Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Student Member KatFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 521 Deviations 25,532 Comments 18,252 Pageviews

Favourites

Journal History

Groups

:iconteen-wolf-fans: :iconteenwolffans: :iconthephantomgroup: :iconphantomfans:

Activity


Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes and strong language)
The sky was even more red than it had been at twilight.  It looked like
crimson belly-dancer veils rippling in the May breeze against a backdrop of
black smoke.  Veronica stood bewildered at the foot of the main staircase
outside of Westerburg.  In fact she was standing in J.D.'s crater.  The red
carpet that rolled down the stairs was like a stream of blood, and ironically it
matched the hue of her gown.  Veronica stared at the garment.  She didn't know
where it had come from.  J.D. had magically pulled it out of her closet like a
rabbit out of a hat.
"I shouldn't be here," Veronica murmured, looking up at the dreaded
entrance of the school.  Loud, rambunctious music was pouring out of every
orifice of the building, wafting away like waves off the Night's Plutonian
shore.  It was a far cry from Big Fun.
"Why am I here?" she demanded loudly; but there was nobody to answer her.
Veronica picked up the hem of her red dress, and started up the stairs.  
This was ridiculous, she was supposed to be home in bed-or watching movies with
Martha-she wasn't supposed to be going to the stupid prom.  So why wasn't she
turning around?
The red carpet rolled all the way in through the doors and down the
hallway.  Veronica followed it angrily, ready to scream at the first person she
saw.  She didn't even know how she had gotten to the school in the first place.  
And where the hell was J.D.?!
The crimson path led around the corner to the gym where the music was the
loudest.  Veronica winced at the screaming female voice that poured out of the
speakers and wrapped around her pulsing eardrums.  "I wanna go home," she
thought.
"Ah ha!  There you are!" he cried.
Veronica turned to see J.D. run up to her from down the hall.
"Thought I lost you for a moment there," he rasped, raising his eyebrows
and grinning like the Devil.  Veronica grimaced at him as he linked his arm with
hers.
"You're not dressed!" she cried over the music, eyeing J.D.'s normal
attire: black jeans, black coat, black tank with its low neckline, and a red
shirt open at all of its buttons.
"Of course I'm dressed!" he hollered over the noise.  "Do I look naked to
you?"
Veronica shook her head in confusion as they walked up to the gym.  She
could see the crowds of people dancing and milling about.  Above the door was a
banner that proclaimed the theme:
"A Night In Hell: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."
Veronica's mouth dropped open in utter bewilderment, she looked to J.D..
"Nice," he snickered, nodding in devious approval.
Veronica winced and glanced around as they entered.  It almost looked like
a normal prom with the exception of the lives flames dancing up the walls, and
the caged, skinless bodies hanging from the ceiling.  Veronica jerked back-her
mouth dropping to the floor in horror.
"C'mon," J.D. urged, pulling on her arm.  "It's not that bad, they had a
low budget this year."
"Are you fucking crazy!?" she cried, resisting him.  J.D. raised his
eyebrows, pulling his long hair away from his face to reveal the distinct
widow's peak on his forehead.
"According to you I am," he retorted wickedly.
"Veronica!" Heather McNamara called from across the way.  Veronica spun
around as J.D. lit a cigarette with some of the flames crawling up a nearby
wall.  Heather ran up to them looking like a sugar plum fairy in her sparkling,
yellow gown.  She seemed completely oblivious to the hellish décor.
"Veronica," she breathed, "we all thought you weren't coming!"
"Yeah, well . . ." Veronica stammered, still dreadfully confused.
"J.D. swore he'd get you here," Heather went on nonchalantly.  "I mean,
what would the prom be without you?"
Veronica just stood there in shocked silence.  Heather turned to J.D.,
batting her eyes.  "I like your hair," she said sheepishly.
Veronica shot J.D. a sharp look and then whipped her head back to Heather.
"Ah!  Thank you!" J.D. rasped in emphatic delight.  He grinned like the
Devil at Veronica, and Heather blushed as he took her hand.
"May I?" he purred.
"Sure!" Heather replied in her feathery voice, "Just please, don't kill
me."
J.D. turned to Veronica, who looked as though she had just swallowed a
fly.  "Excuse us darling," he said, "we'll be right back."
Veronica watched as J.D. and Heather disappeared into the dancing crowd.  
It took her a long few moments before she actually decided to move again.
"This isn't happening," she groaned, looking around for the nearest empty
corner.  She started making her way through the clusters of familiar people and
saw Betty Finn standing by the punch bowl, looking very out of place.  Veronica
hurried over to her.
"Betty!" she cried, "God, am I glad to see you!"
Betty smiled broadly, pushing her round-rimmed glasses up her nose.
"Veronica, thank God you're here, I feel like such an idiot.  I didn't
even bring a date.  How pathetic is that?"
Veronica laughed, "Betty, please, that should be the last of your
problems!  God, look at this place!"
Betty shrugged, "Looks like hell, doesn't it," she sighed, "They didn't
have the best prom committee this year.  Heather Duke and her friends were more
concerned with their gowns than with decorating."
Veronica winced, and glanced around at the dangling bodies.  She looked
back to Betty who was staring dreamily into the gyrating mob.
"Betty, are you alright?"
Betty blinked, innocently.  "I'm just so bored with my life, Veronica,"
she sighed.  "I always seem to be on the outside looking in."
Veronica laughed awkwardly.  "I always seem to be on the inside trying to
get out."
The two girls remained silent for a few moments as the music blasted, and
then Betty said: "J.D. looks great."
Veronica's breath caught in her throat.
"I'm so glad you two got back together.  He seemed so unstable without
you, Veronica, trying to blow up the school and all."
Veronica shook her head.  "Betty, J.D. is dead," she declared.
"Aren't we all, Veronica?" remarked an-all-too-familiar voice.  Veronica
whirled around quickly: Heather Chandler was standing behind her, as regal as
ever in a huge red gown that looked as though it had just stepped from the
Elizabethan Age.
Veronica's eyes grew wide, and Heather smiled knowingly, her chiseled face
glowing with wicked intentions.
"Have a drink, Veronica," she offered in her devious, commanding tone.
Veronica watched as Heather bent to spoon her some punch that was as blue
as the Hull Clean J.D. had given Heather four weeks ago.  Veronica felt her
stomach churn with dread.
"I think I'll pass," she said warily.
Heather shrugged, a nasty smile playing over her luscious, red lips:
"Pity."
Veronica scowled nervously, and looked around for someone, anyone, to save
her from Heather.  Much to her dismay she saw Kurt and Ram emerge from the crowd
of flailing people.  They were both in their socks and underwear, their purple-
blue bodies bare and corpse like, with their fatal bullet wounds fully exposed.
Veronica shrank back against the buffet table as the two dead jocks approached
nonchalantly.  Heather Chandler grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
"Hi Veronica," Ram said in his deep, moronic voice.
Veronica swallowed hard, her face draining of all its color.  She looked
from Kurt, to Ram, to Heather and wished she could just disappear.  They all
seemed to loom over her as though they were the judge and jury of her fate.
"Ah! Punch!" Ram cried, happily diving for the bowl.  He thrust his cup
in, splashing the unappetizing blue stuff all over the table, and then guzzled
it greedily.  Veronica watched in horror as most of the liquid drizzled out of
the open bullet wound in Ram's neck.  It trickled down his muscular chest,
rolled all the way down his stomach, and stained the cotton fabric of his white
briefs.
Veronica's heart pounded in her throat.  She looked to Kurt, who was
scrutinizing her coldly, and then to Heather, who was reveling in the guilt
Veronica was drowning in, and decided that she had to get away from them before
they lynched her.  Without an explanation Veronica bolted off into the crowd,
pushing desperately past dancing people.
"What's wrong, Veronica?" Heather taunted after her, her voice fading as
Veronica delved further and further into the swarm of students.
Where the hell was J.D.?
It seemed like an eternity before Veronica broke into another clearing
where the music seemed to die down and the sneering voices of nearby kids faded
in.  Veronica stopped short to survey the scene before her.  Heather Duke,
Courtney, and a slew of others were gathered beneath one of the dangling cages
In their hands they held flaming torches and great, long, pointy spears.  They
were shouting out strange, derogatory things as they jabbed, and burned at the
cage.  Someone inside was screaming at them to stop.
Veronica squinted hard; trying to see who it was Heather and her little
demons were tormenting.  She could see someone's skinny arms waving helplessly
through the charred, metal bars.  And as she watched more closely, she could see
the whole person cramped inside, and fighting to break free.
It was Stuart Salinger.
Veronica gasped.  She tried to scream at Heather to stop; but she couldn't
even hear herself over the chaos.  And then Principal Gowan took the podium,
turning on the microphone which screeched loudly through the membrane of the
speakers.
"And now," he announced grandly, "the moment you've all been waiting
for!"
Veronica turned away from the torture of poor Stuart.  She could vaguely
make out the figure of the principal on stage.
"It's time to announce the prom King and Queen!"
An uproar took hold of the entire gym.  Veronica felt some sort of dread
unfurl deep within her gut.
"The envelope please, Ms. Phlegm," Gowan said.  Veronica glanced around.  
Heather Duke had stopped jabbing Stuart with her spear to listen excitedly, and
somewhere across the gym Heather Chandler stood expectantly, flanked by Kurt and
Ram, still in their underwear.  Principal Gowan ripped open the envelope and
grinned broadly.  He leaned close to the microphone and a hush swept over the
crowd wrought with anticipation.
"I now present Westerburg's King and Queen," he cried flamboyantly:
"Jason Dean and Veronica Sawyer!"

