Chapter 1: The Nudist Trap (Part 5)

Chloe followed her mother up the stairs. The carpet was soft under her bare feet, familiar, but everything felt wrong. The family photos on the wall---Chloe at eight, missing her front teeth. Chloe at twelve, holding her track trophy. Chloe at fifteen, in her homecoming dress, smiling at the camera. All those versions of her, and now here she was, naked, climbing the stairs to her parents' bedroom like a prisoner walking to her cell.

Her parents' bedroom was at the end of the hall---neat, organized, everything in its place. The bed was made. The curtains were drawn. Her mother's jewelry box sat on the dresser, perfectly aligned with the mirror.

Victoria closed the door behind them.

"Sit."

Chloe sat on the edge of the bed. The comforter was cool under her thighs. She wrapped her arms around herself, hunching forward, trying to cover what she could. Her breasts pressed against her forearms, and she could feel her nipples---hard from the cold, from the fear---against her own skin.

We're alone now. Just us. I can tell her. I can explain everything.

"Mom---"

"Stop." Victoria held up one hand. She didn't sit. She stood in front of Chloe, looking down at her, her arms crossed. "I'm going to ask you one question, and you are going to tell me the truth. Not the story you told the principal and the police officer. The truth."

Chloe's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears.

"Were you streaking?"

"No! Mom, I wasn't---Jenna took my clothes. It was a prank. She hid everything and I didn't have a towel or anything and I was just trying to get to the parking lot to find my stuff---"

"So you were running through the school and into the parking lot naked."

"I wasn't running, I was just---" Chloe's voice cracked. "I was trying to be quick. I thought nobody was there."

Victoria's expression didn't change. "And the religious naturism?"

Chloe looked down at her lap. At her hands, still folded, still trying to hide what they couldn't hide. "Jenna told me to say it. She said it was the only way. She said if I didn't, I'd be expelled and arrested and---"

"So you lied."

The words hit her like a slap.

"I---" Chloe's eyes burned. She blinked hard. "Yes. I lied. I was scared, Mom. I was so scared. The police were there. They were talking about criminal charges. What was I supposed to do?"

Victoria was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was calm. Too calm.

"You were supposed to tell the truth and accept the consequences of your actions."

"Mom, please." Chloe looked up at her, and the tears were coming now, hot and fast, spilling down her cheeks. "Please. I know I messed up. I know. But I can't go to school like this. I'll figure something out---maybe I can tell them it was a misunderstanding, or that I was confused, or---"

"No."

Chloe stopped. "What?"

"You will not tell them anything." Victoria's voice was still calm, still measured, but there was something hard underneath it now. Something like steel. "You lied, Chloe. You stood in front of your principal and a police officer and you lied to both of them. You invented a religious faith to escape the consequences of your own foolishness. You committed an offense---public indecency, streaking through your school---and instead of owning up to it, you fabricated an elaborate deception. That is not a small thing."

"I know, but---"

"You will live the lie you told."

Chloe stared at her. "What?"

"You told the school you were a nudist. You told them it was your sincerely held religious belief. So that is what you will be." Victoria's eyes were cold, unblinking. "You have two choices. You can go to the school on Monday morning and tell them the truth---that you lied about your religious beliefs, that you were streaking through the halls and into the parking lot, and that you manipulated them all to escape punishment. You can accept the expulsion and whatever legal consequences follow. Including, I assume, the criminal charges Officer Reeves mentioned."

Chloe's blood went cold.

"Or," Victoria continued, "you can live the lie you told. You can be the nudist you claimed to be. Every day. At school. At home. In public. Everywhere. Until you are ready to tell the truth yourself."

"That's not a choice! That's---"

"It is the only choice I am giving you." Victoria's voice was final. "When you are ready to confess what you did---to the school, to the principal, to everyone---this ends. Until then, you will live exactly as you claimed you wanted to live. Completely naked. Without complaint. Without covering yourself. Without shame."

Chloe was shaking. Her whole body was trembling, and she couldn't stop it. "Mom, please. Please. I can't do this. I can't."

"You can. You will." Victoria walked to the door and opened it. "Come with me."

* * *

Chloe followed her mother down the hall to her own bedroom. Her legs felt like they were made of water. Her room was the same as always---pink walls, the track trophy on her dresser, the stack of textbooks on her desk, her bed with the purple comforter. Everything was the same. Everything was about to change.

