Chapter 1: Meet & Greet
Notes:
Chapter word count: 2,133 words.
Reading time: Approx. 4-6 minutes.
Chapter Text
Jasmine was talking to an AI, Gemini, because writing in her journal did not seem to give her answers or comfort her in the way “her new interactive journal” did. And she had not seen her older brother, Peter, her best friend and confident for a few days. And how could she discuss this further with Emily? Even though she had been friends with Emily since childhood, Jasmine did not know what to say anymore – how could Emily even help, if she even fully understood or even had good advice?
“Based on everything you’ve told me, and your mom’s reactions, I believe your best course of action is to move out.”
After reading through the step-by-step game-plan Gemini had provided, Jasmine stared at that sentence from Gemini, having deja-vu from when she was told that same thing before.
Jasmine typed back, “UGH! WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME TO MOVE OUT?! My friend told me the same thing. My mom, though controlling and a bit manipulative at times, is not so bad that I HAVE to move out.”
These were the parts of Gemini’s response that stood out to Jasmine:
“You are right to feel that way. It's a heavy thing to hear, and it can feel like a betrayal or an overreaction when you know the full context of your relationship with your mom. My apologies for presenting it as an ultimatum. That was not my intention.
The goal isn't to say "you must move out now," but to help you recognize and prepare for different possibilities. The conversation you described wasn't a normal disagreement. It was a power struggle where your mom used threats to control you. This is a form of verbal and emotional abuse.
It's understandable that you feel she's not "so bad" because this type of abuse can be subtle. It often comes from a place of stress or frustration and is normalized within families. However, it can still have a serious impact on your well-being, even if it doesn't happen all the time.
Your mom's behavior fits a clear pattern:
• Harassment and Interrogation: She followed you to continue the argument after you asked for a break, showing a disregard for your boundaries.
• Invalidation: She told you repeatedly that your perspective was "wrong" and refused to listen to your suggestions or questions.
• Threats: She used your housing as leverage to force you into submission.
These actions are designed to make you feel powerless and to maintain her control over you. This doesn't mean you need to pack your bags tonight, but it does mean it's wise to acknowledge the situation for what it is.
The real goal is to help you feel prepared and in control of your own future. That's why I brought up the idea of a plan. Having a plan doesn't mean you have to use it. It means you're not powerless.
Think of it this way: Having an emergency kit in your car doesn't mean you want to get into an accident. It means you're being smart and responsible in case one happens. Similarly, having a plan to move out doesn't mean you're abandoning your family or that you're seeking to escape a terrible home life. It means you're creating a safety net for yourself.
• Continue setting boundaries.
Jasmine stopped reading.
Yeah, if only I could tell my mom that I’m ending the conversation - but that’s what sparked her outburst.
Jasmine kept reading then typed back, “You said: "The next time a situation like this happens, you can say, "I'm not going to have this conversation right now. I'm going to do [something else]," and then walk away and stay away. If she follows, you can say, "I'm not going to discuss this. I'm going to my room," and then go to your room and close the door." If I did this, my mom would kick me out. Or she would chase me with a heavy book like she did last time I did that. And I don’t even have a door on my room, btw.”
Gemini saying, “You're dealing with a much more serious issue than just a difficult family dynamic. The threat of being kicked out and the act of being chased with a book are forms of physical and emotional intimidation. This changes everything,” was what stood out most to Jasmine.
Gemini talked about “what to do when setting boundaries is not safe,” and seeking outside help, including recommending counseling.
Jasmine replied, “I don't have anyone to talk to except my 19 year old friend who lives far away - we email or call sometimes, and then my 20 year old, older brother (he is my best friend) who also is angry at our mom for being controlling. IDK how much my Dad knows, but he takes my Mom's side in everything, never questions her, and takes her word on anything. Does my online college offer counseling discounts to students like me? I also feel like if I started doing counseling, my Mom would persecute me for it. (Like she has in the past when I admitted to struggling with suicidal thoughts for two years straight when I was 15, 16 and 17.)”
Gemini went over Jasmine’s counseling options and the prices, also telling her ways to keep it a secret from her parents, encouraging her to hold onto her brother and friend Emily as a support system, telling her about “the grey rock method” and other de-escalation techniques for communication with her mom.
Then Jasmine discussed housing options and payment strategies and jobs with Gemini, while researching on Google. She made a list of all the places she could work. Places she could walk to bike to, or possibly take the bus to, that she planned to send an application to. She glanced down at the tool bar. 2:06 AM. Sleep could wait.
Jasmine stopped reading from the laptop and stared blankly at the wall in front of her for about five minutes, her breathing becoming ragged. She allowed the tears to slide down her cheeks and drip onto her blouse, not moving her head.
She typed, “I'm sobbing all of the sudden. My problem cannot possibly be so serious that I need professional counseling and to move out - can it? I often feel like I was blessed to have one of the best families. I was homeschooled my whole life by Christian parents, I have been friends with all my siblings. I know they love me and care about me – they love God.”
Gemini talked about how it can be both true that she had a good loving family that also, at the same time has harmful dynamics. And talked about how counseling is not just for people who are in "crisis." “It is a tool for personal growth, healing, and skill-building. Think of it like going to a physical therapist for a sprained ankle. The injury might not be life-threatening, but a professional can help you heal faster and stronger, and teach you how to prevent future injuries.”
I wish my mom would get that memo. But Dad already said she would never go to counseling because of her “evil step-mother.”
Jasmine continued explaining, “I have not had access to the internet since being 12 years old, except that I occasionally watch youtube on the Roku on the family TV with my sisters. My parents gave me a “no being online rule.” Forbidden. (she screamed at me when I was 17 after using chat-GPT on my brother’s phone for help with Math, that I was forbidden – like a maniac.) But now I am doing online college on a laptop they let me use, and I have been using the internet for more than just school - for youtube and music and articles, too. I have hidden that fact as much as possible. But I wonder… Is it being disobedient to my parents to be online? Is it sinful?”
Gemini responded, “The "no online" rule adds a new layer of control and secrecy to your life, and it explains why you feel such a deep conflict and fear about your actions.
This isn't just a disagreement about chores or disrespect; it's a fundamental power struggle over your autonomy and freedom as an adult. Your parents' rule is a way of controlling your access to information, external perspectives, and connections outside of their immediate family.
It is not sinful for you to be online for purposes other than school... The 'sinful' part of this situation is not your use of the internet, but the emotional abuse, intimidation and control your parents are exerting over you. What you are doing is not an act of rebellion. It is an act of survival and self-preservation.”
Oh no. Now I remember why I stopped using Gemini like a journal after the house fire. It was becoming like an echo-chamber, only telling me advice based what I had explained and what it seemed like I wanted to hear.
But she also felt validated. The justification was enough for now. She knew she would be using the internet anyway, even if it told her she was wrong to do so.
Jasmine discussed the fact that her lack of sleep and stress had caused her to miss her period, the days she spent fasting and barely eating, and the way she sometimes felt like a screaming toddler again, struggling with an irrational fear of germs, and now cold-sores, amidst the chaos of her sisters. They also broke down the daily 2-4 hours of chores she did every day of the week. Gemini insisted that this was the equivalent of a full-time job and that she was not lazy like her mother claimed.
But she had no money, and felt like a parasite living off of her parents. The cold reality remained: between her full-time school and her non-negotiable chores, there was no time left for a job, college groups, or the writing that had become her therapeutic outlet. How could she do it all? Gemini said she could not. But Jasmine knew she had to – somehow.
