From one eyeshadow compact to the next, Alex jumped, his heart pounding in sync with each leap. He focused intently—one wrong choise and he'd be out. But this time, he ain't going to be last place. That realization fueled him, pushing him forward with renewed confidence. With one final jump, he landed safely on the other side, securing his place in the next round.
He joined four others in the waiting room, the tension in the air palpable. The moment of relief was brief.
"Look what they've done to Alex," Jorn whispered to Erik, though not quietly enough.
"I know," Erik murmured, absently touching the necklace around his throat. "But what can we do? We're their dolls to play with."
"Not just dolls," Danny interjected, arms crossed. "We're their entertainment, slaves even. And if you ever placed below fifth on a Friday, you'd know exactly what I mean. You'd be stuck working some humiliating 'girl's job'."
Jorn turned to Alex. "I know, but far as i know the only way out is winning. What do you think? Will they really let you go if you win twice?"
"Ember says it's true," Alex answered firmly. "And I trust her."
Danny scoffed, his voice edged with anger. "You trust a girl? A girl who works for them?"
"Yes, I do. She wants out of this just as much as we do. Our mentors are trapped here too. The only difference is that they don't have to suffer what we do—they just have to obey."
"I ain't trusting any of those bitches," Danny spat.
Oliver let out a dry laugh. "And you're right not to. But tell me, Danny, what can we do? Unless you want another 'reward' like this." He ran a finger through Danny's permanently pink hair. "And I'm not just talking about the color. I mean the tiara they glued to your head a while back."
Jorn shuddered at the memory. "That punishment looked awful."
"Ripping it off was the worst part," Danny muttered.
A heavy silence fell over them, thick with unspoken fears. But before anyone could speak, the lights flashed green. The next game was about to begin.
"The next challenge awaits!" the announcer's voice boomed, met with the deafening cheers of the crowd. "Our little girls should do their best—only two can make it to the finals! And what's a beauty routine without a little foundation?"
A massive square platform loomed before them, its center occupied by a pool of thick, nude-colored liquid. Suspended above it was an enormous brush, its bristles dripping with the creamy substance. Alex's stomach twisted—he understood the game immediately.
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The moment the timer hit zero, he sprinted.
The brush plunged into the pool, its bristles absorbing the liquid before sweeping across the field. It moved like a real makeup brush applying foundation—only now, they were the ones being painted over.
