The Hunt

The truth

Amelia's furious gaze met mine, frustration evident in her eyes as she processed that two unwitting individuals had inadvertently tipped the scales against her. Undeterred, I questioned her relationship with Greyson, seeking answers to unravel the complexities of their involvement.

She stared back at me defiantly, prompting me to repeat the question. "Tell me about the relationship between you and Greyson." Despite her initial reluctance, I reassured her that cooperation would lead to her release. Her skepticism lingered as she questioned, "How in the hell am I supposed to trust you?" I, maintaining a calm demeanor, acknowledged the trust issue. "I understand we're not on the best terms with the whole trust thing, but believe it or not, I want the best for you. This can stay between me and you without anyone else knowing."

Still guarded, Amelia posed a cryptic question that seemed to hold more profound meaning for her. I, attempting to simplify the situation, responded, "Your father hired me to find you." I kept my explanation straightforward, aware that some aspects of our connection were better left unexplored at this delicate juncture.

My words carried a weight of personal history as I shared a glimpse of my journey. "A long time ago, your father made a deal with me, too. I traded a life of crime and narcotics for a place in the force, and it has done me some good. I used to trust him implicitly until he tasked me with finding you. Everything I thought about him became a lie, and now, I want the truth."

I delved into the conflicting stories surrounding Amelia's departure, acknowledging the different narratives I had encountered. "He told me the story about you leaving too quickly, shedding alligator tears, and I fell for it. But I've also heard a different story from your baby daddy, which doesn't add up. I couldn't give up your location to him, knowing he brings no good to your life now."

Amelia, seemingly taken aback by this unexpected revelation, commented with sarcasm. "Well, that's wholesome of you," I responded, trying to maintain a connection beyond the complexities of my job. "I know it doesn't come with the job, but I like to keep my humanity. Everyone has a reason for their actions. From the information I've looked up about you, I don't think you would've run away just because mommy and daddy disagreed with you not wanting to be in school."

Displaying a mix of defiance and discomfort, Amelia proposed a deal. "I'll tell the story, but you must uncuff me." I, still wary of her recent actions, firmly rejected the idea. "Hell, no. Do you not know what you did less than 15 minutes ago?" I emphasized the severity of the situation, unwilling to compromise on security.

Amelia, expressing her discomfort, appealed for a change. "I'm uncomfortable," she explained. I, unyielding, responded bluntly. "Fuck your comfort right now. But I'll compromise. I'll handcuff you to me instead, so you can't run off even if you wanted to. You'll have to take my nosy bitch ass with you."

With a hint of defiance, Amelia suggested an alternative plan. "I could always knock you out, drag you into the lobby, and tell the receptionist to call the police." I, undeterred, pointed out the flaws in her scheme. "There's only one problem with that. They'll cause you a lot of unnecessary attention, especially since you're still in the same city and state as the father of your child. They won't hesitate to run DNA tests and fingerprints. I don't think you'll get that far."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Amelia reluctantly agreed. As I unlocked the handcuffs, I swiftly replaced them, securing one on my arm and the other on hers. The dynamic between us shifted once again as Amelia began to share the untold chapters of her story, the room filled with an uneasy tension, handcuffs now serving as a physical link between our fates.

"I always had a passion for writing and desired to become an author. However, I also had a fondness for debating, which led me to join a discussion group where I met a wealthy young man named Greyson. He intrigued me because he consistently challenged my viewpoints, and I found it exhilarating. We had an undeniable chemistry and eventually started dating. Together, we felt invincible. But as I began to confide in him more, I unknowingly made a mistake. I shared my desire to drop out of school and focus solely on writing, and he offered to support me financially. At first, it seemed incredible, but then he began questioning what he would gain from our relationship. I believed he was helping me out of kindness, but I was gravely mistaken. You see, I had made a personal decision to save myself for marriage, and he felt that his investment in our relationship warranted more than just great conversations and a spirited personality from me. Initially, I could handle the situation independently since I was now an adult, but eventually, I realized I was losing control. In desperation, I turned to my father, hoping for guidance. Unfortunately, he didn't fully comprehend the severity of my declining situation and missed the warning signs about my boyfriend. Consequently, I didn't burden him with further details. Returning to school became unbearable due to the constant presence and control of my boyfriend's father, who owned the entire institution. His dominance made it impossible for me to escape. Furthermore, he grew suspicious of my attempts to leave him and became physically abusive. He only harmed me in private, unwilling to tarnish his reputation. To solidify our connection and ensure my compliance, he devised a plan for us to get married. I protested against this, but he informed me that I had no choice unless I repaid all the money he had invested in me. Anytime I tried to escape, he would violently force me back into submission. It was an excruciating nightmare. He even presented me with a detailed outline of a plan wherein I would inform my parents that I was quitting school due to a pregnancy, and we would elope. I objected, explaining that they would see through the lie. At that moment, he displayed a disturbing look in his eyes, but surprisingly, he agreed with my point. Perhaps, I thought, he was coming to his senses and realizing how absurd his actions were. That night, as we returned home, I clung to hope that things might finally change."

