Heathers Requests/One Shots

The Weakest Has Gone

This is a weighty one, TW//Death, suicide, mentioned eating disorder. And I was wondering, would you like to see other musicals as Heathers? Like Be More Chill and Dear Evan Hansen and such? Just an idea.

Only a few minutes ago, I had said life was like a lifeboat. I must have been on one then, because my stomach was rolling and my brain was foggy and everything was fading in and out, in and out...

I couldn't breath. There was the sound of something, a lot of little somethings, falling. Had someone dropped something? Oh, I had. The pills. There were 3 left in the bottle. When had I picked it up? What was it's name?

Since when was I on the floor? I couldn't feel anything, and it was wonderful. I knew was that I was dying and all I could think was, I did it. 

Heather was dead. So was Kurt and Ram. Why was I here if they weren't? Veronica was such a better person than me. Heather had made it clear I wasn't welcome here, and now, I'm leaving. Finally.

My mom and dad won't stop fighting long enough to miss me. Veronica might, but she'll move on with her boyfriend. A loving, sweet boyfriend. I never had that? I was never good enough to have someone like that. I got Ram.

Were he and Kurt really in love? Was that why, no matter what I did, he just didn't look at me? Look at me like those Remington boys eyed up Heather and Heather. Look at me like J.D. looked at Veronica. Did anyone like me?

Heather, Heather, and Heather. We weren't perfect. Far from it. But Heather, she was so confident and bold. And Heather might be mean now, but she's sarcastic and smart and witty. Me? I'm nothing. I'm plain ole Heather McNamara. No one talked about how hot I was, how cool, how calm. I was just ok. Ok.

"Heather!" Yes, my name. Who was that? Everything was so detached. Was it Heather? It couldn't be. "HEATHER!" Oh. Veronica. Was she going to try and save me? I hope not. Just let me be, let me go. "No way, Heather." Oh. Had I been talking out loud.

I laughed. I don't know why. Maybe it was funny, that Veronica joining our group had shifted and broken and twisted everything I knew on its head, and here she was, trying to play the good guy. Maybe if it weren't for her, me and Heather and Heather would still be on top.

But no, because Veronica. Veronica who was bold, who was sarcastic, who was nice. She was all of us Heathers in one. Maybe things started the same time, but she could never have started it.

So maybe it was me. It had to be. Because Heather and Heather were too perfect to cause problems. It was me. Always me.

I was a horrible person. I teased Heather about BULIMIA. When my older sister had it. I was crying, at least, I thought I was. It was wet. Maybe it was Veronica. Maybe it was the ocean. Everything was shaking, rolling, twisting and turning.

My feeling faded and then my taste, salty tears no longer there. I couldn't smell Heather's last lunch. Veronica's sobs faded in and out. My vision blurred from both of our tears, and blinding blackness, than impossibly dark white, then... nothing. No black. No white. No blue, green or yellow.

But there was red. Red. Heather Chandler. She was there, right there, blue staining her chin and her red scrunchie missing. I had never seen her without it.

"So, Veronica got you too?" What? Everything felt like the inside of an apple, to crisp, to wet. Heather was there, the only thing aside from nothing.

"No, I- I overdosed." Silence. Long, weighty silence. Before I had always filled it with meaningless chatter, barbs with no backbone, gossip that wasn't even true. Now, I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth. There was nothing.

Nothing. No high school popularity contests. I was laughing, laughing. Heather looked at me like I was psycho, and yeah, maybe I was. The yellow scrunchie in my hair felt like a concrete Prom Queen crown. I ripped it off, taking a lot of my hair with it.

It started burning. I let the heat burn my fingers, not dropping the scrunchie till it was just ashes. Those flew away on no breeze, vanishing. I was free. Maybe the only way to escape drowning was to swim deeper. Deeper and deeper, until you couldn't see the lifeboat. Until you didn't have to feel.

(726 words)