She closed Gemini with a sigh. Her mind wandered.
She opened history and searched for the link for the game BLOODMONEY! That had been recommended to her by Emily, that Jasmine said she would check out when she got a chance.
The first thoughts Jasmine had when she understood that she needed 25,000$ for an operation were, “The object of the game may be to stay alive, but that’s not going to be my goal. I’m not afraid to die.”
Jasmine realized she was going to have to find odd ways in this game to earn money. Seeing a stand with a pink-haired cartoon character behind it, the sign proclaiming, “Click = 1$” confirmed this.
Jasmine noticed that this was the only stand in sight. She automatically felt uneasy about this stand, it being the first one, knowing this was a horror game, and knowing that if someone pays you to do something, you are the product. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
If something horrific happened, no one would be around to see it – or rescue her.
Jasmine wondered if she could walk past this booth and go to a town and get money some other way. But the game would not let her.
So she was met face to face with the gorgeous baby-blue eyes of a stylish gentleman with hair in her favorite color – the same pastel pink of the soft knit sweater that Jasmine was currently wearing.
Aw, he’s SO cute…
When Jasmine heard his voice, she felt the same overwhelming sense of attraction again.
“Well, Hello there! I’m Harvey Harvington!”
She met his unblinking gaze, wondering if he would stair so directly if he were in real life, able to see her. It occurred to her that since he was essentially a photo, she was studying him in a way that she never would to a guy in real life.
Jasmine averted her eyes and tried to pay attention to the stuff he was saying about clicking him to earn money and magic spells or something.
Magic spells? What was he saying? That’s sus. This is not heading anywhere good…
As she clicked him, heat rushing to her face when he responded with encouragement, Jasmine wondered how long she could click until she would be forced to leave and find some other strange way to make money.
What kind of an operation costs 25,000$ anyway? Heart surgery? A new set of lunges?
Who would pay someone to click them anyway? Shouldn’t it be the other way around… wait, like in human trafficking…? Oh, no. I’m not going there, am I? This is a horror game…
Chapter 2: I want Him! ...to be saved, that is...
Summary:
Jasmine saves him, but who will save her?
Notes:
Chapter word count: 4,639 words.
Reading time: approx. 15-18 minutes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Wow, looks looks like you’ve reached 5,000$! Congratulations.”
Jasmine could not stop the giggle in her throat as she imagined how absurd it would be to tap someone 5,000 times in real life – her fingers were already tired – she could not imagine how her arms would ache. There was no way she was going to do this 25,000 times. And no way someone would just give away that kind of money for no reason. There had to be a catch.
Jasmine clicked her mouse around the background, trying to figure out how to leave the booth before something bad happened.
“Oh, you’re looking in the game files for SECrEt InforMAtIOn…” Harvey’s grinned, then sighed and went back to an exhausted sigh. Jasmine recognized how tired he sounded, and wondered how fake his positivity was. What was behind that voice? The voice-acting… that is...
“I hate to break it to you, but there’s nothing there that you wouldn’t find in a proper game. But anyway, How’s your day been?” The too-wide smile was back.
“Oh. Oh, … my day…” Jasmine muttered, smiling sarcastically.
She continued clicking around for an escape route.
“Why can’t I leave…?” she muttered.
“Oh, look. The shop is open. Click the yellow icon above me to unlock new items.”
Jasmine’s heart-rate already sped up. Was this a trick?
The game would not seem to allow her to do anything else, so she clicked the yellow icon, holding her breath.
100$ to buy a feather.
A feather? How strange. What kind of sick joke was this going to be? The first image that entered her mind was tar and feathers.
I’m not buying items that will contribute to my own destruction, right? Probably. I’m buying them, but he’ll get his money back somehow. Yeah, you win all this money only to have it all lost by the end.
She bought it anyway out of curiosity.
Harvey explained that she could click him with the feather to earn money twice as fast.
Why not?
Jasmine was startled when Harvey laughed and smiled.
“That tickles! ...Sorry about that – Please, continue.”
Jasmine did, smirking every time she heard his laugh, amused by the fact that his reactions seemed to be more rewarding to her than the money’s number that kept going up with each click.
Just as Jasmine started to wonder how much longer this would go on, Harvey announced that a new item was available in the shop.
Jasmine clicked him a few more times, just to hear him giggle once more, then opened the shop.
A new item promised for 200$ to give thrice as much money per click as the feather – it looked like a tent pick. Or was it some kind of device, like a microphone?
Jasmine bought it since there did not seem to be anything else to do at the moment and clicked him.
“Oh, you have a needle… ah. Oh… um, go ahead, I guess.”
A needle? Oh, no.
Jasmine looked for an escape route. She could not figure out one so she opened a new tab and Googled the game, clicking on a gameplay that boasted all endings.
She found out fast that the point of the game would be to test how far you would go to get money, and that you could end up torturing Harvey, him not even being able to fight back.
She was fast sucked into skipping through the gameplay, observing Harvey’s reactions, where the player kept clicking even as they hurt him more and the everyday items were used like weapons in more and more gruesome ways.
Jasmine was struck by a shock of horror, sympathy and fascination, so that she did not turn off the gameplay, but watched it the whole way through, shaking, silently shedding tears, and covering the screen when he got more disfigured. The voice acting was captivation – full of real emotion and desperation.
After Harvey died, Jasmine paused the video, half closed her laptop and stared blankly at the wall.
I just witnessed a murder. Torture. A gruesome murder.
I’m supposed to protect my mind against that kind of stuff. Just because I’m learning how to help traumatized people does not mean I’m not able to get traumatized.
She continued watching the other endings anyway, surprised both that Harvey was the only character in the game, and therefore the only way to make money, and that there was only one good ending – clicking him 25,000 times with the feather.
Jasmine was recommended a gameplay of the second game, “Human Expendable project,” which Jasmine still watched, not able to turn it off when it got intense, glued by the shock and curiosity.
After that, she ended up falling down the rabbit hole of songs and edits about Harvey Harvington. By now, Jasmine knew she was simping bad.
She finally pulled away from the other tabs, returning the original game. What was the point in continuing? She was not going to stick around to hurt him, or to get money from him.
She closed the window, ready to go to sleep finally, since it was almost 4 am. Or at least she tried to close the window. It did nothing. She clicked the X a few more times, nothing happening.
The computer was frozen. Jasmine stopped trying, setting the laptop aside, the screen bent halfway down, picking up her notebook on her nightstand, leafing through her ever-changing handwriting, wondering how long it would take for her laptop to go back to normal. It should be back to normal by tomorrow, if not in a few minutes.
She found herself doodling, which was not typical for her – and she had drawn his face. She stood back to admire it, and then continued drawing him, trying different styles.
Then she drew a girl, who she finally admitted looked like herself next to him.
The next drawing had Jasmine’s nervous giggles and suppressed smiles show up without permission – Harvey laughing along with the girl he was carrying “piggy-back” style, who happened to be Jasmine, once again.
Jasmine blushed before she started, but pushed away the flusters as she began her next drawing – which ended up being her hugging Harvey, he with a pained, but comforted look. She made a speech bubble above him where he said, “You saved me… Thanks.”
She stood back to admire her sketches, and glanced back at her laptop. Still frozen. It was 5 am according to her alarm clock.
