I Am Damaged

Big Fun

And now it's time for a throwback to 1988 to a smash-hit single by the one hit wonder, Big Fun. Here it is, 'Teenage Suicide - Don't do it'

Fuck. Not this shit. It's been five years since that horrible excuse for music plagued my ears. I regret to say that I still know half the words - not that they're very creative. I've tried to avoid anything associated with Westerburg for a while, after graduating I didn't go to college, my parents bought me an apartment in some town, I've lived here for 3 or so years and I still don't know what it's called. Wow. I've stayed in touch with a select few people, though there are many others I'd rather not see. Betty Finn is doing fine, she's fallen madly in love with some police officer - Ralph, is it? And Heather McNamara's happy. She saw a therapist and tells me she doesn't get suicidal anymore.
I wish I could see a therapist and not have to lie through my teeth about what I did.
I'm not sure what she's doing, but she's probably just enjoying her parents wealth. I've unfortunately kept in touch with Heather Duke. She toned down the megabitch act after... what happened. I still can't stand her, but she's done well at college and has some high up job in some business somewhere.
The song's still blaring out of my radio.

If only I still had a gun to shoot it with.

I slam the off button and enjoy the silence. Silence is my favourite sound. I enjoy writing in silence as there's peace and tranquility within it. I'm still writing, and I have a column in the paper on occasion. I'm supposed to be working on a book, but I won't make it to go see a publisher because I can't go outside without being filled with thoughts of what i've done.

I killed four people. Not all with my own hands, but I'm at fault for them all.

I can't help but break into a nervous panic whenever I'm around Betty's fiancé. It's as if he can see the blood on my hands.  Heather's blood. Ram's blood. Kurt's blood.... J.D's blood.

If it wasn't for Veronica Sawyer, none of this would have happened.

After the day of the explosion, I isolated myself from everyone. I didn't leave my room for months, refused to go to school. I only returned two months into senior year. In a way not much has changed. I don't leave my house much, except to buy cigarettes and food. Oh, and toilet paper, that's important too.
I tend to sustain a low level of intoxication throughout the day, I say it helps my creativity, but it just to forget. I like that.
The phone rings, and i slowly approach it to pick up.
'Hello?'
'Veronica?'
'Speaking. Who is this?' I vaguely recognise the voice, but it sounds shaky, as if they're about to burst into floods of tears.
'Thank god I finally found you. It's Heather. The police found evidence that Heather didn't kill herself, she was murdered. You have to get down here, as soon as you can.'

Fuck.