Chapter 3: Who runs the world? Girls

The cool hum of the refrigerator was a stark contrast to the simmering tension at the kitchen table. Moms’s jaw worked overtime, grinding in a rhythm that seemed to echo my own erratic thoughts.

‘My Jaw used to do that when they still let me take Adderall.’

I stared blankly at the wood grain of the tabletop, trying and failing to understand the gravity of what had happened. Brooke’s hand was on mine, her touch feather-light but burdened with a concern that felt disproportionate to the situation.

“Jason, honey, you need to understand what happened to you...” Brooke’s voice cracked like a whip in the silence, and yet her eyes were brimming with an empathy that made me feel even more disconnected.

“Rape,” I said the word, testing it out. It sounded foreign, detached from me. “I Just feel we’re overblowing this situation.”

‘I mean, I was definitely raped, but if the murder-suicide thing wasn’t part of it, it would have been pretty cool. Actually, when she punched me in the face, her fist was way stronger than I anticipated. So other than that stuff…. and also the knife fucked it up too. But if she had simply asked me to fuck I would have.’

“Jason,” Mother’s voice cut through the haze. Her hand slammed down onto the table, and a sudden movement made Brooke jump. “This is why you’re an easy target!”

Her words hit harder than any physical blow could have. The frustration in her tone was unmistakable. Brooke’s gaze flicked upwards, her eyes wide and horrified, not at the violence behind Mother’s gesture but at the truth it carried.

“Mom’s right, Jay,” Brooke whispered, the nurturing warmth in her voice doing little to soften the blow. “You... you’re just not yourself right now. Not after whatever happened to your head. You seem so…. I don’t know, unguarded?”

Mother nodded in complete agreement with Brooke. Something that practically never happens in this house.

I slumped back in my chair, the weight of their stares pressing down on me. Was I really so vulnerable?

‘Vulnerable to what though? Crazy women.’ I withold a snort. ‘Yeah right i wish.’ I sigh.

“Sorry, I... I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” I mumbled, my words hanging awkwardly in the air. I decided placating them with an apology would be my best option.

Mother’s response was immediate and explosive. She pushed back her chair so hard it screeched against the tile floor, her face etched with exasperation and something that looked perilously close to despair. “I can’t do this right now, Brooke,” she said, her voice taut as a wire. “You handle him.”

Brooke nodded, her eyes briefly meeting mine before flicking away. It seemed she preferred dealing with me alone, and honestly, Mom made me super nervous anyway.

As Mother stormed out of the kitchen, the room felt suddenly too quiet, save for the soft sniffles coming from Brooke. Her shoulders shook, and when she finally looked up at me, her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Jason,” she started, her voice quivering, “were you scared? When did it happen?”

I met her gaze, feeling a tightness in my chest. “Yeah, I mean, knife was pretty terrifying,” I admitted and shrugged. But then, almost as an afterthought, I added, “The sex itself didn’t feel bad, though. Isn’t it normal for a guy to... like sex?”

‘Brooke will get me. We’ve talked about sex before.’

The sudden smack of Brooke’s hand against the wooden surface of the kitchen table jolts me out of my naivety. The force behind it sends a shudder through the glasses on the table. Her eyes, usually warm and comforting, are now ablaze with a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Jason,” she hisses through gritted teeth, “you can’t just... You sound like a slut, you know that?” The words were carved into the air, heavy with condemnation.

‘Great, she sounds like a meaner mom now.’

I flinch, not so much at the word slut but at the sharpness in her tone. It’s so unlike her. Brooke has always been my anchor, the one who understood without needing too many words. To hear such a thing from her lips stings deeper than I would have expected. My mouth opens, but no words come out. Her accusation has left me speechless.

‘How the fuck am I slut if I was raped?’

As if slapped by her own words, Brooke’s face crumbles, and she’s crying again, tears streaming down her cheeks freely. They’re droplets of regret and confusion.

Before I can attempt to console her or even process my own tangled emotions, she moves around the table. Her embrace envelops me, her arms wrapping tightly around my frame. There’s an urgency in her hold, a desperation to make amends for the harshness she just spat out.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jason,” she sobs against my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so, so sorry, I’m victim-blaming, and that’s not right. That’s never right.”

Her apology is muffled by my shirt, but its sincerity seeps through the fabric. I appreciate the hug, feeling her warmth and the familiar scent of her shampoo acting as a small comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, somewhere inside, I can’t shake the sense that both Brooke and Mom are overreacting.

‘Or maybe it’s me? Maybe I’m the one who’s not reacting enough to what happened.’

“Brooke,” I start, my voice faltering under the weight of everything unsaid, “it’s okay.” But even as the words leave my lips, I’m not entirely sure they’re true.

‘Am I really okay? Is it normal to feel so disconnected from something that should be... more? I really don’t feel all that upset, though. Eliot’s already arrested, and her mother didn’t seem the type to call me a liar. She even self-reported the suicide note, so I think it’s fine.’

As Brooke’s embrace loosened, the room felt chillier, emptier somehow. I tried to focus on something mundane, anything to anchor me back to normalcy. That’s when I realized I had forgotten my phone password.

‘Did I bust my head or something?’

“Brooke,” I ventured, a bit hesitantly, “do you by any chance know my phone’s passcode? I can’t seem to remember it.”

She stiffened at my question, her eyes darting away briefly before settling back on me with a nervous quiver in her smile. “Your password? Why would I know your password, Jason?” Her voice was an octave too high, and she avoided my gaze, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“Come on, Brooke.” I offered a lopsided grin, trying to ease the tension. Even in the midst of my confusion.” You can tell me if you know it. I won’t be mad. Actually, I’d be really grateful.”