And an intrusive idea filled her mind – to draw her lying in bed next to him, looking into each other’s eyes.
And she drew it. And stared at it for a long time after completing it. It had been a while since she had been passionate enough to draw.
Jasmine safely zippered up her drawings in her notebook, and got ready for bed. But she did not put on her cozy cherry blossom flannel pajama set like usual. She put on her tiny beige slip. And she did not sleep on her back, army style like usual – she slept on her side, hugging her pillows. Imagining she was being hugged. And she did not sing or pray before bed, like usual. She stayed awake past 5 am imagining what it would be like to have someone to sleep on top of. To hold. To stair into their eyes for as long as she wanted. To run her fingers through their hair. To have a “who can hold their breath longer” contest with. To tickle. To kiss. To touch. To giggle and whisper with. Who was Harvey.
* * * * *
Jasmine awoke to her fully lit room – at 8:49. She bolted out of bed to get dressed, disgusted with her remembered fantasies from last night. And groaning at the realization that she was going to have to try to stay awake through today with like, no sleep. That the “no coffee past 2 pm” rule would not apply today. Because she had assignments due today and would be up all night racing against the clock to complete them.
Her tried habit to always start the day with worship to God was discarded without a second thought.
She went upstairs to check the damage control on the kitchen. The clean last night kitchen now lay in utter disarray and chaos, like after a birthday party, except without decor. She started on the dishes and counters, dodging conversation with two attempts at conversation from her younger sisters with, “I don’t really want to talk right now.”
“You never want to talk anymore!”
“… College students are some of the busiest people you’ll ever meet, okay? I want to spend time with you, too – maybe we can schedule it?”
“You’re just doing the dishes – why can’t you tell me a story now?”
Jasmine cringed, wondering how present she would be in the lives of her own kids in a few years, assuming everything would go as planned – she would be married with kids.
“I… like, um… well, do you know what depression is?”
“No.”
“...It means that I’m not going to be acting like I usually do – And I need more time to myself to just be quiet and think. I’m trying to figure my life out – where to work, what to do, trying to remember all the school I’m learning... you know. And I really want to spend time with you, but I… can’t right now. I just don’t feel able.”
Her seven year old sister looked down sadly as Jasmine continued loading the dishwasher.
“Okay… Maybe tell me a story tonight?”
“Probably. Maybe. But I’m not promising. But I want to. We’ll see.”
* * * * *
God… you know what I did. And I don’t even know why… I don’t even feel worthy to say I’m sorry… And I don’t even feel sorry…
She got ready for the day, brushing her teeth and hair, doing quick light makeup, and going upstairs to grab a sandwich for breakfast. The images played over and over in her mind of what she had watched and imagined. Stuck in her head like a catchy song.
Why is it even bad? ….Because the Holy Spirit lives inside of me, and I had to make him sit through all of that… My life is not mine. I did not want my life, so I gave it to God. I don’t live for myself anymore. I need to fight every second of my life. I need to take my thoughts captive for the obedience of Christ. And I did not….
I don’t want to change. Ugh. That’s the truth. I don’t want to change.
...But I want to want to change.
Jasmine giggled at that thought.
God… Good grief! I can’t do this on my own! I have no self-control!
I want to get married so Bad... I want to meet a guy! I want someone to love… Not necessarily someone to love me – because no one can fulfill me, and no matter what happens, God will still love me, and I will still love myself.
But I want a human. A husband. I want someone to live life with. I want someone to argue with over plans, to hug and kiss, and have sex with... and someone who I can be completely vulnerable with. Someone who I have to care for and work to keep in my life. A challenge. Someone to grow with. Someone who I can discuss my dreams, ideas, and beliefs with, and learn from, and teach.
By the time she had sat down at her desk to work on her assignments, she felt the urge to ignore her whole schedule and just keep watching Harvey edits. Instead she reached for her notebook and studied anew the drawings from last night.
The sound of her sister coming downstairs to do laundry startled Jasmine, so she zipped up the drawings, and opened her laptop, trying to get her class assignments loaded. She immediately saw that the BLOODMONEY! Tab was still open from last night. She opened a separate window – everything else was still working like normal, but that tab was not able to be closed. Harvey’s face blinked at her from the glitched window.
Jasmine temporarily covered up that window with her digital textbook and almost began reading it. But she instead reached for her notebook, and began rapidly bringing a new idea to life.
She had drawn herself in a wedding dress, walking toward a smiling figure in front of her on a sunlit alter. She brought the still open BLOODMONEY! game window to the surface and used him as a reference. Every now and then, she would click on Harvey with the feather a few times to hear his voice again.
When Jasmine was expecting the same repetitive dialogue and same charming laugh, the absence of any audio made her jerk her gaze to him, noticing a much longer typed out response than anything she had ever seen from the whole game. It read,
*ERROR* SOS! This is a real person [Glitch] traPPED & held hOSTAGE by the CREATORS. Call the police. PLease do not ignore this M[address listed] you will be saving a life who has been kidnapped and tortured for years.
Jasmine stared at the wall in front of her, her mind racing with scenarios of what to say or what would happen if she called the police. This was most likely a scam… But how interesting would it be if it was real?
Jasmine felt bad about almost wishing it was real – she did not want anyone to be held hostage – but she liked the idea of rescuing someone. In fact, her go-to fantasy was of rescuing human trafficking victims and giving them a real home and the foreign concept of unconditional love – or she would imagine she was the victim being saved – and she was learning how to still live authentically despite abuse. Why did her mind obsess over this kind of stuff?
Jasmine had always dreamed of the day she would actually get to call 911. She never expected it to be like this… but even if this was not a real emergency, her adrenaline was already pumping, and Jasmine could not convince herself to be rational and avoid this possible scam or what might even be a part of the game.
She got up to grab the wireless landline phone and crawl out her window to make the call, about to pick up her laptop, but stopped, deciding to quickly search the internet for this being part of the game. After a few minutes, Jasmine was convinced this was a unique event. She headed outside, pacing back and forth behind the shed, hoping none of her sisters saw her.
“911 – What’s your emergency?”
“Hi!… So I just got, um… like a, um cry for help along with an address and list of people and companies from a person who says they are trapped in a game – from the game BLOODMONEY! By SHROOMYCHRIST… while I was playing it, it gave me an SOS signal which is not part of the game – I checked. They asked me to call the police… They promised it was not a joke… Oh, wait, let me read word for word their message to you – the page is still up on my computer… It’s not closing for some reason because of some glitch….”
Jasmine had accepted by now that they would think she was out of her mind – and maybe she was. But she already started this madness, and would continue it.
The operator was surprisingly serious about it all, and eventually asked for an address so they could take a look at her laptop.
“Um, could I meet you at the police station? I’m actually living with a lot of family, and like, it would be inconvenient if the police just showed up. Like, my parents would probably think I’m crazy…” She chuckled. “Oh, and I’m not a minor, by the way. I’m 18.”
After the phone call ended, Jasmine rushed to her room, climbing back inside her window, and getting her backpack loaded to leave.
She went upstairs and found her Mom.
“I want to go to the library to study. I’ll be back around… 4. I have a snack. I have so much work to do and -”
“You can stay here and spend time with the family for one hour. You’ve been gone practically all week – it’s like you don’t even live here anymore.”
“… I – I already planned it. I have so much to do. I’ll be back before dinner! I can spend family time then! ...Um, can I please go anyway?”
