Chapter 17
JESSICA
Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks
After changing into something more comfortable, I shove the prom dress into my locker, tulle and sequins and shit threatening to spill out of the metal door as I slam it shut. Thank God that thing is off. Motherfucking prom queens.
I flit back through every cry, every whimper, every blood-soaked second.
Surprisingly, everything has fallen into place better than I expected.
I don’t know when it happened… when I actually snapped.
All I know is that I can’t stop. Not sure if I even want to.
I mean what’s the fucking point? This shit-hole deserves to burn, just like every other soul-sucking institute of teenage oppression I’ve gone to over the last several years.
It’s all the same—same cliques, same mean girls, same back-stabbing bitches.
Well, guess who’s getting the last laugh now?
As for me, well there’s not much to it. Maybe it was all the neglect. Or the fact that my mommy didn’t love me enough that I turned into some psycho killer. But I’m afraid it’s all so much more simple. I just hate everyone. More importantly, I hate the fakeness of everyone around me.
Life is a cruel bitch and then you die… so why not take the whole fucking thing down with you?
It started as a small simmer inside me, until one day it came to a full boil—spilling into everything.
I’m tired of all the fake smiles, all the moving, and all the fucking pretending that comes with playing the role of someone that I’m not.
I’m fucking done. Call it a psychotic break or whatever but I’ve never felt more alive than I do now.
I place the pig mask over my head, gripping the knife tightly, letting my fingers flex around the handle while softly humming along with Edge of Seventeen, while I creep down the quiet halls following the small muffled moans that come from the supply closet.
Just like the white winged dove…
A smile widens across my face, knowing I successfully played the part and even placed a pawn to take the fall.
Trish… She made it so easy for me to use her, to bring her into my web.
It took a lot of thinking.. a lot of action.
Dare I say, I would make any mother proud.
Of course, not mine, but a mother who actually gave a shit.
I take my time approaching the oblivious students who, by the sound of it, are about to round second base.
I can feel the adrenaline buzzing beneath my skin, making me bust into a twirl and a full blown dance move that I learned from Saturday Night Fever.
My free hand hovers over the door handle, my heartbeat lurches to my throat, and after silently counting down to three, I turn the handle and open the door.
Sounds like she’s singing…
To my surprise, it’s one of the football players and some random girl.
“What’s your fucking deal, bitch?” the girl sneers at me as my gaze roams over the jock beside her. My fingers flex around the knife handle as I prepare to strike. I can feel my lips stretch into a painful grin as I brandish my weapon.
“Craz—” His voice becomes gargled with a flick of my wrist and a straight cut through his throat.
The girl screams but I quickly plunge the knife into her wet, warm mouth, my eyes going wide as the flesh tears at the corner of her lips, extending to her cheeks. Such an ugly little thing now that she’s all cut up.
A laugh bubbles up from my throat as I slash and slice her pretty little face into ribbons.
And the days go by, like a strand in the wind…
My other hand fist her chestnut waves, pulling her close as I fuck her mouth with the blade, pushing in and pulling out over and over.
Her screams are muffled by the knife. I relish in her fear, in the power.
Her boyfriend or whatever falls to the ground holding his throat, thrashing like a fish out of water.
I look down at him and wink before pulling out the knife from inside her throat one final time. Warm and sticky blood coats my hands, small rivulets streaming down the length of my arm. I bask in the overwhelming feeling of power. Of ecstasy.
But the moment that I first laid
Eyes on him
All alone, on the edge of seventeen…
I let her fall between his legs, face planting on his crotch. As I place my combat boot on the back of her head, I notice he still hasn’t kicked the bucket. Inching closer, I ask, “Do you think you’ll make it to second base in Hell?” He wheezes, his hand weakly trying to grip me.
What a fucking loser. Laughter works its way up my throat but I bite it down, and instead get another bright idea when I notice all the flammable liquid stored in here.
Grabbing the container, I quickly open it and pour it all over the room and then trail it down the hall that leads to the gymnasium. The sound of music is drifting into the halls, when suddenly, the doors creak open and one of the nerdy chicks stumbles out.
