Forgiven (JD x Veronica)

Chapter 7

TW: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF BULIMIA

Dusk trickled in softly past dark green drapes. They faded past everything in the room and illuminated the bathroom, shining softly on Heather's face, which rested on the edge of the toilet bowl. The light lightly laid itself across her face, providing warmth and a slight distraction to Heather's misery.

It was nice, at first, laying there, letting the sunlight warm her face as it softly effaced the actions she had previously taken. However, the bliss was too soon disturbed by her phone ringing.

At first, Heather was confused. Was she dreaming? Were her dreams this bland and realistic? Had her brain memorized her phone's obnoxious ring pattern, four beeps followed by 1, repeat ad infinitum? It only hit her after the fourth ring where she was. Snapping her eyes open, Heather shoved herself away from the toilet bowl and into a wall, groaning loudly as her back flared with pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Muttering to herself, she hastily stumbled to her feet, nearly collapsing after she had come to a full standing. She crumbled into her bathroom's countertop and smashed her forehead into its cold marble. She took a moment to breathe. The ringing stopped. Heather sighed, praying silently that whoever had called left a voicemail. Taking a moment to stabilize herself, Heather pushed herself off the countertop. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It had been of her own consideration and Heather's advice to get a smaller mirror, after all, smaller mirror means less you can see, and the less you can see the less you have to worry about.

Heather shook her head. It didn't matter the size of the mirror. Nothing could erase the fact that she fucking hated herself.

Moving forward, Heather splashed water onto her face and quickly flushed the remains of her lunch down the toilet. Turning off the lights and slamming her bathroom door shut. Heather had just flopped down onto her bed when the phone started to ring again.

Heather struggled to reach it without actually getting up and moving. She reached and reached, wiggling her body closer inch by inch. In the end, Heather just let out a massive sigh and stood up, picking up the receiver to hear whoever had called her.

"Hello?"

"Heather?"

Heather nearly dropped the phone. Her heart dropped into her stomach and came close to making her vomit once again. Sweat immediately started to protrude out of every orifice it could. Her mind raced with things to say. Should she start off with an apology or beg for forgiveness? Should she play things casual or be confrontational? Did Veronica tell Heather to call her or was Heather doing this out of her own volition? Probably the former. Heather made an immediate mental note to thank Veronica later.

Despite all the words in Heather's mind, apologies she had rehearsed in the mirror countless times, eulogies of sorries and 'please forgive me', all she could muster was a simple,

"Hey."

"How are you?"

Heather smirked to herself. There was a lecture full of things that were wrong in her life. So much so that Heather was sure she could write a full length novel if her pain actually turned interesting or inspiring. Frowning to herself, Heather hit a silent realization. Heather probably didn't care how she felt.

"I'm fine, why?"

"No reason."

Silence. Pure, uninterrupted silence. It wasn't the comfortable type either. It was blaring, loud, full of uncertainty that with any given moment something could be said or done. Heather formed the words of one of her apologies in her mind.

"Hey He-"

"Is it alright if I come over?"

Heather blinked. Quickly, she pinched herself to make absolutely sure what she had heard wasn't some sort of daydream; that she wasn't still sleeping softly, head poised on the rim of the bowl while her body slumped itself against its body. Her arm flinched minorly at the pain; this was no dream.