For twenty-nine days of the month, I am Jill. I know Jill; I can predict how Jill will react. Jill backs away from confrontation and dives into gossip, Jill smokes a pack a day and drinks more coffee than necessary because I like to feel the jittering down my veins. My long blonde hair is my pride and joy; I flirt my way into clubs and out of trouble. I am Jill.
Until, I’m not. Every full moon I transform. I become Jack.
Jack is unpredictable. Jack butchers my hair and talks with his fists. Jack forces Jill to wake up in the bed of some random man or woman. Jack tattoos our shared skin and poisons us with hard drugs. Jack remembers the confrontations Jill backed away from, seeks them out, and administers his own form of justice. He remembers the gossip and exploits it.
I sometimes envy Jack, I almost always hate him.
In one night he burns it all down. Everything Jill can predict and plan, Jack brings to the ground.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Full Moon.”