TW: Depiction of self-harming and major character death
PLEASE READ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙 ~ Ronnie’s POV AND 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙 ~ J.D.’s POV BEFORE READING THIS ONE!
Personally, if you were to ask me what the most consistently tedious part of my existence on these school grounds were lately, it would be the amount of noise high schoolers seem to generate when in their adolescent state. While I suppose it’s lucky I find myself trapped in high school education as opposed to a a preschool since it’s nowhere as egregious as it is when we’re kids. (Even if everyone here barely acts within the maturity of someone above the age of six…) It appears everywhere I go there are teens chatting amongst themselves far too loudly for my taste. Girls and their obsessive need to giggle and woo at every possible thing that merely excites them being of particular annoyance to me. Though the jocks chanting nonsense of sports and testosterone is hardly any better if you as me.
Headphones hardly helped with the noise in life as it was. Guess I don’t really have much access to those anymore. Now I prefer to remain in the quieter places of Westerberg to avoid the bastardization of the English language and human speech, instead often spending time in the school library rather than take my chances with the hallways or listening to the same history lesson in class I’ve heard so many times by now I could likely recite it from memory for extra credit. If only extra credit meant anything to me anymore…Maybe it’s something in the air today specifically? The pollution of fast fashion the Heathers like to buy online between class? I still will always be taken in by the psychical and analog of a real book any day over a screen. Even in my attempts to text Ronnie through the body of one Janitor Pete I’ve discovered the digital world to be one of knowledge I’m distinctly lacking in.
Speaking of the girl in blue my mind likes to wander to: on this day, I was sitting in the hallway waiting for Ronnie to finish up her first class of the morning. Sure, things had taken an unexpected turn for the sour when she had gotten upset with me over not telling her what I am, but we appeared to have moved on from the subject and were speaking again. Why else would I choose to sit in a loud hallway if not for her? Otherwise there really was no reason to subject myself to the torment. At last, peace was restored in my dark and quiet little world. One of the only sounds I don’t take issue to is Ronnie’s voice. To think I went so long without it. I don’t know if my soul could bear to go on if it were to happen again. The only thing worse than the noise and the sirens of now is the silence of the time before. The time where the name “Veronica Sawyer” meant nothing to me than a name in a yearbook or a nicely woven scarf around the neck. Before that name made me feel truly alive again…
I always knew things would work out between us. It was just a temporary quarrel, a lover’s spat. All lover’s fight, even if it’s to be avoided at all costs by both individuals. It’s how you know you’re in love with each other, when your love is so powerful it’s killing you both from inside yet it always prevails when you come back as one. If love is easy, then it isn’t real. It’s not tangible. You know, love really is as beautiful as it is painful. The act of carving yourself open to leave room for another, it’s as warm as it is bloody, finding bliss in the disgusting. How wonderful it is to be diseased by the most painful of human emotions to share.
As other students had longed filed out of the classroom and were occupying the lockers near me I found Ronnie was taking longer than the rest. It was to be expected. With Ronnie everything is a waiting game. And while the wait can be agonizing, it beats the alternative of not seeing her at all. It pains me to be apart from her, but it’s the inevitability of my existence as a spirit. The saying is “til death do us part”, ironic seeing as death often keeps us part…
While waiting on her, I began whistling to myself to occupy the busy air with something more pleasant to the ear. I’d always been a musical man. Music is how we communicate to others when words fail us. It also provides a perpetual escape, a way to cancel out the sounds in our heads that are so normalized in daily life. When I sat alone in the unavoidable sounds of a school and its students I loathe, I’d always turn to humming or whistling to find my own peace. If I could never make another sound to the living again, why not at least make a sound for myself? How else would I keep what remained of my vocal cords from falling into disrepair without use?
I was whistling the first song that came to my mind, which today happened to be a song my mom always loved to sing to me in times of our shared despair…Even now after death had long parted me from the one who loved me most in life, the one who left me out in the sun to burn like she did when I needed her most, it was forever burned in my mind to hear at life’s, or rather my old man’s worst until death burned down everything else I held dear. If “perception is our reality” then by nine I had better depth perception than anyone else I’ve ever known. The pain of your death offered me insight, an understanding of the way things are from an earlier age than usual. Most kids live in a dream world their parents build to keep them safe, but you gave me the real world. Cold, cruel reality at its finest. And once you’ve seen the corrosion the world never looks clean again. You quickly come to the inevitable conclusion that the only way to fix things is to light the next match yourself. In that way I could thank you, you gave me motherly affection in your time and gave me truth in your tragedy. But, you were all I could trust…And still left me alone for all time sake before I hit the double digits. That is until a girl in blue bows and the brightest smile our world has ever seen came to pick up the pieces neither of us even knew were there.
