Chapter 19

Elara stepped out of Vivienne’s car, the morning sun doing little to warm her freezing body beneath the tattered prom dress. The garment, once a symbol of youthful dreams, now hung on her like a grotesque second skin, exposing more than it concealed. Her shaven pussy was brazenly on display, a cold breeze occasionally raising goosebumps on her inner thighs. The henna tattoo makeup, stark and unyielding, felt like a brand. Her heels, unfamiliar and precarious, made her sway with each step. She walked towards the school gates, every fiber of her being screaming in protest, but Vivienne’s chilling instructions echoed in her mind: one hour after school, not a minute more.

She hadn’t gone twenty feet before a familiar voice cut through the morning chatter, sharp and laced with disbelief. “Elara? Oh my god, Elara, is that you?”

Elara’s head snapped up. Standing near the main entrance, their faces contorted in a mixture of shock and disgust, were Chloe and Maya, two of her closest friends. They were the ones who had spent hours with Elara choosing that very prom dress, poring over fabrics and styles, sharing whispered dreams of a perfect night.

Chloe, usually soft-spoken, was the first to react. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, swept over Elara’s shredded dress, then fixated on her exposed pussy. “Elara, what ... What have you done to your dress?! That was our dress! We picked it out together! It’s ... it’s ruined!” Her voice rose, tinged with genuine hurt and a palpable sense of betrayal.

Maya, usually more cynical, took a step back, her gaze lingering on Elara’s face, then dropping to the crude makeup. “And your face, Elara. What is that? You look like ... like a cheap hooker.” Her voice was laced with an undeniable contempt. “What happened to our Elara? You’re acting like some kind of ... slut.”