Chapter 8: The Price of Submission

“Just say it,” the blackmailer’s voice echoed in her mind, cold and unwavering. “Do it, Lexie. Or you’ll lose everything.”

Lexie sat in the dim light of the locker room, staring at the phone in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she typed out the message, the words feeling like they were carved into her very soul. She had become a puppet, and the strings were pulled by someone she thought she knew — someone she never would have suspected. And now, here she was, writing out her own degradation, each word a small death.

It wasn’t the first time he’d demanded something of her, but tonight felt different. The power he wielded over her was palpable, suffocating, like a heavy blanket of smoke filling her lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe. His words had taken root in her mind long ago, poisoning her sense of worth. She had lost her ability to distinguish who she was from who he was forcing her to be.

“Say it,” the voice demanded.

Lexie’s mind felt fogged as she complied. She had no choice. She knew that if she didn’t do it, everything she had left — her cheerleading spot, any chance at a future, the small shred of dignity she was holding onto — would be gone in an instant. His control over her life had become absolute.

The video had to be recorded. It wasn’t enough to just send a text. He had to see her say it — had to see her humiliation in real-time. She knelt on the floor of the locker room, the roughness of the carpeted floor seeping into her skin as she spoke the words that felt like they were tearing her apart.

“I just want the world to know that I am a slut. There’s nothing I enjoy more than attention. I need to dedicate my life to the service of men who need their sexual needs met.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke. She hated herself for saying it, for believing it. But in that moment, it felt like she had no other choice. She was being suffocated by her own actions, and there was no escape. The camera clicked off. Lexie sat in stunned silence. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn’t pick it up immediately. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. The message on the screen was simple, chilling.

“Leave the envelope on the stool. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She could feel her pulse quickening, the reality of what she was doing closing in on her. The money in the envelope felt like chains around her wrists, like the price of her soul. She had no real power anymore, no choices. She was a tool for his amusement, nothing more than a commodity.

Her hands ached as she folded the money into the envelope, her mind clouded by the weight of it all. She stood, walking over to the small stool by the door. The key to her dorm lay beside the envelope, a reminder of how little control she had over her own life now. She left it on the stool, like an offering to a god she no longer believed in.

The phone buzzed again. This time, she didn’t wait to read it. She knew what it would say.

“Don’t think for a second that you can get out of this, Lexie. You’ll follow my rules. And when you meet them, you’ll meet me.”

As Lexie left the room, she was consumed by a single, all-encompassing thought: She was no longer Lexie. She was something else, something unrecognizable. The girl she used to be — the cheerleader with dreams, with hope — was gone. And in her place was someone who was slowly learning to survive, to simply exist, in the world that had been constructed for her by someone else.

He had demanded that she keep her evenings open from 9:30 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. every night. The thought of men arriving at her door like clockwork, using her, discarding her, made her stomach churn. But what choice did she have? If she refused, he’d expose her secrets, destroy what little was left of her reputation. He’d take everything, and she’d have nothing.