It used to be my favorite song growing up, like a warm blanket after a cold winter’s day. Except now there was no blanket, no warm voice in sight. Just me, the cold air, and her melody being heard through me even when my dad wanted desperately to forget.
Ironic seeing as forgetting everything a father should care for was his specialty…
Within seconds of hearing Ronnie clapping for me I was snapped awake from my wistful melodies of a past long unworthy of unpacking. By now I had been waiting long enough as it was and was more than ready to see her.
I looked up at her with a smirk to see if she too appreciated such a special song in my life. “You know it?”
She shook her head at me. “Oh, no. No, I don’t listen to the oldies radio station.” She pointed in my direction with a teasing expression.
My eyebrows furrow. “You’re calling me old? Huh, how unexpected…and here I thought I was an old soul with eternal youth on my side.” I batted my eyes with a pout in an attempt to garner a laugh. I imagine she could use it right about now after a lengthy class.
“Uh, huh yeah.” She tilted her head, returning the pout before smiling in turn. What could I do besides smile back in these conditions?
My focus was suddenly turned to the well-decorated cards in her hands, taken in by them and what they could possibly be needed for. “Queue cards? Pop quiz trouble I presume?” I ask, surely if it was a pop quiz I could assist her if needed…
In return, she waved the cards at me as if they were some sight to behold.
“Oh these? No, good guess though-but these are the pièce de résistance!” She laughed before sitting down next to me on the floor. I never can say no to whatever psychical intimacy I can have with her in spite of the peculiar but dreadfully present circumstances of my form.“I’m using these to get back at Heather at the pep rally tonight. My revenge.”
Huh, truly didn’t think she had it in her to try and get some form of revenge against Heather after everything. I had thought if revenge was ultimately what she was seeking she would’ve gotten it by now. It was a noble goal after all. When she had brought the idea up to me prior it seemed to be a quiet longing disguised as fleeting thought. All humor has some truth to it or else it wouldn’t be funny and Ronnie had clearly considered the notion of doing something about Heather. If she were to actually go through with it was an entirely different obstacle seeing as she was convinced of stricter morals. That there was only one way the world worked and in that world there was no place for doing what must be done. Instead hiding elephants in the room with curtains as if the elephants weren’t there to upkeep a peace that didn’t really exist. We both knew what she wanted and those cards in her hands only proved it to me further…
She turned to look around, making sure there weren’t too many people nearby before clearing her throat and beginning to read the cards out in a mocking impression of Heather Chandler’s voice. I listened intently to every last word Ronnie had conjured up in her mind to bring forward the downfall of Heather Chandler, taking in how pleased she seemed by her own charade:
“…And it’s not just about the team and their handjobs it’s about coming together as teachers and students, as a school to destroy the evidence of my family’s tax fraud and win another victory against the Razorbacks! We win as a school, we lose as a school, go straight to hell Rottweilers! Woo!”
While she appeared to be rather stoked by her plan and I thought the queue cards to be amusing I found myself wanting more, looking out at our classmates instead. The prank was cute, but unlikely to be effective at doing anything of substance in the situation. It was a small bruise to Heather’s public perception and nothing more than that. I knew I could raise her one better if she would actually listen to me, but if I’ve learned anything in her bout of ignoring me it’s that Ronnie is painfully stubborn in her resolve. Reasoning with her, not unlike reasoning with Heather herself might as well be an impossible feat. Like screaming at a brick wall and demanding results. She sees the problem, dipped her fingers in red, but when push comes to shove she isn’t ready to take the plunge yet. And fine, while I am willing to be patient and listen to her lie to herself about what she wants to claim morality I’d be lying if I didn’t call it frustrating to behold. But, unlike Heather who is a wall more in need of bulldozing, Ronnie however is a wall that can be slowly chipped through with the right hammer and a level of patience which luckily for both of us I certainly have…
“And you’re so sure this’ll do it?”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see her face drop ever so slightly before she recovered with another smile. “Well, yeah. Trust me, she’s over by this weekend. I mean, the whole school will be there, I’ll be recording. The minute the rest of us with less school spirit click on Heather Chandler embarrassing herself in the gym? It’ll be everywhere, she’ll go completely viral. It’s totally fool proof!”
