Two days before the full moon - talking to a shrink and an unwelcome surprise at home...

Oracle time. Does Jules decide to make her failed roll to hold onto her temper a dramatic failure? 1-50 = no, 51-100 = yes. Result = 25, she remains peaceful-ish for now.

That means she will use intimidate. In this case she is trying to cow him with sheer charisma. Whether she succeeds or fails will likely determine whether she is able to keep her job at the Moon Rabbit Cabaret or not. One of the reasons Jules is having such a hard time of it is because she is currently caught between being a standard "mortal" character, and something else. Whatever virtue and vice she may have had before is no longer functioning, which makes it very hard for her to regain any willpower points. Her 'presence', representing **** of personality and ability to overawe others, is 3. Her intimidation is 2 (which is quite high for a girl of her age, but represents a suddenly awakened talent more than practice). This pool of 5 is resisted by Jeff's resolve of 2, for a pool of a measly 3. https://orokos.com/roll/987205 She manages an impressive 2 successes.

To make this a positive result requires a bit of imagination. Jules lacks leverage to threaten her manager with, without revealing that she is now a **** suspect. Moreso than other social skills the intimidate skill is 'gendered'. Unless there is some other factor in play to make things very serious (like a weapon - or supernatural abilities) women usually cannot intimidate men just by getting in their face, the way that men can intimidate other men. Even a fairly large and strong female such as Jules simply won't be taken seriously as a threat, normally. So her tough and defiant response will sexually excite him - though her true nature also begins to bleed through and have an effect.

The short-haired young women sprang to her feet with surprising suddenness. Her eyes were a little bleary, and her lip was trembling. Yet somehow she didn't look ****, to the manager's eyes.

"Why did you let a guy like that in?!" she shouted at him in a shrill voice.

"Huh? The guy in the suit who just left?"

"YES! He said horrible, horrible things to me. Is this a cabaret or is this some kind of sick fetish club where strangers pay money to **** you?"

"Uhh... What did he want?" The shiny-headed manager in the formal vest let his shoulders slump a little, deflating from his earlier scornful attitude.

"Don't let him up here again, or I really am walking out of here!" With little warning, Jules lurched forward and grabbed the man by his shoulders. Taken by surprise, he didn't respond as she pushed him back against the wall.

"Don't tell me you don't need me, Jeff!" she shook him lightly. "Every time I'm on the floor, the guys coming in ask for me to wait their table! And you have been nothing but shitty to me since I got here!"

"Uh..." Jeff's eyes flicked down. In her aggressive stance, the voluptuous spitfire of a girl in front of him was pressing her breasts against him. The very faintest pressure deactivated his ability to think of almost anything else.

"You know what, Jewel?" he said, licking his lips, "you're right. You are something special. Sorry I yelled at you earlier, I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. And I'll tell the bouncer outside not to let that asshole back in. Alright? Is that better?" Unable to control his greed, he reached forward and gently clasped the palms of his hands against her sides.

"How, uh, how about you take the rest of the night off, Jewel? And tomorrow too. There's another new girl asking if we can hire her on and that will let me give her a shot. Thing is, some special guests RSVPed for Tuesday night. Some real big shots. I need everything to be top-shelf for them, and that includes you."

For the man, it felt like there was some kind of a magnetic field around this girl, drawing him in in a way that the other beautiful young women working at a place like this didn't. You had to have good self-control in his line of work. But now it felt almost like some alien **** was taking control of his hands, like the strings on a puppet, as he ran his hands up the sides of the tall hispanic bombshell's chest. He felt weak in her presence. Weak... in the knees...

"Uhhhh..." Jule's anger was momentarily forgotten as Jeff got a slack-jawed expression on his face and sank down to his knees, his hands slipping away from her body and landing on her feet. "What are you...?"

"Uh..." the manager blinked and shook his head. "J-just... checking this pair of shoes you borrowed. I might've been giving you worn-out pairs." Bending down, he felt an almost overpowering urge to bend down and kiss the tops of her feet. Images of the gorgeous Jules standing on top of his naked body, stepping on his back, flashed through his mind. "These l-look good." he said lamely before stumbling to his feet. He intentionally averted his gaze from the fiery young woman. "Go get some rest. Normal pay, of course."

As Jules walked down to the changing room, the chorus of cartoony voices came back, giggling and jeering madly. The raspy voice spoke in her ear again:

Weak, worthless human. Listen to your blood, nusuzul. They should fear you. They should bow before you, as they bow before us. Become your prey, as they are ours.

...

Whereas cabarets such as the Moon Rabbit are where the privileged sought to salve their lust, an equally important part of the college town ecosystem was the places where people go to salve their guilt. Traditionally, it was the churches. Nowadays, for the more sophisticated, it was more common to go to a shrink's office.