* * *

Veronica bolted upright in bed, sweat pouring down her face, her heart
pounding violently against her breastbone.  She was completely tangled in her
soaked sheets, and her bathrobe was strangling her.  She tried to catch her
breath, turning her nightmare over and over again in her head.
The prom from Hell.
"Oh, God," Veronica moaned, looking around her bedroom.  It was morning.  
The sun filtered through her open window, lending an air of comfort to all of
her surroundings.  A fresh breeze swirled around her flustered figure.
Slowly Veronica unwound herself from her bed and got up.  She was alone.  
Completely and utterly alone.
"A dream!" she gasped, "It was all a dream."
She felt queasy, as if her head had just stepped backwards off an upside-
down roller coaster.  She tried to block out the spinning images of Kurt, Ram,
Heather and Stuart Salinger roasting over an open fire.  But it was slightly
difficult.
Prom from Hell.
Veronica scoffed at the thought and crossed her room to get dressed.  She
could still smell the faint aroma of cigarette smoke and she stepped on a
Marlboro butt on her way to the closet.
"Shit," she muttered, "shit."

* * *

"Dear Diary,
It's Monday morning and everybody looks as though they're permanently hung
over.  Apparently the prom was a great success, though I've heard varying
stories.  The prom I went to was hell; but that's typical of nightmares,
especially ones wrought with J.D.'s twisted sense of humor.  Speaking of whom, I
haven't seen him since Friday night.  I'm beginning to wonder if all he wanted
to do was take me to the prom-wouldn't it be nice if it were that simple?
"I bumped into Betty Finn on the way to school this morning.  She said the
prom she went to was for cool kids only, or at least that was the way it seemed.  
According to her Stuart Salinger was there.  Betty crinkled her nose and said:
"He's trying to be J.D. isn't he?"
"I rolled my eyes, she said not to take it to heart, that he only has a
huge crush on me.  Gee, thanks Betty.
"Poor Stuart, though.  Betty said that Heather and her minions picked up
on Stuart's fixation with J.D. and used it to ridicule him.  He was totally
devastated.  They tormented him about everything, his coat, his hair, his face,
me.  They made him feel like shit.  They said he could never be J.D. no matter
what he did.  According to Betty, Stuart ran from the prom crying." -Veronica
Sawyer.