“Come on, don’t be a sad ghost, ok? I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?”
I turn back to face her. It’s a loaded question really. Of course I trust her. She’s all I can trust in the world. “Trust” is not the problem here. My understanding that what she’s doing is fruitless is. Heather clearly won’t be assuaged by her plan and even if she is? That doesn’t stop human nature? That doesn’t stop the system that creates Heathers. Wonderful of you to have cut off the head of the hydra for now and all but it’s a bandaid over a bullet hole. The head will grow back, newer, stronger, but ultimately the same as the last one. If you want to slay the dragon you have to do more than humiliate it. You can come back from humiliation, sweep it under the rug with enough power and Heather has convinced enough of her kool-aid ridden slaves that she has that power. You have to make a statement, make sure that with no uncertainty that the head can never grow back. Ronnie can do that but she won’t and expects me to stand aside and wish her “good luck” instead. It’s not about trust. It never was.
I lean in as close as I possibly can. My voice soft, a gentle smile on my face. “I do.”
“Hey, Ronnie. Missed you after class today.”
Oh, tweedle green and tweedle yellow have decided to grace us with their unwanted, holier than thou presence. How thrilling indeed. Ronnie turns her attention to indulging the living.
“Hey.” She mocked them in a falsely jovial voice.“I was avoiding you because you all kicked me out of the group, remember?”
I struggle not to snort at her severe lack of platitudes for those she now realizes are undeserving of them as I always knew them to be. I recover by putting my hand over my mouth and nodding to not cause further distraction.
“Are you ok?! I heard you hit your head in the gym!” The Heather in yellow gestured frantically as if she didn’t know how to work her own arms.
“It’s all everyone’s talking about.”
“Yeah? I’ve heard.” Ronnie crossed her arms and looked away from them both towards the rest of the hallway, trying to discreetly hide her notes so they couldn’t be seen.
Thing 1 rolls her eyes and Thing 2’s face drops as if this wasn’t the inevitable conclusion almost anyone with a brain would’ve come to. “Um…So are you coming to the pep rally tonight? Ready to show some Westerberg spirit?!!!” She pumped her fist in the air like this school had any spirit left to give. The pep rally might as well be a funeral, a celebration of the decadence of a decaying school.
“Anyone who’s anyone will be there.” Or rather, “anyone without a soul who only lives to please will be there.”
“Right, ok. I thought I wasn’t an ‘anybody’ an anymore.” She tilted her head, waving her hands to further her point.
“Come on, just because Heather said you’re not our friend anymore doesn’t mean you’re not our friend anymore!”
“Actually that’s totally what that means. Rules are rules, Ronnie.” The other Heather crossed her arms.
I don’t know what either of their problems are but I can smell how they both reek of fairweather friendship and entitlement from down here.
“Did Heather put you up to this?”
A keen question. The invitation could be a Trojan horse, a set up for Heather’s own form of retribution. Playing into the enemy’s hand is rarely a good idea. Though no risk, no reward but sometimes the risk is higher than the reward. In gambling and in conflict alike you must pick and choose your battles. Is this really the battle Ronnie should insist to be fighting?
“No need for the paranoia. Heather wants everyone to be there for her big speech.”
Ronnie forced another smile and nodded.“That’s very thoughtful. You know what? I’ll be there.” I feel the sudden urge to hang my head back in loss but instead? I smile too.
The macaroni Heather clapped her hands and squealed in excitement, bouncing away like an overwrought bright yellow beachball. “See you tonight!!!”
The green bean Heather instead on the other hand, appeared more skeptical of Ronnie’s words. A wise thought no doubt, making a shocked expression at her. “See you tonight…” She responded before sauntering away in her heels.
“See you.” Ronnie waved at them before turning to face me. My head was back, tongue doing another swipe against my cheek as my fingers tapped on my opposite arm in an act of both smug satisfaction in watching her play them like fools and necessary emotion regulation in watching her act foolish in return.
