Chapter 2: The Bare Rules (Part 3)

Chloe's head snapped up. "What?"

"Nudists have nothing to hide. A closed door suggests shame. We don't want anyone thinking you're ashamed of your body."

"Mom, you can't---that's my room. That's the only place I can---"

"The only place you can what." Victoria's voice was level. "Hide. Cover yourself. Pretend you're not what you've claimed to be. You chose this, Chloe. The door is unnecessary."

Chloe opened her mouth. Closed it. There was nothing she could say. Nothing that wouldn't make it worse.

David finally looked up from his newspaper. His face was gray. "Victoria, don't you think that's a little---"

"David." Victoria didn't look at him. "The door."

He looked at Chloe. Just for a second. His eyes were full of something---pity, maybe, or guilt, or just exhaustion. Then he looked away.

"Fine," he said quietly. "After breakfast."

Ethan was grinning now. Actually grinning, like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. "No door? That's awesome. So I can just, like, walk by whenever and---"

Chloe stared at her plate. The eggs were getting cold. She hadn't eaten anything. Her stomach was a tight knot of shame and fear and something else---something hot and bitter that she didn't have a name for.

***

After breakfast, David took the door off its hinges.

Chloe stood in the hallway, her arms wrapped around herself---she couldn't help it, she didn't care about the rules, she needed to cover something---and watched her father work. He had a screwdriver and a hammer and he was taking the pins out of the hinges one by one, his movements slow and mechanical. He didn't look at her.

"Dad," she said quietly. "Please."

He paused. His hand on the screwdriver. His shoulders hunched.

"Dad, please. I can't---I need somewhere to---please just leave the door. Please."

He didn't turn around. "Your mother made her decision."

"Since when do you just do whatever Mom says? Since when do you not have an opinion about anything?"

Silence. The screwdriver turned. Another pin came out.

"Dad---"

"Chloe." His voice was strained. "I can't. Okay? I just... I can't."

Can't what? Can't help me? Can't stand up to her? Can't be a father?

She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and make him look at her and do something. But she just stood there, naked, her arms wrapped around herself, watching him take apart the only barrier between her and the rest of the world.

The door came off. David carried it down the stairs to the basement. The hinges were still on the frame, empty now, like the eye sockets of a skull.

Chloe walked into her room. The doorway gaped behind her, open to the hallway. Anyone walking past could look in and see everything---her bed, her dresser, her desk, her. Anyone could see her. There was nowhere to hide.

This is my room. This was supposed to be my safe place. And now it's just... it's just another stage.

She sat on her bed and pulled the purple comforter around herself. Just for a minute. Just while nobody was watching. The fabric was soft and warm and familiar, and she pressed her face into it and tried not to cry.

I'm trapped. I can't believe there is nothing I can do to stop all of this nonsense.

* * *

Chloe was in the living room, sitting on the couch, trying to watch TV. Trying to pretend everything was normal. The couch was leather, cold against her bare skin, and she'd been sitting in the same position for an hour because every time she moved, the leather made that awful squeaking sound and everyone looked at her. Ethan was in the armchair, playing on his phone, glancing up at her every few seconds. Victoria was in the kitchen, doing something with the dishwasher.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Ethan was on his feet before anyone else could move.

"No." Victoria appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel. "Chloe, get the door."

Chloe's blood went cold. "What?"

"Answer the door."

"Mom, I can't---what if it's the mailman? What if it's a neighbor? Or what if---"

"Then you'll greet them." Victoria's voice was flat. "Go."

She stood up. Her legs were shaking. The leather made that awful squeaking sound as her skin peeled off it. She walked to the front door, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears.

She opened the door.

Jenna was standing on the porch, holding Chloe's backpack in one hand and her gym bag in the other. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and her face lit up when she saw Chloe.

"Oh my god, Chloe!" She stepped forward like she was going to hug her, then stopped, her eyes sweeping over Chloe's body---the breasts, the pubic hair, the bare thighs. "You're... you're still..."

"Yeah." Chloe's voice was flat. "I'm still naked. Come in."

Jenna stepped inside, her eyes still moving over Chloe's body with an expression that looked like concern but felt like something else.

"I brought your stuff," Jenna said, holding up the bags. "Your backpack and your gym bag. Your phone's in there, I charged it for you. I figured you'd want it back."

"Thanks." Chloe took the bags, clutching them to her chest. They covered more than her arms did. "What about my clothes? My jeans and stuff?"