Leaving the kitchen with Emily hanging onto my side and Vixxie, more shuffling beside me, we weave through the couples making out on the edge of the dancefloor and push through into the centre.

The boys had left the kitchen to start a game of beer pong and we all decided to go dance in the hot sweaty bodies that move in time to the music. Surrounded by tree-like people I feel like a frigging ant, the heat is stifling but thanks to the liquid courage I managed to swallow during the intense game of Jenga, I feel slightly more relaxed. Emily grabs my hands and we dance about in the array of disco lights screaming the lyrics to Take You Dancing by Jason Derulo.

I feel alive when I dance, whether that's at the barre or in a crowd of drunk teenagers who don't know their left from their right. My blonde hair sticks to my damp neck as I shimmy my body to the melody, laughing and singing with my friends, every problem, big and small just evaporating from my mind as I relax into the music.

At some point, I feel a tug on my arm and Emily shouts in my ear, "I need to pee, come with me?" She carries on bopping about in her heels, I nod at her, taking her hand as we push back through the crowd which is considerably difficult when there's no six foot- five guy to protect you.

She tugs me up a large wooden staircase and along several corridors where small groups are congregated or couples are sucking each other's faces. I don't even want to know what's going on in the numerous bedrooms scattered about these halls. I shiver thinking I could literally be stood inches away from a couple having sex right now.

"This house is massive." I giggle walking alongside Emily, who is wobbling slightly in her silver sequined heels, I link my arm through hers and she smiles warmly, her eyes have that boozy glaze to them making her eyelashes look even fuller. She only had a touch of makeup on, a bit of highlighter on her cheeks and some eyeliner added with a few brushes of mascara. Her skin was flawless and had a gorgeous honey glow to it.

"I'm really... h-happy we're freindss A-atlas... you're such a great person." She says, stopping abruptly and taking me off guard wrapping her arms around me.

"I'm happy too." I smile into her cinnamon smelling hair which sits in fuzzy bouncy curls on her back. She draws away and opens a door on my right, it opens up to one of the biggest, modern bathrooms I've ever seen. I've read in books about house partys where the ques for bathrooms are long and tedious but it seems Emily knows one off the beaten track. She hands me her phone and instructs me to stand outside the door, which I do, admiring the abstract painting on the wall opposite that probably cost at least ten times my monthly wages.

A few minutes pass and the bathroom door springs open, Emily practically falls out and I manage to catch her before she hits the floor. We both fall against the wall in a fit of giggles, passers-by giving us the most obscure looks. Once our laughing fit subsides I lug her back downstairs, past the den where I can see the boys playing an intense game of beer pong, we linger in the doorway for a bit, watching Brady wobble when he tries to throw the small ball into one of Ethan's cups, he misses obviously and his partner (some blonde girl from our science class) pouts seductively at him, for a football player it's kind of disappointing but considering his alcohol consumption I'm not surprised. On the other side, Carrie is leaning against Ethan as he sinks a perfect shot into one of Brady's cups, she gives him a high five, her eyes glassing over as he engulfs her in a hug instead.

Rutherford saunters up to me and Emily, lifting her off the ground with a squeal, "You girls okay?" He asks, we both nod before Emily starts whispering things into his ear. I look around the den as a distraction feeling like the awkward third wheel, when my eyes land on Blaze he's talking to some girl who's perched on the edge of the chair he's sat in. She drapes her red hair over his shoulder and pushes her boobs up in his face by squeezing her arms against her chest, her hands move flippantly key to the fact she's trying way too hard for his attention.

He looks bored sipping from a can of Dr Pepper nonchalantly, never once looking at the redhead, only nodding occasionally when she giggles at something. His jaw sets in a harsh line, the way it does when he gets bored or agitated and his eyes scan the room, catching mine in his quick search. His lips turn up at the edges but under his deep gaze I squirm feeling jelly-like. I blink rapidly turning to Emily who's now playing tonsil hockey with Rutherford.

I flee out of the den leaving the PDA couple to see if I can find Vixxie. I haven't seen her in a while, I left her with Carrie dancing, I catch sight of a blur of green and purple in the crowd of people. She chose a mermaid sequin dress to match the coloured streaks in her hair and paired it with some Docs- easily recognisable in a crowd.

I squeeze through people, weaving into the sweat smelling pool of dancers when a body moves directly in front of me. I stop, being careful not to walk straight into it and try and move around it. This person however has other plans. One of his hands grips my arm and the other snakes around my back, I look up and find some big stocky guy in front of me. He was probably just over six foot and held a resemblance to one of the guys I'd seen on the Rugby team, especially with his bulky structure.

He isn't attractive in the slightest, especially when he rubs his clammy hands up and down my arm. His beard's scruffy and his face looks like a baboons ass. Red and blotchy.

"Oh- uh- excuse me- sorry-" I mumble trying to move around him but his grip tightens on my small ninety-pound body.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing dancing alone." He snarls.

