Powerless
“Where’s Emma?” I yell over the ear-splitting guitar riffs rolling over the growing crowd. Pressed up against other people, with the smell of sweat and alcohol enveloping me is not how I imagined my Friday night would turn out. Don’t get me wrong, seeing my favorite rock band, The Jacobs, live with my best friends is the highlight of my year, but taking my exam hungover tomorrow doesn’t sound as great.
“I don’t know, Aubrey; she’s your best friend,” Hailey replies sarcastically, turning back toward the stage. Looking at her, I decide to let her enjoy the concert and look for Emma on my own if she doesn’t show up soon. Beneath her red curls, hidden from the eyes of strangers, lays the secret bruises given to her by her ex-boyfriend, Josh. Having finally worked up the courage to leave him, the concert tonight is our way of celebrating her freedom. I look away from her, back toward the stage, trying to focus on the performance.
I shouldn’t be so worried, Emma always goes off on her own and just ends up being with some guy. Time ticks on; the band flies through set after set.
“I’m going to go look for her. She’s been gone for too long,” I shout, trying to be heard over the girls next to us, screaming the lyrics to the song.. Hailey just nods her head in response, too caught up in the concert to care.
I push my way through sweaty arms and dancing forms as I make my way to a break in the crowd. With the arena being so dark, I have to glide my hand along the wall until I touch what feels like a door. I grab the handle and step through the threshold, leaving the sounds of screaming girls and guitars behind me.
The door leads me to a hallway, empty of anyone besides the workers. I pull out my cellphone from my purse, my intent being to call Emma, but my screen flashes with five texts and four missed calls from her. Maybe she just got lost and couldn’t find her way to back us, I think. I dial her number, pacing to the door and back.
“Pick-up, pick-up, pick-up,” I chant under my breath.
“Hi, this is Emma--”
“Emma! Where are you? Why weren’t you answering?” I yell into the phone.
“--Sorry I’m not here at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll be sure to get back to you. Bye!” The recorded voicemail is my only response, and I hang up the phone anxiously.
“She’s probably fine,” I reason. “She’ll show up any minute and we’ll all laugh about this tomorrow.”
I walk up to the concession stand and wave over the worker. “Hi, um, have you seen my friend pass through here.” I describe her with my hands, motioning as I speak, “She’s short, about five foot two...curly blonde hair, brown eyes...um...wearing a bright red shirt, you can’t miss it. ”
“Okay, slow down...you said short, with blonde hair, bright red shirt?” He scratches his jaw, slowly saying, “Yeah, I believe I saw someone like that not too long ago.”
“Where’d she go?’ I ask impatiently. I glance over his outfit, noting the name tag that reads: “Paul.”
He squints at my tone. “Restrooms, last time I saw,” he finally replies.
I sigh in relief, “Thank you!” I twist my head in both directions trying to make out where the restrooms are. The worker points to the left, and I say again, “thanks.”
I nearly run to the bathroom, mumbling, “Sorry,” as I bump into someone on the way.
I stumble through the bathroom door, calling out, “Emma? Are you in here?”
Silence. muted taps of water drip from the faucet into the sink. Running my hand through my hair, I let out one long exhale. Making my way pass the stalls, I stop before the cracked, rusted mirror above one of the sinks. My broken reflection stares back at me. I sigh, combing my fingers through my matted hair. From the humidity and sweat, my dark brown hair has lost it’s curls and a not so pleasant sheen glosses my skin. My hazel eyes stare back at me, searching for answers to the questions running rampant through my head. What if Emma doesn’t show up? Is she okay? Did she just leave with another guy or did something happen?
My thoughts are interrupted by moaning in one of the stalls. I turn around, glancing at the stall the noise appears to be coming from.
“Hello?” I call out gently, “Is someone there?”
“...Aubrey…” A voice croaks, but is cut off my a series of coughs.
“Oh thank god! Emma, is that you?” I rush toward the stall, excitement racing through my system. I put my hand on the door to the stall, pushing it open. “Where have you--”
The sight of Emma renders me speechless. Lying against the toilet, curled into herself, all I see is the blood; it’s everywhere. Her hair, normally golden and straight, lies in ripped strands around her face, as if someone tried to drag her by it. My eyes scan her body, noting the bruise developing below her eye, the imprints of knuckles adorning her cheekbones. A stream of red trickles from her lips, splattering onto her chest. Our eyes meet, hers dazed and unaware.
“Emma!” I scream as I run over to her deformed figure. I cup her face in my hands, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Emma, oh my god, oh my god,” I sob. 
“...He wants…” she starts, but begins struggling to take in a breath.
“No, Emma, don’t speak,” I begin. “We need to get you help. It’s going to be okay.”
“Aubrey, it’s….Josh….he’s looking….for Hailey.”
“Hailey’s ex? Why would he--he did this to you?” Anger and confusion fuse together in my words.
Emma’s mouth opens as if to say something, but the only sound that comes out is a gust of breath.
“Emma!” I cry, “Emma, look at me!” I sob, twisting her head toward me. Glassy eyes stare back, the still weight of her body pulls me down physically and emotionally. I place my head on her shoulder, heavy sobs wracking my body as I shake my head. Smoldering tears race down my cheeks into her clothes, a burning stream that I can’t stop. Why would someone do this to her?
My thoughts are like a car accident waiting to happen, flying this way and that, racing  past too fast for me to process. Her last words crash through the chaos. Josh did this. I have to warn Hailey.
I slowly lower Emma to the ground, vowing to come back for her. I stand up, harshly wiping away the tears as I sprint for the door. Outside of the bathroom, I race back to Paul; the worker at the concession stand. His eyes widen at my disheveled appearance.
“There’s been a murder! We have to get everyone out of here as soon as possible! The killer is still here!” I exclaim motioning with my hands toward the concert.
He looks shaken, perhaps not able to comprehend what I’m saying, but there is no time.
“Listen, we need to get everyone out of here! There’s--”
The sound of gun shots firing and screams cuts me off. Chaos erupts in the concert hall. The blood in my veins turns cold as fear grips my heart. My hand clenches onto the surface of the counter behind me. Time slows to a crawl; I watch as the first wave of people reach the doors, all struggling to get out, fear etched on their faces. I struggle to breathe, my breathes harsh and shallow. Thoughts of what happened to Emma and what could happen to Hailey consume me. I make for the door, taking the first step, when a hand grabs my arm, trying to pull me back.
“Miss no! We have to leave and wait for the police to arrive!” Paul yells.
“No! My friend is in there! I can’t just leave her!” I scream desperately. “Let me go!”
I tug at my arm relentlessly, overpowered by Paul as he pulls me closer to the exit and farther away from Hailey.
“No! Stop! Hailey! Hailey!” I cry as I continue to struggle, but it does nothing as we become lost in the escaping crowd.
My heart beats in sync with each gun shot. Tears run down my face as I’m pulled helplessly away, watching the chaos unfold around me.