She looked at me with determination in her eyes, like all the pieces of the puzzle had suddenly clicked into place. If only it actually felt like that to me too.
Like a clock ticking down to the end of the world as we all know it the evening of the pep rally came faster than even I thought possible. It was almost as if the world was running at a different speed entirely just to spite me on this particular day. I was outside the gym doors with my arm resting on the nearby water fountain, my other hand in my pocket, awaiting any updates or sense of direction from Ronnie, who was inside the gym playing look out for a currently unseen Heather. Even just from outside I could hear the rumblings of a student body ready to show off their performative “school spirit”. The calm before a storm without even realizing they were in the eye of a hurricane crashing down on them all tonight. If Ronnie’s plan was going to work in the first place, that is. Even if I believe in blind devotion to the one you love I still certainly have my doubts about this alleged prospect of a plan she’s convinced herself is destined to succeed with only scraps to her name. But, I’d never let her go alone for when she inevitably needs me for back up or moral support in some way…
“Enjoying the pep rally tonight?” Ronnie asked me lightly, approaching me with her hands behind her back as she swayed from side to side with an unexpected feathery gracefulness.
“Loud noises, bright lights, a group of students yelling peppy but ultimately hollow sentiments? Yeah, really got a taste for that kind of stuff.” I clasp my hands in front of me while nodding, rolling my eyes as I stare up at the ceiling.
“Well, if the wise olde ghost prophet says so.” She laughed before walking closer.
“Any signs of her? Maybe she’s not here…” I let my arms swing as I pace around.
God knows I don’t want her to be here. I intend to uphold my faithfulness to Ronnie’s plans but I do concern myself with protecting her from failure first and foremost. She’s setting herself up to lose the war and she doesn’t even see that yet. I don’t know how I’m expected to live with myself if I have to see her bleeding on the ground again…
“Please, knowing Heather, she’s probably doing makeup touch ups in the bathroom down the hall instead of actually practicing.”
I come with Ronnie as she walks towards the girl’s bathroom in search of Heather. Around us I hear the quiet reverb of the pep rally behind us. The echo of the hallway is familiar to me. The dying refrain of the lives of the people around me, heard from afar but never present. A sound I can bear witness to but can never call back out to as they all live their lives unaware there’s someone in the cracks. My existence is a twisted reflection of theirs, same school yet never the same world. Our worlds remain separate, theirs and mine but unlike them I hear the noise of all I couldn’t have…
Once we made it to the girl’s bathroom I began to walk in but was quickly interrupted by Ronnie putting her arms in front of me to block my way.
“Woah!” She exclaimed at me before peering down.
“Let me come in.” I respond firmly. Not mad, confused as to why she’s trying to keep me out when she needs me most.
I don’t see the purpose in not letting me inside. Why would she choose to go it alone when she has me? I came here to help and instead she expects me to wait for her outside like I always do? Now wouldn’t that be a waste…How am I supposed to protect her when she so clearly needs me?
She smiled and nodded at me. “Thanks, that’s very sweet of you, wanting to protect me and all that crap but nice try.” She points at my chest with her usual teasingly accusatory tone. “You Mr. can’t keep going into the girl’s bathroom unless you want to be labeled a pervert.” She laughed again before her voice grew softer, gentler as if ready to strike another blow. Her hands now out in front of her like she wanted to take mine. “I know your heart’s in the right place. I’ll be ok, I promise. I’ll see you after the pep rally.”
Before I could get another word in edgewise she pulled away and walked towards the door, waving at me.
All I ever seem to do for her is wait and she left me alone here still. I sit on the ground next to the door. I give her patience, I give her protection, and it somehow still isn’t enough. So, I wait again. Wait for her to tell me how our story ends as opposed to getting to choose along with her, made ever a passive observer in a world passing me by. I’ve been waiting for three decades what’s another thirty minutes after being chucked out when all I wanted to do was help you? I want what’s best for you and I’m left in the dust to wait alone, like a broken toy left in the garage to rot. You left me here. Is it good for you? Leaving me to go confront Heather on your own when we both know you’re so clearly doomed to fail? It sucks for me. It really does. I wait and I wait for something that never comes while time melts away for me. Is that all I’m good for now? Am I meant to be left a forlorn relic of a time long forgotten?
