❝𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬?❞

prologue

   "My name is Yara." "Yara Fulton."

"They call me Emerald." "And if you're watching this, I'm probably dead."

Adriana adjusted the large camcorder on her hands, pulling the camera down and away from my face. She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at Syd, who was fighting to keep her laughter quiet underneath Adriana's death glare. Syd couldn't contain it, and doubled over in laughter, wrapping her arms around herself, while Adriana huffed, turning her head back to me.

"Seriously, Yara? Come on, be serious!"

"I'm trying," I exclaimed, strands of hair sticking to my lips. "I'm not an actress, you know?"

The wind was picking up, and we had been out here for what felt like forever.

We were out here recording Adriana and Syd's final project for their African American studies class, which was turning out to be way more elaborate and time consuming than Adriana had led me to believe. I couldn't remember what it was supposed to be about - since she burst in my room in the middle of the night, talking fast and a mile a minute as usual while I struggled to understand. Something about creating a short video over a concept from their class, maybe about the black experience?

Either way, my mind was drawing blank.

And it was cold. Freezing almost.

We were in the half empty parking lot of Syd's apartment complex, right next to a long, stretch of yellowing grass. Fall was in full effect, leaving its mark on the environment before December's winter came to blow everything away. Leaves were falling from the trees, decorating the parking lot and grass in wilted, brown and yellow leaves. 

It was so unlike the movies, where there'd be endless, perfectly shaped leaves, in hues of yellows, reds, and browns.

That's why they were movies - perfect blimps of scenes spliced together. Everybody always got their happy endings in those movies. Didn't matter if you had to struggle to get that happy ending, because it was always within reach.

So unlike reality.

Just once, I'd love to see a perfect leaf. Find the perfect version of reality.

"Who cares? It's not about being an actress," Adriana peered from behind the lens, swiping her braids over her shoulder. Dressed in a sweatshirt with pink, bedazzled letters across the front that spelled "director", she had gone all out for her own personal movie production. With her free hand, she expressed what she was looking for, her fingers sporadically moving around.

"I need passion, Emerald! Fire, desire! I need emotion! Get deep in your feelings!"

I smiled, "Okay, okay!"

"Deep in her feelings?" Syd chimed in, "It's a project, not Love and Basketball."

"Oh hush, Syd!" Adriana waved her off, paying no attention to Syd's comments. She stepped close to me, practically shoving the camera in my face, "Now let's start over from the top!"

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.

When I opened them, my eyes fell to the horizon, noticing the black car sat stationary not too far behind Sydney. It rolled slowly through the parking lot, watching, creeping on us. I tried to ignore the antsy, hard feeling in my chest as I looked back at Adriana, who was waiting to give me my cue.

My stomach felt like it was tied in knots, twisting and turning around, the feeling only growing heavier the longer the car lingered, barely making a sound. It taunted me, like the bringer of death; the grim reaper on four, polished wheels. Like a vulture waiting to pick the remnants of a meal.

With a snap of her fingers, Adriana started rolling the camera again, the sound of the tape whirring away inside giving my signal to begin.

I took another deep breath, watching as the black car faded from my vision as it drove away.

I scanned over the torn sheet of paper that had my lines on it, glossing over Adriana's neat, cursive handwriting before hiding it behind my back, making direct eye contact with the camera lens. The round, fisheye lens reflected my stressed, nervous face right back at me, seeming to know all of my secrets, everything I was hiding, and the thoughts I had pushed far back in my head.

"These beginnings shall be their endings, and these firsts shall be their lasts."