**Chapter 25: Resurrection**

Resurrection Emma's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in a room that seemed all too familiar. The cold, sterile walls, the single bed in the center, and the small table with a chair beside it all came flooding back to her. She had been in this room before, waiting for her execution. But now, as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, she realized that something was off. She wasn't dead. She was alive. On the table, a bucket of fried chicken and a pitcher of ice tea sat, emitting a savory aroma that made her stomach growl with hunger. A card on the bucket read, "Welcome home, Emma Hawkins." Emma's eyes widened in confusion as she stared at the food. How did they know she loved fried chicken? She hadn't eaten in days, but the sight and smell of the food made her ravenous. She didn't bother with utensils; she just dug in, tearing into the chicken with a ferocity that surprised even herself. As she ate, she felt a sense of primal satisfaction, as if she had been starved for years and was finally being fed. The taste was incredible, and she wolfed down the food with a hunger that was almost animalistic. She didn't care that she was eating like a man; she just couldn't get enough. Just as she was finishing up, the door opened, and a tall, imposing figure walked in. It was Blackwood, the man who had orchestrated her execution. He smiled as he entered the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Quite a performance, Ms. Hawkins," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm glad you enjoyed the... finale." Emma's eyes narrowed as she looked at him, her mouth still full of food. She chewed slowly, her mind racing with questions. How was she alive? What was going on? Blackwood walked over to her and handed her a fat envelope. "Your paycheck for tonight's performance," he said, his smile growing wider. Emma took the envelope, her fingers brushing against his. It was thick with cash, and she could see the numbers on the checks inside. She felt a surge of anger and confusion. What had she just done? And why was she being paid for it? As Blackwood turned to leave, Emma found her voice. "What... what just happened?" she asked, her voice shaking. Blackwood turned back to her, his smile still plastered on his face. "You'll find out soon enough, Ms. Hawkins. For now, just enjoy your... resurrection." With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Emma alone with more questions than answers.