You need me. I know you do. What could they give you that I can’t? They don’t understand or respect you like I do and no childish pranks will change that. They laugh at you, mock you, made you cry and I came to pick up the pieces. I did that. So why do you act like I’m something to be disposed of? How foolish of me to think this was any different. That I could ever be a part of your orbit outside of an echo of a boyfriend. You have a whole world out there and I have nothing. You get to leave me but I can never leave you. I’ll still be here when your world sets ablaze and I bet you won’t even want it. Instead you’ll tell me to wait, like a dog, like a puppet with broken strings who only move for you. The joys of being in love is being in agony and you my darling, keep me in agony on the daily. My heart sinking for you as you play with mine~
I watch as she exits the bathroom in rage. I’m unsurprised to say the least. It was almost as if I knew Heather wasn’t going to take the bait. Who could’ve ever thought. Now this would be the time I could say “I told her so” but for some inexplicable reason the pain in my chest made opening my mouth next to impossible. So instead I watch on, helpless and burdened by a grief I’m unable to name as I witness the two Heathers walking not far behind.
When what I wanted most in the world was to be left alone, Heather Chandler stopped not too far away from the door. “Give me a sec, I need to do one more touch up. Stall for me.” She shooed at the green Heather before strutting back into the bathroom with upmost confidence and a click of the heels. Click. Click. Click.
Now, I know that in most circumstances it would be considered the moral thing to let Heather go on and do her thing before her speech. But, am I really supposed to let Heather continue to win over our classmates? To watch her torment Ronnie another day? What was I here to do if not protect Ronnie and I was already forced to fail by seeing her upset by her own inability to take action. I have no inhibition. No one to stop me from walking through that door. Her plan had already failed as I knew it would, I suppose I could try my own. She thinks there’s only one way to get things done, only one moral way and I could show her another, making a statement to dismantle the system tearing her apart at the seams in the process. It’s extreme, but it’s necessary. The extreme always seems to make an impression and this calls for extreme action to make an impression. There’s nothing wrong with doing what’s extreme but ultimately necessary as long as it’s for the one you love.
And all I have to do is open the door…
Inside the girl’s bathroom Heather was touching up her makeup alone, ever oblivious to my presence behind her even as the lights above her began to flicker with every slow step closer. She may have successfully convinced the masses and Ronnie by extension of her own invincibility but she hasn’t fooled me. You see, Heather is the type of person expected to peak in high school. A bitch that’s all bark and no bite. In this dingy high school bathroom she finds herself in a vulnerable state. She appeared to be in her own world entirely, as if everything around her was a minor inconvenience at most. Never mind the people she’s hurt and the world she’s worsening by being in it with her vain and empty heart. She furrowed her eyebrows and glared as she continued putting on her lipstick before everything suddenly turned dark.
It was like putting on an ever so slightly ill-fitting glove.
Hope she does mind my hijacking of her system. It’s dreadful etiquette of me, I know especially since we practically just met…
When I looked into the mirror for the first time in as long as I can remember I saw a face staring right back at me. Sure, it was her face in place of my own, me merely only wearing her skin temporarily as a mask but it was a sight to behold nonetheless. I felt her manicured fingers go up to my, or rather her face observing every inch as if I had forgotten what it feels like to have a face. It was almost intimate in its innocence, the feeling of my chest going up and down as I breathe. The way the light bounces off a form with mass.
I blink slowly before tilting my head to get a better look. Heather wasn’t bad to look at if I’m being honest. Her problem was more so a rotten personality than any form of a rotten exterior. If anything being conventionally attractive only fueled her entitlement and egotistical ways further. I could almost see where her corruption came from as a result. Almost. I wink at the reflection staring back at me, not quite me, not quite her either. I can’t stop myself from smiling, taken in by the wonder of being real again.
I continue to be aware that possession may be considered an unethical act. Overriding the autonomy of another individual is far from encouraged. But, it’s certainly no less unethical than anything Heather has ever done. Heather likes tearing people down, treating them like toys and pets to be kept on a leash. Westerberg’s dictator doesn’t see her subjects as people. She never has. Why should I see her as anything than what I know her to be? Is it so wrong to teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget? The feeling of being made a doll or toy by someone else? Scare her into not being an asshole as I had done to Ronnie although a bit unsuccessfully at the time. I’ve waited so long. I’ve been good and patient, don’t I deserve to have a little fun too even if at Heather’s expense? Janitor Pete was a minor casualty but he had done nothing wrong, Heather on the other hand the blood was not only on her hands but she had turned it into high fashion to be envied by her peers.