When Jules Lopez had gone to the former, they had quickly moved to pass her off to the latter. "Is it possible that I'm hearing the voices of demons?" she had asked the man in the black robe at the local parish. "That doing something I knew was wrong let them into me?"

His response had been to waffle uncomfortably - and when the young woman confirmed that she was hearing voices literally, not in the sense of intrusive thoughts, he almost immediately told her to seek medical help before they went jumping to conclusions about demonic possession. He was so spooked that he didn't even comment on the fact that Jules had walked into his church wearing a slutty cleavage-baring sweater dress.

And so it was she found herself seeking out the therapy couch, the altar of the modern religion of wellness, speaking her sins to a more secularized kind of priest.

It wasn't her first time going, of course. But in the past, Jules had always relied on her grandparents to set up the visits for her, and didn't realize that you are supposed to make an appointment first. When she went to Dr. Holloway's office, she'd just walked in. For some reason there wasn't any secretary at the front desk at the moment, and Jules walked right past a stylishly dressed young south asian man on his way out. He gave her a polite smile but didn't pay much attention to her.

When Jules had barged into the office, she heard a surprised yelp. A beautiful dark-haired woman with glasses sitting at her desk looked at Jules like a mouse surprised by the cat. She'd been putting her garters back on, and her blouse was still unbuttoned, showing off one of the rare sets of cleavage that could rival that of her unexpected guest.

"Excuse me?" the voluptuous thirtysomething woman said meekly. "Who are you?!"

"I... I... the priest... Father Ortega... he told me I should come here. My former doctor retired so..." Jules stammered. She couldn't help but stare at the fringe of the psychiatrist's lacy black bra before she hurriedly buttoned it back up. "I didn't see anyone at the front desk and I thought I'd have a look..."

As if the situation weren't awkward enough, a heavy odor of sweat and feminine musk hung in the air, forcing it into Jules's nose. And there was another bitter scent wafting from a nearby wastebin. Jules couldn't stop herself from glancing down in it - and sure enough, there was a used condom atop the empty water bottles and paper waste. Had she really managed to smell semen from across the room, from inside a condom? How smelly must that guy's cum be? She'd noticed a lot of strong scents that had never bothered her before, in the past couple of months...

"Ummm... I suppose we could call this a walk-in." Dr. Holloway bit her lip and straightened her glasses. "O-of course, you can't tell anyone. I can't have rumors getting around that I'll hold pro-bono sessions... Please be sure to call ahead and bring your insurance and medical records next time, Miss?"

Faintly, it occurred to Jules that a psychiatrist having sex with her patients is kinda illegal. But as a **** suspect, she felt she had no right to cast judgement on that particular foible.

...

"Oh my. So this is consistent? These voices you're hearing are telling you to harm people?"

Jules nodded. She was sitting on the couch hugging her knees against her chest while Dr. Holloway took notes. She told the doctor about the chorus of voices she was always hearing, the hallucinations at the edge of her vision, the bizarre mood swings and sudden itching under her skin theat had all started that fateful night she went home with Nate.

That Nate was now dead and she was a suspect in his **** is the part she neglected to mention.

"This is serious. Ahh... I mean... please don't take that is some kind of judgment of you as a person Ms. Lopez. It's important that you understand this is an illness. You are not hearing 'demons' talk to you." The doctor said.

"That's what I kept telling them. But no matter how many times I tell them they aren't real, they won't shut up."

Jules sat up straighter. "And who are you to say they aren't real, anyway? You can't see cell phone waves but those exist, right?"

Dr. Holloway cringed. "Um, let's not get confrontational. Normally I wouldn't do this on a first consultation but I'm going to write you a prescription for an anti-psy..." she caught herself. "A medicine that might help address the issue."

"You were going to say anti-psychotic, weren't you?" Jules grumbled.

"This is a safe space. I mentioned that, right?" Dr. Holloway stammered.

Jules groaned and sighed again. "Even if it's not literal demons... I still triggered it. Like I said, it started happening immediately after, uh, that."

Dr. Holloway tapped her pencil anxiously on the pad. "Ms. Lopez, I have studied my field extensively. I was in school for ten years. And I can assure you - there is absolutely no evidence that schizophrenia or any other psychiatric disorder is triggered by losing your virginity."

"Then why did it happen so fucking suddenly?!" Jules shouted, slamming her palm down on the coffee table and making the put-upon psychiatrist jump. "I looked this up on the internet, it says schizophrenia starts up gradually over a period of, like months. This wasn't gradual. It was like flicking a light switch! Ever since that night I have been literally losing my mind!"

"Jules... I can call you Jules, right? We should try to relax a little more around each other. You may call me 'Irene' as well... ahem. Jules. You are perfectly entitled to your trauma. Being pressured into having sex before you're ready can do serious and lasting harm. Admitting it is the first step in the healing process. If anything 'triggered' your symptoms to worsen, it was the stress and shame you have had inflicted on you. Jules, none of this is your fault."

