Heathers Requests/One Shots

The Ballad of Heather Duke

TW: Eating Disorders. And this contains a lot of Never Shut Up Again references. Hope you enjoy!

"Yeah, Heathers, where's your urge to purge?" I knew Heather was joking, I knew that. But it cut deep, slicing through all my defenses, ones carefully built up over years.

Where was my urge to purge? It was always there, simmering under the surface, prompting my every action. It sunk it's claws into me, never letting go.

It was like a voice, whispering in my ear. At first it was Carrie Caraway, the girl who bullied me in middle school. Then it was my mom, who loved to tell me how worthless I was.

Now? It was Heather Chandler. I could see her, blue dripping down her chin as she, in her red silk dressing gown, whispered in my ear. I tried to shake the thoughts, but they kept coming.

And no matter that she was dead. Whenever I stuck my finger in my throat, whenever I saw my last meal in the toilet, I felt her saying, "Good job, Heather." 

She had never said that it real life. "Shut up, Heather!" was her preferred way of talking to me. Never a compliment. No, Heather got that. And, I can't believe it, I'm jealous of her.

Jealous of weak-willed, little Heather McNamara. The one who gained Heather's praise. the one who never had to shut up. Maybe, just maybe, I was jealous of how, even after years of being the biggest bullies in school, she remained, somehow, pure.

And Veronica. She was, in truth, like all of us. She was a leader, like Heather. She still had a (somewhat) good heart, like Heather. And she was smart, like me.

"Whatever," I scoffed at Heather and Veronica as I stuffed a chicken leg in my mouth. Heather gave Veronica Heather's swatch watch. I wanted to smack it out of her hand.

Wanted to shout, 'That's mine!'. Wanted to yell at them. But I still shut up. Chandler wasn't even there, telling me to shut up. But still I did.

Whatever. It didn't matter. No matter if Heather was dead, me, Heather, and Veronica are left. Someone has to rise to the top. Someone has to take control of this racket. And it wasn't going to be Heather. She was a pushover.

And it wasn't going to be Veronica. She didn't want to. So I would. I knew Heather's locker combo, where she kept her red scrunchie. Heather, my Heather, the one in my head yelled at me.

"How dare you? Heather, you better not! Shut up, Heather! STOP!"

For the first time, I wasn't shutting up. And I would never shut up again.

(432 words)