High School Would Have Been Paradise (a Heathers Fanfiction)

Prologue

The gun that Jason Dean and Veronica Sawyer had been fighting over fires. Veronica stumbles back, clutching her stomach. JD drops the gun in disbelief, diving by her side. 

"Don't set off that bomb." she says to him. "Don't set off that bomb."

JD rips off his coat and presses in to the wound, a thing that he had learned from the six weeks he had been in Boy Scouts. "Veronica, no." he says, his voice thick with tears. "I can't lose you too."

He goes to lift her up. "We're going to get you to a hospital. You're going to survive this."

Veronica covers her ears, cringing from the pain of movement. "Stop! Heather, stop!" she cries out.

"Heather? No, I'm JD, JD your boyfriend."

"Kurt, Ram, stop." she moans, blood staining her teeth and trickling out the corners of her mouth.

"They're dead. Gone, remember?" JD begins to say, stopping when he, too, hears the voices.

"Come join me in Hell!" Heather Chandler cackles, extending a pale hand. "Don't run, it will only make her worse."

"Keep it together, keep it together." he mutters to himself, willing his legs to move faster.

JD glances down at Veronica, who is weakly smiling back at him. "I'll say hi to God." she says before closing her eyes.

"No, no, you can't!" He runs into the gym, interrupting the pep rally.

"Jason, what in the world is going on?" Ms. Fleming asks before she sees the state Veronica is in. "Somebody call and ambulance!" she shrieks.

The paramedics pronounce her dead on the scene. Since JD was there when she was shot, he was taken into custody for questioning by the police.

"A suicide." he lies. But the tears coming out of his eyes are the complete opposite. "She committed suicide. I tried to stop her, and we were fighting over the gun."

The police look skeptical. 

"I should have known!" Mrs. Sawyer wails as she enters the building. She's loud and obnoxious, but no-one questions her. After all, her only child had just died. "Veronica's friend showed us her copy of Moby Dick earlier today! We should have known!"

Jason sits with his head in his hands. The wailing and the bright lights and the guilt are all too much for him to handle. 

"I'm going for a walk." he declares. "To straighten out my thoughts."

This is one thing the police don't question. The woman interrogating him unlocks the door and lets him outside.

JD walks the two miles from the police station to the 7-11. 

"Why, hullo Jason!" the potbellied cashier calls. JD doesn't answer, but grabs the largest cup he can find and fills it with slushy. "The usual, eh?"

JD only nods, handing him a five dollar bill. He receives his change, not answering when the cashier bids him goodbye. 

"That was quite a long walk." the receptionist at the front desk comments.

"I have quite a lot of thoughts." JD retorts.

Mrs. and Mr. Sawyer are still at the station, a pile of tissues next to them. He keeps his head down, not acknowledging them. They don't notice him, and are too absorbed in trying to stop crying to even think about him.

Jason has a nightmare when he finally gets to sleep that night, the first that he's had since he watched the building that his mother had walked into explode. 

It was less of a nightmare, and more reliving the moment where Veronica was shot, each time getting more sick and twisted. First it was how it was, then the next time her head had been blown off, the next her chest had been opened, revealing all of her organs, and it kept getting worse and worse. The cycle continued for nearly a month until his father was sick of Jason tossing and turning and never sleeping.

"You're going to therapy." he said. "That way I don't have such a shortbus for a son."

A/N: short prologue, I know. Swear that the chapters will probably be longer. On second thought, no promises