[Trigger Warning: Implications of rape and suicide. Tread cautiously, you beautiful survivors. Also, listen to the music if you want cause this song inspired the entire party.]

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Veronica Conrad was apparently known as Veronica Conslut now, thanks to her scandalous sex tape with Chris Edwards, but that was nothing new in her world. She'd been dealing with the use of 'slut,' 'whore,' 'puckslut,' and 'thot,' since she started developing breasts and one of the sophomores from East had asked her on a date when she was barely a seventh grader. And the terms had only morphed into war cries when she actually dared to have sex - and liked it.

When Veronica had lost her virginity to Warren Radcliffe, the British exchange student who had stolen all the girls' hearts before moving back to his posh boarding school in London, everyone had had an opinion. Girls mused that she had self esteem issues. Boys claimed she was an escort-in-training and adults preached that, due to her adopted parents' liberal views and open marriage, her sexuality had been awakened far too early.

Veronica had no idea how her sex life even spread around the city but the gossip only made her want to explore just to spite them, because they were wrong.

She didn't hate her reflection, in fact, she adored it. She wasn't some escort, she just happened to make guys think about sex and vice versa. And lastly, if her parents' often promiscuous festivities - like skinny dipping in the pool with their swinger friends every Friday night - had awakened her sexuality, was it really that bad?

It wasn't like she was being reckless. She used protection, she kept track of everyone she dated, and she even got monthly check-ups to maintain her health. If anything, her parents free spirit was the reason why she wasn't pregnant like Benny Costa and running around with HIV like Tiff Archeval. The Conrads didn't shy away from the grown-up stuff as everyone else did. They embraced it, always making sure to inform Veronica to prevent curiosity from killing the cat.

And besides, Veronica was good at sex.

She sucked at academics  (it was her parents paying for her attendance to the most prestigious school in Beverly Hills after all) and she was atrocious at sports (thank God for Saturday pilates classes.) But she was good at sex, spectacular even. When she was ready to find the door, every boy she'd ever been with begged her to stay for another round. If there was a Kobe Bryant of sex, it was her.

To Veronica, sex was like a game, a game of dominance, who could make the other crack in the best ways - and she always scored. Veronica got Fs in Geometry but she was an A plus in the bedroom and sometimes, the pure euphoria and amazement on her opponents' face was even better than the game itself. Because it meant victory.

Sex was always a game and Veronica was always ready to play, and sometimes the opponent wasn't the one she shared lavish sheets with but the one they sneaked away from for a far more exciting night with her. Like Damon Felix, which Veronica counted as a win in her book regardless of him going back to his girlfriend. Or Chris Edwards, which she thought had been a huge victory against Paisely Mont Vernon.

Until it wasn't.

It was one thing to have every school in the city - including public schools - talking about what a great night she was but it was another to have a sex tape out for everyone to see.

Veronica hadn't been expecting the sweet, bubbly blonde to put her on a table for everyone to feast their eyes on and maybe that's why doubt and self-loathing jumped at the opportunity of surprise.

What if she was wrong?

What if she really was some hyper-sexual freak?

What if she was actually ruining herself?

What if she wasn't some martyr for female empowerment but what everyone loved to say she was, a slut?

The doubt plagued her, causing her to recoil from everyone, from herself.  She felt more exposed than she intended, as if everyone were dissecting her like they did the scouting videos of boys catching balls that were always sent around to Ivy League schools. She felt as if she were being nitpicked and there was a difference between judgements made on baseless accusation and judgements made on hard truth.

The reality was, Veronica wasn't exactly sure where she stood with sex.

She knew she liked it. It felt good, it was fun, so she did it as much as she pleased. Sometimes she had sex because she was lonely, or bored, or just outright in the mood and other times, she really did it to feel validated by how good she was.

So maybe everyone was right.

Or they were wrong.

Veronica didn't really know.

Especially now, with the Rumor Mill buzzing in her ear as she took a gulp of champagne.

"She's the biggest slut ever. I heard she leaked the video herself hoping she'd get discovered."

"I heard the video's on three porn sites."

"She's such an inspiration, every girl should take control of their own sexuality!"

"Following in the footsteps of Tiff, I see. What's next? HIV?"

"Now we know for sure what that mouth does, am I right?"

"Her parents are super wild, like orgies at the Burlesque Club-wild so it's really no surprise."

"Think she'd go out on a date with me if I slipped a condom in her bag with my number on it?"

"Don't know why she covered up tonight, everyone already knows what she looks like underneath - and that was before the tape-"

"Surprised to see you here alone."

Veronica snapped out of her eavesdropping at a tap on her covered shoulder. She turned around to see Jeremiah Prince, the school's incredibly ripped varsity Lacrosse player, standing before her, his dark brown eyes like orbs amid the gold lights of the hanging chandeliers. He looked like a superhero in a denim Greg Lauren suit that didn't quite go with the dress code but was enough to get in. It was a known fact that the Hawaiian babe absolutely hated the traditional clothing of posh events.

The Lacrosse player regarded with a sexy leer and Veronica pursed her lips, suddenly feeling itchy in her black Ricky Owens turtleneck dress that covered every inch of her body. She had worn the dress to fight off the feeling of being unwillingly exposed but with Jeremiah's eyes on her, she wished she was in something a bit more her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," She lied, pointing a manicured finger at the DJ on the stage who was relentlessly spinning Mura Masa's '1 Night.' "Mind saying that again for me?"

Licking his lips with a knowing gaze, Jeremiah took a step towards her, closing what little distance was between them. "I thought you'd be with Chris. Isn't he your boyfriend?" He asked, almost as if he already knew the answer.

Veronica found herself looking across the ballroom towards the glittering fountain where Chris Edwards was mouthing off, a bunch of boys lifting him up and hailing him as if he were some sort of king. Apparently, Jac Lexington had thrown a glass of champagne in his face and stalked off and now everyone was saying Chris was trying to cheat on her because she had cheated on him with the tape.

Little did anyone know, Chris was the boy on the damn tape!

And they were in a very, very loose relationship because Veronica had only dated him to help Erika Felix get back her throne.

Unfortunately, that plan had fallen through.

Veronica turned back to Jeremiah who waited expectantly for her answer, realizing he was just what she needed. His dark, sexy curls were to die for and his butterscotch skin glistened in the golden lights that filled the ballroom.

He gave her that anticipation that Chris Edwards certainly couldn't deliver at the moment - and maybe that was because he reminded her of the speculation at hand.

She had hooked up with Jeremiah many times before - though the last time they hooked up at Brett Richers' after party, Erika had ruined it - and in many ways, he was her favorite. He knew exactly what she wanted, what kind of game she was playing, and he always proved to be a worthy opponent. Hell, sometimes he even won and at times, losing shook things up.

Veronica bit her lip wryly, careful to keep her eyes on his as she took another sip of champagne. "Chris and I are reaaaally complicated right now."

"I thought so." Jeremiah nodded and if it weren't for the dancing hordes of rich kids, she would have thought the room had magically become hot. Especially when he whispered ever so temptingly in her ear, "I know a place we can go if you're in."

Veronica was about to say 'yes,' until she realized there were eyes burning into her side. Wannabes and the relevant alike sported conspicuous glances as they passed, some outright whispering in each other's ears as they watched from the refreshments table.

She wasn't just Veronica Conslut anymore, or any other girl that got wasted and hooked up at a rager.

She might as well be the school's very own Blac Chyna - minus the gold digging and the tearful ex - and if anyone saw her run away with Jeremiah, the texts blowing up her phone from every judgemental rich kid in Beverly Hills would only get worse.

That was the thing about sex. Sometimes Veronica was ashamed, though she tried to be only in private, and other times, she didn't give a fuck. Sometimes she felt disgusted with herself and other times, she felt like Amber Rose at the Slut Walk rally conquering the world.

And right now, instead of being tormented by the continuous whispers and hard stares, she only felt that excitement of empowerment again.

She was reminded of every reason why she shouldn't be ashamed.

If guys got to have fun, why couldn't she?

Taking a long swig of her glass, she grabbed Jeremiah's hand and said, "Where to, my prince?"

ⒾⓁⓁⓊⓈⒾⓄⓃ

As soon as they poured into one of the broad, honeymoon suites of the MGM Mansion, they consumed each other. Clothes came off, shoes were messily discarded, and the bed was taken captive. Veronica felt herself go into game mode, rolling over so that she straddled Jeremiah, letting him know she would be dominant tonight. After all, she deserved it with all the slut-shaming she was going to endure for this!

Unhooking her bra and tossing it into the pile of clothes on the floor, she leaned down and met him with a hungry kiss that could have lasted forever, filled with moans that made Veronica feel like she was more than the titles. More than the number of girls who'd called her Veronica Conslut. More than the boys who'd made howling sounds at her every time she walked past when she wasn't even trying to get their attention.

As their tongues danced with one another, she felt Jeremiah's hand tiptoe up her bare shoulder, up her neck and into her hair, pulling at the high ponytail she worked over meticulously to complete her look. He tried to loosen her band and she quickly grabbed hold of his wrists, breaking the kiss to pin them over his head.

"This is all for me, got it?" She whispered into the neon-lit night, the boy's brown eyes glowing as he gazed up at her, awe-stricken.

She didn't have to say anything else. Jeremiah let her have control, he allowed her to win.

However, just as felt satisfied, just as she felt like a victor standing atop a hill, standing on top of the world, it all came crashing down with one gaze of ecstasy towards the wooden-embossed bedside table adorned with a sleek phone for room service - and a Canon camera hidden precisely behind a purple vase of Lilacs, blinking red as it recorded.

Veronica felt her blood run cold, her body go limp, and her breath become caught as if in a snare.

"Are-are you recording me?" She managed.

"No, why would you think that?"Jeremiah swallowed, but not in a nervous fashion. Instead, there was a smug pinch to his handsome features as he effortlessly freed his hands from her flimsy grip and sat upright, forcing Veronica on his lap.

She tsked incredulously, pointing at the camera still blinking as if to say hello.

Jeremiah frowned. "Oh, I guess I am." He said, cracking on the last word as he tried to stifle a laugh.

"What the hell?" was all Veronica could say before she found herself jumping away from him, hurriedly reaching for her clothes strewn on the creme-carpeted floor. She could feel her cheeks burning, her form trembling, as she hastily slipped into her Agent Provocateur underwear.

"Wait, you don't have to leave!" Jeremiah pleaded. "I could just turn the camera off and we can-"

"What the hell, Jer? Why would you think I'd want this recorded?" Veronica erupted, the booming of her voice startling her into tears that she quickly brushed away, smearing her makeup in the process. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she looked at the boy sitting on the edge of the bed who was clearly taking this as a joke rather than an insult.

Suddenly, she felt as if she were back at the restaurant with her friends, watching as Paisely single handedly leaked her privacy, leaving nothing else to the imagination. She had told herself after freaking out that she had to be cool with it. She was stinking hot and she knew it and now everyone else knew for sure too.

She told herself everyone was going to see how great she was in bed and there was nothing wrong with that. But something about a tape being leaked without her knowledge just didn't sit well, yet she couldn't help but feel as if it was supposed to.

Shoving her toned legs into her Ricky Owens dress, she had barely got the dress to her hips when at that moment, the wooden, sliding doors to the large walk-in closet slid open and the dimmed lights of the suite were flicked on.

Spewing out of the closet in a raging fit of laughter, to her horror, was almost every Lacrosse player on the varsity team; Chris Edwards the clear leader of the pack. They all wielded cameras of their own whilst Jeremiah hurried up and grabbed the camera from the bedside.

"Told you she would find it, dude, you should have hid it near the dining room!" Devon Yang, the only boy that wasn't a Lacrosse player but the star prefect of the Senior class, exclaimed, recording Veronica's stunned expression with a selfie stick coddling the brand new iPhone 8.

"I forgot about that stupid red light." Jeremiah muttered.

"Um, what the fuck is going on?" Veronica exclaimed, involuntarily covering her chest despite being in a bra. Her bare feet felt frozen to the floor as she took in everyone ridiculing her. They were everywhere, filling up the suite that once felt huge, suffocating her.

It was Chris Edwards that spoke, taking a step forward with a hand out as if he were some sort of peacemaker. "Babe, calm down and hear me out," He said, gesturing at the guys. "We all saw your tape and thought, 'Wow, what a work of art. She's such a classic beauty and amazing at what she does,'" He winked at this, causing the boys to laugh. "So we thought that you'd be interested in making some more art...with us."

"With us?" Veronica repeated, light-brown eyes growing wide as it finally clicked.

She started to feel light-headed and she finished pulling on her dress.

"Why are you mad? We thought you'd be down for it." Jeremiah stated, blinking rapidly as if he were truly confused.

"Yeah, I mean, you've done it before." Another chimed.

Veronica couldn't get herself to move, so dumbstruck she felt as if she were in a dream and detached from reality. An unconscious voice told her they were right. She'd done this all the time, why would this be different?  Sure, there weren't that many guys before but she didn't have the right to be mad. It didn't make any sense.

With that thought aside, Veronica relaxed her posture, managing to start breathing again as she observed the boys watching her expectantly. "Oh, I get what you mean," She laughed softly. "Buuut, it's my BFF's birthday and as you can see, she's a total mess thanks to this troll here," She pointed at Chris, not even realizing her feet had finally started to carry her to the door. " So I'm gonna go comfort my girl and then maybe we can do this later, K?"

In a flash, Jeremiah stood up,  gently grabbing her wrist. "You can't leave."

Those three words were a shiver and a spring of goosebumps.

"Why-why not?" She stammered, still trying to maintain coolness as she tried to ease her way out of his grip but he wouldn't let go.

"Because you can't."

"Yes I-" Before she could protest, his lips were on hers again, except he wasn't entertaining her game of control. He was crushing her, forcing her backwards. Suddenly, she could smell the stench of alcohol, hear the hiss of narcotics singing from the boys' breaths as she became cornered. Her whole body screamed, 'Get out.'

But she couldn't obey. She found herself freezing, fear overtaking her like ice conquering a stolen breath.

All Veronica could hear was her name, her real name being chanted over and over again in her head; Veronica Conslut - Conslut - Slut.

'I'm such a slut.'

"Guys, leave her alone! This is wrong!" Someone cried, the sound of shuffling and the thud of someone falling as the door opened and slammed shut quickly following.

She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? Everything in her body was telling her to move!

Red lights blinked and cameras were recording.

Her body screamed at her to fight but her mind was lost in the hard stares and whispers.

Clothes came off once more.

Her mind zeroed in on the word, 'slut,' in bold letters. Her body told her to flee.

Shoes were messily discarded.

The bed was taken captive.

Her body gave up.

'I'm such a slut.'

She felt herself lose control, felt the invasion. She wasn't the dominant one anymore. Maybe she never was.

Calvin Klein cologne was all her senses could take and her mind desperately grasped for something to sink into.

'I really am a slut,' she thought with defeat.

Everything else went numb.

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Jac was so empty, she didn't feel anything when she marched on to the stage with a hot pink Gucci baseball bat, and held it up in the air as she screamed, "You guys want wild tonight?" to the top of her lungs.

She didn't need a mic. The entire ballroom came alive with her voice that seemed to bounce off the fresco-embellished walls, demanding all heads to turn in her direction. Reluctantly, Calvin Harris stopped spinning tracks once again, his song, 'Sweet Nothing,' coming to an abrupt, scratching halt.

For once, time had stopped for the birthday girl. Sable and her annoying crew froze beside her, recording with anxious and anticipating expressions. The expensively-clad teens stopped dancing, stopped drinking, and stopped chattering to stare at her with wide eyes and phones on the ready. And even Jac's heart stopped beating, as if it were completely detached from the desert that was her mind, waiting for her next move.

One hand on her hip, Jac pointed her bat at the crowd and screamed, "I SAID, YOU GUYS WANT WILD TONIGHT?"

"YEAH!" The partygoers screamed back, pumping their fists in  the air whilst others held up their phones, catching the entire spectacle on their Snapchats. Towards the front of the crowd, she could see Benny Costa watching her in disheveled shock, slowly weaving her way through the crowd. And up on the balcony, Jared Hayward rested on the ledge with an expression that only made Jac more determined.

Determined not to feel.

The shell of Jac beamed, challenging the beaming lights of the chandeliers and the city lights of Las Vegas, as she redirected the aim of her bat. Rather than throwing it into the crowd as everyone expected, she aimed for the intricately-made, five-foot-cake that had cost nearly 10 million dollars and swung towards the middle.

With a gooey sound, the bat lodged itself into the french vanilla-frosted cake, revealing its red velvet center. Everyone gasped but more cheered, flashes of iPhones temporarily blinding her as everyone began to take pictures and record videos. The shell posed enthusiastically for them, grinning widely - before using another burst of strength to pull out the bat and whack the cake again.

Lindsey Wells and her wannabe crew who'd been dancing carelessly near the front of the stage couldn't move fast enough as the top of the cake - ornamented by the '17'-crafted candles - began to sway, falling right on top of them with a loud glop!

"MY ENSEMBLE!" Lindsey screeched drunkenly as white frosting and red velvet cake tarnished her curled, bleached hair and Ashlee gown. She looked like a skinny twig of a snowman that had been drenched in blood, everyone bursting into even more laughter and drawing near the girl to get a good shot.

The shell of Jac didn't care.

Letting the bat clatter at her side, she took off her baby pink Valentino heels and began to walk off the stage, Sable and crew hurrying after her.

"Rob, are you getting this?" Sable cried at the short, stubby cameraman.

Barefoot, the shell joined the throng of rich kids jeering at Lindsey, while some marveled over the ruined cake. However, when she came, the entire crowd parted once again and allowed HER to pass, the Rumor Mill buzzing in her' ears.

"Did you hear? Her ex peasant boyfriend has HIV!"

"Jacmon forever."

"I bet you she's rebounding with Jared."

"Fact; she's sleeping with all of them! Damon, the peasant, and Jared!"

"She's really pretty but she has the persona of a basic. Glad Damon realized he could do better."

"Her Dad is straight-for-pay and he's only with her mom because of the baby, duh!"

"Heard the Lexingtons need a reality show because they're broke."

"Fact; she's been cheating on Damon this whole time. That's why they're not together anymore, he got tired of her shit."

The commotion that had risen as the shell walked quickly fell silent when she stopped at the refreshments table where delectable dishes and champagne bottles awaited. Dom Perignon in all its silver blue-bottle glory stared back at her, the glint of its liquid almost like a smile.

A few teens hanging around near the red-clothed table of velvet got the idea before it happened, moving out of the way just as she began to drag her' Valentino heels along the table, destroying every glass dish and delicate bottle of champagne in the process. Everyone jumped back as shards of glass clattered to the glossy, ballroom floor, the sound like nails against chalkboard.

With excited gasps, hands flew to ears.

"Wait a minute, what's happening?" The shell heard Sable's cover, Todd, ask but no one could answer him because she stole the attention once more by bringing the heel of her Valentino shoe to her ERDEM gown.

With it, she tore at the beauty that was her floral dress, tearing off the hem and throwing it into the crowd. She didn't even care that a scholarship student leaped up and caught it as if it were a hundred dollar bill, screaming wildly that they'd found their school tuition. She just kept tearing, tearing, tearing, and tearing until she had not only torn her dress but the tattered remains of her heart.

"Oh wow, that was silk." Someone murmured.

"Jac!" She heard Benny shout from the crowd, trying to get to her attention from somewhere she couldn't see.

However, the shell didn't wait up, dropping the heel to the floor and mechanically walking towards the towering, ornate doors of the ballroom.

Like drones, the crowd followed her outside and down the stone steps of the glimmering MGM Mansion. Some called her name, begging for her to turn around, whilst others only continued to laugh, clearly trying to fill the moment with something joyful. But the shell couldn't feel anything, not even pain, as she searched the crowded circular driveway for something. Anything.

She soon found it in Brett Richers - or at least the car he and a bunch of girls were in, intoxicated as they sung along to the music, Rae Sremmurd's 'Swang,' with cracking voices and erupting giggles. The car was Brett's gift for paying his way through another semester at Alabaster and it was new. A bold ,orange Apollo Arrow that looked more like something from a space movie, or even Transformers, glittering beneath the neon lights of the city. A true race car, or according to her peers, the race car of the year.

The shell stampeded towards it, opening the drivers door, not even flinching as packets of white powder and a vodka flask spilled out on to the stone driveway.

Brett who had been drawling out the lyrics looked up with gleeful confusion. "Jac? Heyyyyy, you here to party too?"

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out."

"He doesn't have to get out!" The pixie-cut-haired brunette beside him cried, having been in the works of using her gold AmEx card to sort out her naughty narcotics.

The shell didn't give a shit about anything they said. With a groan, she easily dragged Brett out of the car, who staggered a bit before falling face first and rolling over with a happy moan.  "Look at the stars, guys, look!" He cried.

Without another moment of hesitation, the shell got in the drivers seat and shut the door.

"What are you doing? This isn't your car!" The brunette cried, the girls hanging in the backseat quickly stumbling out before destruction could transpire.

The shell couldn't hear the protests, turning the key in the ignition and adjusting the rear view mirror. She was able to get a glimpse at her emerald, green eyes that were strikingly clear and sharp, like a soul ready to die.

"Jac!"

She turned sharply at the sound of her name to see Benny Costa pushing her way through the crowd and running towards the car. The shell hastily rolled up the window before Benny could get to her, leaving the raven-haired girl to knock helplessly on the tinted window.

Meanwhile, the brunette  was shooting the shell daggers. "Get out of this car now, you fucking psycho!"

Wordlessly, the shell listened to the hum of the car for a moment before turning the wheel, slowing backing it up - only to be abruptly stopped by crashing into the bright red Ferrari behind her, causing the couple who'd been getting frisky to beep the horn in horror-filled protest.

She didn't listen, repeatedly bumping the car into the Ferrari behind her until the gleaming bumper was ruined, the top popping off and airbags blowing the couple out of view.

However, that wasn't enough for her.

With gritted teeth, she eased the car out of its parking space and began to drive around the circular driveway, stomping hard on the pedal.

The crowd of partygoers eagerly chased after the vehicle.

"Where are you going?" The brunette cried, holding onto her seat with trembling, pink lips.

The shell kept driving, expensive, luxury cars parked in front of the mansion starting to fly past her.

"Stop, you're going too fast!"

Her knuckles protested from the brunt of her grip on the shiny, black wheel.

"You're going to kill us!" The girl beside her bawled, almost stunning the shell as she opened the door and rolled helplessly out of the car, disappearing as the Apollo Arrow accelerated in speed.

At that moment, the car came slamming into the sturdy, ornamented gates of the luxury hotel, bashing an opening between the large, towering structures. She expected to be sent flying out of the car but the impact lodged the vehicle into the wrenched hole, the gates bending at the race car's will.

She felt her whole body retch forward, waiting for her head to hit the dashboard but the hit never came.  Instead, a wretched airbag blew up in front of her, protecting her from any harm, pushing her back against the comforted grey seat with an oof!

For a good few minutes, everything was calm. All she could focus on was her heavy breathing, the music softly blaring, and the ticking noise the car was making for whatever reason. However, the calm didn't last.  Just as quickly as there was silence, there was the sound of shrieking from her peers again as everyone ran forward. She could see them from the rear view mirror.

The shell was back in action.

Disgruntled, she slowly stumbled out of the car, a pain pulsing in her hip that she ignored as she ambled over to the rushing crowd.

"Jac! Are you okay?" Benny hollered, arms reaching for the girl but she shook them off vigorously, focused on the doors that lead back into the ballroom, to the balcony.

"This. Is. AMAZING!" She could hear Sable exclaiming behind her while Todd tried to ask her if she needed medical assistance.

"My car!" Brett sobbed from the stone steps, reaching for the tattered hem of the shell's dress but she shook him off too.

There was only one place she needed to get to.

One place to end all this nothingness.

With the entire party on her heels, the shell crossed the partly-empty ballroom and started for the winding staircase leading up to the balcony. A searing pain shot up her hip but she couldn't bear to care, forcing herself up the steps while some dared to follow, others lingering below.

"What are you going to do, Jac?" Benny demanded almost angrily behind her but the shell didn't give her not even a backwards glance.

She just continued to walk, thinking indifferently about Damon, her parents, her friends, her life. She was detached but yet she knew that if she returned to where Jac was, she would hate it all. She would hate the liars, hate the luxury, hate everything around her. Jac didn't even care about being alone anymore. Being alone was just fine, not existing was even better.

Before she knew it, Jac had returned and she was standing on the ledge of the balcony, looking down at the kids below her dressed in their finery. Not one shed a tear, nor even thought to call the police. Instead, they were laughing. They were shoving their phones up in the air trying to get the best angle. They were adding to the Rumor Mill things like, 'When rich girls go cray,' ,'When the Molly hits you good,' and 'Craziest rager of the year.'

Some even yelled at her to jump.

Jac started to cry, shoulders shaking, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn't wait to disappear for good. She just had to get the guts to do it. She just had to take one step.

"Jac, oh my God, please don't do it. I love you, Jac," She heard Benny sob behind her but she didn't dare look back. She couldn't. "I love you and your parents love you-"

"Real funny, Benny, nobody loves me." She shot back, which only made her cry even more.

"That's not true, Jac, and you know it! If you do this, you're gonna fuck up everyone who cares about you!"

"No one fucking cares, Benny," Jac snapped, turning to Benny and the rest who had followed her; Benny, the camera crew, and a bunch of teens who only came up to get a better angle, to say they were there. "Look around."

Benny took a step closer, tears streaming down her face. "Stop looking around and look at me."

"No." Jac shook her head, turning back to the ledge. It wasn't enough, nothing was enough. If her friends had been enough, she wouldn't feel so empty. She wouldn't feel like muffling her screams into a cashmere coat. She wouldn't feel like dying.

She always felt as if she could see right through her friends. They were empty too.

Empty people couldn't fill empty people.

"And besides," she started, the crowd below blurring in her tears. "Everyone is always saying, what about us?' You don't want to tell a lie? Well, think about us. You don't want to be cheated on? Well, think about us. You don't want to live? Well, think about what that'll do to us - fuck that, what about me? When can I be happy?"

"You can't be happy if you're dead."  Jared Hayward suddenly emerged from the stairway, hands out as if he were in the midst of a ravenous animal.

Jac felt her hands ball into fists. 'Just one step, just one step and you can stop hurting.'

"Look, I felt just like you, okay?" Jared lamented somberly. "This place is fake and delusional and completely ridiculous but you have to remember there's more to the world than Beverly Hills."

"Sorry, already heard that one," Jac retorted, managing to laugh through the raging pain waging war in her mind. "A peasant with HIV beat you to that one and he showed me the complete opposite." 'There's no escape.'

"Well then forget about him. Forget about everyone and just focus on what I'm about to tell you," Jared urged, a slight tremble to his voice that told Jac he was afraid. She liked him afraid. She liked everyone afraid, it created an illusion that they might actually care. "I know where to find what you're looking for."

