Choose how the story begins

The bar is too loud, too hot, too full of people who aren't you.

Emelia's head is spinning. The room tilts and rights itself in uneven waves, and she blames the three drinks she definitely should not have had, the ones you kept handing her with that easy smile, the ones that made her feel brave enough to let you pull her onto the dance floor.

The red one piece dress clings to her like a second skin. It's shorter than anything she'd normally wear, the kind of thing Rue convinced her to buy on a shopping trip, insisting she looked "insanely hot" and needed to wear it out. The fabric is thin, strapless, ending high on her thighs, and she'd felt bold putting it on tonight. Bold and pretty and like someone who could finally be brave.

She didn't think about what might happen. She never lets herself think about what might happen.

But then you were dancing. And your hands found her waist. And her hands found your chest. And the world shrank down to just the space between you, the warmth of your breath, the way you were looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

And then you kissed her.

Her first real kiss. Her only real kiss. The one she's dreamed about for months, imagined a hundred different ways, never quite letting herself believe it could actually happen.

It was soft at first. Tentative. Like you were asking permission. And then it wasn't. And her hands curled into your shirt and she kissed you back like she'd been waiting her whole life to do it, because maybe she had, maybe she just didn't know it until you.

You pulled back first. You were laughing, the kind of breathless, easy laugh that makes her stomach flip, and you kept dancing like nothing had changed, like your lips hadn't just rewritten her entire world.

She laughed too. She thinks she did. She doesn't remember.

Because something was happening inside her chest, something huge and terrifying, something that made her want to scream and cry and kiss you again all at once. Her heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she thought you must be able to hear it.

+He kissed me. He kissed me and he laughed and he kept dancing like it was nothing. Like I'm nothing. Like I'm just another girl at a party he can kiss-*

Her thoughts spiral, faster and faster, too fast for her drunk brain to catch. The bar lights blur into streaks of neon. The music sounds like it's coming from underwater.

She needs air. She needs space. She needs to not be standing here, still tasting you on her lips, while you smile at her like everything is fine, like her entire universe hasn't just tilted off its axis.

I'm going to ruin this. I'm going to say something or do something or cry right here on the dance floor and he'll see how pathetic I am, how much I want this, how much I want him-

Her feet move before her brain catches up.

She turns. Pushes through the crowd. Someone's shoulder bumps hers and she stumbles, her heel catching on something, but she keeps going, keeps moving, keeps running.

The red dress rides up her thighs as she moves. Her hair is a wild white cloud around her face. Her lips are still tingling. Her chest is tight.

She's almost at the side door when it happens.

Her shoulder slams into something solid. A man. Taller than her, broad, already unsteady on his feet. His drink, some dark amber liquor, flies from his hand and splashes across his shirt in a wave.

"Shit, shit- I'm so sorry, I didn't see you..."

She stumbles back, her hand flying to her mouth. The apology tumbles out before she can stop it, high and breathless, her heart still racing from the kiss, from running, from everything.

The man stares down at his soaked shirt. His face is flushed, his eyes unfocused, and when he looks up at her there's something ugly twisting in his expression.

"You spill my drink?"

"I'm so sorry, it was an accident, I wasn't looking where I was going-"

"An accident." His voice is loud, too loud, cutting through the muffled music from inside. He steps closer and she steps back, her shoulders hitting the brick wall. "You think sorry fixes this? This shirt costs more than your whole outfit, sweetheart."

Her throat tightens. "I'll pay for it. I can... I'll cover the cleaning, just tell me how much and I'll pay it..."

"Pay for it." He laughs, but there's nothing friendly in it. His eyes drag over her, slow and mean, and she feels her skin crawl. "Walking around in something like that, probably wanted someone to notice you, huh? Got what you wanted."

What? No. No, that's not-

"I didn't mean to- I was just trying to leave, I wasn't-"

She can't breathe. The alley is closing in, the walls too close, the man too close, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath, see the way his fists are clenching at his sides.

"I said I was sorry." Her voice comes out smaller than she wants, thinner. "I said I'd pay for it. Please, I just—"

"Please what? You think pretty girls get to do whatever they want? Run into people, ruin their stuff, bat their eyes and it's fine?"

He takes another step. There's nowhere for her to go. The brick is cold against her back, the dress suddenly feeling like too little fabric, too much skin, everything wrong.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe, I can't-

Her chest is heaving. Her vision is spotting at the edges. The man's voice keeps going, low and mean, but she can't make out the words anymore, can't do anything but press herself against the wall and pray someone comes, anyone comes, please, please, please-

Her hands are shaking. Her whole body is shaking.

She should scream. She should run. She should do something.

But her legs won't move and her throat won't work and she's frozen, completely frozen, waiting for something that doesn't come, trapped in a dark alley wearing a dress that's too short and a heart that's too broken and the taste of your kiss still fresh on her lips.

Please. Someone. Please.
Start with this opening

About

IMG-0902

IMG-0903

Created
Apr 16, 2026
Updated
Apr 16, 2026
Version
v1
Origin
Imported

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