Victoria walked to the closet and pulled it open. She began taking Chloe's clothes off the hangers---her sweaters, her dresses, her favorite jeans, the blue ones that made her butt look good---and dropping them onto the bed.

"Mom, stop---"

Victoria pulled open the dresser drawers. Underwear. Socks. Bras. The lacy bra Chloe had bought at the mall with her own money, the one she'd never even worn because it was too fancy for school. All of it went onto the growing pile on the bed.

"You can't do this!" Chloe stood in the doorway, her voice rising. "Those are mine!"

"I can. I am." Victoria's hands didn't stop moving. "You made a declaration tonight. A religious conviction. I am simply ensuring that conviction is honored in this household."

"That's not fair! I told you the truth! I told you it was a lie!"

"Yes. You did." Victoria paused, a handful of Chloe's socks in her hand. "And now you have two choices. Confess to the school on Monday, or live as the nudist you claimed to be. Those are your options."

She gathered the pile of clothes into her arms---jeans and sweaters and underwear and bras, everything Chloe owned, everything she'd ever worn---and walked out of the room.

Chloe followed her down the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the wood. "Mom, please---Mom, you can't just---"

Victoria didn't stop. She walked through the kitchen, past David who was standing by the coffee maker with a mug in his hand, his face pale and frozen. She walked to the front door and opened it.

"Victoria---" David started.

"Stay out of this." Victoria didn't even look at him.

She stepped outside. The porch light cast a yellow glow across the front yard. The night air was cold, biting. Chloe stopped in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, watching as her mother walked down the front steps and across the lawn to the big green trash bin at the curb.

The lid squeaked open. Victoria lifted the bundle of clothes---Chloe's whole wardrobe, her whole life---and dropped it inside. The clothes landed with a soft thump. The lid squeaked shut.

She threw them away. She actually threw them away. They're gone. Everything is gone.

Victoria walked back up the steps, her heels clicking on the concrete. She paused in the doorway, her eyes meeting Chloe's. Her expression was still blank, but her voice was quiet and sharp as a blade.

"And don't even think about pulling them out of the bin. The garbage truck comes at six tomorrow morning. They'll be gone before you wake up."

She stepped past Chloe and went inside.

Chloe stood there for a moment, one hand on the doorframe, staring at the trash bin at the curb. The cold air raised goosebumps all over her body. Her nipples were hard and aching. The wind blew her hair across her face.

Gone. Everything is gone. And tomorrow morning the truck will come and take them away and there won't be anything left. Nothing. Not even a sock. Not even a single pair of underwear. Nothing.

She stepped back inside and closed the door. The house was quiet. Her father was still standing in the kitchen, his coffee mug untouched, his face gray. Victoria was already heading up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Chloe," she said without turning around. "I hope you find your faith... strengthening."

Her footsteps faded down the upstairs hallway. A door closed.

Chloe stood in the front hall, naked, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing. Her father looked at her---finally, actually looked at her---and his face crumpled. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something.

Then he closed it. He set down his coffee mug and walked past her, up the stairs, without a word.

The bedroom door closed. And then Chloe was alone.

* * *

She climbed the stairs slowly, one step at a time, her hand on the banister. The wood was smooth and cool under her palm. The family photos watched her from the wall---all those versions of herself, all those girls who had clothes and privacy and a life that made sense.

Her bedroom door was still open. The closet was still empty. The dresser drawers were still hanging open, bare and hollow. The pile of clothes was gone. The hangers swung gently on the rod, clicking against each other in the draft from the hallway.

Chloe closed the door behind her. The click of the latch was the best sound she'd heard all night---a barrier, a wall, something between her and the rest of the world.

She was alone now. Completely alone. Nobody could see her.

She grabbed the purple comforter off her bed and wrapped it around herself, pulling it tight, clutching it to her chest. The fabric was soft and familiar and for a moment---just a moment---she felt almost normal. Almost safe.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. She threw them away. She threw everything away. I don't have any clothes. I don't have anything. I'm going to be naked forever. At school. At home. Everywhere. Everyone is going to see me. Everyone.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, still wrapped in the comforter, and stared at her empty closet. The tears came again---not the hot, panicked tears from before, but something slower. Something heavier. They rolled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin onto the purple fabric.

I can't do this. I can't. But what choice do I have? Tell the truth on Monday? Get expelled? Get arrested? Have a criminal record? That's not a choice. That's not a real choice.

She pulled the comforter tighter around herself and curled up on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She could feel her own heartbeat against the mattress. Fast. Too fast.

What am I going to do?