It was strange not to feel constantly afraid, but Veronica supposed that was just a part of the adventure.
The aftermath was more than a flash of fire and J.D.'s blood splattered all over the football field. It was waking up in a cold sweat to the sound of his voice ringing inside her skull, endlessly begging, that same, weaselly voice. "Please, Veronica, this was meant to be!"
In her dreams he would extend his hand, and against her better judgment, helpless, she would take it and let herself be pulled into the blast.
It was just as well that she wasn't always alone when she woke.
She has no idea how it happens, but somehow Heather – Heather Mcnamara, because she still couldn't look Duke in the eyes after everything that had happened their senior year – moves slowly, gently, easily, into her new apartment.
Her parents had helped her with first and last month's rent, of course. They may not have known everything about her traumatic few months as J.D.'s unwitting partner in crime, but they knew that their daughter had some serious psychological qualms, and that space would do her good. Just… not too much of it.
Which is how Heather had found her, in the first place.
Oh, she hadn't meant to cut her remaining friends out of her life the moment the term was over, but with no impending sense of doom – and no acceptance letters worthy of notice – Veronica hadn't had much motivation to reenter the world. It took her mother's prodding for her to so much as consider the concept of living alone, but once she'd acclimated to the suggestion she'd found herself completely fixated on it.
Alone. Solitary, independent, without any prying eyes or listening ears to hear her wake up screaming.
It had lasted two weeks and nine long shifts at the at the front desk of the town hall, and then Heather had showed up, sweet as can be and with an enormous cake in her arms,on her brand new doormat.
"Veronica!" She'd screeched, and had nearly tipped the tray on both of them flinging herself into her friend's startled arms. "I was so worried about you!"
And she had been worried, because Heather was a worrier, and because, Veronica thought sheepishly, she had good cause to. When she showed up again that weekend with Martha in tow, she found out that it wasn't just her – it was everyone who knew her, anxiously waiting for news that Veronica Sawyer had clawed her way back out of the hell-pit she'd dug herself into in her senior year.
It hadn't been an entirely smooth transition. Conversation was, at first, superficial, and then stilted, but Heather had always handled her social ineptitude well, and Martha couldn't care less if she was quieter than usual so long as she'd still let her sit behind her and braid her hair, before her morning classes, wistfully reminiscing about their childhood.
Just when she'd begun to get used to being alone, Heather had come barreling into her life again on her parent's tip-off.
Strangely enough, she didn't mind as much as she thought she might.
On the downside, the apartment wasn't often quiet anymore… and her cat had taken a shine to Martha so quickly she was a little worried that he might try to follow her home one of these days. The little tubs of Ben&Jerry's she'd been stocking her freezer with also didn't stand a chance with her two uninvited guests constantly invading her kitchen.
But the company wasn't… so bad.
She barely heard J.D.'s voice anymore, that insidious whisper just behind her.
Well. During the day.
The nights had been truly awful, for weeks – months – after the incident, but Veronica remained tight-lipped.
And then.
And then, Heather had kissed her.
It was unexpected. It was – intoxicating.
After J.D. had touched her she had never thought someone would wash away the invisible stains – on her body, on her soul. But Heather had.
Gentle, soft, her kisses and her murmured words of affection, her infectious smile, the smoothness of her skin. It was all so different. It was nothing like her first. Heather was no J.D. – she wasn't here because she was damaged, because she needed someone to corrupt or someone to live for.
She just cared.
She just loved, without obligation, without life or death.
Veronica reflects later, lazily brushing Heather's blonde tangle of hair away from her sleeping face, that she probably owes her parents a thank-you card for sending Heather her way.
Otherwise she'd be spending this Christmas morning alone.
Otherwise, she might still be afraid to close her eyes.
Heather opens hers, miles of blue, serene and hazy. She reaches up to clutch Veronica's hand. "Good morning…"
Her throat feels thick and Veronica swallows past it, internally chiding herself for being so emotional over something so silly and common. "Merry Christmas," she manages, and Heather's eyes brighten instantly. She shoots up out of bed in nothing but her panties.
"CHRISTMAS!"
Veronica covers her mouth to hide a laugh.
Yeah. It's hard to be scared all the time, with Heather here.