Jenn tries to hide herself

Jenn’s pulse roared in her ears. The gym floor stretched wide and merciless, with no cover in sight, just machines, mats, and rows of gawking strangers.

She darted to the nearest treadmill, crouching low, trying to huddle behind it. But from the other side, a group of young women burst into hysterical laughter.

“She’s hiding under the treadmill!” one squealed, already holding her phone high.

“Get a video, get a video!” another shouted, camera flashing.

Jenn scrambled away, heat flooding her face as phones tilted to follow her every move. She darted behind a weight rack, squatting low, arms clamped across her chest, but even there, phones rose like a firing squad. The metallic clang of dropped dumbbells mixed with laughter and gasps as more people turned to watch.

“Oh my god, she’s really naked,” someone whispered behind her, their voice caught halfway between awe and pity.

“Don’t cover up now, we’ve all seen it!” another man shouted, to a round of chuckles.

Jenn’s breath came in ragged gasps. Every step she took, every frantic attempt to shield herself, only made her movements more frantic, more absurd. Her hair clung to her wet skin, droplets sliding down her body in plain view of dozens of strangers.

“Stop filming me!” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please!”

But the plea was useless. The glow of screens lit up the room as more phones angled toward her, capturing every angle of her bare, trembling form. Some people laughed openly, others whispered in disbelief, and a few simply stared, wide-eyed and transfixed.

Jenn’s mind spun in circles, **** for an escape. But there was no hiding now. The crowd had her boxed in, their phones recording, their laughter slicing into her like knives.

Every second she stayed exposed was another second her nightmare burned into memory. Hers, and now, everyone else’s.