* * *

Veronica dragged herself towards the cafeteria half asleep behind her
sunglasses.  It did bother her that she hadn't seen J.D. since Friday night,
though it had been a peaceful weekend.  The early morning sunlight flooded the
main hallway of Westerburg, bouncing off the shiny floor and ricocheting off the
dark lockers.  Veronica squinted, and entered the caf.  Everyone was sleep
walking.  It was the last week of class and finals pressure was on.
"I should've stayed home," Veronica grumbled, sitting down at an empty
table, and searching her bag for an Aspirin.
Stuart Salinger walked in moments later.  Even after what had happened at
the prom, Stuart refused to shed his long, black coat.  Those who had been
present on Friday night snickered derisively as he walked by; but his back was
ironically straighter than usual.  Veronica watched with mild interest as
Stuart purposefully sat down at Heather Duke's table, unoccupied by Heather at
that moment.
"What's he up to?" Veronica wondered.
She watched as Stuart shuffled through his black school bag and then
glanced up in her direction.  They locked gazes for a moment, and then Heather
Duke walked in with Courtney and a few others.  Even at this ungodly hour in the
morning they were loud and obnoxious.
Veronica took off her sunglasses and held her head.  She considered
getting up and leaving; but Heather's snobby voice grabbed her interest:
"Oh look who suddenly thinks he's cool," she quipped.
"Stuart, why are you at our table?" Courtney sneered, "losers sit in the
back."
Veronica raised her eyebrow, Stuart wasn't moving.  In fact, he looked
quite relaxed staring up defiantly at the group of monsters.
"Finally decide to grow some balls?" one of them mocked.
"No, he still thinks he's J.D.," another jeered.
Stuart frowned, his lips quivering.
"Are you going to cry again Stuart?" Heather teased.
The clique laughed, Veronica shook her head in disgust.
"J.D. you can blow up the school now," she whispered half-jokingly.
Trembling almost violently now, Stuart stood up and pulled a long revolver
from his coat pocket.
"Shit!" Veronica thought.  Of course!  Stuart had everything else of
J.D.'s, why not the gun as well?!
"Damnit Stuart, what the hell are you doing?!" Heather growled.  Stuart
didn't hear her, he cocked the gun.  Heather started to panic.
"Stuart put the gun down!" she screamed.  But Stuart didn't listen.  He
aimed the gun directly at Heather.  Veronica jumped up from her table:
"Stuart stop!" she cried; but it was too late.  He pulled the trigger.  
The bullet crashed through Heather's cranium, taking some of her brains with it
out the other end.  Blood spattered all over Courtney and the others, who were
too shocked to do anything.  For a moment that seemed like an eternity
everything and everyone was silent.  Heather collapsed to the floor in slow
motion, her red blood invisible on her red clothing.
Veronica stared in horror at Stuart, who took a moment to stare back
before he aimed the gun at Courtney.  Courtney's eyes widened in terror: "Not
me!!!" she screamed.  "Not me!!!"
Boom.
And then all hell broke loose.  People started flying for the doors.  
Everyone was screaming and shouting; but Stuart remained calm, and
systematically began to pick off other members of Heather's clique before they
could reach the exits.  They sprawled to the ground in mid-stride, heads and
torsos exploding with the impact of bullets.  Pools of blood crawled along the
floor, collecting around the legs of tables and chairs.
"Oh God!!" someone was screaming, "Oh God!!"
Veronica froze in total disbelief.  This couldn't be happening, not after
all she went through to save this lousy school from the last psychotic killer!
Stuart just continued shooting, he wounded the Quarterback of the football
team, he shot Betty Finn in the arm.  She screamed and dove under the table, her
glasses skittering across the floor.
"Betty!" Veronica cried, finding the strength at last to move.  She
started pushing past the fleeing students, trying to get to Betty when she
collided head on with Stuart.  Her horrified eyes met his cool ones and she
stumbled back.
"Stuart, no!" she shrieked as he turned the gun on her.
For a moment he looked sad, he looked like he was going to stop, but then
his face hardened and he cocked the gun.
"Stuart, please," Veronica moaned, "Stop!"
A tear slipped from his brown eye, and then Veronica heard two loud
explosions.  For a split second she remembered shooting J.D. in the boiler room.  
She remembered how he left a bloody handprint on the pipes before he collapsed
to the ground.  And then the searing pain ripped through Veronica's abdomen,
ravaging her insides.  She felt herself falter; but her eyes never left
Stuart's.
"Damn you," she murmured, her legs giving way beneath her.  The cold
ground came up to meet her, and then the world began to spin to a stop.  
Everything went silent, and Stuart stepped over her.
Veronica felt her warm blood gushing out of her body and flooding the
floor around her.  From her vantage point on the ground she could count maybe
eight bodies.  She closed her eyes as her breathing slowed.
"Damn," she thought, "I knew I should've stayed home today."