"I uh- I'm not- alone." I stutter as someone else walks up beside him, handing him a red solo cup. He smirks at this guy whose eyes move to me and he smirks back. The rugby guy nods over his shoulder and his friend walks off slapping him on the back.

"How about I get you a drink." He states ignoring my faint protests, he starts to push me away back out of the crowd, I'm walking backwards scared I'll trip and end up under dancing feet. My feet stop when I feel my back hit a wall. Panic courses through me, my head pounding in alarm. He cages me in, one of his hands playing with the helm of my dress, the other beside my face, his meaty fingers weaving through my hair. I cringe trying to pull my head away from his hand.

"Can you- uh get off please." I stutter, trying to shrink my body into a ball, trembling. He ignores me and starts to lift the hem of my dress. I try and shove him off me, but his force is much more overpowering. His fingertips dig into my waist and my head writhes against the cold wall. I push against his body, tears blurring my vision. His breath feels sticky on my face as he leans in closer, he smells of stale beer and sweat making me feel sick. His tongue jots out over his bottom lip into an evil smile taking amusement in me trying to kick his shins.

"Get off me!" I struggle with tears rolling down my hot cheeks, still using all my strength to push his heavy body off me, my arms ache from slamming into his chest.

Get off me! Get off. I Cry a little louder, the sounds getting caught in my throat.

My mind goes into fight or flight, a regular reaction. My eyes scrunch up tears still falling rapidly from the corners, I keep pushing and kicking at his legs but nothing works as his hands make work of my body, roaming up and down my dress, his hands on my bare thighs makes me want to vomit. His mouth is scorching on my neck, his revolting breath running down onto my collarbone. My heart is beating so hard against my ribcage I think I'm going to have broken ribs. My lungs heave in pain when the hyperventilating starts.

Then the sweaty mass is lifted from me... have I passed out? I open my eyes to find Blaze pulling him back. His eyes are dark and narrow. The veins on his neck bulge viciously and the whites of his knuckles are paper-like holding onto this guys shirt. He pushes his face into the rugby guys looking at him like he's the son of satan. I've... I've never seen him so angry.

"She said get off you sick fuck!" He spits driving a fist into his face, the sound of knuckles on flesh making me shiver. The sweaty guy falls to the floor, making a large thud head through the room, even over the music which seems to be quietening anyway.

I can see people starting to look over at the commotion.

"Hey. Atlas are you alright... Atlas!?" Blaze's eyes widen with concern as he reaches out to touch me. I flinch away instinctively, visible hurt covers his face. I can't speak, I don't know what to say. Vixxie and Carrie are quickly by my side, shielding me from all the stares and the guys stand behind us, Brady's arm securing it's self around my shoulders, shaking me a little as he tries to talk to me.

"What the fuck Beckett! She came onto me!" Rugby guy shouts getting to his feet, holding his bloody nose.

"W-what? No...No, I-I didn't." I exclaim more tears falling from my eyes, shocked he's trying to pin this on me. A deep pit opens in my stomach and I think I'm going to be sick.

"You're fucking disgusting! We all saw her trying to push you away as you sexually harassed her!" Blaze shouts his voice rough and strained, socking him in the face again, this time the other rugby guys hold their friend up as he wobbles with such vengeance in his eyes. He snaps back throwing a fist at Blaze. He manages to dodge it but the other arm gets a shot at his jaw.

It happens in a blur, the two body's tussle with each other, a series of cracks and smacks scream from the bodies, spots of blood litter the floor. The scene in front of me makes me tremble, I don't even realise Brady's arms are both now securely wrapped around me as the memories come flooding in.

All I can see in front of me is my mom under my dad as he throws his fury at her, my sister and I screaming at him to stop. The anger in his eyes reflects in Blazes, his eyes used to get so dark and mean, he's throwing things at her, kicking her, cutting her. I can see her body in front of me on the floor, bloody and bruised, unconscious.

Blaze shouldn't have to do this to himself because of me.

I try and wriggle out of Brady's arms, thrashing about as he tries to hold me back but I break free, running forward.

"Stop!" I shout at the body's fighting on the floor. His back is taught and his sides move in and out quickly shoving oxygen into his lungs. "Please!" I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks. I reach out to try and pull on Blaze, I grab his arm, "Blaze, please stop."

Blaze turns his head to look at me, his face blanks then a disappointed expression covers his features. The guys take this as an opportunity to pull Blaze off the rugby guy.

A crowd has gathered around us, Rutherford dismisses them but as the main lights come up all I can focus on is Blaze's face, blood drips from his eyebrow and he uses his bruised hand to wipe his busted lip. He doesn't look as bad as the other guy, nowhere close to being as bad, to be honest, but it still upsets me.

"Come on- Atlas you're shaking!" Carrie says taking hold of my trembling arms looking very worried.

"I-I-I I'm fine." I stutter, my eyes never leaving Blazes, his chest moves up and down with ragged breaths.

"Come on I'm taking you back to mine." She smiles sympathetically.

