Act 1 | Chapter 10

I was woken up to the sound of knocking. Slowly, I sat up from my bed and groaned.

"Who is it?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"Me." I could recognize that voice. It was my mothers. My eyes opened quickly as I soon realized what day it was. I glanced at the clock on my phone and saw that it was only six in the morning. "Are you kidding me, this early?"

"You've been sleeping long enough. Noe comes on. Get something to eat and get in the shower." She ordered and walked off. I let out a long groan and flopped back onto my bed. My mom wanted to use me for body painting again. There's no other reason she would wake me up like that, or wake me up in general. I wished I could just go back to sleep, that or just ignore her, but I couldn't. I would be locked up in a closet for the rest of the day if I did.

"Zoey Morgan!" She yelled. "Get down here!"

"Coming!" I yelled, irritated. There wasn't a reason for me to change into anything. I was going to have to take it all off in an hour anyway. Slowly, I got out of bed, and made my way downstairs, wearing only my pajamas. They consisted of a simple tank top and shorts. I could see my brother sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal as he glanced over at the TV in the living room. He had gotten a haircut recently. His hair was usually a long blond color, but it was definitely much shorter than the last time I saw him. He was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, meaning he was probably heading out soon. Most likely to go see his 'girlfriend' that totally exists.

"Good morning." I tried greeting him, only to get no response. Typical. I had to eat a quick breakfast, and shower, so that's exactly what I did. Make sure my skin was moisturized, and dried before going down to the basement.

It was always rather chilly down there. My mom kept it like this for a reason, as she didn't want me to sweat, and ruin any paint that's on my skin. Our basement wasn't finished, so it looked like an abandoned art studio at times. My mother's picture of me was strung up on a wire that ran along one of the walls. Each one was her favorite image of me from each of her body art designs, and trust me, there where dozens of them. The middle of the basement had a large white tarp, that was stained with dozens of colors from over the years. A simple wooden stool was all I had to sit on for the remainder of my day, and it was positioned in the center of the tarp. My mother had set up a table with paint cans and tools she liked to use on me. The rest of the basement was nothing more than boxes of old things, and supplies for my mom's 'work'.

I walked down there is nothing more than a towel, with my phone in one hand. She at least let me browse the internet while I was forced into the chair for hours on end, but that still doesn't make up for the fact that I have to sit naked on a stool in a freezing room while my own mother paints my body for her own pleasure.

"Alright Zoey, take the towel off and sit down, I don't want to waste any time." She spoke in a soothing and relaxed voice. I knew she enjoyed this. Forcing me to be like this. She knew it humiliates, I and she does it anyway. I took in a deep breath and sighed, removing the towel and folding it up. Goosebumps were already covering my body from the chilly feeling in the basement. I sat down at the stool and tried keeping my legs together, blushing a bit. As my mother started dragging over a few cans of green paint, I pulled my phone out and began browsing, looking for something to entertain myself. It was going to be a long day, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Usually, it was Youtube videos that helped me get by. Simply playthroughs of games or other entertaining content.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as she tied her apron around herself, and dipped the first brush into the green paint.

"Hold still." She ordered in a much more stern voice than before. My mother pressed the brush up against my breast and began covering it in a layer of olive green paint. The feeling of the bristles running against my bare skin tickled, and at time's it was hard to resist squirming. A little while after applying the green paint to both my breasts, she forced me to stand up and spread my legs apart. She then ran the brush up between them and over my vagina, causing me to shiver a bit, holding in an urge to scream from the ticklish feeling. It felt good, but at the same time, I hated the feeling.

"Hold still." She ordered me again.

"S- Sorry."

My mother turned me around and began running the brush across my behind until my more feminine features were completely covered in a layer of olive green paint. I had no clue what she was doing to me this time, but in her mind, she had a plan. Sometimes it looked good, and other time's not. Over the next hour, she applied a lighter shade of the color green to those part of my body. Glancing over to the mirror, I was able to make out that she was painting massive leaves over my breasts and between my legs. "What am I, a plant?" I wondered. Another hour passed before she was satisfied. The leave's covering me were rather detailed, more so then I actually expected.

"Alright, you can sit back down," she said, walking over to go get a different brush. As I sat down, my mother walked over with a smaller fan brush and had me hold an arm out. I sighed as she started painting vines in great detail. They connected to the leaves covering me, and after another four hours of sitting down, my body was practically a jungle. Vine's wrapped around my arms, legs, and neck. Flowers bloomed around my armpits and hands.

Once she finished with all her fine detail my mother had me stand up and put my phone down. She directed me over to another part of the basement so she could do a photoshoot of me. This part of the process was even more embarrassing to me. Depending on the design, she would position me in occasionally erotic poses, none of which pleased me. Today was one of those days, unfortunately. Dozens of photos were taken of me against a white backdrop. Dozens more of me with my arms out at different angles. This all took another hour, and by now it was almost noon. When everything was done and done, she ordered me back up to the shower. I had to stand in the shower while I applied to rub alcohol to my skin. The pain slowly went away over time, and once I was mostly clean from the now sticky feeling paint, I had to take another shower. I sat down in the tub, with my knees pressed up against my chest, letting the water drench my head. This was usually the part when I could cry. I hate this so much. I hate being forced down there. I hate being stripped naked and used as nothing more than a canvas. That's all she sees me as. Not as a daughter. Not anymore. That's all I did. Sit there and cry softly. I can't do it when I'm with her, or she would punish me, and just say that my tears could wash the paint away, which I don't think is true, but she uses it as an excuse anyway.

By the time everything was done, it was already a little past noon. I had the rest of the day to relax while my mom did god knows what with those photos. The only thing I could do was try to take my mind off the feeling of neglect and abuse, so I tried working on my contest project. I spend the rest of the day working on it, drawing on the canvas. While I did do this, I had my phone off to the side. I don't know why, but I still couldn't quite get my mind of the horror movie I saw with Riley the other day. Those scenes of bloody deaths stuck with me, and I couldn't shake them. The search history on my phone was consisting of history for the movie I had seen. I can't lie, I was scared out of my mind, but there was something else there. Something else that interested me, but I couldn't figure out what. That's how the rest of my day went. Watching history videos on the horror franchise, while I drew the details of Riley's face onto the canvas.