"Uhh, 'Irene'," Jules said in a sarcastic voice with a roll of her eyes, "were you not listening to anything I said? It wasn't... like, some long time boyfriend who'd been pressuring me. We met at a party. Some of the other people introduced us and made a... a funny little dare. I wasn't drunk, I wasn't high, it was like..." tears started forming in her eyes, "it was like my life was finally becoming normal. Like I could finally relax and have fun after getting that stupid scholarship my abuela wouldn't stop talking about."

Jules closed her eyes and thought back to that night.

...

The loud thumping pop music. The laughter and giggles. A couple of girls she'd graduated with introducing her to Nathaniel who'd scored everyone some beer and drinks. Them joking about how since Jules had very short hair and he had long hair, they should change into each other's clothes and see who wore them better. How Nate had hammed it up and done some 'sexy dancing' while wearing her girls' academy uniform... to the cheers, hoots and applause of everyone in the room, including Jules. She'd been the one to suggest that they needed to leave the party to get a fresh change of clothes since he was obviously sweating all over her nice clean clothes.

Being at his house had been the first time she'd ever been alone with a boy, finally away from her family's watchful gaze and strict curfews. He'd pulled out a bong and offered her to toke up if she wanted but she refused, worried her grandparents might spring one last surprise pee test on her. When he clumsily started finding roundabout ways to ask her to confirm that she was really eighteen, she'd felt downright giddy. Surprising herself at her own boldness she said she'd give him "something special" if he could beat her at a best-of-three in that 'Soul Calibur' fighting game, knowing she was awful at it.

Her skin prickled as she recalled how her heart had been beating like crazy as he pulled her clothes and underwear off in the bed... how loud the crinkling of the condom wrapper had sounded. The sound of his breathing and the smell of his sweat as he got on top of her. And finally, the sharp pinch of his dick forcing its way inside her. It was uncomfortable for a minute, but then it started feeling good. He'd smothered her with kisses and said over and over how beautiful she was as he made the bedsprings squeak. And before long she had been drowning out those squeaky springs with moans of pleasure. When he groaned and collapsed against her, burying his face between her breasts, her only regret was that he hadn't been able to keep going. When he finally pulled his softening manhood out of her, Jules had leaned up to kiss him on the lips...

...and then, nothing. Blankness. Missing time. Like she'd been **** by aliens. She woke up the next morning in a hospital bed with bandages on her arm. The nurse had told her she'd been picked up in a state of hysterics, half-dressed in the street, apparently having had a run in with a large dog in one of the suburban yards.

...

"D-damn it Irene, are you telling me how I should feel about it?"

"No! Of course not!" the squeaky-voiced older woman protested. "I just-"

"I was not 'traumatized'!" Jules made air quotes with her fingers. "The guy asked me like ten times if I wanted him to stop and I kept telling him I didn't. It was..." her heart ached as she thought of those horrific pictures Detective Walker had shown her and tried to shake them out of her mind, "I liked it. He was a really nice guy..." she blinked quickly, her voice cracking a little.

"Then why did you never talk to him again after your initial fugue episode?" Dr. Holloway asked.

"Because..." Jules desperately struggled for a satisfactory answer. Her mouth curled into a frown and she barked her reply out sharply: "Isn't it fucking obvious?! Because I was losing my mind and I didn't want to drag him through it! I knew he'd blame himself for it just like you're sitting here blaming him right now even though you know fucking nothing about him!"

"Please calm down, Jules. I'm trying to help you!" Dr. Holloway protested, her voice taking on a whiny timbre again. "Let's set your lover aside for the moment. I understand you felt you had to run away from home, and that your grandparents wouldn't understand. I am sensing that they were very strict with you and probably imposed some regressive attitudes about sex, gender and relationships on you. Did you talk to your mother about it at all? You'd said that you normally speak with her at least once a week while she gets the help she needs, right? Have you spoken to or seen her since your symptoms began?"

"...no." Jules said flatly.

"That's perfectly understandable." Dr. Holloway said hastily. "You've had a very hard life, Jules. I'm not trying to condescend to you!" she held her hand up defensively and cringed at Jules's glare. "I'm just stating the obvious! Were there any close friends you could turn to?"

Jules swallowed again. "I dunno. I've never really had any close friends. I guess I was always, just, kind of... burning bridges with people?"

"Why do you think that is, Jules?" Dr. Holloway asked softly.

The young woman on the couch sighed heavily and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You're the fucking doctor, you tell me!"

"I think," Dr. Holloway said with a poorly-hidden nervous gulp, "the reason is because you have been suffering with an undiagnosed illness for years, and you haven't been getting the help and support you needed."

