Three
Wishes
by Angel Monroe
Disclaimer: I gave my soul to God for the book I'm writing. I have nothing left to barter for Veronica Mars. In other words, unfortunately, I don't own it.
A/N: Pre-season 1, but has slight spoilers from 1.22 and 2.22. A short little look into what Veronica experienced in that guest bedroom when she lost her virginity.
She tried to open her eyes, but there was something wrong with them. They were so heavy, and so was she. Her arms hung dead at her sides, and for the life of her, she couldn't pick her head up off the damned pillow. She didn't even know when she'd ended up on a pillow.
When she did manage a squint, her vision was fuzzy, fading. Something was definitely wrong here.
Her senses were going haywire, on overload for such a small body with so little control. There was the start of a five o'clock shadow rubbing against her cheek and a pain that seemed to come from inside of her, but she couldn't understand it. Everything was numb, anesthetized. She couldn't hold on.
But her body was being torn inside out, and she was starting to feel it. It was all she could feel—the biting pain in her head, heart, stomach, and lower. And though she tried to say something, tried to push away, all that came out was a little moan even she knew was pathetic. She was pathetically small, and she couldn't make him stop. His voice was all groans and grunts, and he didn't seem to care that she was crying inside.
She wished she could move, and then when that didn't come true, she wished he would die. Third times a charm and she just wished to be gone so she wouldn't have to feel it. Slowly, torturously, the world began to fade and she thanked whatever god there was for small favors. He wouldn't save her, but at least he might let her forget.
In her dreams she died. She went to heaven and he wasn't there, whoever he was. She liked heaven that much better for it.
When she opened her eyes again, Duncan was stroking her cheek and liked the way it felt. She couldn't remember why she'd been so sad and was glad.
When she opened her eyes the third time, she couldn't remember anything after that lawn chair by the hot tub, but she saw her underwear on the floor and wept for it. Maybe she would feel better, feel safer or less helpless, if she could only remember what happened.
But then again, maybe not.
