The night before the Grand Art Competition, Leo, the boy I’d grown up with, drugged me and tied me to a chair in the studio, making me Vivian Vance’s canvas. The drug burned through me. I trembled, legs clamped shut, but my frantic breathing drew lewd whistles. Leo adjusted the spotlight, bathing me in harsh light. "Is this the expression you wanted?" he asked Vivian. "That first blush of desire?" Vivian’s pencil scratched. "Yes," she purred. "The way she wants to curl up but can’t. Try to look natural, Nora." Laughter erupted. "Twisted like a pretzel," someone mocked. "Still playing the virgin?" I bit my lip bloody, glaring at Leo. "Why?" He spun a paintbrush, indifferent. "Vivian said you have good proportions. It’s for art—don’t be dramatic." He wiped my tear, his touch a mockery. "Hold on. Don’t ruin her inspiration." Vivian, the Vice Dean’s daughter, his campus queen. My body, my dignity—just a tool for him. For six hours, I endured the light, the stares, the laughter—a nightmare I’d never escape. Later, when they groveled, Leo would shout, "It was for art! Must you be so vindictive?" "Yes," I’d say. "I do." 1 Finding myself naked and bound in the center of the art studio, my mind went completely blank. My hands were tied high above my head, my body draped in a single layer of transparent chiffon that might as well have been air. Worse, a searing heat was spreading through me, my skin crawling with an itching, tingling sensation, like a thousand ants marching beneath the surface. "I always thought Nora was so plain," a guy from my class snickered. "Who knew she was hiding a body like that under all those baggy clothes?" "If I'd known, I would've asked her out," another one chimed in. "But now… everyone's seen everything. I wouldn't touch her now if she paid me. Damaged goods." "Look at her, all flushed and curled up. Doesn't she look like a boiled lobster?" The art students roared with laughter. They gestured crudely, tracing my curves in the air, their eyes violating every inch of my skin. I struggled, trying to make myself smaller, but every movement only made my breasts heave, earning a fresh wave of whistles. Leo leaned over Vivian’s easel, nodding in approval. "With this piece," he said, his voice full of pride, "first place in the competition is a sure thing." Vivian tilted her delicate face up at him, a coy smile playing on her lips as she stuck out the tip of her tongue. "It's all thanks to you, Leo. After I win, we'll celebrate at that new romantic restaurant that just opened." I stared at Leo, praying this was all a hallucination. The person who, since we were in kindergarten, had sworn to protect me forever—how could he be part of this? Tears of humiliation streamed down my face. I begged him to let me go. His brow furrowed in annoyance. "Nora, this competition is everything for Vivian's future. What's the big deal with you helping out a little?" he snapped. "You're so selfish. Nothing like Vivian. She's so generous, she's even willing to share her artistic inspiration with our classmates." I was being gawked at like a circus animal, my dignity shredded and stomped into the floor, and he called it "helping out a little"? The flimsy chiffon was soaked with sweat, clinging to my body. "Damn, a wet t-shirt contest," someone hooted, rubbing his hands together in glee. Another guy stepped forward, a disgusting grin on his face, his hand reaching for my chest. "Art demands authenticity," he said with a laugh. "I'm just going to feel the dimensions for myself." "Don't touch me!" I screamed, trying to shrink away. "I'll call the police!" But the drug had stolen the strength from my voice, turning my shriek into a pathetic, breathy plea. It only made them laugh harder. Just as his hand was about to make contact, Leo finally stepped in, grabbing the guy's wrist. "Alright, that's enough. We're here to draw, not to touch." But his tone was light, casual, without a hint of real anger. The guy shot me another hungry look before reluctantly pulling his hand back. As he turned away, I heard him mutter, "What a prude. If we can look, why can't we touch?" Vivian giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Alright, everyone, back to work," she chided playfully. "Let's appreciate this rare opportunity. It won't be so easy to get Nora to help us out next time." She sauntered over to me, her arms crossed, and poked my ribs with the wooden end of her paintbrush. "Hey, Nora. Look alive. Don't lie there like a corpse." Then, she leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. "You have nothing, and you thought you could compete with me? This is what happens." Her breath was hot against my ear. "A competition, a man… if I want it, it's mine." Her triumphant, blinding smile made me tremble with a rage so profound it shook my very bones. Because they had power, they could do anything they wanted? 