"Really, I'm fine," I whisper.

"I'll bring her." Blaze interjects, pulling his keys out of his pocket, Carrie goes to protest, "Your cars full already, we'll meet you at yours." He adds. Carrie was indeed the designated driver for everyone in our group tonight and she already had her hands full with Vixxie.

"Are you okay to drive?" Brady checks, squeezing Blaze's shoulder. He nods scowling like he hasn't just gotten into a massive bust-up.

Carrie leads everyone out, holding onto Vixxie who's incredibly drunk. Brady follows on behind with Ethan and Emily saying goodbye to Rutherford whose cleaning the house out of people.

Blaze takes a final look at the guy, now slumped on the sofa, being taken care of by his friends, he snarls and walks out of the room back onto the porch. I follow behind him in silence struggling to keep my trembling under control. The fresh Atlantan oxygen is a nice replacement for the stale sweat ridden air inside the house. The quiet is also comforting, I try and focus on the clear night's sky. The stars twinkle on the bonnet of Blaze's black mustang alerting me to the fact we had made it to the car, Blaze unlocks the car in silence and slips in, I follow yanking my skirt down. I can still feel where his hands were, he was digging his fingers in hard.

Blaze wastes no time starting the car and pulling away from the street in a hurry. I watch out of the window as suburban houses travel by, unsure of what to say. Tears still brim at my lashline but my eyes travel to Blaze's hand that rests on the gearstick. The lion on his knuckles now blue, black and bloody. I shiver again at the look of his hands knowing I caused that pain.

Unexpectedly the car slows down at the side of a random street. He applies the handbrake then leans into the back of the car, I watch with curiosity as he pulls back with his leather jacket in his hands. He looks over and me and drapes it around my shoulders without saying anything or even looking at me. His smell surrounds me and the tremors start to become less violent. Then he starts the car again, still in silence.

I don't know whether I've had a panic attack because of what the rugby guy did or the violence. A bit of both maybe. I know Blaze would never hurt me but the animalistic look in his eyes reminded me so much of my dad and even my adoptive dad, the way they both use violence to manipulate the women below them. But Blaze wasn't manipulating me, he was protecting me, by hurting himself.

"I-I'm so so so s-sorry Blaze, are you okay?" I blurt out a few tears splashdown with it.

"Don't say sorry." He says sharply keeping his eyes on the road, his tone harsh and cold. My lungs tighten, Blaze was so happy at the start of this damn evening and now I've gone and ruined it. The car is silent again driving through more residential streets.

"Your knuckles..." I go to grab his hand so I can see if anything's badly broken but he flinches away from me. I sink back into my seat slowly feeling even more disheartened, does he hate me now? Oh god, this is all your fault stupid!

He finally lets out a long sigh, hitting his palm against the wheel with a grunt and looks at me through fearful eyes.

"Sorry, Blondie. I'm fine." He gives me a side glance wiggling his fingers, still showing signs of frustration though.

"I'm really sorry Blaze," I mumble looking at the bruise forming on his already scarred cheek.

"Hey, stop saying sorry. He had no right to touch you like that and I was not going to let him get away with it. I'm not angry at you butterfly...I'm angry at myself..." He trails off looking into his mirror, "I've worked really hard trying to stay out of fights... but when it comes to you... things go out the window I guess," He bites on his lip, being careful not to chew on his still bleeding cut.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault Atlas. I'd happily do it for you...that's the problem." He mumbles, confusing me, to say the least... I still feel guilty though and the whole fighting thing, it doesn't surprise me that he used to be in trouble a lot but I wonder why... and why he stopped. I shouldn't be the one to make him fight... he's going to get hurt because of me! He looks agitated gripping the wheel tightly until his fingers lose bloody circulation.

We travel down the highway back in towards the centre of town, there aren't many cars out or people for that matter but I enjoy the calmness of the night, it brings me serenity.

"I scared you didn't I... I could see it in your eyes?" Blaze says breaking the silence again. He looked even more disappointed than he did when he mentioned the fighting.

"It- uh wasn't you... it just... it... it wasn't you." I stutter. How do you tell someone it wasn't them you were scared off but the memories they bought of others.

"You know I'd never hurt you right?" He asks quieter, the worry in his tone making me feel all wobbly again. It's not often you see Blaze so vulnerable and when he is it only makes me question why he's got such a high wall to climb to get to it.

"Of course. I really wasn't scared of you Blaze... I'm just not one for violence."

"Is that why you're so flinchy?" He asks taking me off guard, I didn't think anyone paid enough attention to notice that.

"Uh... I'm just a jumpy person... will you let me look at you when we get to Carrie's, that cut looks nasty." I say quickly changing the conversation.

"I'm fine, I've been in far worse condition," He looks over at me and my frowny face. the least I can do it put a danm band-aid on his head.

"But if it will make you feel better, sure." He gives in and the rest of the ride is spent in a comfortable silence until we pull up at Carrie's house.

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😂