Chloe narrowed her eyes, suspicious but victorious. “Yes.”
“Then I will,” I whispered, feeling the irrevocable weight of my decision settle into my bones. “I’ll wear the bikini.”
I turned and walked away from the table, leaving my parents staring after me in absolute, horrified shock, and my sister basking in her arrogant victory. I walked up the stairs, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the heavy, scarred tissue of my chest. I locked myself in my bathroom, pulled the neon pink fabric from the counter, and stared at my reflection, knowing that to save my sister’s soul, I was going to have to walk directly into the fires of my own execution…
Chapter 3: The Theater of Cruelty
The day of our eighteenth birthday dawned bright, cloudless, and brutally, unforgivingly hot.
Our sprawling backyard had been transformed into a teenage bacchanalia. It was a kaleidoscope of splashing turquoise water, tanned skin, inflatable flamingos, and the overwhelming scent of coconut tanning oil mixed with sharp chlorine. The heavy, rhythmic thumping of bass from the DJ’s massive speakers vibrated through the soles of my feet. There were nearly two hundred teenagers swarming the patio, a sea of designer swimwear, red solo cups, and superficial laughter.
