I sit in front of my mirror, in my room bathed in soft light, letting the blush brush gently glide over my cheekbones. My reflection sends me back this image that I love so much: porcelain skin, scarlet lips, and my long hair straightened to perfection. Even today, I am sublime. But it is never enough, is it? Always more beautiful, more control. After all, I have everything I want. Power, money, and above all, them. My friends.
They think I love them, that I appreciate them for who they are. But in reality, it is only a game. Seeing them pinch themselves at my will, all smiles, accompanying my slightest approval, it is an exquisite sensation. With each new humiliation, I feel this sweet surge of adrenaline that intoxicates me, like a shiver that runs down my spine.
Today, I invited three of them: Clara, Maxime and Sophie. They came without asking any questions, of course. They never refuse an invitation from me. I have planned a little... entertainment. Next to my mirror, on the table, are candies. Colorful candies, perfectly round, waiting patiently to be crushed under my black needles. Just thinking about it makes my smile stretch.
"So, are you going to tell us what you have planned today, my dear?" Clara asks me as she enters, her voice tinged with feverish curiosity. I can see a hint of worry in her eyes, hidden under a mask of amusement.
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, my dear," I answer as I stand up slowly, making the leather of my tight dress squeak. I approach them, my heels clicking against the marble floor, a sound I love and that resonates like a slow, menacing heartbeat. I savor each step.
I reach over to the candy tray and pick one up between my fingers, rolling it around. “See this little candy, Clara? Look at it,” I breathe, my eyes locked on hers. “Imagine it’s you.” I drop the candy to the floor and, without taking my eyes off her, I slowly crush the candy under my heel, grinding it until only sticky, colorful shards remain.
Maxime laughs nervously. “Still so dramatic, huh?” he says, but I know he’s just trying to hide his discomfort. Poor Maxime. Always trying to please me, pretending to understand my little games. I step closer to him, trailing my fingers over his shoulder before letting them slide down to his chin.
“And you, Maxime, don’t you understand yet? I control everything here. Especially you.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper. “You’re my little puppets.” You come when I want you to, you laugh when I say you will... and you suffer when I want you to."
I take a step back and grab another candy. This time, it's Sophie I'm looking at. She stares at me, frozen, unable to look away. "Do you want to know what happens to those who disappoint me?"
I throw the candy on the ground, right in front of her feet, and, with a precise gesture, I pulverize it with a sharp blow of my heel. Sophie jumps, her lips trembling slightly. It's delicious. I feel more alive than ever.
"You know, Clara, I love your shoes," I say suddenly, changing my tone with a charming smile. "So elegant. But I wonder..." I approach her, stopping a few inches from her face. "What would you do if I told you to take them off and walk barefoot on this icy ground?" »
Clara hesitates, her eyes searching for an escape, but there is none. She knows it. “I… I will, of course.” Her voice is weak, brittle. She swallows.
“Good.” I step back, satisfied. “Take them off then.” She complies, slowly, her hands shaking slightly.
I turn on my heel, letting a burst of laughter escape. It is a joyous laugh, almost childish, but it echoes eerily in this vast room. I head for the door, then turn around one last time, the observers standing there, vulnerable.
“You see, my darlings,” I say, stretching my smile, “it’s not me who needs you. It’s you who need me. And that’s the funniest part.”