Chapter 2: THE ESCAPE

Amelia.

The dress came off in a chaotic whirlwind of frantic hands, adrenaline, and sheer determination. Sophie's fingers moved like lightning, working to undo the endless row of impossibly tiny buttons that ran down the back of the gown. Her movements were quick but careful, her brow furrowed with concentration as she muttered curses under her breath. The fabric bunched awkwardly as she worked, and I struggled to stay still, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shake the entire room. The layers of lace and satin seemed to cling to me like a second skin, refusing to let go, as if the dress itself was trying to trap me in this life I no longer wanted.

"Who thought this many buttons were a good idea?" Sophie grumbled, her frustration evident in the sharpness of her voice. She tugged at the next button, her nails scraping against the delicate fabric. The tension in her tone was palpable, but so was her resolve to get me out of this mess-both literal and metaphorical.

"It's couture," I managed to reply, though my voice wavered with nerves. I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself grounded, but it felt like the walls were closing in around me.

"It's torture," she shot back, her tone dry, but the humor in her words was her way of grounding me. Sophie always had a knack for cutting through the chaos with a well-placed quip, even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

I gave a shaky laugh, the sound thin and hollow. The effort of pretending everything was fine felt exhausting. My heart slammed against my ribs like a drumbeat, each thud making my legs feel weaker and more unsteady. I was terrified that at any moment my body would betray me, that my knees would buckle under the weight of it all. But I couldn't stop. Not now. Not with freedom so close I could almost taste it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sophie slipped the last button free. The dress loosened and slid down my body in a heavy, shimmering heap of fabric. It pooled at my feet in a glittering pile, a discarded dream that had once seemed so perfect but now felt like a nightmare. I stepped out of it carefully, my bare feet brushing against the cool floor, and stared down at the gown for a moment. It looked like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Here," Sophie said, breaking into my thoughts as she thrust a pair of jeans and a sweater into my hands. I glanced at the clothes, surprised, and then looked back at her, confused.

"Where did you-" I started to ask, but she cut me off before I could finish.

"Don't ask," she said firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "Just put them on. Quickly."

I didn't argue. My hands trembled as I pulled the sweater over my head, the soft fabric brushing against my skin. It was oversized, loose enough to hide the lingering tension in my body, and it smelled faintly of lavender and detergent. The scent was comforting, almost nostalgic, like something from a simpler time. The jeans were a little baggy, but I barely noticed. The moment I zipped them up, I felt a small flicker of something I hadn't felt in days-normalcy. It was as if, with every piece of the wedding costume I shed, I reclaimed a little more of myself.

Sophie handed me a pair of sneakers next, and I slid them on without hesitation. My fingers fumbled with the laces, the adrenaline still coursing through me making even the simplest tasks feel monumental. I tied them clumsily, the knots uneven, but I didn't care. I just needed to get moving.

"Okay," Sophie said, stepping back to look me over. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe like she was assessing whether I could pass for someone who wasn't supposed to be walking down the aisle of an extravagant wedding right now. "You look... normal. Nobody's going to guess you're supposed to be the runaway bride of the century."

"Thanks," I said, offering her a small, grateful smile. It didn't quite reach my eyes, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances. "Where's my bag?"

She grabbed it from the corner of the room and handed it to me. The worn leather strap settled on my shoulder, its familiar weight grounding me in the moment. It wasn't much, just a small bag with a few essentials, but right now it felt like the most important thing I owned.

"Do you have cash?" Sophie asked, her voice sharp with practicality.

I nodded quickly. "A little," I said, my mind already running through the contents of my wallet. It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.

"Good," she said. "Don't use your credit cards. If your parents realize you're gone, that's the first thing they'll check. They'll track you down faster than you can blink if you leave a paper trail."

"Got it," I replied, my voice steadier now. Her words were like a lifeline, giving me clear instructions when my mind was a chaotic swirl of fear and uncertainty.

She hesitated for a moment, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Her usual confidence wavered, and for the first time, I saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Amelia, are you sure about this?"

I froze, my hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob. The question hit me like a punch to the gut. Was I sure? No. Not even a little. Every fiber of my being was screaming with uncertainty. But what was the alternative? Staying meant stepping into a life that didn't feel like mine. Staying meant giving up the last shred of freedom I had left.

"I'm sure," I said, forcing the words out. My voice sounded firmer than I felt, like it belonged to someone braver.

Sophie nodded slowly, her expression softening as she studied me. There was no judgment in her eyes, only quiet understanding. "Okay," she said softly. "Then you'd better go. If your mom or anyone else figures out what's happening, they'll be up here in seconds."

I drew in a shaky breath, the gravity of what I was about to do hitting me all at once. I glanced at Sophie, her unwavering support giving me the courage to move.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

"Don't thank me yet," she replied, her tone tinged with wry humor. "Do you even have a plan, or are you just going to wing it?"

I hesitated, then gave a small, sheepish laugh. "Not exactly," I admitted.

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. "Figures," she said, shaking her head.

For the first time all day, I felt a real smile tug at my lips. It was small and shaky, but it was real. "I'll figure it out," I said with quiet determination. "I just need to get out of here first."

Sophie grinned, a spark of her usual mischievousness returning. "Now *that* I can help with," she said, already moving to open the door.

And just like that, a small sliver of hope broke through the fear. The weight on my chest didn't vanish, but it lightened, becoming something I could carry. I didn't know where I was going or what would happen next, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I was finally taking control of my life.

I turned the knob slowly, the chill of the metal biting into my palm and grounding me, if only for a moment. My hand trembled slightly as I twisted it, the weight of what I was about to do pressing down on me like an invisible force. The hallway outside was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt almost unnatural in a house this grand and full of people. Somewhere far below, I could hear the faint hum of music and laughter drifting up from the ballroom. Each note seemed to mock the chaos swirling in my chest, a cruel reminder of the life I was supposed to be embracing but was now running from.

“Thank you, Sophie,” I whispered softly, glancing back at her one last time. My voice wavered, thick with gratitude and the bittersweet knowledge that I might not see her again for a long time.

She gave me a small, sad smile, her expression a mix of encouragement and reluctance. “Go,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Before I change my mind and drag you back to that altar myself.” Her attempt at humor didn’t mask the concern in her eyes.

I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. I slipped out of the room as quietly as I could, the door clicking shut behind me. My heart was pounding so hard now it felt like a drumbeat in my ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath, and then started down the hallway, each step feeling like an act of both defiance and liberation.