Meant to be Yours (ChanSaw)

Chapter 7 (Veronica)

Duke, Kurt, and Ram are gone. Finally. I let myself rest for a moment. I close my eyes for a few seconds, letting myself relax in the absolute darkness. I slowly crack open my eyes again and almost have a heart attack.

I'm in a completely different, unfamiliar place. White walls, white bed, crazy bright lights shining directly on me. It feels like my brain's about to bust out of my skull. I groan in pain and throw my forearm over my eyes.

"Veronica?" I hear from beside me.

"Hmm?" I respond.

"Hey, sweetie. How you feelin'?" Says the voice. A large, rough hand grabs mine. It must be my dad.

"Like shit," I retort. "Can you shut off this light, please?"

"Language, baby," my mother says. I groan again. I hear the click of the lights and I slowly remove my arm from my face.

I'm in a stale, white room. There's a curtain on a track drawn around me, blocking out most of the room. I turn to look at my parents.

Both of them are smiling lightly, but they look like they're seriously pissed off. I can see why, I guess. I think about the attack, and I am stricken with realization. My eyes widen and I ask, "Where's Heather?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about her for a while," my mother examines her nails. "She's in police custody right now. We also have already made arrangements to sue her and her little posey of hooligans." She says, smiling.

"What?!" I half-yell. "Mom, that's not funny. Where's MY Heather?" I regret saying that to them immediately.

She looks to my dad, confused. He mirrors her expression, but then turns back to me. "Do you mean the girls who drove you here?"

"Yes! Is she ok?" I say. Wait, did he say 'girls?' Plural?

"Oh, that makes sense." He says, his expression lightening. "What a coincidence they're both named 'Heather.' One of them had a broken nose, so she's getting that treated. The other girl is fine, she went home a while ago."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. I doubt that Heather's nose is broken enough to need surgery, so I'm sure shes fine. Just then, a nurse pokes her head through the curtain.

"Veronica? You have a visitor. A boy." She says smiling.

"Oooh, a boy?" My mom says raising her eyebrows with a smirk, "Your dad and I will give you some privacy."

Before I could say anything else, I was alone behind the curtain, wracking my brain for any boys who would be visiting me. None came to mind, beyond Kurt, Ram, and--

The sharp squeak of the metal curtain rings against the rod they were attached to snapped me back to my senses.

None other than Jason Dean stood in front of me.

"Slurpee?" He offers, sitting next to the bed. He takes a long sip from a Slurpee as he tries to hand one to me.

I grimace at him, "No thanks,"

"Suit yourself," he shrugs, taking another long sip.

I sigh. "J.D., how the heck did you find out that I was in the hospital and what room I was in?"

He shrugs again. "Duke told me you were here, and a fake I.D. can go a long way in these parts." He flashes me a fake police I.D. and badge.

"And the receptionist believed you?" I ask, highly skeptical. He definitely does not look old enough to have a job, much less a police officer.

"20 bucks and a pack of cigarettes convinced her otherwise." He smirks. Sicko.

"Wow... okay, then." I have the sudden urge to call the real police. "Why go through all the trouble?"

He scoffs, "Because you're the love of my life?"

I cringe at his statement. He's officially the weirdest person I've ever met. "J.D., I... I'm sorry, but you're not my type."

He laughs painfully. He smiles, but his eyes are filled with a lustful anger. "I'll do anything! Baby, please, I love you. More than you could ever comprehend. Please, tell me what to change and I'll do it in a heartbeat."

I smile uncomfortably. I really just want him to leave. "No, J.D.. You can't."

"Yes I can!" He says angrily, standing up. I flinch. Aggressively, he grabs my hand and presses it to his chest; to his heart. "Anything. Anytime. Anywhere." He whispers. My eyes widen with fear as he tightens his hold on my hand before trying to plant a kiss on my cheek.

This is the final straw.

I slap him hard across the face, hard. Taken aback, he grabs his cheek. His face is full of shock and hurt.

"J.D., I'm gay. Don't talk to me again." I reply calmly, though I'm aching to hit him again.

His expression slowly melts into that of pure rage. "You'll regret this, Sawyer. I'll make you mine, one way or another. I won't let myself miss this opportunity." He chucks his empty Slurpee cup in the trash. Then, he picks up the still full cup he had brought for me. The ice has melted, leaving is watered down and gross. He locks eyes with me and sets it in the trash. "I'll be back for you. I promise." He finishes, leaving me alone behind the curtain once more.