Placid (Luke Hemmings)

| emma’s pov | “The people here can tell you similar stories,” the old man, who was seated in front of all of us, told me. I held back a sneer, they would never understand me. I knew going to a shitty seminar or whatever the heck this is was going to get me nowhere. Those who were around me slowly raised their hands, as if to support the man’s claim. A sigh threatened to escape my lips- they were wrong. They didn’t experience the same thing. They never will. One woman, who looked like she was around her early forties, spoke, “My husband died a year ago.” She flashed me a close-mouthed smile, and I could feel my blood boil. “And one night, without knowing why, I went to his room. And there he wa-“ “He’s not dead,” I snapped, rising from my seat. Everyone’s mouth was wide open from my outburst, as if they haven’t seen anything like this before. I walked to the exit, but before completely leaving, I eyed the old man from earlier, “I know Luke’s alive.”