Emma
The bakery smelled of sugar and yeast, warm loaves stacked in neat rows on the counter behind me. I was wiping flour from my hands when the bell over the door jingled. I glanced up, expecting another regular.
It was Harry Cooper.
He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place, his grin too wide, his eyes glinting with something that made my stomach knot. He was the sort of boy who gathered attention like it was his birthright. I never liked him.
"Morning, Emma," he drawled, strolling up to the counter. "Didn't know you worked here. Makes sense, though — sweet girl in a sweet shop."
I forced a polite smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"What can I get you, Harry?"
He didn't look at the shelves. He just looked at me.
"How about you let me take you out tonight? We'llgo see a film in the cinema. I'll show you around properly."
The words were casual, but his eyes pinned me like he expected only one answer.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, keeping my tone even. "I can't. I've got to get home."
His grin twitched, but he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Come on, Emma. Don't play hard to get."
I felt the burn of annoyance rising in me, but I smoothed it over with practiced politeness.
"I'm not. I just… can't. Do you want to buy some bread, or something from the counter?"
For a moment, something flickered in his expression — annoyance, frustration. Then he straightened and gave a short laugh, tossing a coin onto the counter and snatching a pastry without looking at it.
"Next time, then."
But there wasn't going to be a next time.
Over the next two weeks, Harry proved me wrong.
Every few days he came in, pretending to buy something but always steering the conversation back to the same question.
"What about tonight?"
"You free this weekend?"
"Don't tell me you're still saying no."
Each time, I declined, firm but polite. And each time, his smile slipped just a little more.
It began to weigh on me, the way his gaze lingered, the way he seemed to know when my shift ended, sometimes waiting outside under the guise of "happening to be passing by." I didn't tell Mum or Dad. I didn't tell Teddy. It felt like something small enough to shrug off.
I worked the late shift at the bakery on Thursdays. We'd close at eight o'clock and by the time I left after we locked up, the streets were quieter, the last of the shops pulling down their shutters. I started the walk home, a canvas bag hooked over my arm, the smell of fresh bread clinging to me.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
I quickened my pace.
"Emma!"
The sound of his voice snapped down my spine. I turned, heart hammering. Harry was striding toward me, hands shoved in his pockets like this was just another casual encounter.
"What do you want, Harry?"
I asked, trying to sound calm, though my pulse thudded in my ears.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Just thought I'd walk you home. It's not safe for a girl like you out here alone."
"I'm fine." I turned back and kept walking.
He fell into step beside me.
"Why do you keep saying no to me? Huh? Any other girl would kill for the chance."
I gripped the bag tighter.
"Harry, please. Just leave me alone."
That's when his hand shot out, fingers clamping around my arm. He yanked me into the shadows of the alley between two shops, the brick walls pressing in close.
My breath caught in my throat.
His grip tightened, his face inches from mine, twisted with anger.
"Nobody says no to me, Emma. Nobody. You think you're too good for me? You think you're better than the rest?"
I tried to wrench free.
"Let me go!"
He shoved me against the wall, his body crowding mine. The reek of cheap cologne and something sour on his breath made bile rise in my throat.
"You should be grateful," he hissed.
"You should count yourself lucky I even want you."
"No!" My voice cracked, high and desperate. I shoved at his chest, but he was stronger. Panic flared hot in my veins.
"Help!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls.
His hand came up so fast I barely saw it. The crack of his palm against my cheek split the air. Pain seared my skin. My head snapped sideways, my vision blurring.
I gasped, choking back tears.
Harry leaned closer, his voice a low growl.
"You'll learn your place, Emma. One way or another."
I fought him, kicking, shoving, my screams tearing from my throat. The bag fell to the ground, bread rolling across the pavement. My nails scratched at his arm, desperate to get free, I kept screaming, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear me.
He slammed my head against the wall behind me. I felt everything in me shake from the force of it, but I screamed again, louder this time, every shred of fear pouring into it.
And then —
Heavy footsteps pounding closer. A voice shouting my name.
"Emma!"
The world narrowed, my heart thundering in my ears as I twisted in Harry's grip.
The world had gone blurry. Not just from the tears stinging my eyes, not just from the pain at the back of my head, but because everything inside me was spinning. My ears rang with the echo of my own scream, the air thick with the sour stink of rubbish bins and damp stone.
His hand was still tight on my arm, his words played over and over in my ears:
"You think you're too good for me? Nobody says no to me."
I tried to twist free, but he shoved me back again, hard against the wall. The impact rattled through my bones, knocking the air out of my lungs. I gasped, my chest heaving, heart slamming.
Harry loomed over me, his face twisted, all boyish arrogance stripped away and replaced with something darker. My stomach lurched. I kicked at him, my nails clawing, desperate to move away from him. He cursed, catching my wrist, pinning it hard against the wall.
"Stop fighting," he snarled.
"You'll like it if you just—"
A crash split the night.
Heavy, sudden.
The grip on me faltered.