may death be with you
;;
"Ronnie," Betty Finn calls on Veronica Sawyer, referring to her best friend by her nickname, as she pulls the brunette by her thin wrist. "Come on, Ronnie, let's go." And Betty mentions Veronica's name into her words yet again to make it more personal. "The Heathers are coming, it's going to be beautiful!"
And through these words, it plants seeds in Veronica's head.
.
.
.
"Heather, Heather, Heather and Veronica!"
.
.
.
I want to KILL Heather Chandler. Veronica wrote with handwriting that nobody would ever imagine a killer to have; pretty and cursive.
Is this really how popularity is supposed to feel? Veronica thinks, because it all just feels like teenage angst bullshit. Honestly. Honestly. Wanting to kill her friends? Is this honestly what popularity is supposed to feel like?
With tears in her eyes, she glares at her newly written words until a foot peaks into her room.
"Greeting and salutations, my lady."
"Gah!" – And just like some magic act or summoning ritual, if Veronica wants to be dark and broody and dramatic, J.D. appears in her room with a plan in mind and a hunger for destruction.
;;
"Oh, Ronnie!" Betty says, sweeping Veronica, her best friend, into a hug.
"Betty!"
"Oh, Ronnie!" Betty repeats herself. And although Betty is right here, in Veronica's arms, Veronica feels like Bette is so far away. Betty says, "I'm so sorry about Heather Chandler! I know how close you two were! You were best friends!"
"No, Betty," Veronica's vision blurs and she wraps her arms around familiar shoulders and blonde hair (blonde like a very dead Heather Chandler). "You're wrong."
"Huh?"
"Heather isn't my best friend. You're my best friend." And this is not beautiful.
;;
"Can you –" J.D. sputters, running his hands through his dark hair. He glares at Veronica and her tears. "Can you stop crying your tits off, already?"
"No," Veronica glares back. "You made me like this! You made me do all these horrible things! You made me kill my best friend –" and her worst enemy "– and Kurt and Ram!"
Veronica looks at her hands – blood stains her hands, bright red. It reminds her of Heather Chandler's scrunchy, of Kurt and Ram's varsity jackets. Veronica can't believe this. It was supposed to be a joke! A stupid, stupid joke involving a suicide note, a gun and supposedly harmless Ich lüge bullets!
They're still at the graveyard with Veronica who's curled herself into a tight ball and J.D. who's towering over her, eclipsing the sunset behind him and making Veronica feel impossibly small. There lays two fresh dead bodies near them. Veronica feels like joining them, she feels like dying too. And what better place than to perish at a graveyard?
J.D.'s face changes to a stoic one. "Well, dry up those tears, Sweetheart, because we're not stopping there."
"We? WE?! There is no 'we'! There's only a 'you' –"
"Fine. Me."
"You can't –"
"Yes, I can. Do you really think Heather Chandler, Kurt and Ram aren't – ! They aren't people! They're monsters, Veronica! They're monsters society doesn't need and – God, why can't you see that?!" J.D. snaps, waving his arms around, gun still in his clenched fist. He's not letting go any time soon.
Veronica slams her hands on the ground, dirtying them even further, "Because you're wrong!"
;;
"May death be with you." Heather Duke says with a sneer playing on her lips.
"Don't you mean 'luck'?" Veronica asks, trying not to break down after all of Westerburg has received the news about Kurt and Ram's deaths along with Martha's failed suicide attempt.
"No." Heather Duke says shortly. "I mean 'death'. How else will you get noticed in Westerburg? Heather's not here anymore, you're as good as dead. You're as good as Martha Dumptruck."
.
.
.
But she doesn't die that night so guesses she's a dead girl walking.
;;
"Oh, Ronnie, don't you think popularity is such a beautiful thing?" Betty asks but Veronica is aware she's in a dream as Betty's face warps and Veronica feel herself transported to someplace dangerous.
.
.
.
"Go."
"Excuse me?"
"Stop him. Confront him." The voice tells Veronica, staring her straight in her eyes (though Veronica can't place a name or a face).
"Why should I be the one to confront this mad man? He's treating to kill us, trying to kill us. Do you know how that makes me feel?" Veronica hisses, and the dream part of her is aware of the situation that they're in, that she's in. They're hiding from J.D. who's stalking down the school halls with his gun in his hand. What a fucking dream, what an American nightmare, a school shooting. Of all the things to –
"Why should I be concerned about your feelings?" The voice hisses back, throwing Veronica back to the moment, grabbing her by her ankles and forcing her to face the facts.
"Because I'm an actual human being with actual feelings. I'm scared, damn it!"
"Why should you be scared? You threaten to kill anyone lesser than you and your crazy boyfriend all the time and you've never once been concerned about their feelings."
"That's different." Veronica chokes back but even she knows she doesn't believe her own words.
The person in her dream looks at Veronica in the eyes once again and asks unforgivingly, "How?"
"I ..." She swallows the lump in her throat. "I never meant it. I never meant to kill them."
"But did they know that?" The voice says and when Veronica doesn't answer, the voice continues, "Of course, they didn't. But you owe me. You owe me this much."
Veronica asks, suddenly angry, "I owe you? I owe you my life to confront this psycho?"
"Yes," The voice snaps, taking shape, taking form: blonde hair –
Veronica gasps but the voice doesn't stop talking. The voice asks, "Or did you forget, Veronica? Did you forget that you took a life? Actually, you took several lives so you should give at least one back."
"I – You – Heather wasn't anything important to you."
"You're wrong." The voice says, mimicking words she once said to Betty Finn. And now Veronica is staring at Heather McNamara in the face. "You're wrong. Heather was my best friend and you took her away from me. "
;;
"It's okay, your mom said you had a big date. I'd probably miss my own birthday for a date." Betty says, a far away memory.
Veronica's pretty face puckers unpleasantly, she begs, "Don't say that."
But then Betty does it again, she suggests Veronica to knock her out of the crocket game, like she doesn't know her own best friend. Betty had a kind, dreamy smile on her face when she said this, like she was trying to please Veronica by being sweet. Since when did Betty start caring about such a thing?
And that's when Veronica knew Betty could only see things that she herself wanted to see Westerburg High as; a pretty thing, a shiny life, what makes high school (popularity) beautiful. Not for what it actually was – mean and filled with mental health issues and suicide problems.
Betty wasn't (read 'couldn't') see things eye to eye and Veronica had no one else to turn to. Not the remaining Heathers or the teachers or her parents. And especially not the 'love of her life', Jason Dean.
.
.
.
"Hey, Martha." Veronica says as she's covered in smoke and dynamite dust and her ex boyfriend's remains. She looks like hell, she looks like a dead girl walking. "I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie this weekend? Share some popcorn, pop some Jiffy Pop?"
Because, honestly, who else is Veronica supposed to turn to? Martha has seen the gates of hell, Martha has seen the boy she loved died and Martha has attempted suicide. All similar things Veronica has done too, yet Martha had still come back to Westerburg High – 'society' as J.D. had once called it – strong and forgiving.
Martha smiles, seeing Veronica for the mess she is but not commenting on it. "I would like that."
It's something with a happy ending.
;;
end
;;
Notes
I got a couple of reviews this morning and got motivated.
– 25 June 2018