Rape is a first world problem.

If you don’t have enough food to eat or clothes to wear, I don’t think you’ll worry too much about rape. Furthermore, you’ll most likely give yourself to anybody who’s willing to pay.

Nobody in a domestically abusive relationship ever said ‘Thank god he didn’t rape me last night, he only broke a few of my ribs.’

There’s two types of rape.

The first one is where you get wasted and someone takes advantage of you on the couch or you take a guy home and you just wanted to make out or give him a blowjob, but he ‘can’t control himself’.

The second is you’re walking your dog in the park and some motherfucker tackles your ass and takes you behind the bushes. See the difference?

One is preventable, the other isn’t.

The first type of rape is the kind of shit college girls like to cry wolf about so they have something to complain about, something they can call scarring and emotionally traumatic, it's like a defining moment for them, a significant event in The Cliche College Girl's Diary along with their lesbian experimentation and fucking a college professor.

But that's not all of them. I’ve talked to girls who’ve gotten raped before and you wouldn’t believe how many of them will just talk about casually, as if it wasn’t rape.

They’ll say they pass out drunk and when they woke up, the guy they were with was on top of them or the boyfriend was horny and they couldn’t bother to argue so they just laid there.

In my head, I’m like: that’s rape! But to them, it’s just another day.

Then you have Kayla who think just the rape attempt is the worst thing to happen to them, who think there are roofies in all the drinks, who has pepper spray in their bag and a rape whistle around her neck.

All this, when, honest to god, she’s probably too ugly for anyone to even try raping her. I swear that attempt must have been a case of mistaken identity. Because I wouldn't rape her.

I’d rather rape her best friend, Jamie with her fairy figure and Rihanna short cut as opposed to Kayla’s messy afro she calls 'reclaiming her African American womanhood'.

She can still watch, though.

“Jamie Bryant. Three people. I almost got my best friend raped.”

What the hell? Is this Jerry Springer: High School Edition?

“You did what?” Kayla’s incensed, her afro curls seem to spring up straight.

“It's not a big deal. I just told Josh that you needed a good fuck.”

“What? Why? Why would you think that?”

“You were always complaining that there were no good guys out there and that’s fine, but you would whine at parties when everyone’s just trying to have fun. It was getting really annoying.”

“You had someone rape me because I was a party pooper?” I can't believe she just said party pooper. Now my head's stuck with the image of her performing the literal definition.

“I didn’t tell him to rape you and he didn’t rape you. You’re so fucking dramatic. He stopped when you slapped him. I just felt bad cause you made such a big deal out of it.”

“I was scarred! I’m always scared around guys now, and I don’t drink anything except a bottle I bring with me. You fucking bitch. You ruined my life.” She waves her arms hysterically, as if her life is bigger than life.

“And I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were such a prude. I thought once you lost your virginity, you’d become more open minded.” Hey, that's one of my philosophies.

“You mean turn into a slut like you. You wish. You are so not my best friend anymore.” There it is! The declaration of revocation of friendship! Kayla would make it so official. I volunteer as Jamie's new BFF.

“Oh no! What am I gonna do? Hang out with more dope people than you? Shit.” Savage. Admitting to rape assistance then calling her 'not dope'. Jamie goes hard.

“I didn’t know you were such a bitch.” The bitch calling someone else a bitch. Buddha says you must first look within the bitch before naming others bitch.

“Ok, ok. Moving on.” The best part is, after they sit down and stare in opposite directions, they still have to be three feet away from each other. I giggle. Not out loud.

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Why do I love this shit? I used to skip school and watch Jerry Springer marathons on daytime TV. It never got old, and I don’t think this shit will either.

“Shane, you’re next.”

This guy is the epitome of a bitch. A born loser. He says he's a skater cause he listens to Green Day and Sum 41. I know, who the fuck are they? And he sucks at skateboarding. He just hangs out at the park, acting like he's part of the group even though everyone just ignores him. It's kinda sad if it wasn't funny as shit. It's like watching a mime except it's real.

He used to cut himself, not real cuts with deep scars, but tiny little paper cuts. Then, he would show them off to whoever would give him the time of day.

Not that I have anything against cutting. It feels amazing. Almost better than cumming. Almost.

But I did it where no one could see, and when I started in on my arm, I wore long sleeves in the middle of summer. Who the fuck wants to go see a psychiatrist? They’re literally drug pushers or a really expensive friend. I guess Shane does need a friend.

