This chapter was...a bit difficult to write, to say the least. Heavy topics are ahead. Thank you for being patient with me so far, everyone.

"Did you hear the news report?"

"No," I answered, aimlessly flipping through a copy of 'Misery' by Stephen King. "I don't keep up with the news."

Veronica stifled her laughter, her giggles echoing in the room around her. "Call Heather McNamara."

I furrowed my brows, befuddled by her sudden request. Heather never watched the news. "...Why?" I asked, my tone riddled with confusion.

"You'll find out for yourself, babe," she says, her voice peppered with a sweet, honeyed tone.

Was something up? I hesitated and stopped skimming through the book. God, did Veronica do something? Was it another murder? She's so fucking stupid...what if she gets caught? What the hell would I do?

'Knowing you, Jesse James? Cry. Wonder why no one really loves you. Wonder why you even try anymore. Hide in your room. Find that razor blade, and...'

I ignored the voice - I didn't need that negativity at that time. Or ever, really. I rubbed my face and tried to composed myself. "Should I call her right now, or?..."

"Duh."

With that, Veronica hung up.

What the fuck was she planning?

I set the phone down for a few moments and glanced around the kitchen. Nicholas and his family were out today - something about church and going to a bunch of museums. I didn't really give a shit, so I skipped out on it. There really wasn't anything to do around here, so...

Might as well call McNamara. What's the worst that could happen?

I dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.

Eventually, someone answered the phone. It was Valerie - Heather McNamara's mother. The background noise of a tv blaring cartoons and the chatter of children assured me that it was the right number. "May I ask who is calling?"

I sighed. "It's Jason Dean. Heather's friend."

"Jason," she repeatedly softly, as if she was searching through her memory before her voice rose and became cheery. "Oh, Jason from Heather's school? I'm surprised that you called!"

"Can I talk to Heather?" I asked, fidgeting with the phone cord.

Valerie moved away from the phone and chided her children for something. She faced the phone again. "Sorry about that," she swiftly apologized. "Tyler and Michael were fighting over the remote..."

She put on a cheery tone again. "But it's nice you want to check up on Heather. She hasn't been in the best of moods lately...Something to do with Joseph Sweeney's son, Ram?"

I nodded curtly, getting impatient. "That's fine...can I talk to her right now?"

"Sure," Valerie said warmly. "Give me a minute."

With that, she put down the phone and called for Heather McNamara. The sound of two pairs of footsteps grew louder and louder as they neared the phone. "Here she is!" Valerie sang, before the phone was passed over to her daughter.

As McNamara got to the phone, I could hear her sniffling.

"Hey, Heather?" I said carefully, afraid that she would start crying. "...Are you okay?"

"No," she whispers, her voice drastically more hushed than the background. "Kurt...Ram...they're..." She trailed off mid sentence, as if she had gotten distracted or she forgotten what to say.

"They're what? Just say it. I won't judge you," I reassured her, biting my lip. What was wrong?

"Ram and Kurt are gay!"

I widened my eyes, my mouth agape from surprise. They couldn't be gay - I saw them harassing and calling other students faggots and fairies. They even called me faggot a few times. "Are you serious?"

"I am," she said through tears. "Did you see the news report?"

"I didn't...?"

"Well, the police discovered new evidence at the crime scene. They found it hidden under a bush or something - mascara, a candy dish, a Joan Crawford postcard..." She broke into a full out sob. "Even an issue of Stud Puppie!"

...How did that prove anything?

I guess she believed the stereotypes. 'Who doesn't?'

"What does the police think about it?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.

She sighs. "They think that Ram and Kurt are gay. Were gay, I mean..." Another pause. "...It might be a suicide pact. That's what Duke is guessing."

I screwed up my face. A suicide pact sounds like something Veronica would make up. "What does Veronica think it is? Have you asked her about it yet?"

McNamara sniffles. "I don't know...I haven't really talked about it with her. The news broke out yesterday, and she was hungover...you know how she gets."

The voice laughed. 'God, how stupid are they?'

McNamara wasn't lying. Veronica went to another party on Friday. Apparently it was at Sandra Wakefield's house - though I had no idea how or why Veronica went there, considering the two girls were enemies at this point - and Veronica had gotten wasted.

I talked to her on the phone that night. Even through her slurred speech and poor vocabulary choices, I was able to decipher that she had a few too many drinks and that Sandra made out with some girl named Melanie.

Veronica had started laughing uncontrollably at that point and I just hung up.

"I'll talk to her, then," I decided, sighing as I bit my lip. "...I'm sure it's nothing, Heather."

Silence fizzed on the line for awhile.

"Jason, can I tell you something?" she asks quietly, almost as if she's afraid to speak.

I nod. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

"...I don't know if I really like...sorry, liked Ram anymore."

"Why?" I queried, leaning against the counter.

"Ram...he didn't listen. To me, I mean," she explained, sniffling. "Like, when we went on that double date with Veronica and Kurt, Ram wanted to...you know. But I didn't, I kept telling him that, and he just -"

McNamara started to cry again. "Listen, Jason. I gotta go. Goodbye."

Before I could say anything more, she hung up.

'Drama.'

A thousand things raced through my mind. Everyone thought that Ram and Kurt were gay - and gay was seen as bad. Great. What a fantastic reminder. But the fact I dwelled on the most?

The fact that Ram, as McNamara probably implied, didn't ask for consent.

He didn't ask for consent.

