Chapter 6
1365words
After 48 hours of being "missing," I decided it was time to end the charade. #RainbowRapture had accomplished everything we wanted—my aunt's worldview had shattered, and society was using our creation to dismantle religious extremism.
Now it was time for Emily Ross to "return."
I chose the perfect reappearance: walking straight into UC Berkeley's main plaza in broad daylight, visible to everyone.
At 10:30 AM, wearing my own rainbow T-shirt (not our prop), backpack slung over my shoulder, I strolled into the campus café like any normal student.
Almost instantly, someone recognized me.
"Holy shit, that's Emily Ross!"
"She's back!"
"She didn't get raptured!"
Within minutes, I was surrounded by a crowd of students, phones raised, livestreaming my return.
Facing the crowd and dozens of cameras, I remained perfectly composed.
"Hi everyone," I said with a calm smile. "I'm guessing you have questions."
A student journalist thrust her phone toward me: "Emily, where have you been for the past two days? The internet thinks you ascended to heaven!"
I laughed lightly: "Ascended? I was just crashing at a friend's place. I needed space after my aunt publicly humiliated me online."
"What about all that stuff in your aunt's backyard…?"
"Oh, that." I shrugged nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "Just an art installation my friends and I created. We wanted to respond to religious extremism with something… visually impactful."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Wait… it was all fake?"
"Of course it was fake," I said matter-of-factly. "Did people seriously think someone got beamed up to heaven? Come on, it's the 21st century, not medieval times."
A student called out: "But why did you do it?"
My expression turned more serious, though I maintained my composure:
"My aunt Margaret has bullied me relentlessly since I came out at 14. She humiliates me at family gatherings, posts my personal information online, and literally condemns me to hell from the pulpit."
I paused, letting my words sink in.
"Two days ago, she gave me $40,000 because she thought the 'Rapture' was coming. Then she doxxed me on Facebook, calling me a 'sinner' who deserved eternal damnation."
"So I decided to teach her a lesson. If she believes in the Rapture so strongly, let her face the possibility that God might love her so-called 'sinners' more than her."
My explanation spread across social media like wildfire. The response was overwhelmingly supportive:
@JusticeWarrior: This woman is an absolute GENIUS! Most epic clapback against religious bullying ever! #RainbowRapture #JusticeServed
@LGBTSupporter: Emily Ross is my new hero! Fighting years of abuse with brilliant creativity instead of hatred! #StandWithEmily
@ArtStudent: This isn't a prank—it's sophisticated performance art! Perfect satirical commentary on religious extremism! #RainbowRapture #ArtAsResistance
@FormerVictim: I have a family member just like her aunt. Emily's response gives me hope that we don't have to silently endure abuse forever. #Inspiration
@PhilosophyProf: This brilliantly illustrates that when dogmatic prejudice confronts creative resistance, creativity invariably triumphs. #RainbowRapture #CreativityWins
@SarcasticSally: Can we all agree Emily Ross deserves the 2024 Award for Most Creative Revenge Ever? #RevengeGoals #RainbowRapture
That afternoon, I gave a formal interview to the local news. On camera, I maintained my composed, matter-of-fact demeanor.
Reporter: "Emily, aren't you concerned about potential legal consequences? You did trespass on private property…"
Me: "I entered my aunt's backyard—a place I played throughout my childhood. I simply arranged some clothing and decorations without causing any damage. At worst it's minor trespassing, but given her years of psychological abuse, I think most reasonable people understand my response."
Reporter: "How is your aunt handling all this?"
Me: (with a slight smile) "I hear she's confused. Maybe this is the first time she's actually examining what her beliefs really mean."
Reporter: "Do you have a message for those supporting you?"
Me: "I want everyone to know that no one deserves to be bullied for who they are. If my actions help other LGBTQ+ youth find the courage to stand up against prejudice, then everything was worth it."
Meanwhile, miles away on Elm Street, Aunt Margaret was experiencing the darkest moment of her life.
According to Jessica's neighborhood sources, my aunt completely broke down after watching my television interview.
Mrs. Johnson: "She was screaming in her living room that she'd been deceived and humiliated. She actually threw her Bible on the floor, shouting that God had abandoned her."
Another neighbor: "She kept saying 'What is my faith worth? What has my life been for?' She looked completely broken."
Mrs. Johnson: "The most disturbing part was watching her question everything. She kept saying, 'If a 19-year-old girl could deceive me so completely, what does that say about my spiritual discernment?'"
Holy Light Gospel Church also released an official statement:
"We deeply regret the recent deceptive events perpetrated against our congregation. This elaborate hoax has caused spiritual distress to many faithful believers. We urge everyone to remain steadfast in faith despite this calculated attack on our community."
But this statement was ruthlessly mocked online:
@CriticalThinker: Your entire belief system was "damaged" by a college student's art project? Maybe your theological foundation wasn't so solid after all. #RainbowRapture #GlassHouses
@ExChristian: If your faith requires hating LGBTQ+ people, then having it challenged should hurt. That's called "conscience." #RainbowRapture #ReligiousMalpractice
That evening, I finally returned home.
Mom's expression was complex when she saw me. She hugged me tightly, but I could feel her internal conflict.
"Emily," she said, "I understand why you did this, but…"
"But what, Mom?"
"Margaret is in a terrible state. She might need professional help."
Dad walked over and squeezed my shoulder: "I'm proud of you, kiddo. You fought back with creativity instead of hatred."
Sophia rushed over and hugged me fiercely: "Sis, you're literally famous! Everyone at school is talking about you!"
Back in my own room, I reflected on the whirlwind of the past few days.
From that fateful lunch to today's revelation, everything had unfolded perfectly. My aunt's worldview had collapsed, religious extremism had been exposed, the LGBTQ+ community had found unexpected support, and I…
I felt a strange sense of peace.
This wasn't a victory of anger or hatred, but a triumph of creativity. I hadn't fought malice with malice, but countered bigotry with imagination and wit.
My phone constantly buzzed with supportive messages. But the ones that touched me most came from other LGBTQ+ teens:
"Thank you for showing me we don't have to be victims."
"Your creativity gave me courage I never knew I had."
"I'm bringing your story to my therapy session tomorrow."
The next morning, I attended classes as usual, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. Classmates gave me admiring glances, professors nodded respectfully, life continued.
Miles away, Aunt Margaret remained in her room, confronting a world she no longer understood. Her faith, worldview, and life's purpose had all crumbled because of one creative act of resistance.
The contrast couldn't be more perfect:
Me—continuing my life, studies, and personal growth with newfound confidence.
Her—broken, questioning everything, drowning in the hatred she had cultivated.
A month later, I received an unexpected email—an invitation from an LGBTQ+ rights organization asking me to share my story to help others facing religious persecution.
I immediately accepted.
Standing at the podium before hundreds of LGBTQ+ youth and their families, I shared:
"What I want you all to understand is that we don't need to fight hatred with more hatred. We can transform the world through creativity, intelligence, and even humor."
"When someone tells you you're sinful because of your identity, remember this: the only true sin in that equation is prejudice itself."
"And remember," I said with a genuine smile, "sometimes the best revenge isn't revenge at all—it's living your life with more joy, authenticity, and freedom than your oppressors can imagine."
The audience erupted in thunderous applause.
As for Aunt Margaret, I heard she finally started therapy. Perhaps someday she'll discover what love actually means.
But that's no longer my concern.
I have my own life to live and my own dreams to chase.
And that $40,000? I donated it to a foundation supporting homeless LGBTQ+ youth.
After all, the most powerful response to hatred isn't more hatred—it's creating something beautiful from the ashes.
