Timeout

The yard was too bright.

The screen door slammed shut behind shark with a sound like a gunshot, startling a trio of sparrows into flight from the rusted clothesline overhead. The midday sun hung heavy in the sky, blinding shark's green eyes ., her bare feet pressing into the dry, prickling grass. The air smelled like cut lawn and the faint, sour tang of the compost heap near the fence.

"Hands behind yer neck, Feet shoulder-width " Margot ordered, her countryside accent thick as molasses. "And stand straight. None of that slouchin’."

Shark’s throat tightened . She could already feel the heat creeping up her neck, her ears burning. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she **** them up, lacing them behind her nape. The movement made her shoulders roll back, her chest jutting forward—exposed.

The neighbors were watching everything,

Old Mrs. Henderson hanging laundry. The Thompson boys kicking a soccer ball. A goddamn *mailman* at the end of the drive.

A breeze brushed over her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms, her thighs. She was naked. Entirely, stupidly naked, her skin still tingling from the spanking, her ass throbbing in time with her pulse.

The screen door squealed again.

Tim’s giggle was high-pitched, gleeful. "Whoa. Damn."

Shark’s stomach dropped. She didn’t turn, but she could feel him there—could picture his stupid, freckled face, his beady eyes roving over her. Her teeth ground together.

"see boy? That's how you educate a city slut" Margot’s voice was amused.

"Hell yeah," Tim crowed. "She's red everywhere."

Shark’s nails dug into her own scalp. "Shut the fuck up, you little—"

"Ah-ah." Margot’s cane tapped against the porch railing. "Watch that mouth, missy. Unless ya wanna spend supper with a bar of soap in it."

Shark’s jaw clamped shut.

More footsteps. The rustle of fabric. Sophie’s voice, smug as ever: "Should’ve known she’d end up like this. Always struttin’ around like she’s hot shit."

Shark’s eyes stung. She stared straight ahead, at the peeling paint of the shed, at the rusted swing set swaying in the breeze.

Elaine’s sigh was quiet, almost pitying. "Margot, this is—"

"Educational," Margot interrupted. "Ain’t no better cure for a brat than a little humility." She raised her voice, addressing shark directly. "How’s it feel, girl? Havin’ everyone see what ya really are?"

Shark swallowed. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

What was she, right now? A lesson. A spectacle. A dumb bitch who’d mouthed off one too many times.

The sun beat down on her shoulders, on the curve of her back. Her skin prickled—not just from the heat, but from the eyes. Tim’s leering, Sophie’s mocking, Elaine’s discomfort. Margot’s satisfied stare.

Her breath hitched.

And then—worst of all—she heard the click of a phone camera.

Tim’s grin was audible. "This’s goin’ straight to the group chat."

Shark’s vision blurred.

She wished she could faint in that moment.