* * *

Veronica stood there, as much as ghost as her late boyfriend, and looked
around completely astonished.  Blood and dead bodies were splattered all over
the caf.  It was as if she were standing in the middle of one of those chopper
flicks, swamped in gore.  Hell, her own body was lying at her feet!
Veronica looked down.
"Oh, my God!" she cried, "I'm dead!  I can't believe it!  I'm fucking
dead!"
She dropped to her knees but she couldn't bring herself to touch her own
corpse lying there like and broken, bleeding doll.
"Stuart put the gun down," she heard Betty Finn sob from across the room.  
"You've done enough, just put the gun down."
Veronica looked up.  Betty was sitting on the floor holding her bloody
arm, tears streaming down her face; yet she looked as though she were in total
control.  A complete hero of an emergency situation, something Veronica had been
only a few weeks earlier.  There was a group of kids that Stuart had trapped,
all huddled in the corner.
"Put the gun down, Stuart," Betty continued.  "Please put the gun down."
Stuart faltered, and then looked around.  It seemed to dawn on him what he
had done.  His eyes settled over Veronica's body and his mouth dropped open.  
Slowly his fingers unclenched their grip on the gun.  It fell and clattered
loudly to the ground.
Veronica furrowed her brow in anger: "You stupid fuck!" she screamed.
Stuart couldn't hear her.
"NOW, you're SORRY!!?  I'm already dead you asshole!!!  Why couldn't you
be fucking sorry BEFORE you pulled the trigger!?!?"
Stuart collapsed in a chair, blood smeared all over his skinny face.  The
kids in the corner ran screaming out the door.  Betty stood up cautiously,
gripping her arm as blood streamed from the wound.  She was covered in red.
Seconds later the cops burst in.
"Holy shit!" Officer McCord cried.
"Jesus Christ!" Officer Milner yelped.
Their eyes simultaneously narrowed in on Stuart and they pulled their guns
clumsily.  Stuart paid them no heed; he just sat there in a daze, completely
dumbfounded at the whole thing.  Veronica fumed.
"I'm DEAD!!!" she roared, wishing she could beat the shit out of Stuart
Salinger even though she couldn't.  "I'm fucking dead!!!"
Officers Milner and McCord pounced on Stuart as though they were the
heroes.  They fumbled all the way as they tried to latch the handcuffs around
his bony wrists.  Stuart didn't resist, although the police acted as if he were
fighting them tooth and nail.
"It's a fucking blood bath!" McCord shrieked when he realized he was
getting blood all over his shoes.  He jumped out of the puddle as though it had
bit him, and tried to wipe his foot off on the seat next to Heather Duke's dead
body.
"My God why??" Milner implored, looking around in total disbelief.  He
scratched under his cap, his face twisted in utter bewilderment.
Stuart made no response.
"You're in big trouble, mister!" Milner cried.  "Very big trouble!  McCord
call for backup!"
McCord got on his radio.  Veronica gaped at the two officers.
"Take him in!!" she shouted.  "The son of a bitch killed me, throw his ass
in jail!!"
Milner shook his head.  "The Devil made him do it, that has to be it!  
He's only a fucking kid!  The Devil had to have made him do it!"
Veronica frowned even deeper as she stared at the mess and listened to the
cops make excuses for a mass murderer.
"This didn't just happen!" she moaned, "I can't be dead!"
"Well at least you didn't spread yourself half-way across the state!"
J.D. announced from somewhere else in the room.
Veronica whirled around and saw him sitting in the back of the caf with
his feet casually up on one of the tables.
"Quite a show though, wasn't it?" he grinned, pulling his fingers back
through his short, black hair.
Veronica's mouth fell open.  She gaped at him as everything came swirling
into focus for the first time-J.D. raised his eyebrows.
"YOU!!!!" she shrieked.
J.D. got out of his seat and took a bow.  He started towards her, viewing
the lovely array of dead bodies with pleasure as he did so.  Veronica realized
with horror that this had been the plan all along.  Everything in between was
just a distraction so he could get away with it.  Unfinished business.
"Now you see, Veronica," J.D. declared, "The way I would have done it, it
would have just incinerated everyone; but what Stuart did," J.D. bent over
Heather's corpse, "Look at this!  It's perfecto!!"
He grinned up at Veronica, his black eyes dancing wildly.  "I couldn't
have done it better myself!"
"That's where you've been all weekend!" Veronica cried.  "You've been with
Stuart!  He can see you too, can't he?!  You put him up to this!  Didn't you!"
J.D. shrugged.  "I do what I can."
"Goddamnit J.D.!" Veronica yelled.  "You had him kill me you son of a
bitch!!"
"Oh Veronica!" J.D. rasped dramatically, as if she were ruining his
moment.  He stepped over Heather's body and left no footprints in the puddles of
Heather's blood.
"I didn't make him kill you, I merely suggested it!"
Veronica glared at him hard, seething with anger.  "Why?" she demanded.
J.D. grinned.  "Color me bitter, darling," he replied with delight as he
reached around her waist and pulled her close.  Veronica tried to resist him,
but J.D. forced her into a slow, victory dance amidst the corpses of their
slaughtered classmates.
"Dance floor's a little crowded here," he mused, clasping her cold hand
with his own.
Veronica scowled at him.  "You fucking bastard," she cursed.  "You think
you've won?  You haven't won!"
J.D. furrowed his brow inquisitively.  "Of course I win!" he cried,
"You're dead!  Everybody's dead!  Now all this school has left is Betty Finn for
Chrissakes!"
Veronica cast a glance at Betty, who was crouching down by Veronica's body
crying.  Betty the next Heather?
"The ship's gonna sail, Veronica," J.D. stated, holding her tightly in his
arms, and rocking her to inaudible music.  "It's just a question of who's at
the helm."
"It was the Devil!" Officer Milner cried, as he walked in a stupor around
the cafeteria.  "Goddamnit!"
Veronica exchanged glances with J.D., he grinned.
"What's in a name?" he mused, "The important thing is-I win!"
"You do not!" Veronica shouted, still dancing with him.
"I do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"You do not, you fucking asshole!" she cried.
J.D. laughed.  "We argue as if we're married already!  Jesus, Veronica,
this could be romantic if you'd just shut up!"
Veronica grimaced.  "Fuck you J.D., I may be dead; but there's no way in
hell I'm going to spend my eternity with you!"
J.D. smiled knowingly and nuzzled her dark hair.  Veronica didn't pull
away, she felt so lost-unfortunately J.D. was the only familiar territory
around.  He rocked her and raised his eyebrows.
"Que sera sera," he purred.  "Whatever will be, will be."
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes and strong language)
"Veronica's not going to the prom, are you Veronica?"
"How can she?  Her boyfriend committed suicide."
"And because of her too, she can't go with anyone else, it would be
immoral."
Veronica sneered at the girls as she sat on the floor against her gym
locker.  They all snickered.  The whole junior class was alive with talk of the
prom.  It was this Friday, and all day long, all Veronica could hear was 'What
are you wearing?  Who are you going with?  Who's in your limo?'
"I can give a shit less that that bastard is dead," Veronica retorted.  
"I'm not going to the prom so I don't have to deal with you."
Courtney and the others exchanged glances and burst out laughing.  
Veronica rolled her eyes in disgust, ignoring the usual locker room commotion
going on around her.  The steam from the showers poured down the aisles as
scantily-clad girls milled aimlessly about.
"Sweet Jesus!" J.D. barked, "Is this what I've been missing?!"
Veronica dropped her head into her lap to try and drown him out.
"Control your hormones, dickhead," she murmured, "Have you no couth?"
J.D. raised his eyebrows, dragging on his cigarette as a pair of girls
walked by in towels.
"There are advantages to being dead, my dear," he proclaimed.  "Waltzing
right into the girls locker room is one of them!"
Veronica shook her head, pulling her fingers back through her thick fall
of chestnut hair.  "God, you can be so immature."
J.D. grinned wickedly as Courtney and the others continued their gossip.  
He knew Veronica hated it when everyone sympathized with him.  And she knew he
was gloating because that's exactly what was going through his head at the
moment.
"They only care because you're dead," Veronica mumbled, trying not to make
it too obvious that she was talking to herself.  "If I were dead, you would be
the bad guy."
J.D. crouched down, his eyebrows arching wildly over his narrow, black
eyes.  "That could be arranged dearest."
Veronica glared at him.
"Veronica, I heard Stuart Salinger asked you to go to the prom with him,"
Courtney said in that perky, preppy voice that was about as pleasant as
fingernails on chalkboard.
"Yeah, and?"
They laughed again.
"C'mon, Veronica, face it," J.D. interjected, "I was right!  This school
is as hopeless as the society that surrounds it!  You want them dead as much as
I do!"
Veronica grimaced, glaring at Courtney in her country-club cardigan.
"And what if I do want them dead?" she growled, answering J.D. loudly
enough so that the others could hear.
"Excuse me Veronica?" Courtney asked.
"What if I do want them dead," Veronica repeated, raising her own
eyebrows, and giving Courtney her best I-am-a-psychotic-bitch look.  Courtney
and the others chose to ignore her, and walked away in a huff.
"Then that, too, can be arranged," J.D. purred, wrapping his arms around
Veronica and pulling her close.  She grimaced and watched as he exhaled a cloud
of smoke that snaked into the air and merged with the shower steam.

