Beneath the Whip

JUDY’S POV

It had been nearly a year since Chris had started drifting away from me. At first, I tried to reach out, leaving him messages, showing up at his door, and even waiting for him outside of classes, hoping he would talk to me.

But nothing worked. Ever since his father passed away a year ago, he had grown distant, almost untouchable, burying himself in silence. He never said it outright, but I knew that grief had changed him, making him quieter, harder to reach, and leaving me on the outside, uncertain of how to help.

In the past, Chris and I had always been each other's go-to for school dances. It was a tradition of ours, and even the thought of going with anyone else had seemed strange—unthinkable, almost. I would look forward to those nights where we would dress up, meet up for photos, and laugh over nothing in particular, just because we were together.

However this year, as the school dance approached, I found myself hesitating. How could I ask him to be my partner when we had not even exchanged a word in months? I didn’t want to impose myself on him, and a part of me feared that he wouldn’t want to go with me anymore, that maybe the silence between us was his way of letting me go.

It was on one of those days, when I was lost in these thoughts, that Jason, the guy everyone seemed to like, approached me out of nowhere. He was confident, grinning in that easy way he had, and before I could even fully process what was happening, he was asking if I would go to the dance with him.

"Hey, Judy... would you be my partner for the dance?"

“I-uhm.. I…”

I was taken off guard and had no idea how to respond. I stammered, trying to find a gentle way to say no, but he didn’t give me much of a chance.

“Thanks, Judy. The pleasure is all mine.”

Jason just assumed I had agreed, telling me how great we would look together, how it was going to be the “best night.” I didn’t know how to correct him without sounding rude, and before I knew it, he was already making plans for us to go together.

As the day of the dance drew closer, I felt a strange mixture of anticipation and guilt. Going to the dance with Jason, of all people, felt surreal, but at the same time, there was a small part of me that felt…defiant. Maybe if Chris saw me with someone else, he would understand what it was like to be left behind, to feel invisible.

On the night of the dance, Jason came to pick me up at Chris' house. I had not planned on it being so…public. Jason had shown up with a sleek black car, dressed sharply in a suit that made him look like he belonged on a red carpet.

He looked so pleased with himself, holding a beautifully wrapped box with a formal dress inside, a dark green gown that shimmered under the street lights.

I felt a mixture of surprise and awkwardness as he handed it to me, explaining how he had picked it out especially for me. He seemed so happy, so sure of himself, that I found myself smiling back, despite the strange tightness in my chest.

And then, through the window, I saw him—Chris was standing in the shadows of his room, watching us.

The sight of him there, just watching, stopped me in my tracks. I could not read his expression completely in the dim light, but I saw enough to catch the coldness in his eyes, the way his jaw was set, tight and unyielding.

His gaze lingered on me, then shifted to Jason, and in that moment, it felt as if he had drawn an invisible line between us, a barrier that he had no intention of crossing. The silent judgement, the aloofness—it stung.

Something inside me snapped. All the frustration of the past year, all the times I had wanted him to open up, to let me in, rushed to the surface. I knew it was not fair to expect anything from him. I knew he had every right to process his grief in his own way, without the burden of my expectations. But I could not help it; I wanted him to care, to feel something.

With a surge of defiance, I looked away from Chris and turned my full attention to Jason. I reached out, taking the dress from him, and even thanked him with a wide smile. Jason’s face lit up, completely unaware of the storm inside me, and he complimented me on how the dress would bring out the colour in my eyes.

I felt like I was putting on a performance, and a part of me hated it, but another part felt satisfied, relieved even, that I could pretend not to care.

Jason escorted me inside, and as I slipped into the dress, I could not shake the image of Chris standing there, watching, cold and unreachable. The fabric of the gown was smooth and luxurious, compared to the tension that twisted through me.

I knew Jason was expecting me to step out with a big smile, ready to show off the effort he had put into the night. And so, I did. I put on a brave face, twirling for him, accepting his compliments, letting him pull me close as we posed for photos, pretending that I was exactly where I wanted to be.

But even as we headed to the dance, I felt that ever-present weight in my chest, the reminder of Chris' silence, of the emptiness he had left in my life. I had thought that maybe this would be enough, that going with Jason would somehow fill the gap Chris had left, but all it did was remind me of how much I missed my friend, how much I wished it were him beside me instead.

The thought simmered beneath my carefully composed smile, even as Jason led me onto the dance floor, his hand warm against mine.

The music started, and Jason wasted no time guiding me through the steps, his movements smooth and confident. He was good at this, effortlessly charming, drawing admiring glances from everyone around us.

I knew I should be grateful to him for the attention, for the way he was trying to make the night special, but my thoughts kept wandering, drifting back to the image of Chris, who after Jason and I were ready to leave for the party, had passed a very hurtful comment about me.

I felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about that, but I could not help it. I wanted to matter to him.

“Are you okay?” Jason’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I realized I had been staring off into the distance, lost in my own head. He looked concerned, a small frown creasing his forehead as he watched me.

I forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…thinking, I guess.”

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, his smile gentle and understanding. “Tonight’s all about having fun, remember? Don’t let anything else get to you.”

I nodded, though his words felt hollow in my ears. Fun. That was what I was supposed to be having, was not it? But as the night went on, the weight of Chris' absence only grew heavier, settling over me like a shadow that refused to leave.

All I knew I wanted was Chris back. I really did not know why I had to come with Jason. I could have just pretended that I was very sick, instead of being with him in the car. I felt that Jason was way too pushy.