2 I endured the torment for the entire night. It wasn't until Vivian finally put down her pencil that Leo untied me. My arms, suspended for so long, were swollen and numb, the joints screaming in protest. My wrists were raw and bloody. Leo frowned, taking my wrist in his hand. "How did it get this bad? Why didn't you say something if it hurt?" I glared at him, my voice cold as ice. "And you would have stopped if I had?" His eyes flickered away. He said nothing, just quietly let go of my hand. I snatched up my clothes, holding them against myself as I walked like a zombie through the campus, stepping over discarded sketches of my own body. Back in my dorm, I curled into a ball in the corner of my bed, hugging my knees and crying without a sound. Suddenly, my phone started buzzing relentlessly. Notifications from the class group chat. It was flooded with photos and videos of me from the studio. Thanks to Nora for her sacrifice! Everyone, feel free to draw some inspiration. My head spun. The air left my lungs. They were pushing me over the edge. The comments in the chat kept coming. In my own room, my roommates started talking, their voices loud and clear. "Nora is such a slut. Offering herself up as a nude model like that." "She probably thought she could seduce someone by taking her clothes off. It's so embarrassing for the rest of us." "And she always acts so high and mighty. Makes me sick." I ripped open my bed curtain. "It wasn't my choice!" I screamed, my voice raw. "Leo drugged me!" They just stared at me, their faces masks of contempt and disbelief. My hands shaking, I dialed 911. The wail of sirens soon cut through the campus quiet. But before the police could even reach me, my student advisor was standing in front of me, his eyes full of disgust. "Nora, you're calling the police over something this trivial? Have you given any thought to the academy's reputation?" His voice was low and menacing. "You will tell them you consented to everything. If you don't, your time at this academy is over." He was worried about the school's reputation. Who was worried about mine? Just to protect Vivian, they were threatening me, the victim? Two uniformed officers entered the classroom. "Who is Nora?" The room was split into two camps. Me, standing alone. And on the other side, Leo and Vivian, surrounded by their sycophants. I stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at them. "I want to press charges. Leo and Vivian drugged and held me against my will. They distributed indecent images of me online. Everyone in this room is an accomplice." A murmur went through the crowd. One of Vivian's lackeys immediately jumped to her defense. "You're crazy! You volunteered to help us find inspiration. What's all this drama about?" His words sparked a chorus of agreement. "That's right, we're all witnesses. Nora did it willingly." "She even said she was proud to sacrifice for her art!" Looking at the sea of faces, all twisting the truth, I started to shake uncontrollably. My teeth chattered. "Lies! You're all lying!" Vivian buried her face in Leo's chest, feigning fear, but her eyes shot daggers of mockery at me. Her look said it all: I'm untouchable. What are you going to do about it? Leo stroked her back soothingly. "It's okay, Vivi," he cooed. "I won't let Nora hurt you." Then he held up his phone, opening his Venmo app. "I can prove Nora was a willing participant. Here's the evidence." On the screen was his transaction history with me. A single payment of $0.99. The memo read: For your help, thanks! The timestamp was from that morning. He looked at me, his face a picture of feigned heartbreak. "You said you didn't need money, that it was a favor between friends. I'm glad I insisted on paying you something, or I'd never be able to clear my name now." A ninety-nine-cent payment was absurd, but the drugged juice I’d drank was long gone, disposed of by them. With everyone's testimony aligned against me, the case was closed before it even opened. As the female officer left, she gave me a look of pity mixed with disapproval. "You should have more self-respect, young lady. Don't waste our time with false reports again." Leo sauntered over to me, his hands in his pockets. "Don't blame me, Nora. You were the one who tried to ruin Vivian." As Vivian passed me, she leaned in and whispered, her voice dripping with venom, "You dare cross me? Just you wait." I stumbled back to my dorm in a daze, only to find all my belongings thrown into the hallway. My clothes had been cut to ribbons. My roommate stood there, hands on her hips. "Since you hate wearing clothes so much, we figured you didn't need these." Then, she and the others grabbed the tattered dress I was wearing and ripped it to shreds. The entire dorm hallway was filled with girls watching the spectacle. 