A Dangerous Situation

Amelia’s POV

Collins’s voice cut across the kitchen, cold and final. “No.” The word wasn’t loud, but it thudded, silencing everything—mom’s pizza stopped halfway to her mouth, her eyebrows rocketing up as she turned to look at him.

I stopped cold, my fork clutched in a white knuckled grasp, my eyes meeting his, unyielding and black. “What?” I snapped.

“You’re not going to that party,” he said, his eyes holding me in place, unflinching. My heart thudded, painfully loud in the sudden silence of the room.

“Why?” I shouted, voice raised almost to a scream, hot fury flooding in all at once.

He sat back, having his face stony and irritatingly serene. “This Joel’s more of a university fellow, isn’t he? You think the kids who is his friends, who were at that party, are your age? They’re older, Amelia. Boys who see you as an easy mark. Why would you put yourself in that position?” He spoke calmly, rationally, and yet a fire ignited within me, blood rushing to my cheeks. Who was he to dictate my decisions? I laughed bitterly.

“Thanks, stepdad, but I can take care of myself. I can take care of myself, and whatever happens is no concern of yours!” His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking along the edge, his eyes darkened, but he said nothing, allowing my words to fill the void.

“Control your wife, not me,” I retorted, pushing my chair back with an abrasive screech, storming out. Mum’s bewildered gaze flashed between us, but Collins’s silence was deafening, his glare scorching into my spine as I tore into my bedroom and slammed the door.

I paced my room, saying to myself,“Forget him,” trying to banish that stern face, those piercing eyes. Defiant, I jerked open the door to my closet and removed a red dress — short, flared and a deep V-neck that whispered rebellion but not recklessness. I threw it on the bed, matching heels beside it, and crossed my arms with a smirk playing on my lips. "Let him try to stop me," I murmured.

The next day, I spent hours getting myself ready, curling my hair so it turns into loose waves, pinning it up to show my neck, makeup light but sharp, accentuating my features. I was already tugging on the red dress when I saw my reflection, felt a spark and surge — confidence, defiance or something else that pushed the last week’s doubts to the side. In the mirror I saw a girl ready to take charge, not one slavishly swooning to an impossible crush.

The sun was setting, sending the old house aglow with the warm light and, high heels hitting wood, I walked downstairs, heart pounding with excitement. Halfway down, I stopped cold. Collins stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his presence a wall of silent authority. Our eyes locked, and the world stood still for a second. His eyes passed over me, and down to the hem of the dress, something—surprise, or possible interest—flitting across his face before he glanced away, speaking under his breath. I didn’t respond with anything else, and my heels were loud against the wood as I walked by him, heart pounding, determined not to look at him as his presence weighed me down.

The drive to Joel’s was quiet, the road long and still, but my nerves thrummed, anticipation and defiance blending. His house, when I pulled up, took my breath away — sleek, modern, with floor to ceiling planes of glass and a sprawling lawn glowing gently beneath soft lights. There was a low thrum of music, laughter spilling out the open door. I swallowed hard and took a step toward the entrance, the sound getting louder, an uneasy mixture of excitement and nerves twisting my gut.

Inside, the party hit me like a wave — people, mostly my own age, well-dressed, dancing, lounging, laughing. The bass pulsed through the floor, the air seeping cologne, perfume, the sting of alcohol. In the kitchen, clusters of people poured drinks, their toasts ringing out; in the living room, others crowded together talking, or snapped selfies, their phone flashes slicing through the dimness.

The energy was electric, I chuckled a nervous smile as I explored further and my heart was pumping with excitement.

“Amelia!” Joel’s voice cut through, and I spotted him elbowing his way through the throngs, his face bright. Before I could respond, he’d reached over and pulled me into a warm hug, his cologne smelling the same, comfortable and familiar. “You made it!” he said, backing away, his gaze flitting over me. “Wow, you look… incredible.” His words tickled my cheeks, and I grinned at them, shy to accept but thrilled to hear. “Thanks. Your house is… amazing.”

He laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, my parents’ place. They’re out of town, so I figured, why not?” He smiled, taking me into the crowd, introducing me to friends whose names slid off my mind like water. They were friendly, their smiles loose, but the party’s energy was staggering, a tempest of music, laughter and flashing lights.

The night melted into itself, the hours a haze between drinking and dancing and Joel being everywhere. It was flattering, the touch of his hand against mine, his laughter close, but it leaned toward intense, the look in his eyes hanging a bit too long.

“Come with me,” he said abruptly, grabbing my hand—one that was just tight enough but not forceful. I blinked, caught off guard. “Where?” I replied in a casual voice, a bit curious.

“Simply taking a walk is all,” he replied, his voice low, a smile pulling at his lips. I hesitated, my stomach skipping, but nodded, allowing him to walk us out to the patio, the night air coming to bite in contrast to the heat of the party.

We simply talked for a while, with light, easy chatter. Then Joel came to a stop and faced me.

“Amelia,” he whispered, his black eyes in mine.

"Yeah?" I said, my voice barely audible.

"I gotta tell you something."

My heart had been pounding already just by his approach, appearing so grave.

“I love you,” he said suddenly.

“For years have I done so.”

What he had just spoken had struck me, and here I was up to who knew what. Joel was the boy I’d loved in the dreamland of stupid schoolgirl crushes for all those years.

“Mmh, Joel, Uh.” I stammered, struggling to find words when he came closer to me and his lips touched mine.

It began, as a kiss often does, slow, hesitant, but rapidly grew deeper. His hands were on my hips, and he was pulling me close as he kissed me.

And just like that, I was kissing him back, my arms around his neck.

But then his hands moved down further, clinging onto my hips, pulling me to him. I caught my breath as he swept me into his arms and entered the house with me.

“Joel,” I was starting this time, but he dove down to suck all the words away from my mouth in a frantic kiss. The next thing I knew I was lying on the bed, he lay on top of a cream duvet next to me his hands moving all the time over my body. But the very moment his lips met my neck, a jagged piercing of fear shot through me.

"No!" I exclaimed, pushing him.

And this was where the confusion took place. "What? What is wrong?”

“I can’t … I don’t feel for you,” I stammered. "I'm sorry, Joel. I want to go home."

He glowered even darker as bewilderment gave way to anger.

“You are lying,” said in hoarse tones.

"I am not-

“Why would you give me any false hope?” he growled, his fingers clamping around my wrist. "Why stop me now?"

"Joel, please," I said, my voice catching on tears. "Let go."

But he didn't. “It’s OK, I’ve got you,” he said, squeezing me close and pushing me down. His hands pulled at my dress.

I felt panic turn in my chest, and I struggled. "Stop! Joel, stop!"

He didn't.

My arm jerked out in hysterical fright, to something solid, a little vase on the night table. I reached without thinking and then hit him with it.

I reeled from the blow and fell backward, I scrambled off the bed, and I ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

"Amelia!" Joel screamed, banging on the door. "Open up!”

I stepped away, my hands trembled and I picked up my phone. I don't know what I was thinking, but called the first number that came to mind.

When the call went through, a voice picked up the line.

"Amelia?” It was when I heard Collins’s voice that something inside me released, and the tears came harder.

"Please," I sobbed. "I need you. Come get me. Please."

The pounding from Joel got louder, the shouting garbled but frightening.

"Where are you?" Collins’ voice had been calm but urgent.

My voice rattled the address that choked me.

“Don’t move,” he said, very seriously. "I am coming."

Then the line went dead, and I was left in silence but for the sound of Joel beating on the door furiously.