Chapter 10: Mirror Training
The dorm room smelled faintly of lavender laundry detergent and old paperbacks. Posters of galaxies and quantum diagrams clung neatly to the walls above a desk stacked with biochemistry textbooks. Amy’s childhood teddy bear sat propped against her pillow, one glass eye reflecting the overhead light.
Her knees dug into the mattress. Squeaks fractured the quiet rhythmically as she rolled her hips in slow, exaggerated circles. Sweat glued her thin tank top to her spine. Her reflection in the full-length mirror showed flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed on the rolling motion of her own body. She chanted under her breath, the words barely audible: "Good girl. Good girl. Good girl."
The cadence matched the filthy chant from the frat house hallway. Chad's getting laid! She pushed the memory away. Focused on the mirror. Hips forward.Arch. Back. Circle. Smooth. Like Chad demanded. He’d mocked her stiffness last time. Called her robotic.
A tremor ran through her thighs. Exhaustion or shame? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her fingers hooked into the soaked lace waistband of her thong. Peeling it down required effort. The fabric clung. She kicked it off. It landed near a stray high-heeled shoe discarded earlier.
Cool air touched her bare skin. She shifted her weight, knees wider. Leaned forward, presenting her reflection to the mirror. Hands gripped her own hips, spreading herself open. Exposing everything. A flush spread down her neck. Look at what you are right now. Chad’s voice echoed in her head. From the frat bathroom. The filthy tiles. The stink of piss and body spray.
Her palm cracked against her flesh. Sharp. Loud in the quiet room. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and specific. She gasped. Held the position. Watched the mirror. A vivid red handprint surfaced on her pale skin. Angry. Perfect. Just how Chad liked it. Proof of obedience. Proof she could take it. Needed it.
She slapped again. Harder. The impact jarred her teeth. Another gasp tore from her. The sting deepened, throbbing. Good. Better. Her reflection stared back – sweaty hair clinging to her temples, eyes wide and dark, mouth slack. The handprint glowed crimson. Degraded. Debase yourself. She remembered Chad’s command, hissed against her ear. A shiver, hot and cold, raced through her.
Her gaze flickered past her own shoulder in the mirror. To the neat bed. The worn teddy bear. Its blank, embroidered eyes seemed to watch. A lump formed in her throat. Stupid. Just stuffing and thread. Mark had won it for her at a summer fair years ago. He’d blushed handing it over. Back when blushing was cute. Not weak.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Tried to summon his face. His gentle smile. His hesitant touch. The way he’d trace constellations onto her palm. It blurred. Faded behind the phantom sensation of Chad’s hands – bruising her hips, yanking her hair, slamming her against the wall. The brutal emptiness afterwards. The humiliating giggle that wouldn’t stop. Mark’s shattered expression outside the bathroom door. Nothing happened. Her own bright, brittle lie.
Her eyes snapped open. Fixed back on the reddening skin in the mirror. Focus. She needed focus. Chad expected performance. Perfection. He’d summon her soon. Demand she display his mark. Prove her craving. She shifted her knees wider on the squeaking mattress. Circled her hips again. Faster. More fluid. The sting pulsed with each movement. A counterpoint to the rhythm.
"Good girl," she whispered, louder now. Commanding herself. "Be a good girl." The words tasted metallic. Like blood from a bitten lip. Yet her body responded. Hips rolling. Back arching deeper. The handprint burned. She imagined Chad watching. Smirking. His cold appraisal. The thrill of it slithered through her gut. Twisted with the ache of betrayal. Mark didn’t understand this need. Wouldn't want her like this. Couldn't handle her like this. Chad’s words, embedded like shrapnel.
A vibration buzzed violently on the desk. Her phone. Skittering next to her biochemistry textbook. Amy froze mid-roll. Heart hammering against her ribs. Silence pressed in, thick and sudden. The buzzing stopped. Then started again.Insistent. Urgent.
She scrambled off the mattress. Bare feet hit the cool floorboards. Ignored the tremble in her legs. Ignored the bear. Ignored the textbooks. Crossed the room in three quick strides. Snatched the phone. The screen glared. A single name pulsed with the vibration. CHAD.
Her thumb hovered. Sweat-slick. The red handprint throbbed on her skin, hot and demanding. The buzzing filled the silent room. Filled her head. Her reflection in the dark phone screen looked pale. Haunted. Hungry. The buzzing stopped.
Then instantly started again. Relentless.
She swiped to answer. Lifted the phone to her ear. Her voice came out breathless. Too eager. "Hey."