* * *

Veronica sat in the back of the caf, half-sprawled across the table, her
head resting on the paper bag coverings of her text books.  She stared sideways
at the kids who milled around and wondered how many of them would actually
survive adolescence.  Would she be one of them?
Her mind started to drift, and everything seemed to get quiet, as though
it were all a dream spinning in slow motion.  Veronica remembered an exercise
Miss Pauline Flemming had taught her in health class: "Imagine your entire body
is filling up with a warm, orange fluid," Ms. Phlegm had said.  "Just filling
every nook and cranny all the way up to your head.  And then all the bad
thoughts and feelings start to float in the orange fluid; they're just floating
around there like all the debris we pour into our oceans.  And then imagine that
someone pokes a hole in the bottom of your foot, and all the warm, orange fluid
starts to drain away, and it takes all those nasty little feelings with it
. . ."  What a flake Ms. Phlegm was.
Veronica closed her eyes and started to imagine the orange fluid.  But she
couldn't see orange, she could only see red.
"This is ridiculous," she murmured, opening her eyes.
She heard Heather Duke laughing at something; but didn't really care what
it was.  Someone dropped a lunch tray, someone else started yelling obscenities;
Veronica didn't budge.  Instead she watched as J.D. emerged from the crowd on
the lunch line and started towards her.  Against a backdrop of living people, he
didn't really look human.  He was back to his short hair again (the length of
his hair seemed to fluctuate with the day) and his face looked even more pallid
than usual.  
"You're a walking corpse," Veronica simpered while J.D. was still out of
earshot.  "A walking dead guy who smokes like a chimney."
His coat seemed to flow behind him.  It sometimes looked like night
itself, like a black hole that could swallow up anyone who got too close.
"You blew yourself up, but you're still here to make my life miserable,"
she continued in a sing-song voice.
"Veronica, who are you talking to?" Betty Finn asked cautiously.
The girl who had been best friends with Veronica before the Heathers came
on the scene, stood clutching her books to her chest.  Veronica turned her head
to look up at Betty.  The light from the window filtered over the girl, bathing
her in a yellow glow which made her almost look angelic.
"Oh," Veronica replied, "Nobody."  She tossed a quick glance around-J.D.
had vanished.
Betty sat down.  "I'm really worried about you Ronnie," she said.  "Martha
tells me you haven't been feeling well."
Veronica smiled, "That's one way of putting it."
Betty fingered the unopened can of Diet Coke sitting in the middle of the
table.  
"Is it because of J.D.?" she asked, trying, Veronica could tell, to
phrase the question as delicately as she possibly could; as if the mention of
J.D.'s death was going to send Veronica into a frenzy of weeping or something.  
Veronica laughed at the thought.  
"Let's just say he's haunting me," she replied.
Betty averted her eyes to the table, "Well, you know," she started
quietly, "It wasn't your fault he did what he did.  He must have been really
depressed or something."
Veronica smiled sweetly at her one true friend left in life; probably the
truest friend she had ever had.  Veronica had ditched Betty awhile ago to become
a "Heather," to be part of the coolest clique in school.  And after all was said
and done, Betty was still around to help her now.
"You know men," Veronica said light-heartedly, "they blow up over every
little thing that doesn't go their way."
Betty couldn't help but snicker.  "Ronnie," she chided.
Veronica shook her head.  "I'll be alright," she lied.  "Thanks for
caring."
Betty shrugged sheepishly.  "If you ever need anything-" she stressed.  
Veronica nodded, knowing that there really was nothing Betty Finn could do to
help her out of her predicament.
Betty got up to go back to her own table.  Veronica watched.
"I can't believe this is my life," she muttered.

