Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 1

He takes a step toward me and I flinch. "Oh, sorry. I was just going to grab some clothes from the dresser." He points.

I step aside, turning to keep the pillow between my body and his eyes, and watch him dig through a few messy drawers.

"Okay," he says once he's gathered his clothes and moved a safe distance from me. "You get dressed and come meet me in the living room. Just outside the door. I'll make some coffee. Do you like coffee?"

I shake my head. "My mother says it'll stunt my growth so I've never had it."

He blinks, once, like he's startled, then says, "I'll make hot chocolate. Does that work?"

Despite how weird everything is I have to smile a little at his clear concern for me. "Yeah. That'd be great."

"I'll see you in the living room. Take your time."

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

I drop the pillow then drop onto the bed. I don't want to go to the living room and talk to the man who took advantage of me last night.

He must have had sex with me. Why else would I be naked? I don't hurt down there, though, and my friend Chloe was in pain for days after her first time, so maybe he didn't.

I hate that I don't know.

I glance around, looking for another way out, and see a glass balcony door behind broken blinds. Unfortunately, a closer look shows that we're way high up, so jumping off the balcony isn't a good plan.

I stand to the side of the door so nobody can see my nakedness and peer out and down. I don't recognize the busy city street below. Where am I?

Giving up on escaping, I begin to look for my clothes. I can't find anything that belongs to me, although there's a beige bra, with matching panties hanging out of a pair of jeans, and a gray sweater and gray socks scattered around the room. It's the only stuff I can find amid the mess that doesn't seem like his, so I gather everything into a pile then reach for the bra.

A movement across the room startles me until I realize a mirror on the wall opposite the bed is reflecting my own movement. 

A mirror. Maybe I can see what's wrong with my head. It still really hurts, right at the top. He didn't hit me, did he?

I move closer, but stop well before I can check my head.

Who the hell is that?

The girl in the reflection looks like my older exhausted sister. If I had a sister. Her hair's shorter than I've ever had mine, and dark brown where mine is blonde. Her eyes are the same blue as mine but there are wrinkles around them, not big ones but definite creases, and wrinkles around her mouth too. Laugh lines, I think they call them. Well, I'm not laughing.

I raise my hands to my face, confused and terrified, and she does the same.

My eyes slide down the reflection's body, taking in her shape. It's like I've melted somehow. Everything's a little lower and wider than it should be. I didn't even bother with a bra sometimes and this body definitely needs one, and probably a heavy-duty one to boot. The reflection isn't fat, not really, but it's got a squishy stomach and bulgy hips...

And a tattoo.

It's cute, actually, five happy-looking little yellow cartoon ducks marching along in a neat row around the top of her right thigh.

I look down. The same tattoo is on my right thigh.

I can't get my head around it, but this is my body. It has to be. Every movement I make is duplicated by the girl, the woman, in the mirror, and this tattoo is definitely on my leg. Unless someone's playing a really elaborate and well-planned trick on me this is my body.