Fair is fair. An eye for an eye.
As I left the bathroom and began to walk in the school hallway I took in every sensation. The feeling of my feet, now in heels instead of my preferred footwear clicking across the tile, a small sound proving my own existence and worth. The subtle but unmistakable sound of my heart beat, a noise I almost forgot the human body can generate. There was a distinct smell of cleaning supplies in the air. I imagine Janitor Pete has done quite the cleaning recently. The noise of the pep rally suddenly doesn’t feel so far away anymore. No longer an echo I can’t reach but now something more ever present. It’s a louder and more unpleasant experience but a welcome one. It means any moment I could walk into that room and be seen and acknowledged. I could even hold Ronnie any way she’d like if I wanted to. Our relationship repaired by the psychical affection I used to be unable to give.
If only I could actually convince myself to go inside the gym. I have no interest in giving a speech. Speaking among crowds has never been my forte so to speak. It’s not like that crowd is actually listening to you as it is. If anything it’s more of a power play, a way of asserting your dominance over the little guy. It’s barbaric mob mentality. Not only that, but my choosing to not go is more of a statement than me showing up to throw the speech ever could. Making a public fool of Heather won’t stop anything, I’d only be telling them what they’re well aware of by now but choose to be willfully ignorant of out of fear. We all know she’d sweep it under the rug anyway, it’s easy to get away with anything when your poison already infects the world. A chosen absence not only is harder to ignore but leaves the bees in the hive to their own devices without a queen to swarm to. Utter chaos at its finest when the weakest minds have no guidance and must fend for themselves.
So, I see that leaves it up to me. My revenge to be more artistic and interpersonal as opposed to foolish spectacle. I can go anywhere, do anything at all really. Even leave the school entirely if I must. In that new and unfamiliar taste of freedom I can’t stop smiling to myself, taking immense pride in feeling my lips turn upward.
If that were truly the case then why do I still feel so empty inside?
Maybe it was the fact that as wonderful as it was to inhabit the human body again it wasn’t my body to inhabit? The air in my lungs wasn’t mine to breathe, the click of my shoes weren’t mine to hear. I was acting as a trespasser in another’s life and even in my bliss I ache for a more permanent solution. As fun as it is it’s all temporary, I can only have so much time with Heather as a vessel before someone is bound to notice me and then the jig is up and I’m expected to vacate the premises. Otherwise? I wouldn’t be so sure in not taking a more permanent stay. It’s not like Heather’s using her life for anything of significance outside of tormenting others…
Maybe it was what happened before weighing heavy on my mind. I knew Ronnie to be in the gym and had yet to check on her. Given how she acted before I likely wouldn’t get much of an answer. A part of me desired to cease the fighting between us and feel her hand in my own. There was no death keeping us apart, just ourselves. The other part of me however still hurt from her leaving me behind. Surely she didn’t mean it, did she? A simple oversight, a misunderstanding on how our love is supposed to work. We’re meant to stay together. The living girl and the ghost who watches after her when nobody else can from the world that took him too soon so to speak. When she leaves she’s always bound to come back to me one way or another. She was just fighting the inevitable, making it harder than it ever had to be for us. Though even now, when my head was on straight and my mind clear I wasn’t marching towards her with glee. I was standing stiff in apathy. And to me? That’s worse than any thorn in the rose of our love.
