Refuse

You stand there, clutching the ridiculous outfit in your hands, your body still damp from the shower. Every fiber of your being is screaming at you not to give in, not to let them have this kind of power over you. Your face burns with humiliation, but something inside you refuses to crumble completely.

“I’m not wearing this,” you say, your voice low but firm, hoping it’ll carry some kind of weight.

Ashley’s eyes widen in mock surprise, as though she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Then her expression quickly shifts to amusement, the kind of cruel delight that makes your stomach sink. She steps closer, her bare feet barely making a sound on the cool marble floor. "Excuse me?" she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I just hear you right?”

You swallow hard, glancing at the other girls. Brooke leans against the wall, arms crossed, one sneakered foot pressed against the marble, her lips curling into a smirk. Claire stands with her hands on her hips, her towering boots clicking as she shifts her weight, staring at you like you’re a toy she’s waiting to break.

“I’m not putting this on,” you repeat, trying to stand your ground. It’s a shaky attempt, especially with all of them staring you down, but you can’t let them have this one. Not like this.

Ashley’s smile fades, replaced by a look of irritation. “Oh, really? You’re not going to wear the clothes *we* so generously provided?” She takes another step toward you, the heat of her presence closing in, and even though she’s barefoot, she still towers over you. You catch a glance at her toes tapping impatiently on the floor, her nails perfectly polished and gleaming.

“Do you think you have a choice, Tom?” she asks, voice cold now. Her eyes flicker down to the clothes you’re holding, then back to your face. “You’re in *our* house. You messed up *my* dress. And now, you think you’re just going to tell me no?” She lets out a sharp laugh, turning her head to Brooke and Claire as if to share the absurdity of the situation.

Brooke straightens up from the wall, her tall frame even more imposing in those thick-soled sneakers. She’s looking at you like a predator sizing up prey. “You’re kind of missing the point here,” she says, her voice casual but laced with threat. “This isn’t really up for discussion.”

Claire steps closer too, the heels of her boots clicking against the marble as she does. Her smirk is as cold as her eyes. “Maybe he’s dumber than we thought,” she says, shaking her head, the blonde waves of her hair falling over her shoulders. "Or maybe we should just help him dress up, if he's struggling."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stand there, refusing to give in but feeling more and more trapped by the second. You can feel their eyes on you, all of them waiting for you to break, to humiliate yourself further.

Ashley sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes. "You’re lucky we even let you in here to clean up. And now you want to act all brave? Fine." She steps right in front of you, so close now that you can smell her perfume, her bare feet inches from yours on the cool floor. "But trust me, Tom. This is going to get a lot worse for you if you don’t cooperate."

Brooke shifts behind her, tapping the toes of her sneakers on the ground with a slow, taunting rhythm. "Yeah, little guy. We can make this *way* more embarrassing if you want."

You glance at each of them, knowing they mean every word. Your mind races, searching for some kind of way out, but there isn’t one. The walls feel like they’re closing in, and all you can do is stand there, clothes in hand, with the sound of their footwear and their cruel, mocking laughter swirling around you.

Ashley tilts her head, her lips curling into a smile that sends a chill down your spine. "So, what’s it going to be, Tom?"