Musical One Shots

The Aftermath ~ Heathers

Heather Chandler.

The queen.

The icon.

The bitch.

The dead girl.

~~~

Veronica took another swig of the cloudy brown bottle, the burn going unnoticed. She hadn't a clue what she was drinking, only knowing it was alcohol. The shingles of her roof dug into her bare feet and her butt through her shorts.

I'm a murderer.

I killed my worst enemy.

I killed my best friend.

I killed Heather Chandler.

She took another swig, emptying the bottle. The sun was setting, but she was numb to the beautiful hues of gold and rose streaking and blending together on the canvas of the sky. People were turning Heather's death into a meaningful thing. It was a beautiful tragedy. It was poetic.

Veronica. . . Veronica knew. It wasn't poetic. She saw the truth now. Nothing ends poetically. It ends and they make it poetic. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.

Red.

Veronica closed her eyes. She would never see that color again without thinking of Chandler. Her scrunchie. Her outfit. Her lipstick. Her personality.

Her blood.

She dropped the bottle, letting it roll off the roof and shatter on the ground. She uncapped another one and took a long drink.

Maybe alcohol could fill the numb emptiness she felt inside.

~~~

Dull brown eyes. They studied her. They judged her. They ridiculed her. And yet, they remained the eyes of a doll. Glassy and dead.

Heather Duke stared at her reflection, not quite sure how to describe her feelings. She wasn't ecstatic over Chandler's death, but she wan't necessarily torn up about it either.

Her eyes narrowed at the red scrunchie in her hand before she looked back up at the mirror, finding a blank Heather Chandler staring back at her. She pursed her lips at the eyeless illusion. "Why would you do it? Your life was perfect- You had everything you wanted."

The dead girl didn't answer her, placing her hands against the mirror to peer blankly at the green Heather.

Heather grew angry, her eyes narrowed even more as her fists clenched. "I wanted your life! I would've killed for it! And you - you just threw it away!" She slammed her fist against the mirror, making Chandler remove her hands. "You made me life a living hell and then acted like yours wasn't good enough?!"

Heather Chandler watched as she collapsed into angry sobs, covering her face. There was no emotion in her glassy, white eyes.

"I prayed for your death. . . all the time." Heather Duke whispered. She wiped her eyes. "You. . . you just wanted to hurt me. You wanted me to feel responsible. You loved seeing me in pain."

Chandler tilted her head, placing her hand on the mirror again.

Heather Duke turned over the red scrunchie in her hands a few times before tying her hair with it. She straightened, glaring at her former abuser. "Now? You are nothing." She leaned forward. "And I relish in that fact."

Leaving behind any feelings of guilt, she breezed out of the bathroom, leaving behind a green scrunchie and an empty mirror.

~~~

Another minute. More tears. Did they ever stop? How long had it been? She hadn't a clue.

Heather McNamara gripped her pillow tighter as another strangled sob forced its way out of her body. Tears rolled down her face endlessly to the point she worried she was going to drown. She felt like she already was.

She had one person. One person who had let her in and now she was gone. She knew Chandler wasn't perfect and maybe she had bad karma coming her way, but not death. Not yet. She was too young.

Another sob. More tears.

Chandler had been there for her for three years. They had gone shopping, they'd had sleepovers, and Chandler always protected her. Be it family problems, Heather Duke, or kids at school, Chandler had always made sure she was okay.

But now? Now she was alone.

No, not alone. She had Heather Duke. The thought of that made her whimper. She had Veronica. Maybe. . . maybe Veronica would help?

Heather choked down another sob. Chandler had always known when Heather was upset and needed help. And Heather didn't even know Chandler wanted to- That she was going to-

Another wave of tears fell and she hastily grabbed her phone. Her first instinct was to call Chandler. She listened to it ring, a foolish part of her hoping that her best friend would pick up and laugh at her for believing it.

"You've got Heather Chandler. Clearly, you aren't important enough for me to answer immediately. Leave a message and maybe you'll be lucky enough to get a text back. Listen for the beep, b-"

The beep cut off the curse and Heather almost giggled. They had set that up together. She took a deep breath and redialed, listening to it again.

"I just wanted to hear your voice. . ." She whispered. After a moment of thought, she dialed the only other person she could trust.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four -

"Hello?" Came the exhausted, hoarse voice.

Heather's hands shook. "V-Veronica?"

"Heather, it's two in the goddamn morning." Veronica rasped out. "This better be important."

"Veronica, I - " Her shaking voice cut off with another sob and she covered her mouth.

"Heather? Heather, are you okay?" Veronica suddenly sounded much more awake and shuffling could be heard. "Hold on, I'm on my way. Unlock your window."

Heather couldn't stop herself. "I m-miss her. . ."

Silence. Then. . . "So do I."

As Heather's eyes landed on the framed photo by her bed, she repressed another sob. Chandler and her's smiling faces stared back at her. She turned away, closing her eyes. Veronica was still talking, trying to distract her.

It hit her then. Heather Duke might've been trying to take the power of Chandler, but Veronica would take the comfort.

And maybe MacNamara was okay with that.