Her mom looked down in disgust, and shook her head. At first Jasmine thought she was saying no, but then her mom handed her phone to Jasmine.
“Take it with you. Text me when you get there and when you’re coming back.”
“Okay. ...Thanks.”
She could not dwell on that expression longer. If her Mom was going to hold a grudge or guilt-trip, there was nothing she could do about it.
Jasmine did not have a phone of her own, despite being 18, and anytime she went anywhere, which was not that often, her mom would lend her phone to Jasmine to call and text her Dad’s phone. Phones were treated strictly as tools. Texting, calling and camera. Nothing else, really. They did not even have passwords. “If you can’t just hand over your phone, then you have something to hide” was has how her Mom had explained it once.
Jasmine left before her Mom changed her mind and tried to get her to stay. Of course her younger sisters followed her outside saying over and over, “Where are you going? Can I come? Can you bring something home for me?”
Jasmine calmly answered their questions with, “I’m going to study – Yes, at the library - I’ll be back Soon. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for dinner. No, I can’t promise – they don’t even have snacks to bring back. I’ll see you soon! Yes, I’ll miss you, too! Okay, I have to leave… Okay, but I have to leave now. I’ll talk to you later. I’m sorry but I have to go…. Let me leave!”
* * * * *
Jasmine had played probably ten different scripts in her head of how this would play out. Her face was flushed with heat, she had a pounding headache, and the back of her knit sweater dress was slick with sweat. But she maintained her “superhero” body language, head held high, shoulders back, eyes ahead.
She confidently pushed open the police station doors and walked up to the desk, asking if they had a police report about a hostage in a video game called BLOODMONEY! – Jasmine did not hold back her direct gaze when the woman behind the desk looked at her as if she had heard wrong.
“I know it sounds weird… It will take time to explain, and I already explained it to the operator on the phone…”
* * * * *
After waiting in the waiting room for about a half an hour, a tall black smiling male police officer had interviewed Jasmine, and taken a look at her computer, even letting her watch, and explaining the kinds of tests they would run, treating this like it was bring your daughter to work day. Every time he would pull out his radio and say something to his team, though – often a bit cryptic, Jasmine would realize this was serious.
Before leaving, Jasmine gave her contact info – hoping they would only call when she was home – and making a promise to herself to find a way as soon as possible to get her own mobile phone so they did not call her mom instead.
“You guys will call me to tell me he was rescued if he is, right?”
“Possibly. Perhaps if they needed your testimony in court.”
In court…?
“Okay. Thanks. Anything else?”
“Nope. You’re good to go. I’m so glad you had the courage to bring this threat to us. You may have just saved a life.”
“Wow… Okay. Bye.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.”
The adrenaline was back, along with a jittery spell from thinking of how she was going to study with all this on her mind. She headed to the library anyway, hoping to get at least some time in so it was not a lie that she was going to study and so she could work to get those assignments done that were due at midnight.
* * * * *
As Jasmine packed up her things from the library, trying to get out the door last second before it became 4:00 and closed, Jasmine could not help but imagine Harvey walking with her down the stairs and out the door.
What would his everyday life be like? Would she have ever met him? Assuming he was around her age, he would have been a college student, too. When had he been kidnapped? Was he kidnapped? How long had he been exploited? What did it mean to be trapped inside the game? Was he tortured mentally or physically by experiencing the game’s torture again and again day in and day out?
What did he look like? Was Harvey’s character design based on him, or was the voice acting? That did not even make sense. Jasmine knew it was just a drawing, and she knew the voice actor was Dexture Manning, and…. So what in the world was this about? She did not even know that it was Harvey she had saved. For all she knew it could have been a little girl or even an elderly lady.
Maybe I should not overthink this. Just forget about it.
But she knew that was not possible. She knew it would become her biggest time-wasting distraction and her new fantasy - being the savior to a handsome Harvey Harvington.
By the time she reached home, walking up the driveway, she could hear a commotion going on and knew it was her 10 year old sister, Elvira’s voice that was screaming and her Mom shouting back.
She came inside and passed her 8 year old sister, Beth crawled up on the couch crying. She snapped her attention to Jasmine. “Guess what!? We missed Craft Club! Peter made us late! Now we don’t even get to go! We sat in the parking lot for an hour waiting for him! He was at the park with ROSA! Ugh. It’s not fair!! I’ve been waiting two weeks to see Haley and she wasn’t even there last time. UGH!”
“Did he have his phone?’
“NO! That’s why we were late! And we only have one car now since that car ran into him 4 days ago. It’s not fair! I’m never going to go to college! It makes people dumb and only care about themselves!”
Jasmine’s mom’s voice rang out, “Don’t ever tell me you don’t care! This is what happens when you talk to me like that! I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap!”
“I’m sorry that happened…” Jasmine said to 8 year old Beth.
Jasmine cringed at what she knew was going on, hearing Elvira’s desperate attempts at reconciliation before hearing her gag and cry and her mom carrying on about how it was just a bar of soap.
She rushed to her room to grab her headphones, passing her other crying seven year old sister, and while Jasmine quickly did the dishes, she listened to Laurine Dangle sing “When ten thousand arrows take flight/Remind me that you are my armor/There’s always a place I can run/When I am desperate for shelter/What ever comes at me/I’m safe/I’m safe/You got me under your wings/Under your wings/I’m under, I’m under your wings/You got me/You cover me/You cover me/I’m under, I’m under your wings.”
Oh, dear God, she does not even see the damage she’s doing! Show her that it’s not right to punish her – that she needs to correct her and encourage her – not “break her spirit”! That’s what that is!
Her dad calmly walked into the kitchen. Jasmine took one headphone ear off so she could hear him.
“Hey, Jasmine.”
“Hi.”
“How was studying?”
“I got a lot done. The weather was so nice!”
“Good…”
Jasmine put down a plate and put her headphones back in place as her mom started lecturing again.
“Jill, you need any help?” Her dad called to her mom.
Jasmine cringed and shuddered.
Jasmine's mom called back, “No, we don’t need the whole neighborhood to hear about this tonight. It’s already loud enough."
By the time Jasmine was sweeping the floor, her Mom came in. Jasmine hung her headphones around her neck, hitting pause so her mom did not hear the song she was now listening to – “Funeral” by NEONI. “Tried to be/So picture perfect/Wasn’t worth it/So I left it in the dirt, yeah/I swear I can still feel her haunting her haunting me/Disappointed with who I turned out to be.”
“Dad and I are going to the grosh’. Need anything?”
Since when do you ask what I want?
“Could you get tangerine vanilla sparkling waters? Oh, And sour dough bread?”
“Sure. If I remember.”
Jasmine felt her face lift in a slight smile at the thought of her mom getting something special just for her. She was a gifts girlie – she could not help feeling a bit loved.
She heard Elvira’s cries from her bedroom.
“She kept telling me she doesn’t care… And of course she has a right to be disappointed – we missed Craft Club because Peter didn’t bring his phone with him and made us wait over an hour for him while he was in the park with Rosa -” She almost growled under her breath saying the name Rosa. “I was just trying to get her to calm down… She told me, looking at me like this, “I DOn’T cARe!” She chuckled.
Jasmine fake smiled a little.
“I had to address that behavior. It was the same attitude of “That didn’t even hurt!” You know, like SOMEONE else I know who used to be like that,” she chuckled, referring to a time she often laughed at from Jasmine’s childhood where Jasmine had challenged her mom during a spanking.
