Trapped/ Disappointment

Amelia’s POV

It was a week following Sophie’s hospital scare, and superficially life appeared to have returned to its pace. Sophie was home, finally on the mend. Mum was having loud phone calls and going out at night again, laughing through the house. Collins as well had fallen into his — cool, professional, closed off whenever he was home, his presence something solid and immovable, something I was unable to look away from. But beneath my calm facade, I was unraveling, my heart a battlefield where reason waged a futile war against obsession.

I’d attempted to keep my mind occupied all week — books, old TV shows, anything to distract me — but it was truly of no use. And all I could think about was Collins: That stern voice reprimanding Sophie’s mum at the hospital, that strong hand passing a pad to me that time I was mortified, those dark eyes that lingered just a fraction too long. It wasn’t anything special — he was simply being himself, steady, secure. But there was the problem, wasn’t it? It tilted my world every time I remembered him, which was too often. I sighed and flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. “I have to stop thinking about him,” I murmured, but the words seemed soundless.

It was a minefield of reminders for him—the echo of his deep voice as it rang in the kitchen, the scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway and the thud of his footfalls against the hardwood. It was smothering, and he filled every space, there was no escaping him. I closed my eyes and tried to force my heart to grow still, but instead it beat more loudly, a traitor still preoccupied with the man I could never own.

The mail came that afternoon – ordinary stack of bills and flyers I didn’t bother looking at until my eyes caught on an envelope with my name. My heart raced, fingers shaking as I tore it open. I’d been dreading the moment when this would arrive, months of sleepless nights falling asleep on dreams of my acceptance letter, the key that would unlock my freedom, my new life far away from this house, him. But as I scanned the words, my joy turned into dread. “New City University,” I whispered, disbelief catching at the back of my throat. Not my dream school, not the far-off college where I could start anew. My career safety pick, the one I’d scrawled thoughtlessly, assuming it would never count. Here, in town.

I had a knot in the back of my throat as I read and reread, hoping I had misunderstood, but the big print taunted me. New City University. I shook my head and murmured, “No, no, no!” The letter flapped against the table, and I stared at it, half-thinking it would disappear like a nasty joke. How? I had worked so hard, passed every test, done everything correctly. I was sure I would get into my dream college. And now… this? Stuck here, where every day would be a reflection of what I couldn’t have?

I came to my room with the letter held firmly in my hands and fell upon the bed bursting into tears. “This is not fair,” I muttered into my pillow, voice muffled, raw. That school was my lifeline, my respite from Collins, from this crush that was warping my heart. I’d been counting on distance to dull the ache, to give me room to move on. Now, however, I was stuck — home or dorm, here in this city, under his shadow. There was no escaping, no freedom, nothing but the bulk of him there pressing, making me feel the incentive of what I’d never have.

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my reverie. I wiped my face, snuffling, and saw that Joel was calling. I hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”

“Amelia!” His voice was cheerful. “Guess what? I’m back!” His excitement was infectious and my lips twitched in a small smile despite the hurt in my chest.

“Back? Since when?” I said, my voice much more resolute than I felt.

“This morning,” he said in a warm tone. “And remember, my birthday’s tomorrow! You’re coming, right? You’re the live of the party. It’s not a party without you.” I laughed softly at his teasing.

“I did’nt remember,” I replied. “I’ll be there.”

But then his tone changed; it was serious. “Hey, you okay? You sound… off.” The worry in his voice surprised me, and I bit my lip, wanting to tell him everything.

“It’s nothing,” I blurted out, too quickly, trying to make light of something that felt anything but light. “Just a cold.” He didn’t sound convinced but he signed off, “Take care, alright? See you tomorrow.”

I hung up and called Sophie, needing her sound to steady me. “Amelia!” she replied, warm but a little fatigued. “How’re you feeling?” I enquired, but kept my tone light.

“Better,” she said. “Still weak, but at least I’m not in that hospital. We chatted, her stories providing a relief, and I brought up the university letter. She groaned, sympathetic. “Me too — I didn’t get my first choice either. Stuck in town too. Sucks, huh?”

“Why’s this happening?” I blurted out, exasperation overflowing.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Well, I guess we’re just stuck, huh?” Her sentiment echoed my own fear, and we lapsed into an ambivalent silence, the weight of our squandered plans oppressive.

A car rolled into the drive, and then Mum’s shouty laugh and the front door slamming open. “I have to go,” I said to Sophie, and hung up the phone. I dragged my heels, not wanting to see them, but Mum shrieked my name, “Amelia! Come down!” I groaned at those words, climbing to my feet, resenting the words.

Mum and Collins were in the kitchen, seated before a not yet opened pizza box, so comfortable when I was so not. “Hey,” I said, flopping down in a chair. Mum hardly looked at me, deep in whatever tale she was engaging Collins with: her voice grated. I picked up a slice, but it tasted like ash, I had lost my appetite.

“Anyway,” Mum added suddenly, turning to me, “did you get your acceptance letter?”

History and everything.” “Yeah,” I said, hard swallow, the word sour.

“Which school?”

“New City University,” I managed to choke out, my voice squeezed.

She frowned. “But that wasn’t your first option, was it?”

“No,” I growled, letting the bitterness consume me. “don’t ask me why — I don’t know.” Collins remained quiet, until he expressed himself, his voice level and biting. “Most likely your score wasn’t good enough for the school you put first.”

The words stung like a slap, a cold reality settling in my stomach, shame burning my throat. “I’m here stuck inside,” I muttered, finding it hard to control my trembling voice and rage.

Mum shrugged, unbothered. “It isn’t like it’s the end of the world.” Her nonchalance sent me into deeper fury, and I looked at my untouched pizza, the tempest inside me poised to storm.

“I'm going to a party tomorrow," I announced loudly, feeling my tone grow sharp with defiance. “Joel’s birthday. On Saturday, I added. “May be late.”

“Yeah, well,” Mum answered, her tone detached, her words absentminded.

Then Collins’s voice cut in, and low.