within the walls of arohata | jenlisa.

peer pressure

jennie's p.o.v.

you're probably wondering how a girl like me ended up in a place like this. isn't that what they all say? i get tired of that same old story. i know everyone thinks i was innocent before this, but i was never a good girl. let me start from the very beginning, okay?

my name is jennie kim. i was born in south korea but i don't really remember anything about it because i moved to new zealand when i was young. so even though i look korean, i act like a native kiwi. to be fair, though, i did learn korean from my parents so i'm not totally out of touch. anyways. i was never a rich, privileged child, but i was also never poor. i never wondered where my next meal would come from— so i guess if you think about it, i was privileged. not in an over-the-top sense, though. i was always just an ordinary child. i took the bus to school every day and sat next to the same person, until one day in fourth grade a stranger sat beside me. my usual partner seemed to be out sick so the new girl decided to park herself in the seat next to mine. my mother always told me to be nice to the other kids, so instead of giving her a "why are you sitting here?" glare, i smiled and extended my little hand. "hi. i'm jennie." we exchanged nods for greetings, then finally a handshake. "i'm.. wendy." the older one said. by the looks of her face, i could tell we had at least one thing in common— we were both asian. i would later find out that wendy and i were both south korean and both moved to new zealand at a young age. i would also learn that her real name was son seung-wan, but i liked to just call her wendy. but that's besides the point.

our friendship blossomed throughout the school year and grew into something unbreakable. although we were in different grades—i was in fourth and wendy was in fifth due to being held back—despite that, we hung out every day. we still sat together at lunch and played on the playground. even when wendy went into middle school and i had to be without her for a year, we still talked every day when one of us would walk down to the others house to spend the day together. there was never a point where wendy and i weren't best friends. she was the one i wanted to see every day. i was the one she told everything to. she was the first person i came out to when i realized i liked girls in the eighth grade. she was my person. we went through middle school together and then most of high school. by the end of our friendship, which had lasted for seven years at that point, we were both entirely different people. i don't know if we can blame that on each other or the world, or perhaps both. what happened to your friendship? you may ask. that is a very long story, but one you need to hear in order to understand how and why i ended up in prison.

ever since the seventh grade, wendy had started tempting me with things i knew i shouldn't do. it started with simple things, like, i bet you won't give our teacher the finger behind her back, and i would. i wanted to make wendy laugh, or maybe i wanted to impress her. it was probably both. those little rebellious actions got larger and riskier as time went on. after i came out to her, she would always dare me to make out with random girls just to test my limits. i never agreed, but it showed she was willing to out me to the world if it meant she got a good laugh out of it. the dares didn't get bad— or rather, illegal, until high school. being a freshman with a sophomore best friend didn't sound bad in theory, but wendy's tenth grade friends liked to seduce her with their own agenda. of course those plans were then proposed to me and being the loyal, naïve teenager i was, i always agreed. let's go spray paint the principal's car! alright, let's do it. we should totally egg her house. yeah, we totally should. it's just one beer. they were wrong though— one beer always turned into two, and then three. by the third beer, i was never even sure what number came after three.

you always hear about "peer pressure" in movies and tv and stuff like that, but they never tell you that peer pressure can't be stopped. they make it seem like you can just say no and everything will work out fine. in my experience, that never worked out. protesting only makes your friends want to push you more. they think you're just being stubborn or a buzzkill. they don't actually recognize your genuine concern and distaste for their plans. eventually, you cave. especially, and i mean especially if the person begging you is your best friend of many years. by the ripe ol' age of fifteen, i had been intoxicated more times than i could count. i had smoked cigarettes, weed, and even taken some strange pills that i was once offered at an outrageous high school party. on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, wendy and some of our "friends" decided it would be a good idea to break into a house that we thought was abandoned and crash there for the night. it was supposed to be some sort of edgy sleepover for my birthday. as soon as the lock was picked and we entered the house, lights turned on and the angry owners were out for our heads. so for the first (and last) time i spent my birthday in a county jail. they let us off since we were minors. that was the beginning of my official criminal record.

my parents boiled the situation down to the other people involved. it wasn't my fault and it certainly wasn't wendy's. they cherished wendy almost as much as they cherished me. therefore, i was never allowed to hang out with those other kids again. wendy wasn't, either. that meant we had to spend our days and nights alone with each other once again. i was happy to have a break from the illegal shenanigans, but i guess my best friend didn't feel the same. we should totally rob a bank. i laughed at the idea, assuming wendy was joking. when i saw her expressionless face, i decided she was serious. wendy explained that it didn't have to be a bank, but she wanted to rob someone. the idea scared the pants off of me, but i knew i needed to comply. at this point, i was more afraid of disappointing wendy and losing her friendship than i was afraid of ending up in jail. stupid jennie.

almost two months later, which was more than enough time for me to get my head out of my ass and stop being an accomplice to her crimes, we had everything mapped out. wendy had somehow acquired a gun, which in itself was a crime, and she planned to use it. before we could enact our plan, wendy decided she wanted to graduate. the school year was nearly over, so it made sense to me. after planning this horrific event for over five months, it was finally time to engage in the crime. i had never been more scared in my life, but luckily all i had to do was collect the money and carry it away— so, essentially, the actually robbing part. wendy handled the gun and negotiating. she was the brains, i was the muscle. on that fateful june night, we parked the car in front of the convenience store, which was a very cliché place to rob, but wendy insisted. we pulled our black ski masks over our faces, once again fulfilling the stereotype for a robbery, and wendy grabbed the gun. "ready?" i simply nodded since i couldn't actually muster up the courage to verbally say i was ready— i was never, ever ready.

the rest of the events are self explanatory, as well as the results. wendy was charged with more than i was since i named her as the leader while i was just an accomplice. she was sent to a different prison, thank god. since i assisted the police, i was only served sixteen months in prison. wendy's fate was much worse than mine. i heard she got eight years since she shot the store owner in the foot when he tried to stop us from robbing him. that's what she deserved for all the awful shit she did to me and to others. she ruined my entire life.

anyways, that's how i ended up here, in a prison with only one hundred other inmates, at the ripe ol' age of eighteen. well, almost eighteen— my birthday is in one week and two days. maybe my parents will call. fingers crossed.