Instead I left her a trail to me, now standing on the edge of the stairs. With each queue card from the trash can spread across the floor I wondered why? I suppose it was a test, a way of proving what I already know. That in time, she’ll always find me again. One wrong step and I’d fall down the stairs, taking Heather Chandler down with me. How unfortunate of a coincidence indeed. In my hand? An old lighter from the lost and found. With a whistle of the tune my mom used to sing to me in her despair I flicked it on, putting my hand over the flame to feel the heat as if the burn alone could melt away all of this cold. That’s the one benefit of being alive after all: you’re able to let loose all that truthful pain inside you on your outside. The flame was a sight to behold, precious in how small and bright it burned. It called to me like an old friend. There was a comfort in the relapse, feeling the way Heather’s hand burned like I would use to burn my own in times of agony. It’s hard to open a vein or find catharsis in pain when you’re incapable of feeling it in your own bones and blood anymore. I’ve missed the sensation more than I can name…
“Heather? Hey, are you ok? You really had me going. I mean you almost missed the pep rally back there and…”
I don’t have to turn to hear the unmistakable voice of Ronnie coming from the bottom of the stairs, proving our love prevails once more. Lovely isn’t it when your beloved arrives for the show? I don’t greet her. I don’t have to. So instead I keep whistling and gently move my hand closer to the flame, Heather’s body flinching almost on instinct.
“What are you doing with that?”
I lose myself in the whistling, her voice a faded and muffled sound lost in the pain.
“Really? No come back? No retort? Come on you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that…”
I feel her hand grab mine and the shiver that goes through her. One of pleasure hopefully though cold more likely.
“What is your problem, Heather?” Ronnie charges up those last few stairs with purpose to finally get a true glimpse of me. And somehow? after everything that’s happened between us I’ve never been more happy to see her.
“A little warmth in our cold world? Nothing wrong with that.” I smile at her.
“J.D.?” She tilted her head, inspecting me with upmost curiosity.
Seeing her instills me with enough jovial spirit to close the lighter, shoving it inside Heather’s pocket and clasping my hands in front of me. “Now was it really so obvious, darling?”
“What are you doing? How are you doing this?”
“Oh, this?“ I point at myself. “Oh, I’d hardly call this a hassle. Possession? Oldest trick in the book, you know being a ghost kinda sucks but it does come with some bells and whistles.” I put my hands up in front of me defensively with a head tilt.“And I? I’m doing this for you. You failed to get your revenge so I’m moving on to plan B…I’m helping…”
“Helping? Is that what you’re doing?! Get out of her body.”
I look at her in further confusion. “Why?” Why would I do that? I was just getting started, there was more work to do before I could say I was done with Heather’s body.
“Because it’s wrong.” She snaps at me. “Cut the crap, ok? You’re scaring me…” I would’ve expected Ronnie to be more pleased with me taking the initiative to finish out what she’s begun. I’m guessing I was wrong seeing as I could see the tears forming in her eyes as she tried to smile at me like everything was ok. Come on, don’t cry…I hate to see you cry because of me…Why can’t you see this was for you?
“Ronnie, I…” I try to step closer but all she does is step away from me again. All I can do is look down, frustrated again but too tired to fight and more than willing to cave to her demands if it means she doesn’t walk away or cry another tear. “Ok, point made. I’m sorry.” I lean closer, resting my hands behind my back before exiting Heather’s body and moving closer to the back wall to observe the inevitable fireworks of Heather waking up.
When Heather came to she was in her typical unpleasant state. “Where am I?”
Ronnie on the other hand seemed relived to see her again mostly unharmed outside of her charred up hand, only god knows why. “Heather, thank god you’re ok! You need to get back in and give your speech!”
Her eyesbrows furrowed. “I’m sorry did you make me run late?” She asked with a head tilt.
“What? No?! It was J.D….” Ronnie said far too willing to throw me under the bus for what I was doing for entirely unselfish purposes.
“J.D.? Did that brain injury give you a tumor? I mean seriously, Ronnie. Blaming someone that doesn’t even exist…” Heather pushes Ronnie against the railing with violent force. I approach from behind on instinct in spite of knowing there’s not really much I could do in this situation.“Jealous much? Admit it. You’re jealous you don’t have what I have. Take a hint, Ronnie. It’s over.” She leaned in closer, her voice venomous only to twist the knife in deeper. “You’re history, roadkill, dead and you can’t come back from that with gifts and begging. Move on!”
