The Story That Wasn't Told Yet: A Chansaw Story

veronica. veronica.

oh veronica. veronica sawyer. you sit in my english class, in philosophy. darling, you are something else. you aren't always sure of yourself but your little guard dog keeps you secure. i wonder if that little guard dog would be much use for you if she wasn't able to protect you. shame right? i'll see you soon.

~

i found a letter in my locker. i opened it but as soon as i read the first couple lines i dropped it. i couldn't read it. it made me sick. i picked it up, shoving it into my pockets, and sprinted to the bathroom, leaving heather alone, rather confused. 

i heaved, crumpling in the bathroom stall, my chest on fire, tight, unable to expand. 

'veronica. veronica. open the door. veronica what's going on?' the door rattles softly, but i couldn't get up, i wouldn't get up. just then, i look up to see heather climbing over the door, struggling, splayed on the door clinging for dear life. 

'h-heather?' i sniffled, lip trembling. she jumped down, dropping to her knees to hold me. 'what happened? veronica, look at me. breathe. breathe, can you breathe?' i struggled for air shaking my head, as she held me tight, the pressure in my chest releasing little by little. i choked out a breath, clinging to the girl, a sigh shuddering from my lips. i finally have the urge to hand her the note, closing my eyes tight.

she read it out loud, in disgust. she stammered, putting it down as she finished. 'oh veronica...' she held me close, playing with her hair. 'let's go. we're going. we're skipping today, you hear me?' she paused a moment, helping me up, but my knees only buckled. when i finally got my grounding, i clung to her, stepping out. heather cleaned my face up, dabbing my wet face with a paper towel, kissing my forehead before we stepped out. we hurried out the door to her car, and sat there in silence for a few moments. 

'this has bo diddly written all over it.'

'who?'