"Well, believe it dearest," J.D. rasped, pulling up a seat next to her and
sitting down on it backwards.  Veronica wondered vaguely if anyone else in the
caf saw the chair move.
"I haven't seen you since yesterday," Veronica mumbled, "Where have you
been?"
J.D. raised his eyebrows knowingly; "How nice of you to care."
"Don't flatter yourself," Veronica retorted.
J.D. shook his head, amused, expecting that.  Veronica watched as his
devious gaze then settled over Betty Finn.  Something dangerous moved in his
face.  Veronica frowned.
"Whatever your sick little mind is thinking, stop it," she warned, opening
the Diet Coke and taking a gulp of the semi-sweet poison.  J.D. had no response.  
Veronica put the can down and stared at him accusingly.  He met her gaze.
"You're plotting something," she asserted.  "I can almost see that
goddamned little light bulb going on over your head."
J.D. squinted in puzzled, mock-innocence.  A loud crash across the caf
broke the tension between them and they both turned to look.  Stuart Salinger
had bumped into one of the football players, the new Quarterback who had taken
over after Kurt Kelly had allegedly "committed suicide."  Or rather, after J.D.
had chased him down in the woods behind Westerburg and had Veronica shoot him
under false pretenses.
The hulking Quarterback started screaming at Stuart:
"You stupid, cock-sucking dweeb!!  Look what you did to my jacket!!  
There's shit all over it!!"
Stuart cringed as the football player made a motion to pummel him.  J.D.
shook his head.  Veronica couldn't tell if he was amused or disgusted.
"You see?" He declared in his gravelly voice.  "This is just another
example of a typical jock-asshole expressing the need to display his
testosterone level to the entire fucking world!  Pick on the lowliest schmuck in
the building-now that's original."
J.D. grinned.  "They all deserve to die."
Veronica knitted her brow, frowning deeply.  "No they do not!"  She
retorted emphatically.  "No one deserves to die just because they're an asshole.  
This whole world is filled with assholes-J.D. grow up!  You don't kill people
because they're assholes, you kill because you enjoy it-because you're fucking
psychotic!"
A couple of kids turned to stare at her, but Veronica ignored them.  She
didn't care what they thought anymore.  It made no difference that she was
practically shouting at an empty chair.  Whether or not they saw J.D. sitting
there was trivial; he was there, and he was dangerous.
J.D. squinted, he looked angry.
"Don't you see!?!" he hissed.  "Are you fucking blind, Veronica?!?  You're
not saving anybody up there on your soap box!  Look around you!  There's no
innocence in this room!  Mother Teresa wouldn't touch this building with a ten-
foot pole for Chrissakes!!"
J.D. jumped out of his seat--sending it crashing to the floor.  He looked
positively evil, and Veronica felt herself cringing inside.
"It's a long, hard road out of Hell Veronica," he growled, "but it's a
cinch to get in!  There is not one shred of human flesh in this room worth
saving, because if they're not corrupted now-they will be!!"
J.D.'s face was completely animated with malevolence.  This was the J.D.
she had fought in the boiler room-the preacher of society's faults.
Veronica felt her heart pound with dread.  J.D. swooped around her table
to a kid sitting opposite her-totally oblivious.  The monster in the black coat
wrapped his suffocating arms around the kid and said: "You see this one?!"  
The kid seemed a little uncomfortable-as if he could feel the pressure of J.D.'s
harsh embrace.
"He raped his date at last year's junior prom!"
J.D. let the kid go, and flew like a deranged bat over to some stoner
chick in sunglasses.  He cupped her face roughly from above-she was too high to
notice anything.  
"She's been selling crack to elementary school kids!" J.D. roared in his
raspy voice.  "Is this worth saving!?  Huh Veronica!?"
Veronica winced, trying to block out J.D.'s carping tone, his scary
revelations.  He pulled a girl by the hair who seemed to genuinely feel him.
"She's slept with so many guys she's lost count already-and she's
fifteen!"
"And this beauty," J.D. continued, leaning like a gargoyle over a guy who
was sleeping on top of his table.  "He's going to O.D. pretty fucking soon."
"SHUT UP!! Veronica screamed, covering her ears.  "Just shut up!!"
The entire caf turned in unison to look at her as she screamed at J.D.
He panted hard with excitement, delighted to cause such chaos.  His black eyes
sparked at Veronica who pressed her hands tightly to her head as a hushed murmur
spread like wildfire over the students.  And J.D. stood there like Satan in the
center of Hell, reveling in it all.
"Ignorance is bliss isn't it Veronica?" he sneered triumphantly.

* * *

"Dear Diary,
"J.D.'s here because of unfinished business-I know that now.  He wants to
destroy the world-society-but he's gotta do it one step at a time and he's
starting with my school.  That thing he pulled on me in the caf this afternoon
was all the proof I needed to see what he really wanted.  But if he thinks I'm
going to help him he's dead wrong.  He tricked me into murder twice before, I'm
on a one-way ticket to Hell as it is; but he's going to have to find some other
lackey to do his dirty work because I'm through with him!!  I don't care if he
haunts me until my last shred of sanity drains out the hole in my foot with the
orange-red fluid.  I'M NOT GOING TO KILL FOR HIM!!!  
"He can't do it himself, I'm almost positive.  He needs me, that's why he
won't leave me alone.  I'm the only one in Sherwood Ohio that knows what a
fucking bastard he is!  I'm the only one that was stupid enough to fall for his
evil charms.  I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."  --Veronica Sawyer