As she recounted the harrowing events, vivid flashes replayed in her mind, a reel of distressing scenes that she couldn't escape. Tears streamed down her face, mirroring the emotional weight carried by the narrative she bravely unraveled. Despite the challenge, she pressed on, determined to share the painful chapters of her story with the heavy burden of her past etched across her tear-streaked face.

"He took my innocence. He confessed that I would be stuck with him and we would become a family, leaving me with no choice but to comply. I had always spoken up and testified against him, so he wanted to ensure I couldn't do the same about this incident. His father was present and heard my cries for help, but he did nothing. After he was finished, he restrained me to the bed and confined me to his room. Sometimes, he wouldn't even bother closing the door, and his father would pass by, his face filled  with sorrow as he glanced at me, aware of his son's actions. He remained silent because he, too, was a victim of abuse. I can't express how often Greyson would threaten to disclose the truth about his mother's fate based on what I overheard. I assumed his father had killed her, but Greyson's threat was enough to keep him quiet. One night, I devised a plan to escape. I pretended to give in to him and act as the obedient wife he desired. This led to him loosening my restraints. Although I couldn't freely move around the house, I managed to plan my escape for when he was asleep. Spotting one of our debate trophies, I seized it and struck him on the head. I desperately searched for clothing and gathered my belongings, but he regained consciousness. Intent on harming me once again, I used the trophy to defend myself, kicking him in a vulnerable area and scratching his face to fend him off. I took his wallet and keys, then locked the door to slow him down. Mr. Matthews may have heard the commotion because when I reached the lower floor, he had a backpack ready for me. He ensured me that my new life awaited me within it. I heeded his advice, never looking back as I left. I'm uncertain about what he told Greyson when I escaped, but it must have persuaded him then."

I asserted, "That's why you never called the police," as I maintained control over the situation. In agreement, Amelia shook her head, her struggle evident in the stuttering of her words.

Reflecting on her strained relationship with her parents, Amelia revealed, "I wouldn't contact my dad because I felt he didn't care." She recounted a genuine moment when she sought advice but found work more meaningful every time. Frustrated, she embraced the identity of Jada, continued her life, and eventually thrived with her son, distancing herself from her ex and indifferent parents.

Curiosity led me to inquire about her father disowning her. Amelia responded, "He never verbally said it, but he showed it in his actions." The unspoken disapproval lingered in her father's deeds.

The plot thickened as I disclosed an encounter with Amelia's ex, who attempted to frame her as the instigator of their shared past. Concerned for her safety, I advised against staying in the same city.

Amelia testified to her constrained circumstances, saying, "I had no choice. I didn't have much to go off of but $2000 in an envelope, a car that wasn't even mine that he was possibly tracking, and me and my unborn child." I acknowledged, "Point taken."

Taking action, I removed the handcuffs, having obtained the information I sought. Leaving my contact information, I assured Amelia, "I won't give any information about you or your son to him," pledging to report to her father while guarding her privacy. Resolute, I acknowledged potential consequences at work but believed I did the right thing at the end of the day.

The door was violently kicked down, jolting me into action. Frantically, I reached for my pistol, but a masked intruder swiftly thwarted my attempt, pressing his weapon against my temple. Meanwhile, his partner seized Amelia, her screams echoing through the hallway. To my dismay, Greyson materialized, striding purposefully towards me. Locking eyes, he coldly thanked me for locating Amelia. Her curses reverberated through the hallway, a haunting symphony of anger and despair. With a dismissive wave, Greyson assured me I could go home, and my role in his family drama concluded. As he exited, the gunman maintained a vigilant stance, keeping his weapon trained on me. Every step away felt like a tenuous release, a reminder that false moves could trigger dire consequences. The hallway echoed with Amelia's screams and curses, the aftermath of an encounter left me a reluctant witness to a twisted chapter in their family feud.