weak; mcduke

army

army (n)- a large number of people or things, typically formed or organized for a particular purpose.

october 4, 1989 / duke's pov

I felt my heart stop beating. I was underwater, in the lake, with shiny minnows swarming around me in the murky water. I held my breath. Words rang and echoed around me.

"We can still be friends... please, Heather, don't be mad... don't hate me..." The sounds blended and got louder and suddenly became one droning buzz. I let out a silent scream and then I was sitting on the cliff, allowing my legs to dangle over the edge. I pressed my hands on the springy grass and almost shoved myself off. I felt a hand grab my shoulder and turned my head. Heather stood there and pulled me to my feet. I let her. She wrapped her hands around my waist and pulled me into a kiss as the setting sun warmed the atmosphere around us.

Then I was back in the shadows of my Jeep, screaming at Heather as she gently attempted to calm me down.

"Get out! Get out of my f*cking Jeep! I hate you!!" I shrieked over and over under my throat was torn raw and Heather had pulled open the door and fled. A knife materialized in my hand and I brought it up to my throat, plunging it into my flesh.

I woke up in tears.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that morning I was startled awake by a rapid thrumming next to my head. I squinted at the glowing surface of my phone, which was getting spammed by text messages. I pulled it to my face. I read the top text from some druggie that managed to stay semi-popular nicknamed "Weedy", for obvious reasons.

Weedy: yo did ya hear? kurt and ram r f*gs

I snorted with amusement and shot back a response.

Queen 2.0: who doesnt know that already?

Weedy: no seriously. they had a homo suicide pact and shot each other last night. both r dead

I blinked the sleep from my eyes. Holy sh*t. The linebacker and quarterback, both dead?

Queen 2.0: i will crucify u if ur joking

Weedy: i swear im not. ask other peeps

I sifted through the rest of the texts, all of them informing me of the same news. I put my phone on silent and rolled my eyes. The shadow lingered at the corner of the room; I could see it out of the corner of my vision. My mattress creaked as I stood and stretched my arms. I couldn't believe those two *ssholes were gone. I could believe they were gay, though. But it wasn't like I felt any pity; I rarely felt anything anymore.

Later that day I hunted Heather down at her locker. Fury bubbled in my gut as I slammed the door shut. She squeaked and pulled her hand out of the way. She spun around, a spark of terror in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Heather. Dating a f*cking f*ggot? No wonder you're so pathetic," I sneered, shoving her against the locker. She doesn't love you, make her pay, the shadow goaded me. A group of semi-populars had gathered around and laughed.

"You know, I'm curious as to how long you whined about it," I added, smirking at the group, who hooted with more laughter. I noticed Heather squint and blink rapidly. I thrust my face in hers.

"Are you gonna cry? Go on, do it," I growled. She shrank back more.

"Heather, why are you doing this?" she asked quietly. "Maybe you should learn to shut the f*ck up sometimes," I replied and took a fistful of her shirt. I shoved her backwards into the kids. They laughed and pushed her back. Heather was trembling and was pressed up against the lockers. She had nowhere to go.

"I think we've given this f*g-f*cker enough fun," I announced and made my exit. I motioned to a select few people to follow me to the lunch table. My next step: reform the social hierarchy by getting the strong ones on my side.

// mcnamara's pov

The next week or so was the most terrifying time of my life. Heather wouldn't leave me alone. She'd been collecting kids and letting them sit with us. She seemed to be gathering up an army. I was still forced to follow her around. What else could I do? Every day it was a new taunt. Students would be whipped into an excitement and they'd turn the energy on me. I came home with more than one bruise after school days.

Heather sometimes gave me chills. No, the impostor gave me chills. The way she'd stare at me made my hair stand on end. It wasn't Heather anymore. I was starting to get physically sicker. My muscles cramped and ached. I could barely stand up straight. Veronica was nowhere to be found, and I only caught glimpses of her being pulled along by her boyfriend. I wished she could save me, but she never did. And I understood. I wouldn't want to save me, either.