Jac's heart skipped a beat in her ears, coming back with a pulse that began to beat painfully on her chest. "I just want to jump, Jared, I just want to be done, " She rasped, not caring that she sounded like a spoiled brat. Like a whiner. Like she was ungrateful for all she was born to have, None of it mattered anymore. However, Jared's words sparked a minuscule bit of hope, leaping in front of her like headlights. "Do you even know what I'm looking for? Or are you just lying again? Like everybody else."

'Everybody lies.'

"I'm not lying, Jac," Jared pleaded, drawing closer, but only with hesitant steps. "I know where to find it. I know where to find real love."

"It doesn't exist."

"Yes, it does. I promise you. And if you jump, you'll never get to experience it."

The shimmering hope took form inside her, dancing, twirling, promising, and Jac wanted to get away from it. She wanted to run. Usually people came in the forms of hope and they were all liars. Like Damon. Like Blake. They were all liars and what if a lie was trying to drive her away from sweet relief? What if lies were still scrambling at the chance to torment her?

'But what if it takes going to the extreme to find the truth?'

Jac sobbed up at the chandelier. "I'd give up anything - everything-"

"I know. Please come down."

She started to step down, started to give in and- "But what if you're lying? Jared, please don't lie to me." She carefully turned around, ready to fall backwards if she needed to, as she regarded the balcony beneath her dark lashes dripping with salty tears.

Benny was on her knees, crying profusely. The camera crew wore dropped jaws as they wordlessly filmed and Jared was directly in front of her, having sneaked up on her while she'd blabbed away. He had his hands reached out as if he were scheming to catch her but there weren't any tears that could be found.

"I'm not lying, " was all he said and it wasn't tearful, nor emotional. Just calm.

And strangely, that was enough.

Sucking in a breath, Jac felt agonizing pain well in her chest as she fell into his outstretched arms, bursting into more tears as she crumpled inside of herself. It was as if she had nowhere to hide, no 'cool, calm, collected,' mask to wear, no ocean blue eyes to drown herself in. She was cornered, exposed, caged and there was no facade to make it better, even if just for a little while.

However, she couldn't put her hopelessness into actual sentences that fit like puzzle pieces.

All she could do was cling to three words and hope they were true, that they weren't beautiful illusions to tear her from the edge.

"Please, don't be a lie this time," She found herself whispering into Jared's shoulder. "I can't take anymore."

------------------------

A/N: So this whole 3-part chapter was influenced by Lorde's 'Melodrama' album, especially the songs Perfect Places and Sober (Melodrama) because it's the party scene in a nutshell. So for cinematic feels, I'd highly recommend it.

So here we go.

What happened to Veronica happens to LOTS of girls at parties and it isn't always as violent or climatic (in the sense of she knew what was about to happen) as this scene was. Rape can happen at any time, when you least expect it, and sometimes you're not even aware that it's happening until it's over. I felt like that was important to say because media tends to invalidate people's experiences that weren't as violent as what's usually portrayed.

And also, it doesn't matter how out there you are or how closed in you are with your sexuality, no one deserves rape. It doesn't matter if people consider you a slut - which is completely invalid - or a prude - which is also, very invalid - no one deserves rape. And just because a girl tends to sleep around does not mean she's always going to want it. A 'yes' is not implied by previous hook ups.

There were so many ways I could have went with Veronica but I kept thinking about how prevalent Rape Culture is, especially in universities and believe it or not, private schools. Plus, there was a lot of slut-shaming in the comments about Veronica throughout the first book which inspired me to give her a POV.

Lastly, I want to say something about depression and suicide but honestly, this was really triggering for me and I kind of don't know what to say because it makes me nervous to openly talk about. Sooo I'm probably gonna come back when I can think straight :(

Thoughts are welcome. What did you guys think about Veronica? The dude that tried to stop it but got kicked out? Jac? Jared? This was such a rollercoaster and I feel like sleeping.

Thank you all for reading!

(omfg im crying this was so sad guys please)