Read with BonusRead with Bonus

3

Alice sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor in front of her full-length mirror, her arms resting limply at her sides. Her reflection stared back at her, but she wasn’t really seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of dread and reluctant determination. The world outside her room felt distant, muffled, as if her door had sealed her off from reality. She didn’t even register the persistent tick-tock of her clock, slicing through what little time she had left.

When she finally glanced over at the clock, her stomach dropped. 9:36 p.m. Less than 30 minutes to take and send the pictures.

Alice drew in a deep, shuddering breath and ran her hands over her face. How did it come to this? she thought bitterly. Her brother’s tear-streaked face flashed through her mind. She’d do anything to protect him, wouldn’t she? But why did it have to be like this?

Her hands trembled as she reached for her makeup bag. Each movement felt heavy, deliberate, as if her body was dragging itself through molasses. She wasn’t doing this to impress Adam, she told herself firmly. This wasn’t about him. It was about survival—about shielding Jamie. The makeup was her armor, the foundation and lipstick a mask to hide behind. At least, that’s what she told herself. Deep down, the thought of Adam staring at these pictures made her feel exposed in a way she’d never felt before.

As she worked, she avoided meeting her own eyes in the mirror. Instead, she focused on the mechanics—dotting foundation onto her cheeks, blending it out, adding blush to give herself a healthy glow. A coat of mascara to frame her eyes. Finally, she applied a generous layer of plumping lip gloss, smacking her lips together and tilting her head to examine the result.

She had to admit, grudgingly, that she looked good. Her skin was smooth and radiant, her lips full and inviting. “Too good for that prick,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at her reflection.

Her heart pounded as she stood and began to undress. Every motion felt deliberate, weighed down by reluctance. She peeled off her clothes and reached for her bikini bottoms, tugging them on with trembling hands. It felt less intimate than wearing her underwear, but she wasn’t fooling herself. The effect was the same. The top stayed off—per his vile request. She crossed her arms over her chest for a moment, hesitating, her mind racing. This was crossing a line she hadn’t imagined she’d ever approach, let alone step over.

In the dim light of her room, Alice slowly turned back toward the mirror. Her reflection seemed like a stranger—someone bold and shameless, yet also fragile and exposed. She hesitated, then sighed. Her fingers hovered over her chest before she reluctantly poked at her nipples to perk them up. A vague memory surfaced, something she’d heard once about porn stars using ice cubes for this exact purpose. She winced at the thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

“This is just for Jamie,” she whispered to herself. “Just for Jamie.”

Steeling herself, Alice picked up her phone and began experimenting with poses. She knelt in front of the mirror, angling her body this way and that, trying to mimic the confident poses she’d seen on Instagram. Her chest tightened with shame, but she ignored it. Snap. Another pose. Snap. Another angle. Snap. Each click of the camera shutter felt like a piece of her dignity being chipped away.

By the time she was done, her camera roll was filled with more shots than she’d intended to take. She sat cross-legged again, scrolling through the images with a critical eye. Her fingers shook as she deleted the worst ones, narrowing them down to the best four. It felt clinical, almost detached—like curating an art project. Except this wasn’t art. It was humiliation, captured in pixels.

Her phone buzzed. 9:52 p.m. Time was running out. With a deep breath, Alice hit send and dropped her phone onto her bed like it was burning her hands. She stared at it, waiting for his reply, her heart hammering against her ribs.

When the notification finally came, she grabbed the phone and read the message.

“Good girl,” was all he wrote.

Her stomach churned. “Good girl?” she muttered aloud, scoffing. The words made her feel small, reduced. What am I, a dog? she thought angrily, her cheeks burning with humiliation.

At least it was done. At least now Jamie could go to school without fear of being ambushed, and she could focus on her college classes without the constant worry gnawing at her stomach. The thought brought some relief, but it was fleeting. She knew this wasn’t over. Adam would want more. He’d made that abundantly clear.

Needing a distraction, Alice grabbed her phone again and opened Instagram. She didn’t even know why. Her thumb hovered over the search bar, and before she realized what she was doing, she typed in Dave’s name. Her ex-boyfriend’s profile popped up, and she clicked on it instinctively.

There was nothing new. No new posts, no new stories. Either he hadn’t updated recently, or he’d blocked her from seeing anything. Alice told herself she didn’t care, that she was just curious. But the hollow feeling in her chest said otherwise.

She navigated back to her own profile and scrolled through her pictures. Her bikini photos were still there, and looking at them now made her stomach twist. She’d posted them out of spite after the breakup, wanting to show Dave what he was missing. At the time, it had felt empowering—a way to reclaim her confidence after his betrayal. Now, they just felt… tainted. Knowing that Adam and boys like him had probably ogled those pictures made her feel sick.

With a deep breath, she started deleting them. Each swipe felt like erasing a little piece of the girl she used to be, the girl who had been so naive about the consequences of her actions.

Before logging off, she clicked onto Adam’s profile. It took her a moment to find him since he didn’t use his real name. His display picture wasn’t even his face—just his chest, which he apparently thought was impressive enough to represent him. She scrolled through his posts, which were mostly memes and pictures of his mates. In one of the few photos with his face, he was looking down while lifting his shirt to show off his abs.

Alice almost scoffed aloud. Arrogant prick, she thought, her finger hovering over the photo. But then she remembered her own bikini pictures and paused. She’d done the same thing, hadn’t she? Was she really any better?

Still, it stung when she noticed that his post had gotten more likes than hers. So, someone’s Mr. Popular online, she thought sourly, narrowing her eyes in jealousy.

When she finally put her phone down and crawled into bed, she felt exhausted, but sleep didn’t come easily. Her mind was too busy replaying the night’s events, second-guessing her decisions, and worrying about what Adam might do next. She stared at the ceiling, her heart heavy with regret and dread.

“This is for Jamie,” she whispered to herself again. But the words felt hollow now.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter