Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show
A/N: I'm very sorry if my work is awful, I'm sorry that I'm alive, and I'm sorry I'm so selfish.
Janet wasn't so feeling well. Less than 12 hours had gone by since the Denton Affair and reality had slowly returned. These new, liberated ideas weren't working for her. She couldn't be this sort of person here. It wasn't proper!
Like any 'good' girl, she didn't have a job or serious life outside. She still lived at her parent's house. This was normal for Denton. Janet's own sister Susie had lived in her childhood room until she'd met that nice Mr. Stevenson at the age of twenty. That's what was done, it was the right way of going about things.
But Janet wanted a different life. A crazy, impossible life… the kind your parents can't know of. Though that's also the sort of life that would go against everything she'd ever been taught. All that sinfulness, those trollopesque behaviors. Janet wanted to try all those 'bad' things she'd been warned against, though not just the sex. The idea of test of every drug in existence or something seemed equally alluring.
Even as she wanted all that she also didn't want it. Well, she didn't want to want it. It felt wrong to think like that. None of it was at all decent. Sex was a thing young men joked about and young women dreaded. Acting like a whore wouldn't do any good and it would make her a terrible person in the eyes of Denton's citizens – including Janet, especially Janet.
When the sun finally set and she went to bed things got worse.
As she lay there, she began to fantasize about all sorts of naughty things. Much of it involved people who weren't her fiancé Brad. If Janet should've been imagining such… happenings, shouldn't Brad have been the other person? He was the only one that was allowed to happen with. Though not yet, of course.
Somehow Janet couldn't help but think these things. Once or twice that redheaded maid she'd met at the castle was involved! There seemed one way to stop this. To end this nightmarish series of terrible visions. To stop such sick thoughts…
All it would take was a trip to the kitchen, then one to the bathroom. First she found a few sharp knives and then she filled the bathtub. According to something she'd accidentally read, opening veins in water is easier than without.
Because she was avoiding nasty, sexual things she decided to wear a pretty dress or something (since she wouldn't ever be leaving the water someone was bound to see her once they found the body). Though not something the water might ruin or something white (white is for virgins, not whores). That ended up meaning a pretty dress she'd gotten for Christmas the previous year. It was a pretty shade of purple and she'd not worn it yet.
Humming to herself she changed into the dress and some black stockings. Then she got into the water and began bleeding. Wrists and the crooks of her elbows seemed respectable. Those were the best places that didn't require removal of clothing. She would've gone for the neck, too, if it weren't for the lack of mirror. Only with a mirror could she cut into that vein. Not seeing it. Anyway, it might get on her dress' collar. That happened to be a lighter shade than everything else.
By then she was getting very tired. It was like falling asleep, dying. A very dark, very deep, very dreamless sleep. Even as she wanted all that she also didn't want it. Well, she didn't want to want it. It felt wrong to think like that. None of it was at all decent. Sex was a thing young men joked about and young women dreaded. Acting like a whore wouldn't do any good and it would make her a terrible person in the eyes of Denton's citizens – including Janet, especially Janet.
When the sun finally set and she went to bed things got worse.
As she lay there, she began to fantasize about all sorts of naughty things. Much of it involved people who weren't her fiancé Brad. If Janet should've been imagining such… happenings, shouldn't Brad have been the other person? He was the only one that was allowed to happen with. Though not yet, of course.
Somehow Janet couldn't help but think these things. Once or twice that redheaded maid she'd met at the castle was involved! There seemed one way to stop this. To end this nightmarish series of terrible visions. To stop such sick thoughts…
All it would take was a trip to the kitchen, then one to the bathroom. First she found a few sharp knives and then she filled the bathtub. According to something she'd accidentally read, opening veins in water is easier than without.
Because she was avoiding nasty, sexual things she decided to wear a pretty dress or something (since she wouldn't ever be leaving the water someone was bound to see her once they found the body). Though not something the water might ruin or something white (white is for virgins, not whores). That ended up meaning a pretty dress she'd gotten for Christmas the previous year. It was a pretty shade of purple and she'd not worn it yet.
Humming to herself she changed into the dress and some black stockings. Then she got into the water and began bleeding. Wrists and the crooks of her elbows seemed respectable. Those were the best places that didn't require removal of clothing. She would've gone for the neck, too, if it weren't for the lack of mirror. Only with a mirror could she cut into that vein. Not seeing it. Anyway, it might get on her dress' collar. That happened to be a lighter shade than everything else.
By then she was getting very tired. It was like falling asleep, dying. A very dark, very deep, very dreamless sleep.
A/N: Sorry if these 'suicide stories' are too childish. I need to write, otherwise I feel even more useless, and I'm now having trouble writing anything. Writing about these things is better than doing nothing. It's like wish fulfillment, actually...
In this silly 21st century it's almost impossible to commit suicide. They'll send you away if you survive - which you have a high chance of given the lack of good weapons and this fancy new medical stuff - and then you're even worse. When they send you away you're even more alone and it's even harder to die.
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