* * *

Veronica closed the diary and took the monocle out of her eye.  The school
parking lot was practically empty and the sun was beginning to go down.  She sat
alone on the very steps where she had watched J.D. explode four weeks earlier
and had foolishly thought that that was the end to all of her problems.  In fact
there was still a layer of soot on the far wall of the building, covering those
atrocious silhouettes stenciled on the tan cement.  There was even a crater at
the foot of the staircase with a yellow 'caution' ribbon around it.  Veronica
stared at the hole.  J.D. should have fallen right down that hole to Hell-but
the fucker was still here.
Veronica half laughed, half moaned.  It occurred to her again and again
that she had really gone crazy.  That somehow, something had snapped and all
this shit with J.D. coming back from the dead had been conjured up from the
depths of her own personal psychosis.  That's what Ms. Phlegm thought.  After
that little incident in the caf, Ms. Phlegm swooped over to her, and escorted
her out of the room to her cheery hell of an office.  She kept Veronica till
almost the end of the day, talking in that flaky way of hers about dealing with
the grief-about dealing with the loss of her "very bestest friends" and of her
lover.  Although Ms. Phlegm-who sunk her counselor claws into J.D. the minute he
whipped out the gun during his first day at Westerburg-was convinced that J.D.
was some sort of "troubled Romeo" who had it rough because he was never in one
place for too long.  He wasn't able to "connect" to anyone special.  More likely
than not J.D. fed Ms. Phlegm everything she wanted to hear, until her profile of
him was just the way he wanted it.
Veronica let most of what Ms. Phlegm said pass in one ear and out the
other.  She sat on the couch, surrounded by fluffy things like Care Bear
pillows, and wondered if J.D. was actually going to say anything to make her
look more insane, or if he was just going to sit there and listen.  He lit his
cigarettes one after the other and said nothing throughout the entire session.  
And then in the middle of Ms. Phlegm's speech about the wrongs of suicide-he
got up and casually walked out the door.  Ms. Phlegm thought it was just the
hallway breeze.
Veronica watched listlessly as a few meandering students crossed the
asphalt lot to their cars.  Earlier on she had come out of school and had seen
Stuart Salinger standing awkwardly next to a wimpy motor scooter looking as
though he had just lost his dog.  He was mumbling to himself, or so it seemed,
and she couldn't' help but watch him in his long, black coat with his gaudy
diamond-stud earring; a poor substitute for the small hoop J.D. wore in his own
ear.  On top of that, Stuart had recently dyed his sandy-brown hair black and
had gotten a new haircut.
Veronica shook her head.  If Stuart was doing all of this to impress her
it wasn't going to work.  For one thing, he had taken the look that J.D. had
used so easily to seduce her into bed with and completely ruined it.  Even J.D.
thought so, though it still amused him to be copied.  Secondly, she absolutely
was not attracted to Stuart Salinger, no matter who he tried to be.
When he saw her watching he immediately produced a cigarette and a lighter
and tried his best to look like the chain smoker J.D. was.  But Stuart didn't
smoke.  He fumbled with the lighter, nearly burned his face off, and when he
finally did drag on the cigarette the smoke overwhelmed him and he doubled over
coughing.  Veronica had to suppress the laughter because he was just trying so
hard.  She put her shades on and pretended not to see him.
When Stuart finally gave up he got on his motor scooter, a pathetic
substitute for J.D.'s Harley, and buzzed slowly away, shoulders slumping.  Sure
Veronica felt bad, but it wasn't something she lost sleep over.
It had gotten chilly out since then, and the last golden rays of the sun
were fading quickly over the horizon.  Veronica watched, feeling peaceful and
serene in the sea of loneliness she was swimming in.  It was just her and the
building for awhile-and of course-the crater at the foot of the stairs.  The
junior prom was tonight, and as fast as they had gone, the students would return
in their limos and fancy clothing.  The gymnasium had already been decorated for
whatever theme Heather Duke and the prom committee had chosen for the rest of
the school.  Ironically Big Fun was not going to play the prom-their
representatives never heard of offering to do so in return for a petition.  It
made Heather look like a fool-and she blamed J.D. for it.  After all, it was his
idea.  All in all though, Veronica was glad she wasn't going to the prom.  It
would be hell if she were.
Time sauntered off, and Veronica dozed with her eyes open.  Everything was
just so thankfully quiet, this was how it should always be.
When she snapped out of it a long while later he was there; leaning
silently against his hulking motorcycle, his long, black coat draped around him
like a shadow.  His hair was long again, falling sensually around his pale,
handsome face.  From a distance she couldn't see whatever look was haunting his
sinister, black eyes.
Veronica rested her head on her hand and stared at him quietly.  J.D. made
no motion to disturb her.  He just waited patiently at the bottom of the long
staircase, the shadows of twilight playing over his haunting figure making him
look as supernatural as he was.
Veronica sighed.  It was a pity she still found him attractive.  If he
hadn't gone mental they'd probably be going to prom together.  Que sera sera.
J.D. lit a cigarette, and Veronica had a flash of him standing there with
the bomb strapped to his chest.  She shook the vision from her eyes, and watched
the gray tendrils of smoke slither through the air as he exhaled them.  The sky
was a strange color, a sort of in-between-worlds color with an eerie red hue.  
Veronica thought of Ms. Phlegm's fluid trick and wondered if the earth was using
it.
J.D. breathed smoke from his nose, and pulled his fingers back through his
long hair.  Veronica just watched him, and then she stood up and started down
the stairs, the spring breeze sweeping around her small frame and whipping her
hair over her shoulder.  J.D. greeted her humbly.  No eyebrows, no wise-ass
remarks and Veronica folded her arms across her chest and said nothing.  J.D.
kicked at the cracked asphalt and then met her unyielding gaze.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice smooth and captivating.
Veronica raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.  She felt her animosity
beginning to melt, and knew that this was exactly what she swore she wouldn't
do-fall for his charms.
J.D. smiled in that sexy way of his; little boy cuteness wrought and
twisted with rebellious allure.  A long wisp of black hair fell across his face,
and Veronica's heart thudded against her chest.  "Shit," she thought, "he's got
me."
"You uh, you look kinda stranded out here," he purred, averting his gaze
to the ground and then grinning slyly up at her.  
"Charms," she thought, "damn his charms."
"I was going to walk," she muttered.
"I can give you a lift," he breathed almost sheepishly.
Veronica found herself smiling, and wished she had the control to smack
herself across the face.  Instead she was flirting with her dead, psychotic, ex-
boyfriend.
"Is this like your broom or something?" she teased, motioning to the
Harley.
J.D. snickered: "Something like that."
Veronica found her whole body warming.  This was how it used to be; before
Heather Chandler downed the cup of liquid Drain-, before Kurt  and Ram succumbed
to J.D.'s "ich luge" bullets, before the boiler room and the bomb.  This was how
it should have been.  Somehow the incident in the caf earlier today seemed to
dissipate into thin air, and Veronica took a deep breath before climbing onto
the Harley, and wrapping her arms around J.D.'s waist.

