cut on the top of his head. He wore dirty jeans, ripped at the knee and ankles and a pair of converse. All he had was a small duffel even smaller than hers. She was able to tell that he was there for narcotic problems right away from the tooth pick that dangled like a cigarette from his lips. "See something else you like Mrs. Lala Land?" Emily felt the blood rush into her check but she just rolled her eyes and followed signs to the Peace Hallway, hoping that he wasnt in her Narcotics Anonomous program.

Emily walked into the Peace Hallway and gasped. Haphazardly placed peace signs littered ghastly pea green colored walls. She was amazed that the grandeur of the grand hall could be so different. By the time Emily found her room, she was furious at Bensely's stupid mind games. 'Tricking poor, damaged teens into a false reality' she thought 'now that's just .' Emily looked at her door. Solid wood, not even painted, with a rusty handle attached. Emily's cruel' rage boiled furiously as she struggled to open the door. 'If they put the same amount of attention into these rooms, their patients might actual be able to open their doors!' Emily stepped away from the door, adjusted her duffel on her shoulder and ran in a full sprint at the stubborn door. Bam! She sat up, her legs and duffel sprawled across the hard wood floor. She looked up into the cunning, dark eyes of Daniela Brooks. Daniela held the door handle in her hand like it was a knife. She discarded the trashed metal onto the floor. Emily struggled to get herself off of the floor, still in a shock from the fall. "Hi, im Emily Sommers" she said. The girl met her eyes briefly then turned away, flicking her long dark hair behind her, suddenly immersed in the making of her already immaculate bed. 'Nice to meet you too' Emily thought bitterly. She threw her duffel on the floor and kicked it under the small wire cot that was shoved up against an unpainted wall. Emily sat down on the bed and sighed, igniting a militia of creaks and groans from the cots springs. Not bothering to change or brush her teeth, Emily lay down, placing her messy blonde head on the small, floppy pillow that had been provided. She rolled to look at the wall, trying not to think about sad things. Across the room Daniela coughed and Emily fought the urge to tell her to shut up.

The morning edged along slowly. It had already been 2:00 AM when they arrived and it was going on 4:00 by the time Emily had conjured all the bad thoughts from her mind. She wished for the comforting tendrils of smoke that swirled in her lungs. She missed the control of feeling the cigarette in her hand, having the power to put it to her lips. She missed the taste of the end of a cig, perfection.

Suddenly, she formed a wicked idea. Hurriedly, almost as if she had a phsycopathic need, she tore through her duffel and then her tampon box, successfully removing her precious pack of Marlboro cigarettes. With a new born care she slipped them into their small box in her jeans, a formulated crease where the box usually sat. she pulled the door open, and tiptoed down the hall and toward a sign that said exit. Slowly she slipped outside into a hidden courtyard. Finally she was able to smoke. She pulled a cigarette out and put it to her lips. Taking her lighter out of her breast pocket on her t-shirt, she lit the cig and placed it between her lips. The first drag was heaven. The second drag was fear. She was not alone.

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Emily froze, her sneakers soaking up the dew of the early morning. The figure came toward her, slowly. She felt she should scream or whistle. He was hooded, broad chested, and with sneakers on because he didnt seem to be weighed down all that much. One hand kept going back and forth from his hand to his side. He was.....smoking? "Hello?" Emily said to the dark courtyard. Her voice was small and meal being swallowed by the wall next to her.

"Shhhh we don't wanna get caught Lala Land girl." Emily blushed, the dark provided a curtain from the guy. He came closer until he was right in front of her, shaped by the disappearing moons last glows. "So, I see I have met a fellow rebel ah," Emily flicked her hair over her shoulder and peered up at him.

"More rebel than girl actually". The guy threw his head back and laughed, a low throaty noise, but none the less cheery. His hood slipped back off his head, revealing the buzz cut.

"So, what bad deed did you do to get here?" His voice was not full of concern, just curiosity, and Emily felt herself freaking up.

"What does it look like?" She replied in a cold, hissed whisper. The guy leaned back, rocking on the heels of his feet.

"Well, by my powers of deduction, I would say that you are a...hmmm tricky.....a smoker maybe?" Emily couldn't help but laugh.

"I wonder what gave that way" she teased, swinging her cigarette in from of her like a conductors wand. "So," she began, "how old are you?" The guy took a while to answer.

"Just turned 17 last month," he took a drag. "But I will always be 14" he said as he let the smoke go. It tumbled from his lips into the pale morning light. A pained look flashed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "And you Mrs. Lala Land?" Emily turned her head to the sky. The moon had begun to sink below the clouds and the light was shining through. She was suddenly aware of how tired she was.

"16, turning seventeen." The conversation ended there, both parties staring at the changing sky. The guy nodded a farewell and Emily smiled back. As he turned away, she could just make out the profile of his jawline, his nose and his lips. She wasn't sure she liked him, or if she was just lonely looking for company. Tuning her back and stubbing the cigarette into the wall, letting rather ashes fall to the grass, she realized she had never learned his name.

"Wait!" Her voice echoed around the now light courtyard. His figure stopped moving in the distance. "What's your name?" The guy slowly pronounced it and Emily heard the laugh register in his voice.

"It's Nick. But you can call me Cig Man, Mrs. Emily Sommers".