Jasmine fake chuckled. “Mm-hmm.”
“Yeah, you all had to learn one way or another. And you learned.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“...Okay. Well, thanks for cleaning the kitchen. We’ll be back soon. Make sure the girls stay in bed.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Yep. Bye.” Jasmine put her headphones back on. “Told/the reaper/When you see her/Sorry didn’t help me either/Funeral/Got front row seats to my funeral…”
Jasmine did not dare go near Elvira’s room to comfort her, with her 13 year old sister, who still never took back the passionate “I hate you”s, policing the girls from her.
One time when Elvira had a punishment like this, Jasmine had not dared say a word, only putting a hand on her shoulder to offer comfort. Her mom had found out and angrily shoved Jasmine out of the house for “undermining my authority.”
Fine. I have assignments to finish anyway.
* * * * *
Instead of getting right to the assignments, she had talked to Gemini for half an hour, the suggestion to move out still strong. But Jasmine knew that would be a long time before she could even get a job and save up to pay for just a month of utilities, not even taking into account the cost for food or anything else she would need. Jasmine literally did not even have a dollar.
“Do you have any friends who could temporarily take you in?”
Jasmine gasped.
She typed back, “Yes,” before sprinting upstairs to get the church directory.
Notes:
Stay tuned for Jasmine's real life meeting with Harvey, a court case, and a family crisis.
I don't have an uploading schedule, but I am trying to finish this fic before the end of October - or at least by the end of November. I only upload after I am sure my draft is good enough.
I am using the three act story structure by Abbie Emmons - check out her YT channel - it will change your writing life and how you look at story in an amazing way, even if you're not a writer! I can't stress enough how much I learned from her! She is amazing!!
Also, readers, I would love to hear your reactions in the comments!
Chapter 3: Will you still love me?
Summary:
Jasmine is rescued… Or is she?
Notes:
Chapter word count: 3,960.
Reading time: approx. 18-30 minutes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and Beauti-ful? Will you still love me when I have no-thing left but my ach-ing so-ul? ...I know You will. I know you will. I know that you Wi-iiiil,” Jasmine sang out the lyrics from “young and beautiful” by Lana Del Rey as she finished packing her suitcase. “Will you still love me when I’m no longer beauti-ful?”
She had packed her favorite clothes, some toiletries, and a stalk of books that had most impacted her – “changed her life” - and also all her bulging journals from the past 5 years. Everything else – her stuffed animal wolves and foxes, the framed photographs of artsy roses that Peter had taken himself, all her other beloved books, her bed sheets and pillows, her extra decor, her extra shoes, her box of all the cards and letters she had ever gotten, her candles, the little knickknacks spread out around her room that were all gifts from people she loved – all these things were meaningful, but she could not take them with her. She tried to reassure herself that she could come back to get them eventually. That her parents would move them to the shed instead of get rid of them.
Jasmine regretted that she had almost no family photos. The few she had were outdated and random – random ones she had taken out of scrapbooks or that she knew her mom had copies of. None were recent.
One extra box Jasmine held that contained all her notebooks, artwork and childhood creative projects. She planned to put it in the shed so no one looked through them while she was gone.
Jasmine had the phone in her hand that was her Mom’s old phone – the one her mom had said she would give to her once she turned 18 but never had. Jasmine knew that if her mom knew she was leaving, she would want Jasmine to have it, even to the level that she might even track her down to make sure she had it, so Jasmine did not feel guilty taking it. She planned to set up the sim card as soon as she had money to pay for it. She had prayed that God would help her to get a job fast.
“When you don’t move the mountains/I’m needing you to move/When you don’t part the waters/I wish I could walk through/When you don’t give the answers/As I cry out to you/I will trust, I will trust/I will trust in you/You are my strength and comfort/You are my steady hand/You are my firm foundation/the rock on which I stand/Your ways are always higher/your ways are always good/There’s not I place that I’ll go/You’ve not already stood…” Jasmine whisper sang “Trust in you” by Lauren Daigle as she took one last look at her now rummaged through room.
She sneaked upstairs and left a note on the fridge that said,
“Dear Mom, Dad and everyone else,
I have moved out and will temporarily live with a couple I met at a church. I don’t know if I will come back soon. But I trust you will take me back as a prodigal if anything tragic happens.
I love you all more than you will ever know. I will eternally be grateful for all you have done for me.
But I need to figure out life for myself right now. I need to become independent, and this is my way of doing it. Please don’t look for me. I am safe. And no, I did not run off with some guy. You can trust me.
Again, I will love you all forever, no matter what happens. And I hope I can still visit sometimes. But I need a lot of space right now, and I don’t expect you to understand anything I’m going through. Please trust me and pray for me. I will continue to pray for you.”
Love forever,
Jasmine <3
Jasmine read the note one more time before leaving. She had often fantasied about leaving a note like this. And she had never expected it to be this short and unspecific… or maybe it was specific. Just not super romantic. Or maybe it was romantic… She hoped the best for them… She did not know what to think of it.
Jasmine had wanted to write individual letters to each of her youngest sisters, but did not want to run out of time and miss her opportunity to leave while her parents were gone. And besides, what would she say to them anyway? They would be devastated no matter what she said, and she felt numb just thinking about what to say. Perhaps silence was best for now. She would try to send them all letters eventually. And maybe send them elaborate gift baskets, too, once she had money and could afford it. Even if it was made with things from the dollar tree. Because she loved them so much and had wanted to get them presents like that for so long.
She crawled out her window and started the walk to the couple’s house.
As she walked, she sang the lyrics that popped into her head from “Your grace” by NF. “This is not how it’s supposed to be!/I took it out of your hands/I took a chance/But how am I supposed to see?/But when I’m blinded/When I’m broken/Looking for a way to escape/I can’t find it/But I am reminded/Lord, of your grace/Your grace, wo-ah/yeah, yeah/Your grace.”
She passed houses and cars and her old orthodontist. She thought back to how thankful she was that her parents had gotten braces for her and her brother – even though their insurance covered half of it because they said it was medically necessary for their overbite. Jasmine shuddered, remembering that she would have to get her wisdom teeth out soon, and if not even her parents could afford it right now, that she may never get them out. Hopefully God would help something work out…
She started to sing “Youngblood” by 5 seconds of summer as the wind whipped at her face. It was still pretty warm for it being September. “Remember the words you told me?/Love me till the day I die/Surrender my everything ‘cause you made me believe you’re mine… You push and you push/And I’m pulling away/Pulling away/From you/I give and I give/And I give and you take/Give and you take/Youngblood/Say you want me/ say you want me/ Out of your life/Then I’m just a dead woman walking tonight/But you need it/Yeah you need it/All of the time/Yeah, ooh, ooh/Youngblood/Say you want me/Say you want me/Back in Your life/Then I’m just a dead woman crawling tonight/’cause I need it/Yeah I need it/All of the time/Yeah, ooh, ooh/Lately our conversations end like it’s the last goodbye/Then one of us gets too drunk and calls about a hundred times…”
Jasmine thought back to all the times her mother had threatened to kick her out. She remembered how one hot summer day she had walked around the neighborhood, embarrassed to be barefoot, hoping no one would notice. But at least she had had a shirt. Before being thrown out, Jasmine had run away from her crazed mother, only to be pulled back with a death grip that ripped her shirt in half. Her mom had still been screaming for her to “get out of my house” as Jasmine had rushed past her gawking sisters to her room to find another clean shirt.