The timid psychiatrist seemed to find some of her nerve and put the notepad down, straightening her glasses and looking deeply into her young patient's eyes. "Jules, your road to wellness is going to be difficult, I won't lie. But there are concrete steps you can take."

"I'm not going to a padded room!" Jules leapt to her feet, making the doctor flinch.

"No one said anything about that." Dr. Holloway tried to keep a nervous quaver out of her voice. "If you are seriously concerned that you might harm yourself or others, then you should consider a temporary stay in a safe place, but I don't think we are at that point yet. Here is my professional advice. First, as I already mentioned, I strongly believe you need to start taking medication, immediately. There's a good chance that will put a stop to the audio-visual hallucinations."

Dr. Holloway held up her hand and began ticking off points on her fingers. "Secondly, you need to get away from this toxic work environment. Don't worry about attending college classes for now. I'll write you a note to give to the university administration. You won't lose your scholarship just for being sick - you have a constitutional right to accomodations for your condition. But being in an unsafe environment around **** and **** is an extremely bad idea. Do I really need to explain why?"

Jules slowly sat back down and folded her arms. She shot the doctor a grumpy frown but didn't say anything.

"Lastly," the doctor raised a third delicately-manicured finger, "you need to find a support group and some positive relationships. If I were you I would set romantic relationships to the side for now, and focus on trying to make a friendship or two. Humans are social animals, Jules. We aren't meant to be on our own. We need friendships, just like wolves need to run in a pack."

"WHAT?!" Jules suddenly jerked her head up and stared with wide eyes at the older woman.

"Huh...? Uh, I'm sorry?" Dr. Hollow blinked and shrank into her chair, looking guilty. "Did something I said bother you?"

"....no." Jules shook her head. Why a shiver just run up her spine when the doctor had said that? The young woman stood up again. "It just seems like you're making it out to be too easy. If I quit my job at the cabaret how am I supposed to pay for these pills you're prescribing me? And if I'm not going to work OR school, and I'm not dating anybody either, how the hell am I supposed to start making friends?"

An alarm started beeping. Dr. Holloway scooted over to her desk and picked up her phone. "Oh...! Ahhhh..." she bit her lip again and swiveled her eyes nervously. "I'm so sorry Jules, but my three-o-clock appointment is here. Give my front desk a call so we can set up another meeting next week."

...

The unfortunate young Ms. Lopez breathed deeply as she walked back to her dingy rented apartment room in a little two-story building next to the freeway. The mysterious voices were quiet. They very rarely said anything to her during the daytime, especially not when she was out in the sun. It just didn't make any sense. How could something so real be mere chemicals in her brain? All the evidence, all the computer websites, all the accumulated knowledge of the human race seemed to agree on one thing: she was a textbook case of schizophrenia. Hallucinations, sudden mood swings, difficulty making friendships and socializing, suspiciousness of other people's motives, inability to take criticism... she checked practically every box on the list.

So why did it feel wrong? Why did it feel like everything the human race was telling her about herself was a ridiculous lie? When those evil voices started telling her that the people around her were all blind fools stumbling around in a world they knew nothing about like blind little mice...

...why did their words have the ring of truth?

Jules began swinging the small bag of groceries in her hand. "Shit... I didn't even MENTION about the food, or the nausea." she said to herself with a heavy sigh. In the plastic convenience store bag were cans of spam, a carton of eggs, a couple of summer sausages, some beef tongue, and a package of marinated fajita meat. For the past month she hadn't eaten a single serving of vegetables. Every time she'd tried since that strange night, it made her sick - she either spent the night throwing up, or the following morning getting diarrhea. Even something as simple as tortillas or the bread in a torta made her nauseous. The strange thing was, it wasn't just after she ate vegetables or grains - they even tasted awful. She had to **** herself to chew and swallow it.

She paused in her stride to check the grocery bag. The only thing she'd felt like eating was meat. Meat for breakfast, meat for lunch, meat for dinner. A few times, out of curiosity, she had popped raw, uncooked cuts of beef into her mouth.

At least, at first it had been out of curiosity. Then it became a habit. She'd pop bits of fajita meat one after another, like potato chips. Her stomach growled just thinking about it. Jules grimaced. She'd told herself she was buying a bunch of canned and processed meats because they were cheaper, but was she really afraid she couldn't trust herself not to keep gorging on raw, bloody cuts? Surely she was going to wind up at the emergency room if she kept pushing her luck like that. And yet, while a serving of frijoles, which she'd used to love, tasted like puke to her now, she'd never had any problems the day after snacking on those delicious, dripping, juicy red chunks...

All of a sudden, as Jules slipped her key into the lock, a shadow fell over her from behind. With breathtaking suddenness, a big, meaty hand slammed into the door inches from her head. A deep, guttural voice snarled from right behind her:

"Hey, bitch. Remember me?!"