3 My phone pinged. A message from my advisor. Nora, due to the disturbance you caused by filing a false police report, you are suspended, effective immediately. Outside, the sky was clear, the sun brilliant. But for me, the world had gone dark, smothered by a suffocating storm cloud. I let out a bitter laugh. Clutching the scraps of my dress to my chest, I decided to go to the studio to retrieve my competition entry from my locker. Along the way, every head turned. Every finger pointed. "Look, it's her. The nude model. Gotta say, she has a great body. Got me worked up just looking at the pictures." "I heard she tried to extort them for more money and when they refused, she called the cops. A real snake. Better stay away from her." I finally understood. They hadn't just shared the images with the class; they had spread them across the entire campus. They’d twisted their crime into an act of my own volition, and my cry for justice into an act of blackmail. The truth had been turned completely upside down, and there was nothing I could do. My father was gone, my mother was just an ordinary woman. What power did I have to defend myself? When I opened my private locker in the studio, I found my competition piece—my masterpiece—slashed and smeared with crimson paint. Besides me, only Leo had a key. In a single day, he had used my trust to destroy not only my dignity, but also my future. My hand was injured from the ropes; there was no way I could paint a new piece in time. I collapsed onto the cold floor, the last of my strength giving out, and sobbed. When the tears finally ran dry, I dragged my exhausted body to a clothing store just off campus. One after another, shopkeepers took one look at me and slammed their doors shut. Finally, one let me in, but the salesclerk spoke in a gruff, contemptuous tone. "No touching, no try-ons. Pick what you want and pay. I don't want you getting your filth on my merchandise." I pointed to a group of girls happily browsing the racks. "Why can they try things on, but I can't?" The clerk snorted. "You think you can compare yourself to them? They're decent girls. What are you?" Her words sent the other girls into a fit of giggles. My nails dug into my palms. I pointed numbly at a random outfit and paid. As I walked towards the dressing room, I heard the clerk mutter, "What's the point of a dressing room? It's not like there's anything left for anyone to see." I bit my lip so hard I could taste salt and blood, stripping off my ruined clothes in the tiny cubicle and stuffing them into the trash. Suddenly, the curtain was ripped open. The flash of a camera blinded me. I screamed, grabbing the new clothes to cover myself, but it was too late. A group of boys stood there, phones held high, leering at me. "What are you hiding? We're just studying human anatomy for inspiration. We can even pay you." I slapped the boy in front, my hand stinging. He just rubbed his cheek and spat on the floor. "Don't act so innocent. You've probably been passed around more than a bottle of cheap wine." I threatened to call the police again, and only then did they grudgingly delete the photos, grumbling as they left. I left the store, my face hidden behind a mask, and got on the bus home. The entire ride was torture. I felt every eye in the bus on me, judging me. When my stop came, I bolted out the door. Back in my neighborhood, the familiar, friendly faces of my neighbors offered a brief moment of relief, a loosening of the knot in my chest. I was wrong. The nightmare was just beginning. The next morning, my front door and the entire hallway were plastered with the photos. Neighbors were gathered in a small crowd, whispering amongst themselves. My face burned with shame as I tore the images down, trying to explain that I was the victim. But their eyes were filled with disbelief. "I've seen online what college girls are like these days," one woman said loudly. "If I had a daughter that shameless, I'd have drowned her at birth." Even the elders who had always been so kind to me just shook their heads in disappointment. I slammed the door and burrowed under my covers, pulling out my phone to confront Leo. "You gave Vivian my address, didn't you? Are you trying to drive me to suicide?"
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