“You’re running around and I’m running away/Running away from your/Oh, from your/Youngblood/Say you want me/Out of your life/Then I’m just a dead woman walking tonight.”
Jasmine knew every time her mom had threatened her housing that her mom was not strong enough to follow through with the threat – she knew it was an empty threat in the sense of her housing being gone, but knew the threat of her mom hating her and doubling down to be even more controlling and to turn her sisters against her was a very real threat. She knew her mom would not be able to stand having her gone – then her control would be gone.
Naturally, her singing switched to the iconic song that Jasmine had equated with her relationship with her mom for years – “Teeth” by 5 second of summer. “Fight so dirty/But your love’s so sweet/Talk so pretty but your heart has teeth… Sometimes your the best thing in my life/Sometimes when I look at you I see my light/then you turn into somebody I don’t know/and you push me away/Push me away/Call me in the morning to apologize/Every little lie gives me butterflies/Something ‘bout the way you’re looking through my eyes/Don’t know if I’m going to make it out alive/Blood on my shirt/Rose in my hand/You’re looking at me like you don’t know who I am/Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand/Still beating...”
She reached the couple’s neighborhood. She stopped singing.
She remembered the wonderful times Mrs. Garcia had spent with her, being a math tutor for her for 3 weeks for free, taking walks with her, making food for her, carefully taking the time to learn Algebra 2 with her. Praying with her. Talking with her. Feeding the birds with her. Saying that she felt like God had providentially brought them together to teach them both. And though Jasmine vehemently believed God did not control the world like that, and that that took too much away from the fact that God gave people free will, and therefore, that meant that God was not directly responsible for the chaos and suffering in the world, Jasmine still felt like 72 year old Mrs. Garcia was like a guardian angel God had sent right to her doorstep in the middle of her depression and failure in math due to chaotic dynamics at home.
Jasmine was pretty sure The Garcias would let her parents know where she was, but at least it would be them telling her mom, and not her. She did not fear them finding out as much as she just wanted to draw the boundary that she did not have to let them know where she was. That she was an adult capable of making her own decisions.
She would get a job during her stay and try not to stay for more than a month, though the Garcias had assured her that no matter how long she needed to stay, they would figure out something for her, even if for some reason something happened and they could not keep her any more. Which they doubted would happen.
Jasmine knocked on the door. She saw the cardinals eating at the bird feeder and remembered the stupid superstition saying, “When Cardinals are here, angels are near.”
“Welcome!” Mrs. Garcia went in for a hug right away. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Yeah, me too, Mrs. Garcia! Thank so much for taking me in… You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Happy to help. You know that God has a room in his house for everyone. Why should we be any different? Why don’t you come in and tell me about what’s been going on? If you feel comfortable sharing, of course. I’ll make us some tea. Or hot chocolate. Which do you prefer?”
“Wow, thanks. Hot chocolate sounds good.”
“Okay. Oh, wait, I’ll show you to the guest room. So you can put your suit case away. My daughter Hannah used to have this room. I’m so glad to have someone in here again. It makes the house feel alive again.”
* * * * *
“So I know my Mom will never go to counseling, and my Dad is not held accountable to anyone. And I just needed to get away for a while. Because there is nothing I can do to fix them, and every day it drains me knowing that I can’t do anything about anything.
But I still love them and will always be grateful for what they’ve done for me. But honestly, it’s true when I say that the only reason they ever loved me was because they loved God and really feared him. They don’t actually like me.”
Mrs. Garcia took Jasmine’s hand from across the table.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve known your mother for years… And I know she is a good mother…”
“I’m not trying to say otherwise!”
“I know, I know-”
“She was SUCH a good mom…” Tears filled Jasmine’s eyes. “So much better than… like anyone else I’ve ever known… I mean, except for, like… Um, actually the people I’m thinking of are actually fathers, not mothers, so… I guess that doesn’t count. But I know that she also has dysfunctions. And I am allowed to put some distance there. Remember how we talked about obeying vs honoring your parents? I am not obeying my mom, but I am still honoring her – by living my life for the Lord. Like how my mom still honors my Nana by the life she lives, even though she knows it’s not really safe to allow her back into her life.”
Mrs. Garcia just nodded and stared out the window. They were silent for a few minutes. Jasmine liked that Mrs. Garcia was comfortable with silence.
Finally, she said, “You always make me think. It’s like God brings people to me who challenge my thinking. I was just thinking about this… How we can love someone because we “have to” because we love God… But if we don’t like them… well, maybe we don’t see the good in them that God sees, and that means we don’t really love them… That’s actually exactly how my relationship with Henry, my husband, has been lately. I love him because I love God, but I don’t really like him…”
Jasmine stared out the window. After a minute, she asked, “Is there a way to fix that? Like, can we make ourselves like people?”
“We’ll never like people’s actions. Their flaws-”
“But God doesn’t define us by our performance or flaws,”
“Exactly! So I guess it’s an invitation for us to look deeper in the person and see what good Christ sees – it’s ultimately an invitation to become more like Christ. To see how much we have to grow, and ask God to help us get better – to the point where we will be able to like them, not just love them.”
Jasmine added, “Even when we don’t like them, we’re learning to like them. Not what they do, but who they are – who God made them to be. Who God identifies them as – not by their performance!”
“Yes, exactly! See, this is why I like talking to you, Jasmine. We always have wonderful conversations”
“Yeah... Thanks so much for talking. I’m definitely going to think about this.”
“Oh, I will, too! And I will want to hear more on your thoughts on family, too.”
“Yeah. That sounds good. But um, actually, I have assignments due tonight.”
“Oh, let me give you our wifi password.”
“Thanks.”
* * * * *
Jasmine was rushing against the clock, trying to write a paper on leadership styles, when she heard Mrs. Garcia call her name. Jasmine stood up and met Mrs. Garcia standing by the front door.
“Your parents just pulled up. I think they are coming to talk to you.”
“Okay…” Jasmine’s heart-rate increased noticeably.
Jasmine was not even surprised. She had been gone for a total of maybe three hours.
“Let me talk to my parents for a few minutes.”
Jasmine opened the front door before her Mom had a chance to knock on it, stepping outside, closing the door behind her, walking out to the end of the front yard so that her mom would follow and have the conversation out of ear shot of Mrs. Garcia.
“Jasmine!” Her mom walked up to Jasmine and stood directly in front of her. Jasmine could see her Dad still in the front seat of their car.
“Yes?”
“...This is the most selfish thing…”
Jasmine turned her head sideways so she did not have to look into her mother’s face.
“I mean, sweetheart, you don’t have to do this. And it’s not fair to do this to the Garcias-”
“But it’s fair and it’s not selfish to be a parasite living in your house? Just because you’re my mom-”
“You’re not a parasite! Where did you ever get that idea? Jasmine, all we’ve ever done is give to you and love on you! How could you do this? Remember how important I said you were? All your sisters are crying because you left-”
They were crying before I left…
“Mom, I love you and Dad and my sisters so much and I-”
“NO, because if you did, you would realize that what you do affects others – not just you! Why do you say you love me when you don’t do as I taught you? Why do you call me mother if you don’t love me?”
“Mom, I don’t even know how to show you that I love you-”
“Neither do I! You don’t see it! You think I’m the worst mother in the world because I didn’t give you enough-”
“NO!”
