prologue

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Paper thin, crusty and weak, were three adjectives commonly used to describe Emerson. To most, she deserved every fucking thing she got. It was inexplicably her fault, which was a fair reason to make comments like:

"She's so thin and ugly."

"Ugh, can't you defend yourself?"

"She doesn't belong in this school. What a fucking loser."

Why did they have the right to judge her? She would ask herself. Then, Emerson realised they fit the universe's criteria for who should yield power. They were justifiably beautiful, appropriately thin or fit, and possessed just enough charm to render anyone subject to their game of mockeries and lies.

They were the kings and queens, while she was a pun amongst many others. Truthfully, she was fucking tired. Tired of the oppression. She wasn't weak, they did that to her. The Kings and Queens ripped away her layers, leaving hungry monsters to feed on her bones.

"Stupid bitch," they said.

"No one likes you," they chanted.

"Kill yourself," they commanded.

Emerson Elias was done playing their cruel game. She would make sure the skeletons in their closets feared her, breaking their bones as they did hers and burning the empty smiles off their faces. Then, they would know how it felt like to be powerless.

She would be the worst kind of destruction, the one you didn't see coming.

The Enraging Of Emerson EliasWhere stories live. Discover now