radley, jacquelyn a.

[Deleted]

full name jacquelyn astoria radley. date of birth december 24th, 1996. home town seattle, wa. current city new york city, new york. education college freshman. occupation poet. ________________________________________ jacquelyn • supplanter, or may god protect. supplanter refers to a person who replaces someone or thing of lesser value, and this hebrew meaning refers to jacob supplanting esau as recorded in the hebrew bible. 'may god protect' has a more positive connotation and is therefore the preferred meaning for the name. alternate spellings: jacqueline, jaclyn, jacklyn, jacklyne, jaklin, jacqlyn, jacquelin, jackeline, jacklin, jakleen and jackelyn. don't spell my name any of these ways. -- My dress was black and so was my mask, both usual enough. The smell of expensive cigarettes clings to one's hair differently than the cheap ones do, and until then, I hadn't smelled a difference. Things were how you would imagine them, almost a caricature of itself. In some ways, it looked like a Gatsby party that went badly wrong, like a porno inspired by the book. But it wasn't, and it was real, and I was curious. I wanted to burn the whole place down. It was the first time I ever wanted to light something on fire with people near by. Usually it's just sheds, barns, piles of garbage on the side of the road. It would have been so easy, to knock over a candle in an empty, velvet room and walk away. But I couldn't. Not with Adam there. Not with breathing, living people. I locked myself in one of the bathrooms until everyone thought I was gone. I'm prone to disappearing, mostly because I couldn't care less if people are looking for me or not. I guess I thought I could get away with it, and I did, all except for one, because Adam knows me the best in the world. Nobody else has me committed to memory the way he does. I waited until the place was full to come out. I wasn't really used to wearing makeup, but I managed okay. I put on lipstick for the first time ever, and I manage to fool everybody, even myself, that I had a practiced hand. I stood around, mostly watching, smoking expensive cigarettes I nicked from somebody's dress pant's pocket. They fucked like rabbits, like it didn't matter. Women ate each other out and nobody gave a shit. It was fascinating. I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself more. I managed not to draw much attention to myself, wandering around the dark house with fake pearls wound around my neck and a little too much scotch to drink. I keep the scotch with me always, in a little flask. But that's a story for another time. The man I ran into was tall, dark haired, his chest broad and his arms decorated with dark ink. His breath was familiar, and the kiss itself was the hottest one I've ever received. I would have let him fuck me, a notion that leaves me bewildered and rocky. It was when he spoke that I felt sick, but weirdly proud. "If you don't get out of here I'll tell dad and then where will you be?." His words were harsh and I wanted him to kiss me again, but I left instead because really ... what would I have done? -- ________________________________________ your name holly. play-by taylor hill. member group resident.