Running from something, I suppose, given by her flushed state. Too bad she ran into something worse. This girl has practically no self awareness. She’s so focused on the smell that she hasn’t noticed me standing right before her.
Ooh, baby, ooh, said, ooh…
“Boo,” I taunt, causing her to jump up and face me, only for me to press the knife right into her sternum.
It takes a little effort, due to the cartilage, but her movement helped speed things along.
Her gaze moves towards her injury, mouth opening in a silent scream, but instead of sound, it’s blood that tumbles out.
I pull out the knife. She collapses to her knees, clutching at her chest. Pathetic.
All of these fools are pathetic fucking wannabes. Fighting to live like it matters.
Grabbing the end of her ponytail, I drag her towards the end of the lockers and tuck her body in a dark corner.
Couldn’t have someone finding her before the grand finale.
Going back to the supply closet, I quickly grab a broom stick, making sure it’s sturdy for what I need it, and head back to the celebration.
The sound of screams has my heart fluttering inside my chest.
I watch from a shadowed corner, hidden in plain sight. People never look, they never truly see what's lurking for them in the darkness—too consumed with their own self-entitled bullshit. Lacey barges into the gymnasium, clearly having just found one of my kills. She’s a blubbering mess.
“Shut the fuck up, Prom Queen, your mascara’s running,” I whisper as I slip inside, making sure the main doors are locked from the outside.
Well, the music there, well, it was hauntingly familiar…
With a smile, I pull on the double doors, making sure they hold before taking a step back and digging into my pocket.
Pulling out the Zippo, I flick it on, watching the ember flames come to life.
I smile at the sight, feeling the warmth of its kiss upon my lips.
Using a discarded piece of notebook paper I found lying on the ground, I crumple it up and light it before tossing it in the trail of chemicals that will turn this deadly prom… into a full fucking inferno.
Lacey is a blubbering mess of chaos, but between sobs she manages to fill them in.
A wave of shocked whispers carries across the gym.
But, Lacey’s words die alongside her when my knife plunges straight through her stomach.
More screams fill the air, each one fueling my strikes.
In and out. I thrust the blade until she collapses dead on the ground.
Her blood is warm and thick, even through my gloves.
Bye, bye, Lacey.
“Now this is a fucking party,” I yell from behind my mask, waving the bloodied knife in the air and splattering several students across their pretty dresses.
My heart fills with pride, as I take in all the chaos around me. Students are screaming, pushing, and panicking as the room fills with smoke and the flames lick the bottom of the door. I soak it all in. I want more. I want them all.
I am the Queen of the fucking Prom.
Mr. Matthews is trying so hard to keep things from getting further out of hand.
Freaky little pervert man is next on my list. I found a bunch of upskirt photos of girls in his desk as I was snooping around earlier.
He’s next on my kill list. But maybe we can have a little more fun still.
I drop the knife, letting it clatter on the ground.
Moving towards the stage, I already feel like the Queen of Hell that I am, ready to take off the mask and show my true self.
With shaky hands, Mr. Matthews removes my mask and, of course, everything is very climatic. Sliding a hand into each pocket, I grab the lighter and my hair spray. This fucker is gonna burn.
I went forth with an age-old desire to please…
Slowly, he pulls the mask from my face. And I let him. Shocked whispers fill the room as all eyes turn to me, finally giving me the attention I deserve.
“Jessica?” Stacey’s bitchy voice finally calls out in shock. “You’ve been killing the prom court?”
Oh, this bitch! I have seriously had enough of her.
“It’s me, Jessica,” I say with a laugh. “And now, I’m going to make sure the rest of you fake-ass bitches get what you deserve.”
Just as I was getting my moment, and everything was going perfect, the doors fling open. Trish emerges from the flames, fire extinguisher in hand, and barking out orders for everyone to get the fuck out.
What the hell?
“Seriously?” I ask out loud, annoyed at the fact that she just ruined my fucking moment. The frustration has me glancing over at Mr. Matthews who tries to slither away like the snake he is.
Nice try, fuck-face.
Bringing up the lighter and the hairspray, I simultaneously hit both. A burst of flames shoot forward, engulfing the school principal, and setting him ablaze. His scream is primal, inhuman, and animalistic.
Burn, baby, burn.