* * *

"If you're dead, then why can I hear your heart beating?" she asked in
that drunk-with-pleasure-after-sex voice.
"You hear what you expect to hear," J.D. purred, "Whatever pleases you."
Veronica smiled up at him and in the same moment she chided herself for
ignoring her own warning.  They were lying in her bed together, swathed in
shadows and tangled sheets, still flushed and breathing hard from their little
necromantic episode.  Somehow, as impossible as she had believed it to be,
Veronica had allowed J.D. to seduce her back into bed.  She denied that she had
lost control from the first kiss to the last.  At the same time, however, she
found herself snuggled against J.D.'s body (a body that was supposed to be
spread half-way across Ohio state, mind you) with her head pressed to his chest
and her arms wrapped around him.  J.D. pulled her closer and she marveled at how
warm his skin felt.
"Damn you," she murmured, "I swore to myself that I would have nothing to
do with you, living or dead."
J.D. raised his eyebrows, and captured her lips in his own.  "Guess that
makes you a liar then doesn't it?" he rasped.
Veronica pouted, and let him kiss her.  "What am I doing?" she thought.  
"I'm acting like a schoolgirl-I've totally lost my mind!"
She lay her head against J.D.'s bare, white chest and tried to pretend
that this wasn't happening.
"If you're dead, and I'm crazy, then is this some sick, demented,
masturbation fantasy I'm having?" she asked, drawing designs on his flesh with
her finger.
J.D. laughed.  He looked so devious when he laughed, like such a little
monster.  "Oooooo--that sounds exciting," he crooned mischievously, "I could be up for that!"
Veronica frowned and kicked him in the shin with her polished toe nails.  
J.D. jumped in plain amusement and Veronica settled back into the crook of his
long neck..
"I'm seriously sleeping with my dead ex-boyfriend," she muttered, "I must
be a fucking lunatic."
"I'm insulted," J.D. professed.  "After all this, you still consider me
your ex?"
Veronica frowned, toying with the ends of his long, black hair.  "Shut
up," she laughed, "I still consider you a walking corpse."
J.D.'s mouth dropped open in mock-surprise.  "Oh that hurts," he retorted,
pulling her half on top of him and locking her in a kiss.  She struggled
playfully, her thick hair spilling over his alabaster flesh.
"Take thy beak from out my heart!" J.D. yelped as Veronica pulled away,
and hovered over him.  He stared up at her as innocently as he could, his black
hair fanning out around his pale face.  
"What is really going on?" she asked suddenly, utter seriousness creeping
into her doe-eyed countenance.
J.D. squinted, his eyebrows arching.  He hesitated as if deciding what to
tell her, as if deciding how much he could reveal.  Veronica waited, her mind
reeling with speculation.  And then he grinned: "Nothing!"
Veronica frowned deeply and smacked him on the chest.  "You jerk!" she
cried, flailing her arms.  "You stupid, arrogant jerk!!"
J.D. saw this as a chance to wrestle, one of his favorite past times when
it came to her.
"Tell me what the fuck is going on!" Veronica screamed as he grabbed her
arms and struggled with her until she was pinned on the bed beneath him.  She
was still cursing and flailing when he kissed her hard and deep.  Veronica
stiffened, losing her lips in his.  J.D. gathered her in his impulsive arms,
trapping her there, and Veronica was too stuck to struggle.  She made a motion
to wrap her arms around his back, and then restrained herself, and tried to push
him away.
"Tell me!" she screamed , her voice muffled in between kisses.  "Tell me
you bastard!"
J.D. ignored her, and then suddenly there was a loud banging on the
bedroom door.
"Veronica?" her mother cried.  "Veronica are you okay?!"
J.D. and Veronica jumped apart, and Veronica fell out of his arms and onto
the floor with a loud thump.  J.D. found this funny, sitting up on his side, the
sheets falling away over his bare hip.  Veronica half-scrambled under her bed to
find her white slip as her mother called again.
"I'm coming!" Veronica yelled, "I'll be right there!"
She pulled the slip over her head, trying to adjust it in place over her
naked body.  She knew she looked like a tramp that had just crawled out of a
lover's bed, and J.D. was thrilled at the notion; his face said it all.  
Veronica pulled on a robe inside out and ran for the door.
"Veronica, what are you doing in there?" her mother called with an upper-
class twang.
"Nothing, mom!" Veronica shouted, fumbling with the lock.
"You're not hanging yourself again are you Veronica?  That was completely
inappropriate behavior."
Veronica turned to J.D. who was taking it all in stride.
"Hide!" she hissed, without recalling the obvious situation.
He laughed, raising his eyebrows.  "If it makes you feel better."
Veronica yanked the door open, trying to control her breathing and hoping
her lipstick wasn't too smudged.  Her mother stared at her in total
bewilderment.
"Young lady, what is going on?" she inquired accusingly.
Veronica's eyes bulged with guilt-"Nothing mom, I was just-uh-umm-having a
nervous breakdown, yeah."
J.D. howled with laughter.  Her mother had no idea he was there.
"What?" she asked, simply appalled by the idea.  Inappropriate behavior.
"Yeah, mom," Veronica lied, "Ms. Phlegm-ing said that it would really be
good for me to let all of my emotions out-that I've been too grief stricken
after Heather and that guy, Jason Dean, killed themselves.  It's been too-uhm-
hard."
Her mother's face softened.  "Hmph," she muttered, folding her hands in
front of her, "Jason Dean, yes, that boy that said he was afraid for you.  Poor
thing, you should've reached out to him Veronica-maybe he would have handled it
better."
Veronica felt her breath lodge in her throat.  She heard him behind her.
"Even your mother is on my side!" he rasped in delight, "It's perfecto!"
Veronica tried to ignore him.  "I wish I did mom," she muttered, "Maybe
then he could have died more neatly."
Her mother frowned.  
"I have to get back to my emotional out-pouring now, mom.  Ms. Phlegm's
orders."  Delicately Veronica closed the door as her mother still stood there
disapprovingly.  She locked it behind her, and looked for the nearest thing to
throw at J.D.  "Oh God, the humanity!!" she cried.
"You missed your calling dearest," J.D. sneered sarcastically, "You
should've been an actress!"
He was no longer the naked lover in her bed.  Fully dressed, he leaned
against her window and lit a cigarette.  The darkness of his wardrobe easily
blended into the black of night outside.
Veronica breathed deeply and flounced down onto her bed, curling up
tightly in the middle of it with her back to J.D.
"Jesus Veronica!" he barked, "You can't go to sleep now!"
"Why not?" she grumbled.
"Because we'll be late!"
Veronica furrowed her brow in confusion.  "Late for what?"
J.D. crawled onto the bed next to her, his crooked eyebrows raising
sharply like Jack Nicholson's.  "Why for the prom of course!"
Veronica sat up and gave him a disgusted look.
"I am NOT going to the prom!" she retorted.
"You are too!" he protested.
"I am NOT!"
"Are too!"
Veronica felt a serious case of deja vu coming on.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
This went on for a while.
"You are not going to miss your prom," J.D. stated resolutely.  "This
could be the last big night of your life!  You never know what tomorrow brings!"
Anyone remember me?
Well, if you don't, I'm/was Gazing-At-The-Star.
I kinda wanna reconnect with some of you guys.
Wanna RP or anything? ^^
WHY MUST JEREMY JORDAN BE SO GODDAMNED ADORABLE

embedded_item1422737431927 by very-fangirl
Anyone remember me?
Well, if you don't, I'm/was Gazing-At-The-Star.
I kinda wanna reconnect with some of you guys.
Wanna RP or anything? ^^

deviantID

very-fangirl's Profile Picture
very-fangirl
Kat
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Just a girl who dreams to be Veronica Sawyer and Bonnie Parker one day!
Interests

AdCast - Ads from the Community

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconskylark9i:
Skylark9I Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for watching! :) (Smile) 
Reply
:iconspoopybuttperson:
Spoopybuttperson Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014
its been a while my friend
Reply
:iconvery-fangirl:
very-fangirl Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014  Student Writer
Yes it has. Hello.
Reply
:iconspoopybuttperson:
Spoopybuttperson Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014
hi c:
Reply
:iconvery-fangirl:
very-fangirl Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Student Writer
hiiii
Reply
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: