Jemma

CONTENT WARNING!

Mentions of rape and sex

Suicide

Mental illnesses

Self Harm

Overall affluenza

Here's a playlist! (similar warnings)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4mG1gjQUQDJrU2Bb6qQOEm?si=8bc5eca56f69432c

SUICIDE

soo-uh-said

The act of taking one's own life

There is a train, and I will step before it.

There are many other things one could do instead; for a girl, the world seems like it has limitless possibilities. But for me?

It’s only the rush that matters.

╚»★«╝ ~~╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝

before

We often hear of the brutal entertainment business; girls being ripped from their souls, money becoming a secondhand god.

I wonder if the creator of this fever dream knew of high school?

Lockers slam in a symphony of hurt, of unsaid words and scripted texts. Fluttering hearts echo through the dimly lit world of Shervor Creek High School. And in a way, it's like the entire world has been muted.

You can catch a person with surprised eyes and pursed lips if you only twist your head. I only hope I don't have to see-

Shit.

I see his friends before I see that blinding white smile, but it's all the same. The night's rush comes back first, hitting me like a car.

His coifed, blonde hair hangs down from its high middle part, sweat still clinging to its edges. His ray bans sit askew across his face, reflecting my face in their smudged glass. For a moment, my own reflection scares me; when did I dye my hair pink? Before I can stop myself, my hands are running through the hair. At least, they would be if it still reached my shoulders. 

When did I chop the fucking mess off?

Conner. Fuck, even his name sounds terrible as it sits at the end of my tongue. All it would take for him to notice me is for them to fall off and hit the floor, smashing like glass.

I swallow, those bitter glass shards stabbing the inside of my mouth as I rush to my next class.

Okay, so maybe you're thinking I'm overdramatic; stupid little fucking Jemma, unable to think straight when her boyfriend faces her. Let's clear up some of the facts. First of all, Conner is my ex. Secondl- 

"Jemma!"

Speak of the devil.

Olivia faces me, brushing her blonde hair from her thin, plastic face. "It's been a while, huh?"

I reply with a perfectly optimistic "Fuck you."

Our shoulders clash before her nails gouge into my exposed neck, the blue sparkly bits not looking so ridiculous anymore. "I saw you looking at Conner, bitch."

She adjusts her glasses, staring down at me from her elevated heels. Suddenly, it's like my combat boots aren't making me any taller. "I didn't know he belonged to you."

"Mhm," Olivia pulls her jean jacket up over her cheerleader's uniform. "I'm taking him to homecoming. Don't you forget that."

"Well," I call back as she walks away, already cursing the bile rising in my voice. "At least he wants to fuck me!"

That gets her. She whips around, her sharp jawline slicing the air. I can sense the peasants around us stare, mingling into the crowd. "Oh," her voice is a hiss, venom falling down onto her lush red lips. "That's right. The girl who cried rape."

I can sense Connor staring at me, but I don't even care. "You threw your life away, but that's old news, isn't it?"

Is this what it was like for the royals to be dethroned? One unholy thing and your life are over. High school is a world where every bad choice matters, where the strong must kick the groveling weak. How good it felt to once be at the top.

"I didn't know a day ago constituted old," I keep my stance wide, ready if she rushes at me. I wouldn't put it past Olivia to use the money her daddy's got to ruin me worse.

"You'll all wish you hadn't done this!" I warn. "Trust me!"

"Don't make threats you don't have the balls to back up," Olivia hollers as I rush out the doors, hooting with her friends.

╚»★«╝ ~~╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝

LUCID DREAM

/ˈlo͞osəd/ /drēm/

The act of dreaming consciously, of acting god inside your world.

My mind is a prison, this much I know. The bed still reeks of his sweat, scratching my brain as I toss and turn inside the room that's become blackened by him.

It's almost funny how one word can seem like a curse. Him. He. His.

Pronouns have become the villain of the story.

I wake up in frenzy, sweat soaking through my pink locks. Blood races through my veins, swarming and

And it only takes one stab from the fluffy pen sitting beside my desk to open it up to the world.

What is adrenaline to a girl like me? Is it only a rush? A kink?

Or is pain how a girl like me plays?

Two silhouettes frame my bedroom door, shadowing over the already dark room. My parents, I'd guess.

"Help me get him," I mutter, disgraced at how sick my voice sounds. "Do it."

And it'd be impossible for them to say no.

The rest of the night is a blur, as always. Dreams haunt me, but what if I had control over them? What if the dreams were my own world?

When the day arrives, I find myself beside a courtroom's door, watching as people stare toward my short hair, eyes widening. What is it with people and nonconformists? I didn't change myself for your fucking amusement.

I pop the last strawberry starburst into my mouth as I scroll through the netherworld that is my Instagram on my rose-gold phone. I can sense the stares of hatred as the wrapper gets flicked to the floor. One man even dives down beneath me, dirtying his crisp suit.

"Thanks," I mumble, spitting as much apathy out as possible. He side-eyes me, his thin eyes nearly unable to determine where I'm coming from. I guess it's only natural; he's like every middle ages man here; I'm me.

"Jemma," Daddy moves in front of me eclipsing the sun from my red, heart-shaped glasses. "Our hearing is soon."

I stare at him, trying not to scrutinize the tan man, someone who seems to nearly be my opposite. "Of course."

Being a rich man, Daddy was easily able to 'convince' the judge to take our case before all others. I know I have to feel bad for the poor souls we took out of place, but the way I see it? There's a pecking order. Maybe if they were like me, they could rise up. I'm almost certain I've won this case.

"All rise," the judge's voice peeks out between his long grey beard, dusty and dry. I can see Conner from the side of my vision, fidgeting in his too-small suit. In a matter of just a week, I've turned him from the man who over-powered me to the trembling figure he is now.

How thrilling it is to be wicked.

╚»★«╝ ~~╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝

The rest of the case goes by without me noticing. All I notice are the scratches lining my arms, concealed by the puffy-sleeved sweater exposing my untainted midriff. My face goes red whenever anyone brushes against the cuts, afraid that they'll somehow open it again.

And it wasn't even worth it; in the end, Conner won.

His face will always show up in my mind. That fucking smile. Oh, that goddamn ass, his cruel fucking smile. 

Will he always show up in my nightmares? Will I ever escape his world? 

School is a mess. Olivia's minions find ways to scout me out, even when I try to hide. It's not like I've fallen low enough for their words to graze me though; "Slut" and "Bitch" are nothing to the tic-tac-toe games I've played across my arms. I don't even bother hiding it either. If those witches want to see me, they'll have to see the blood that follows.

"Looks like someone hasn't killed herself," Olivia very intelligently notices as I stomp past her, crushing a freshman's final paper as he reaches to grab it.

"Yet," I return the smile, bearing my long red nails close to the sleeveless leather jacket that borders my soul.

"You know," she whispers into my ear. "No one would notice. Or care."

"I doubt the first one," a smirk creeps up my face as a dozen kids pivot their heads, clearly frightened of my energy. "But you know, Olivia... I think you'd fall under the same category."

Her smile almost fades. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well," I pull back out my blood-encrusted pen waving it into the air. "It'd be pretty bad if everyone learned about your chlamydia"

The blood drains from her face. I suppose I guessed right. "You wouldn't"

"Well," I put the fluffy end of the pen to my mouth in deep thought. "I guess I could accept some money."

Something flashes in her eyes, something nearly... is something that's tied to Olivia able to arise something me? Or is that kinda... odd.

Odd; the substitute for genius.

Olivia digs through her purse, ripping out a hundred-dollar bill. "Take it, slut."

My carnivorous smile grows as I snatch it from her hand. I see her breathe in slowly, finally calm. 

And then I smash the fire alarm.

Screams fill the air as the drone blasts throughout the halls. I just take out my AirPods, grinning widely as bodies mill around me. Teachers beckon for me to rush out, but it's a little hard to hear them with y2k pop blasting in my ears.

Eventually, I'm out on the lawn, watching as the teachers scream at students. Turns out some sophomore was high, and he's getting blamed. It's almost exhilarating to do something so bad and get away with it.

I might as well continue.

"Fellow seniors of the 2022 class!" I shriek, whooping as I step up onto the picnic tables. Phones turn to me as teachers rush over, trying to stop me. Some of them just look bored; they still think I'm at the top of the class, and I'm announcing something for homecoming next week. "It is with all due respect that I must tell you some news..."

"You got raped again?" 

Some dumbass jock. I roll my eyes, pointing the bloody pen towards Olivia. "No. But that bitch was! Chlamydia, right?"

The crowd parts gasps roaring with different reactions. You can tell how a person truly is by how they react to news. Shock? Or laughter?

In this case, it's laughter.

Prank number one. Complete.

╚»★«╝ ~~╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝

AFFLUENZA

/ˌaflo͞oˈenzə/

A feeling of guilt felt by the wealthy youth. Often results in crime.

Everyone has a medium. Maybe some girls have watercolors. Others have spray paint. Maybe even crayons.

My realm is pranks and foul misdeeds.

After I ruined Olivia's life, it wasn't hard to run down the pecking line. You take the one thing they desire most, and you break. Pretty soon, I had a cult following. It's the thing I've been doing all year, really.

And now it's time for the final one.

Daddy's ruby red corvette swings out into the street, nearly running over a dozen birds before they flit away. A laugh escapes my lips as the radio flashes on. Material girl comforts me all the way to school.

When I finally arrive at school, I'm decidedly early; only a few cars litter the parking lot. I pull the leopard print jacket close around the black, rose gold studded crop top, smiling as the statue depicting our school mascot comes closer.

The thud and rush of smashing into the stone statue are only a peek at my future. I whoop, laughing toward the clear blue sky. Every leaf remains on the tree, crisp red fire clinging desperately. They can fall after I'm gone.

The car's front may be nearly demolished (Still in a far better state than the statue), but I need its contents. I've cultivated a cult following, but they can't be involved with this. I need to do this before everyone comes into school. I have to be fast.

After dragging the gasoline from the car, I smash my way through the glass, screaming with excitement as the glass shards shred my fragile skin. They're only flesh wounds, really.

I race down the halls, streaming the heavy liquid down each floor, spraying it across each locker. When I arrive at Conner's locker, his sparkling blonde hair and perfect skin come to mind. I take out the match stick and string, setting up my trap.

The moment he opens his locket, the school goes down.

Right as I hear the principal's car arrive, I dash back to the window, jumping straight out of the glass, watching as the shards fall.

A girl has to be prepared, no matter how chaotic. A thick trampoline catches me, nearly getting deflated by my blood-red platform heels. I bolt as fast as they'll let me to the lawn, watching the chaos ensue.

The fakers gather into the school all excited for homecoming. I catch sight of Olivia and watch as she rubs her eyes. Circles surround them, covered by heavy makeup.

"We broke up," she announces to me as if I care. "And he raped me."

"Am I supposed to feel bad for you?" I shrug, leaning back against the grass. "Anyway, you'll feel better soon."

"What does-"

"In a few minutes," I promise. "Your problems might not even matter."

"Well," she swishes her hair back. "That was fucking ominous. Thanks, bitch."

"No problem, slut."

She walks back into the school, mingling with everyone else. Soon enough, she becomes another blonde ponytail in a sea of others. Even her cheerleader outfit won't do her credit; it's school spirit day, and everyone's wearing their blue. Well, except for me, clad in my bright pink and red.

Soon enough, we'll all be clad in red.

It takes only a small click that I can't even hear for the world to end. I click my playlist, smiling as Lady Gaga drifts out the tinny speakers.

Eventually, her hollers are interrupted by the roar of an explosion. A wall of heat smashes my face, gathering toward the school. Smoke rises from the explosion as screams echo down the hall.

Well, I pulled the fire alarm, didn't I?

Do I feel bad for killing possibly hundreds of people? Of course not; there were trampolines like mine next to every window; the fire wouldn't have hit them heavily if they jumped out the window. Of course, their fancy phones might break if they do it. Still, aren't their lives more important than something expensive?

It isn't hypocrisy if you don't love either, you know. It's just total apathy.

╚»★«╝ ~~╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝ ~~ ╚»★«╝

JEMMA

Jeh-muh

A girl, unlike the others.

And then I'm at the beginning. Trains always have fascinated me, you know. They run on energy, tainting the sky and world with their roar, flying across tracks until they reach the inevitable on-sided destination.

Yet it always leads them to ruin.

Adrenaline pulses inside of me. Maybe it's replaced my blood.

It's all for the world I chose to exist. The line rushes, bleeding out.

If I could have played god, would the world be perfect? I could cut and paste the people I love. I could cut out the ones I hate. We could have been a great civilization. 

What happened?

Let's all share the fucking pain, huh?

Maybe another day, I'll get what I deserve.