Like an animal with her back against the wall, Ronnie does the only thing she can do to defend herself. “God, get off of me!” She shoves Heather off her…
Heather falls down the stairs with a sickening clatter. Her body was not unlike a broken rag doll pushed too far to not take significant damage. Any signs of Heather’s poise and resilience was long gone by the time she hit the bottom and in its place? A horrified expression overtook her usual confident air. It was more humiliating than any act I could’ve ever inflicted on her when it was done by the one she often hurt the most. Karma served with an extra flavor of irony. Bet those heels didn’t do her any favors during the fall. A break neck fall in break neck shoes now with a broken neck. Fitting it was Ronnie who took her down, even if by accident. Even as she scrambled to the edge of the stairs to look on at what she did in horror, screeching at the top of her lungs before covering her mouth in an unnecessary display of remorse for the fallen dragon I knew that deep down this is what she wanted all along. What we both wanted too…
I walk closer to her, mouth agape as I take in the crime scene and Heather’s body, another casualty on school grounds. A little rattled by all of it as well.
“Don’t just stand there! Call 9-11!”
“Uh, little late for that.”
She ran down the stairs desperately towards Heather before I could stop her, gently shaking her as if she was Sleeping Beauty in need of waking up. “Heather! Heather! HEATHER! Oh my god! OH MY GOD! I JUST KILLED MY BEST FRIEND?!” She held her arms out to gesture at the body.
I sit down on the edge of one of the lower stairs with the body. “And your worst enemy.” I correct her, a fact to be remembered more so than merely my own observation.
“Same difference! The cops are going to think I did this on purpose! They’re going to have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin!” She pouted. “I didn’t mean to.” She said quietly for reassurance before looking up at me frantically for even more. “You see that? I DIDN’T MEAN TO!!!”
I move closer to her. Sometimes an accident is just an accident, but other times an “accident” was simply always meant to happen as it did. The universe letting her innocence remain while also making what must be done occur. So in that way-was it ever even an accident to begin with?
“I know. I know.” I coax her gently, more worried about her not getting caught than anything else at the moment. “Look, you could go to jail. You need to get your head on straight now and leave before anyone or the cops see you, ok?”
“You say that like you’ve done this before.” She laughed at me presumably with intentions of coping.
“This isn’t funny! Just follow my lead. Like this, ok?”
She nods, finally understanding and seeing things my way. “Ok.”
She takes one last look at Heather right before taking a deep breath and heading up the stairs before anyone sees her, leaving me with what’s left of Heather Chandler.
For a long time I sit and guard the body, staring at it with tired eyes. I can’t help but wonder if this feeling of apathy for the dead was how anyone felt about me after my own untimely demise. Humanity loves to spin death into romanticism, the dead no longer a person but an object to further the guilt of the individual who outlived them. Heather is unlikely to be any different in that way: a victim. The teen girl gone too soon everyone visits with sad stories and flowers to decorate the dedication to her unworthy memory. When you’re dead the one so obviously a monster becomes something dainty, all dressed up to ease the comfort of the living at the expense of the dead. It’s desecration, wax statues a little too lifelike to be gawked at. That is if you’re lucky to be remembered at all. Those of us nobody wants to remember don’t get big funerals and dedications to ourselves. Not that I will ever know if anyone cared enough to do that, but I really do doubt they did.
As I sit there the two remaining Heathers begin to approach the area.
“Heather, where are you? Ronnie told us they were coming to look for you and AH!” The girl in the cheerleading uniform screamed as she saw Heather laying at the bottom of the stairs.
In my sudden distress from being spooked I moved farther away from the scene but still within viewing distance. Both Heathers looked at their leader’s body with different reactions. One Heather, the one always in green looks like she was about to throw up. Not out of bounds given her choice of extracurricular activities. The other Heather looked as alarmed as she did heartbroken by the sight.
Ronnie quickly came from upstairs to see what commotion the girls had brought on, Principal Gowan not too far behind her.
“We need to call someone!”
“Heather Chandler is gone!”
Ronnie turned to face Gowan who looked equal parts disturbed and frightened as I would’ve expected him to be, eyebrows raised as he rubbed his eyebrows and scanned the hallway for any signs of something he could seem to find.
Heather’s scream apparently summoned the rest of the school who all began to pile up in the hallway, looking at Heather Chandler’s body like their god had finally fallen. The queen bee finally eradicated from the hive once and for all.
What can I say? I couldn’t help myself from grinning at the sight. At the feeling of watching all the pieces in this game of chess come falling down. Now this was a statement, a statement made together in an accidental harmony. A duet the school could never unhear.
READ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 ~ Ronnie’s POV HERE!