Her hesitation hung between us like a thick fog. Then, as though resigning herself to a hidden truth, she let out a small sigh. “It’s... 5555,” she murmured, almost inaudibly, as if admitting to a secret sin.

"Five-five-five-five?" The numbers echoed in my head. This is jarring. My heart rate picked up. “I don’t remember setting it to that. I cannot believe I would pick such an awful password.”

Brooke laughed. “It’s fine. It’s just a password. You can just change it if you want.”

“True.”

“Jay,” she began, her eyes went wide as she looked to remember something. “Mom mentioned that someone saved you from... from the….. the incident earlier. But she didn’t give any names. Who was it?”

I blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “Oh, it was Erica Knight. She seems pretty cool, actually. A bit intense, but she really saved my life, apparently.”

At the mention of Erica’s name, Brooke’s face drained of color. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white from the force. “E-Erica Knight?” she stuttered.

“Yeah, that’s her. Why? Do you know her?” I asked, puzzled by Brooke’s extreme reaction.

‘Maybe she heard the rumor that Erica is a drug dealer. I mean, just because someone deals drugs doesn’t mean they’re inherently bad, right? I mean, yeah, they’d be ruining others’ lives, but, like, maybe she was like anti-knife rape? Or she only kicked the door down once I got punched. Wait, was Erica watching me get fucked and then only stepped in once I got hit?’ I ponder the situation, but I feel like I’m missing a key detail. ‘Would a girl even be interested in watching sex? Probably not.’

Brooke shook her head vehemently. “No, no, I don’t know her personally. But Jay, you need to be careful around her. Really careful.” Her words tumbled out in a rush as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough.

I frowned, leaning back in my chair. “What do you mean? Erica saved me, Brooke. She’s not a threat. I have to tell her thanks for stopping a murder-suicide, too.”

Brooke leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made me squirm. “Listen to me, Jason. Girls like Erica... they can be dangerous. She might think that because she saved you, you owe her something. Like... like sex.”

‘In what world would a woman pressure me to have sex with them.’ The corners of my lip raise and then fall. ‘Fuck, I mean other than Eliot.’

I stared at Brooke, my mouth agape. “What? Why would you even think that?”

Brooke’s hands clenched into fists on the table. “You don’t know her, Jason! You can’t trust her. Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you won’t let your guard down around her.”

I sat there, stunned by Brooke’s vehemence. Why would she assume that Erica would expect sex from me just because she helped me out of a bad situation?

‘I, for one, would love to have sex with that blonde hotty.’

“Brooke, I think you’re overreacting,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Erica’s not going to demand sex from me. That’s not how girls work.”

Brooke’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Jason! Women love fucking.” She sighed. “Jason, just stay away from Erica, okay. If you get raped a second time on your first week of school…… I am begging you, just please be careful, okay?” Brooke got up and headed to her room. “I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” I sat there stunned. Confused, I decided to go to bed too.

***

The glow of the screen cast a pale light across my room as I flopped onto the bed, the phone cradled in my hands. Swiping through the apps felt alien, each icon unfamiliar and bizarrely out of place. I tapped on Reddit, seeking a comforting echo chamber like r/Me_irl or r/news, but what I found was an entirely different beast.

“Women of Science” dominated the front page, with bold headlines praising their latest discoveries. Each subreddit seemed to lean heavily towards females, with posts celebrating all-female space crews and advancements in technology spearheaded by women. My brow furrowed as I scrolled.

Only fans were suddenly dominated by men. Pornhub was almost all Women’s POV.

‘What the fuck is happening. Is it like Women’s History Month?’

A message notification diverted my attention. It was from Justine. Except, Justine should’ve been Justin, my best friend.

The text read, “Hey man, you good after today?” A thumbnail showed his…her? Face, pretty much the same but with longer hair.

‘Did Justin change genders? I mean, It’ll change nothing? Why did my mom know before me? No, I was with him this morning. He was still a guy.’

“Is this some kind of joke?” I muttered under my breath, a cold laugh escaping me. There was no way Justin would take part in such an elaborate prank. Not after today.

With a reluctant curiosity, I Googled the president of the United States, half expecting to see the familiar face of Joey Biden grinning back at me. Instead, Jill Biden’s portrait filled the screen. The words “46th President” etched beneath her image like a proclamation of a new era.

“Jill... Biden?” The name felt strange on my tongue, as if speaking it aloud had the power to shift reality further off-kilter. And maybe it did because as I stared at the image before me, everything clicked into place, including the weird conversations, Brooke’s nervousness, and Reddit’s skewed demographics.

“It’s one of those reverse-gender worlds!” I whispered to myself, the weight of the revelation pressing down on my chest. A chuckle bubbled up, tinged with hysteria. “It must have happened when I passed out?” I question the air.

My eyes dart around as I start thinking at the speed of cum. “This changes everything.” I start laughing a little bit more. “Look’s like getting a Yandere is back on the menu, boys.” I say to no one in particular.

I start laughing even harder. Suddenly, some of my spit gets caught in my throat. Like it was trying to go down the wrong pipe. Suddenly I’m full-on choking. “Ahh,” I coughed out.

My door rips open, and Brooke comes in. “What the hell is going on.”

I raise up my finger but keep choking. I can’t even get a word out.

Brooke starts hitting my back, and suddenly, whatever is stuck dislodges.

‘My spit almost killed me. Today has been too much.’

“Jason, what happened.”

I just shrugged. “I choked on my spit.”

Brooke looked at me like I was a helpless baby. “Jason, I’m worried about you.”

“No, no, It’s fine now, Brooke. Everything is gonna be better than ever.” I smile, excited to start looking for my perfect Yandere in the morning.

“Why does that sound so ominous?” She said as she left.