You'll Be Safe Here

Violet froze when the doorbell rang. Amelia stood on the porch, suitcase at her feet, mascara smudged. Her parents found out. They kicked her out. Now both girls were in it deep. Violet’s parents couldn’t know their daughter liked girls too, so the two of them crept down the hall, ready to hole up in her room. Florence caught them halfway. Violet spun a quick lie—study session, school friend. Florence smiled like she knew better. Inside, Violet spread blankets in the closet, told Amelia she could crash there for now. Florence lingered just outside the door, one eye at the crack, watching everything. Days passed and Florence kept finding reasons to hover. Through the narrow slit she caught flashes of skin when Amelia stepped out of the shower, towel slipping, nipples tightening in the cooler air. She saw every drop slide between Amelia’s breasts. One afternoon Florence slipped into the room while Violet was gone, opened the closet without knocking. Amelia flinched, clutching the blanket to her chest. Florence told her straight: she knew, and she wanted a taste. Amelia’s stomach dropped—Florence liked girls too. She tried to say no, couldn’t cheat on Violet. Florence shrugged, said she’d talk, spill everything, make sure both girls were outed by dinner. Panic cracked Amelia’s voice. She begged Florence to keep quiet, promised whatever she wanted as long as Violet never found out. The door stayed shut. Florence stepped closer, eyes already undressing what the towel barely hid.