“Shane Brennan. I’ve never had sex. And uh...I tried to kill myself three times.” Aww, the poor fucker couldn’t even kill himself. What a noob.

I understand failing once. But failing three times? You should probably be killed off just for that.

You just proved that everything you ever hated about yourself was the truth all along. Now you know how useless a human being you are. Like you really suck at life and you really should consider finding a new profession. Oh wait, you did try and you were rejected by the Devil. And that guy will take anyone, even homosexuals.

How do you even? After the first time, you might be an idiot but then you find a new and improved way to kill yourself. You live and you learn. Lol.

The second time you fail, you’re most certainly an idiot and you should think about giving up. It could also have been really bad luck.

So you try the third time. If you survive that, then I’m sorry but you’re not trying hard enough. It’s really not that difficult to kill yourself, there are so many different yet effective ways.

At that point, all I can assume is you either don’t really want to die and you’re hankering for attention, which in that case you’re a fucking bitch and you deserve to play a game with Jigsaw. Or even Hell doesn’t want you and you’re immortal. Time to be a superhero and star in your own TV show, maybe even land a movie deal.

So in conclusion, Shane’s a fucking bitch. I'd be worried that one day he'd come to school armed with a revolver, cause if he can't kill himself how would he be able to plan a proper school shooting, and shoot the shit out everyone. But I'm not worried. Cause he's too much of a fucking bitch.

"Moving on. Mary."

Three left till it’s my turn.

“Mary Graves. I’m a virgin. And my secret is I want to be a nun.” Shit. I almost burst out laughing. Why couldn't high school always be this funny?

I mean a nun fits perfectly for Mary. The cross she wears around her neck almost covers half her chest. I always thought it was a decorative piece, but now I know she was warding away sinners and demons.

But still. Was she always that religious? I guess I wouldn’t know cause she’s never said a word louder than a mouse’s whisper around me.

"Next."

“Carissa Warner. I’ve had sex once. And I’m in love with my best friend.” Oh, the cruelty. God is definitely a quite entertaining joker.

Mary looks up at Carissa in wonder.

“Um...is your best friend me?” The naivete astounds.

“Of course, who else?”

“Homosexuality is a sin, though.” Goddamnit. Why did God make it so hard to stifle laughter? Another joke he must be playing on us.

“Don’t you love me, Mary?”

“Yes, but not in a sinful way. I love you like Jesus loves you.”

“But I love you like-”

“I thought we were like sisters.” Sisters who want to fuck.

“I did, too. But when I had sex with Ryan, I didn’t like it at all. That’s when I knew that I loved you.” Ah ha! That’s who fucked that horny creep. A confused lesbian. Now everything makes sense in the world.

Carissa reaches out to touch Mary’s shoulder, but Mary shies away as if the same hand she held for so long has been contaminated, tainted with the devil.

“Why?” Don't feign ignorance. You know why. You were keeping this a secret cause you knew what would happen if you told her. You knew how she would react.

“Don’t worry Carissa. I’ll help you cleanse yourself of sin. After all, I am a servant of God.”

“I don't need your help. Just stop lying! You know you love me!”

“I’m sorry Carissa. I don’t.” The power dynamic has shifted. Carissa the protector has now fallen to Carissa the pitied. Mary’s eyes are full of sympathy and Carissa hates her for it.

This is better than Jerry Springer. This isn’t obese trailer trash fucking everyone they can ride their electric scooter to, which mostly consists of friends and family of the girlfriend/wife, and then rolling around on the stage, pulling each other’s hair before getting tired after 30 seconds of effort.

This is staining pure hearts, twisting pure intentions.

This is dirty Catholic priests fingering innocent little boys.

“Julian.”

“Julian Becker. I’m a virgin. That’s my secret.” Nice. The guy who was always bragging about bagging so many chicks. We always knew he was lying for the most part. But to not have fucked any. What a classic high school secret.

Only one death through this whole thing. Surprising. They're not as dumb as I thought. I mean they're all still idiots. Most of them.

"Last but not least, Marley."

I guess it’s my turn now.

“Marley Glass. I’ve had sex with 21 boys and 9 girls.” Beep. Red.

“Full answers only, Marley.”

“I’ve had sex with 21 boys, 9 girls, and 4 men.” Beep. Green.

“Thank you. And now for your secret.”

“I was raped by my step-dad and three of his friends.” Beep. Red.

Oh fuck.