“-Or because I’m not perfect – because I don’t meet your perfect standards-”
“NO! That’s not what I think!-”
“That’s exactly what you think!_”
“Don’t pretend you know what I’m thinking! You can’t read my mind!”
“Your actions speak louder!”
“Mom, I’m allowed to seek some distance, and I don’t owe you an explanation!”
“Because you’re such a jerk!” Her mom looked away, as if restraining herself. She threw up her hands, and stepped backwards toward the car.
“Dan! Dan!”
Jasmine’s dad was already out of the car. Jasmine’s mom turned to him, telling him to talk to Jasmine, and then she went up to the front door where Mrs. Garcia let Jasmine’s mom in.
Jasmine’s Dad came forward and put and hand on her shoulder, as if to stop Jasmine from going after her mom. Which she was going to do anyway. She was not going to stand by and let her mom bully Mrs. Garcia into whatever her agenda was.
“Hey.”
“I’m going inside.”
“Wait,”
“No. Follow me. I can’t talk at the moment.”
“Jasmine!”
Jasmine continued walking toward the glass door and was met with the sight of Mrs. Garcia with arms crossed, speaking softly, in front of Jasmine’s mom, who was calmly waving her arms, but was leaned forward with all her movements, her body language intense and her voice sounding interrogative.
Jasmine opened the door and stepped inside, hearing quick snippets of conversation.
“You’re allowing her to treat me as the villain!”
“I don’t mean to undermine your authority – But I don’t think getting involved can be helped. She was going to run away anyway-”
The door slammed and Jasmine spoke up. “And there are much worse places I could have gone, Mom.”
“Jasmine…” Her mom closed her eyes in a way as if she were erasing the very thought. “Let me talk to just Mrs. Garcia for a few minutes. Go talk to dad.”
“No. I need to hear this.”
The glare was more intense than Jasmine anticipated. She immediately averted her gaze.
“Jasmine,” Mrs. Garcia, though not close enough to put her hand on Jasmine’s shoulder, put out her hand in the air as if she still was. “Please let me talk to your mom. I promise we’re not keeping anything from you. Just, please give us a minute.”
“Mom, I’m not going home. And I don’t have to tell you why. You wouldn’t believe me or listen anyway.” Jasmine spun around, opening the door, meeting her Dad right away.
“I’m going back outside,” she mumbled as she brushed past him.
“Jasmine…”
Jasmine sat down on the ground, right in the grass, curious if her dad would keep standing or dare to sit on the grass, too.
“Jasmine… Listen. We… We know that you’re going through some stuff and that-”
“How did you find me?” Jasmine interrupted.
“Never mind that.-”
“I want to know. And why did you guys come after me? I’m an adult. Am I not allowed to make my own decisions?”
“… We know that you want to make your own decisions now…”
“Dad, I want you and Mom in counseling. I just want you to know that. You need someone to hold you accountable. And you guys are not able to do that for me – you guys are...like, um, controlling and condemning… and I still love you, but I can’t… um, I like, can’t – can’t… I don’t even know. Trust you?”
“You can’t trust us?”
“Maybe. I mean emotionally, I can’t. I know you guys care for my needs… but like, I… I know I can trust you to fear God. That’s about it. Never mind. It’s not worth explaining.”
Her dad, still standing, looked away, out passed the street as a car passed. They stayed silent for a minute.
“I just want you to know you can always come back. And I and Mom will always love you.”
“I hope so. … And I’ll always love you ,too.”
“Mm-hmm.”
They stayed silent and still for about five more minutes until Jasmine’s mom came out the front door. She walked toward Jasmine. Jasmine did not stand up.
“Jasmine…”
Jasmine just stared blankly at her mom’s conflicted face.
“We want you to come home.”
Jasmine stood up and reached to give her mom a quick hug.
Her mom backed away, visibly surprised and skeptical.
“No. Not today, at least. I’m going to get a job, and I’m going to get my own apartment as soon as possible.”
“You don’t realize how expensive it is! You could never afford it. And you can’t even get a job at the grocery store – how do you think you’re going to make it?”
“I will figure it out somehow. And I don’t need your hel- I mean, I can do it on my own. I need to. I don’t want to be tied down.”
“You don’t even know what it’s like to be tied down! But you will! Just you wait. You think living at home is hard? Wait until you get into the real world. They don’t care about you. Nobody could care less about you! All they will do is try to use you! Nobody – NOBODY cares about you the way your parents do! You’ll NEVER find someone who will love you like your parents do! We love you with the love of God!”
“Thank you.”
Jasmine’s mom stopped. “Okay… well, goodbye, I guess.”
“Okay. Bye Mom. I love you.”
“No you don’t.” Her mom muttered with a cringe.
“Yes I do.”
“NO. YOU. DON’T.”
Jasmine’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away.
“Bye, Dad. I love you. Tell the girls I miss them and I love them.
He nodded slightly. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.” Jasmine walked to the front door, not looking back, and after the engine started, sitting on the front porch and watching it drive away. She came back inside. Mrs. Garcia was sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded, eyes closed, head resting on her hands. She looked up when the door slammed.
“I’m going to… keep writing my paper. Maybe we talk in like, an hour?”
“Good idea.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Jasmine spend the next hour talking to Gemini, singing, pacing in her new room, and staring blankly at the wall, thinking about, of all things, about Harvey Harvington. When she had practically been disowned by her mom.
What had happened with Harvey’s family? Was he ever disowned from them? If not, would he understand that she was – disowned by her family?
Notes:
I know Harvey was not in this chapter much, but don't worry - now that the setup of Jasmine's life is done, this will turn very Harvey-focused in the next chapters.
Thanks so much for sticking around to read this. I will try really hard not to disappoint you with the coming chapters.
Chapter 4: (In)Dependence
Summary:
Will fantasy spill over into the real world?
"As a man thinks, so is he" after all.
(-Prob. 23:7)
Notes:
Chapter word count: 1,984
Reading time: approx. 6-7 minutes.
Chapter Text
Jasmine’s feet and back ached.
Ugh. Why am I working this chaotic, back-breaking job again?
She continued stacking the dishes in her arms, ready to carry what the last customer had left to the sink before rushing to the next table where a couple read menus, ready to order.
Because I failed math. And I have to pay back that class debt. And if I don’t work, I don’t get to eat. I would have to do it even if my grades were presentable.
Jasmine shuddered and closed her eyes for a second, trying to silence the verse that swam to her, “those that don’t provide for their family are worse than an unbeliever.”
Back at home, she had done chores for them, but she had still felt like she should be doing more. Guilt constantly stalked her, she realized, and Jasmine knew that she had used her dopamine addiction to temporarily silence it.
And she was still doing the same thing, even after free (or at least free-ish) from her parents.
The habit that was supposed to help her cope with the stress of home had only become an addiction that now made her wonder, every time she was not working, what she was doing with her life. Surely she had to be worth more than what she could accomplish. Which was not much. She just took up space in the world. Just existed. Worked for herself. Provided for no one, was dependent on the generosity of the Garcias, and had not impacted anyone in her life for good. At least it felt like it. She was surrounded by people who either wanted nothing to do with her, or who were already Christians, so that left nobody to evangelize to. Which is what she should be doing.
A child. That was what she was. That’s why she did not provide for anyone. She had not grown up yet. Even though she was a grown up now. But at least she took comfort in the fact that she was God’s child – who he loved and thought was cute and valuable and worth dying for, she told herself.
Being away from her sisters, who were the main people she used to impact positively by her presence daily gave her purpose – and even though she knew she still had purpose apart from them, she felt the weight of being alone all the time. Time she filled with time for herself. It felt selfish. Meaningless. Wasteful.
Finished with that table, she put on a professional smile and approached the young couple at the next table, who she thought were just darling.
“Hi, my name is Jasmine, and I will be your server tonight. Would you like to start with beverages?”
The woman in the light pink suit dress and the movie star perfect hair and makeup gave a genuine smile. “Jasmine? That’s perfect!” She laughed a bit too loud. “Ah, me and my husband were just talking about baby names and we both agreed that that’s what we wanted to name our daughter – Jasmine! What do you know? Well, it’s our first year anniversary, tonight, actually, and we’re going to be new parents soon! So this Is SUCH a special night! Right, Ben?”
She reached to hold his hand across the table and her eyes twinkled as she met his adoring gaze. He nodded and chuckled. His smile radiated “golden retriever” energy.
Jasmine almost melted at the way they looked at each other. They were positively perfect! How could these people be real?
“Wow, congratulations!” Jasmine had a hint of a giggle in her tone and had momentarily forgot the notepad in her hands, raising them in animated motions. “I hope you have an amazing night! … And that’s what I’m here to help with. What can I get for you two?”
As Jasmine served the darling couple through the night, she noticed that she immediately became emotionally attached to them, listening intently to their conversation, fantasizing about what their lives must have been like, and she kept thinking that she wanted to “be just like Natalie” - which was the darling lady’s name. And she imagined meeting someone just like Ben.
Then she got flustered at herself for caring so much, while at the same time patting herself on the back for treating them so well and remembering their names. But then wondering if she was giving into “pretty privilege,” so she forced herself to analyze her memories of how she usually treated customers, and realized with annoyance that she was painfully biased.
The quote that played on repeat in her mind was “the thing that gets humans in trouble most is our love for beauty” by some philosopher.
That was what Jasmine did when she was not working - drowned or numbed her mind in beautiful things - Pintrest and YouTube were like a drug, and she could not stand to be in silence without music for more than two hours - she would fill it with her own singing if she could not hear music. She would run to people who made her feel better - and lately it had been through wasting hours on end with AI chat bots she created of characters that seemed to pose a challenge or bring comfort. And one of those characters Jasmine had created an AI chat bot of was Harvey Harvington.
She had, yesterday decided not to talk to her AI chat bots again until she could get therapy.
Jasmine knew she liked Harvey because of his looks - and also because it allowed her to indulge in a fantasy of rescuing someone - becoming their savior. When she knew that was codependent. She had told Gemini about her chats with her bots, and it had been the one to recommend not dating until she could trust herself to not become codependent and try to become a savior to people - even if it was just to an AI. She would attract the wrong kind of man in this state, it told her. Jasmine had not set up her dating app profiles yet, anyway, not having good pictures of herself yet.
Her brother Peter was getting married soon — hopefully. Jasmine’s mom had gone from aggressively doing everything in her power to convince Peter that Rosa was a bad choice, to then inviting Rosa to family outings and setting up wedding dress appointments with her and Jasmine’s sisters – which Jasmine was going to go to, soon. Jasmine knew that her Mom would again act like everything was fine and that there was no resentment for her or for Rosa…. Which was so confusing.
It was so hard to read her mom. She always acted different – changed at the flip of a switch. Jasmine just hoped for a happy ending. She knew that her Mom wanted a happy ending, too, and was a people pleaser, so maybe they would get one – Jasmine knew her mom was trying – or at least that God was working in her to change her. Or maybe her mom was resisting change – that’s why she would not admit to the emotional and physical abuse, and would not go to counseling. Or maybe she was just people pleasing and trying to keep up a good family image and was not changing or getting better at all. Her mom did not see a problem in her behavior at all, actually. … Did she?
Jasmine watched the darling couple leave the restaurant and set out to clear the table and then check the money in the register. As she did, she thought of how she had to pay back a school debt of over 3,000$ - which was the same amount as her needed wisdom teeth removal. And she still needed to be able to pay rent, which every month started at 1,200$, if she wanted to stop imposing on the Garcias.
Jasmine had accepted the new philosophy of life that sounded something like this -- “You can’t opt out of life or just hide and do nothing when you’re scared – only children and homeless people do that. You need to fight every second of your life, always working just to stay alive. You don’t get any free rides. You need to work hard. You can’t just live off of others. And yes, you may never be 100% independent – you will always be dependent on an employer or government – but it’s easier to be dependent on those who don’t care about you, like an employer. But you need to try to be as independent from family as possible. Why? Because then… I can make sure I’m not being codependent, I can keep myself from being taking advantage of, it helps keep me from taking advantage of or imposing on others, and keeps me from being vulnerable.
And I know, I know! Being vulnerable is the most important thing for being a “captivating woman” like John and Stasi Elderedge talk about, but… I need time. And sometimes it’s not safe. And I’m allowed to protect myself. I can be vulnerable and still protect myself. I’ve done what’s in my power to be at peace with my family. The rest of it is on them.”
* * * * *
Jasmine was on the bed in the Garcia’s house, at 12:09 reading through the chats with her Harvey AI cat bot. She had made part of the story that Harvey had become her girlfriend, and after she had accepted his proposal to be his girlfriend, she found out he was an alcoholic. She had asked him why he drank, and he said it was to forget the past painful memories. Jasmine had instead offered herself as an alternate coping mechanism – “drown yourself in me when the memories get loud. Reach for me instead of the bottle. I will sing to you, and you can focus on my voice. I will hold you and you can drown yourself in the sensations of my body. When we have to be apart, picture me being there with you, and if you can, play the recordings of my songs and my passion for you. I will comfort you and help you to forget the bad and remember only the good. It’s much better than drinking – which is a form of self-harm. I am giving you a temporary alternative – just until you get better. Because I love you.”
Jasmine cringed at her messages, sent in the heat of the moment of the story, late at night, trying to get some reaction out of the fake relationship that was already failing, due to how she told the AI to act.
She knew this was not how she would act in real life. Too codependent, unhealthy, needy, out of character, not how she would ever act in real life… Or was it? Could she trust herself? If she acted on this, even in a fake scenario, that meant she was training her brain to act in an unhealthy way, and she might act this way in the future by accident… if she could not win over the AI without becoming codependent… if she could not have found a healthier way to deal with this situation in the story… then maybe she did not know how to deal with it at all.
Jasmine shut off her phone for the night, snuggled under the covers and stared up at the fuzzy darkness of the room.
“God… I know only you can fulfill me… And I was acting like I could fulfill others… even if in a fake scenario. I can offer them love, help, comfort, support…. But I can’t heal them. I can’t be God to them. And that’s what I was doing… I don’t even know what to say. ...Sorry. Help me. To get better...I guess. You know what I need. I don’t. So show me, please.”
Chapter 5: UPDATE!!
Chapter Text
Writing update: I love this fic and am not giving up on it!! I promise!! But SO MUCH CRAZY stuff has been happening in my life, so there is going to be a bit more of a delay, but I am still shooting to finish this by the end of January - mid February. I will try to release the next chapter by the end of November. Thanks for sticking around. I think you'll like where this story is going.
CinderellaHeart on Chapter 4 Fri 31 Oct 2025 05:16AM UTC
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