What kind of piece of shit does that? Why the fuck would you even neglect to?

I set the kitchen's phone down, my breath shaky as I tried to contain my anger. He deserved to die.

Now that the issue was brought to my attention, I realized Kurt deserved to die too. I know that now. With what he tried to do when Veronica went on that double date? Unacceptable. Unforgivable, really.

I clenched my teeth, any sliver of empathy gone - like it was a speck of fire, an ember, drifting into the blackened, smoke-filled sky. Like it never existed in the first place.

I know I shouldn't have had felt bad about this. About any of this. All Ram and Kurt were was assholes. No, not just that. They were homophobes...sexists...misogynists...bigots...

The opposite of Veronica. The opposite of me.

Veronica wasn't taking this too far.

I knew that now.

'That's fucking edgy, Jason,' the voice taunted, cackling in a shrill tone. 'What are you, five? You think the world is black and white?'

"Could you just shut up for five seconds?" I snarled, gritting my teeth. I was already getting tired of this. "You never shut up!"

'Feisty.'

I thought I saw something for a second - a figure, cloaked in pink. I shivered and stepped away from the phone. "I'm trying to think, alright? Just be quiet for a few seconds."

Everything fell silent. I looked around for any sign of noise or movement. There was nothing but the sound of my breathing.

That...worked?

'Time's up. I was generous - it's been twenty seconds.'

I growled and continued to scan the kitchen for any hint of a figure. "Why are you even here?" I asked, my patience little to none in existence. "Who are you?"

'You don't remember?' the voice scoffed. 'I'm offended, Jesse James. I really am.'

I felt someone breathing down my neck. I spun around, whipping my head around wildly.

Then, like I had been struck by lightning, I suddenly froze.

Dressed in a silk pink lemonade bathrobe, stood the late demon queen of Westerburg High -Heather Chandler. With an apple red ribbon tied loosely in her hair and a devilish smirk wreathing her face, she let out a low chuckle. 'What's wrong, trench coat kid? Wasn't expecting your past mistakes to haunt you?'

o00o

I couldn't speak. My breath hitched - I was dreaming. I had to be. Heather Chandler was dead. Of course she was dead. There was no way in hell that she could be standing there...

But, there she was. Just...there. She wasn't breathing or blinking - I could see that clearly. Her face was sickly pale, and it was tinted grayish blue. And, as she glided towards me, everything about her movements screamed unnatural.

I knew she was buried, too. She couldn't be alive. Chandler didn't escape. Veronica and I had paid our respects a month or two ago and the grass had begun to grow over the patch of dirt. It didn't look like it was disturbed at all.

I guess I was talking to her ghost, then.

No. I wasn't. I couldn't be.

The only logical explanation? I was dreaming or hallucinating. Chandler wasn't there.

I took a shaky breath and glimpsed at the ghost again. She was getting increasingly bored, I could tell that - her blue gaze was clouded, as if her mind was someone else. Her crooked grin had faded. What the fuck would she do if she got too bored?...Could other people see her?

This was crazy. I was crazy. There's seriously no fucking way that this was possible...I took a couple steps away from her, eventually colliding into the wall.

'God, have you ever learned to shut up?' Chandler groused, sitting up on the counter. 'No wonder you never talk - you're always brooding over something!'

I looked at her. "...Can you read my thoughts?"

She sighed, nodding. 'Unfortunately. God, I'd rather be haunting Veronica right now. It sounds like her life might be more interesting than yours...'

Chandler laughed and shook her head. 'What am I saying? Her life is more interesting than yours! Look at your sad, pathetic excuse for a life...have you even been to a birthday party?'

I rolled my eyes and looked away from her. "I'm not that antisocial..."

'Uh-huh. Sure you aren't...'

"Just..." I let out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "...Please shut up."

Thanks for reading!

Looks like things aren't calming down like JD hoped they would, sadly. Surprisingly enough, he might be considering that Veronica might be right about the world...

What do you think JD's going to do?

Poor McNamara. She deserves so much better...

And, Chandler's back! For the better or for the worse - actually, I'm guessing it'll be for the worse.

I've been wondering...do you like this AU's JD or Veronica more? Which, in your opinion, is the better character? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Responses to Reviews

Anna The Oreo Artist: He is being haunted by Heather Chandler, correct! C: And, I believe you mentioned something about making fan art for this fanfic (I deleted it since you repeated most of the information in this review) and can I just say how honored I'd be?! Like, seriously. I'd probably scream if someone did that.

DisneyDreamer123: Thank you! And, about the animatic - I have gotten some progress on it done. I have a little intro for it to explain what the animatic is centered on, and once that part's finished, I might post it as an update.

BeautifulPhrases: I'm honored that you like this story so much!

Guest: That's an interesting interpretation, actually! Although Veronica is influencing JD's behavior, it is also caused by...and, some of you might of guessed this already, but, his depression. Heather Chandler, Ram, and Kurt's deaths hasn't really helped his mental health at all.

Guest: I seriously can't believe that people say that I portray JD so well? Or that this story is great? I thought people wouldn't like him - since it's a major shift from the confident, charming JD we all know by now.

Before I close this chapter off, I want to thank you for everything. The favorites, the follows, reviews... Seriously. Reading reviews and seeing people actually liking this fanfiction (well, it's not stupid, I know, but you get the point) brightens my day.

I never thought people would care so much about something I wrote.

Thank you.